Over the DM's Shoulder

Showing posts with label combat. Show all posts
Showing posts with label combat. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 8, 2021

Spicing Up Encounters: No More Blandits

You know the scene: your players are moving from one part of your story or world to the other, and it's time for an encounter. Your players grow excited at the rumblings of combat, and you unveil the enemies they're about to face off against. It's bandits. (Or goblins. Or whatever typical enemies typically make up the encounters in your world.) How exciting is this the third time it happens? Even with strategic details that change, some players are going to get bored fighting against the same old bandits (or blandits, as I call them) before too long. But you can mix these encounters up and provide something exciting for your players with just a bit of creative thinking. Read on for ways to create more memorable encounters. 

There are a few ways that you can spice up encounters. You can completely change the enemy type (while still staying within the story you're telling), you can create unique types of enemies, and you can mix enemy types to create new versions of foes for your players. Each one creates novelty in a different way, and that's important; the human brain craves novelty, so providing it to your players will make your game appeal to them on a deep level. Let's get into the first method. 

You can completely change the type of enemy your players normally face. Let's say that you're dealing with a campaign about small towns being targeted by bandits. Your players have faced a number of bandits, and some of the charm of fighting bandits has begun to wear off. You might mix it up in a small or a large way. Let's say that the next town the players visit is a port city--now, rather than bandits, you can translate the idea to the setting and make them pirates. Now you have the opportunity to have a chaotic pirate battle that allows you to use some bandit tactics and motifs but give them a new face with the pirate design. Similarly, a mountain settlement might feature mountaineers who fight with distance weapons like bows and polearms, and a town of poor folks might have a farmers' militia with farming tools as weapons. Perhaps a deep forest community fight like hunters rather than skirmishers, and a supernatural twist could surprise your players with lycanthropic fighters. These are all minor changes, basically akin to putting a new video game skin on the same character; and yet, each of these twists on the blandit changes the way that the enemy fights, and thereby the tactics that the party will need to use to defeat them. With this method, you get to keep your encounters simple but keep them varied. 

You could just as easily create unique types of enemy. Let's say that you've run a few encounters with bandits or some comparable enemy, and again you need to mix things up. So we'll create different types of bandit. Think about the way most video games work: there isn't so much one enemy you fight, but an army of enemies with varied skills and weaknesses. You can reproduce that in your game with just a few small twists. Below is a list of several types of enemy you can create that have distinct abilities to make them more unique: 
  • Tank: These enemies are covered in heavy armor, perhaps finely-made armor, and perhaps cobbled together from whatever was available (pots and pans, sheet metal, washboards, etc.). Because of their armor, they don't move quickly, and most of their strength is used wearing the armor, so they don't deal loads of damage. But they will be hard to hit (at least an 18 or 19 Armor Class), and that will make dealing with this enemy a greater challenge than simply being a bandit. 
  • Sniper: These enemies are not particularly well-defended; rather, they use speed and maneuverability to stay out of reach of the players. From that distance, they use ranged weapons to deal damage that cannot be answered. A lot of GMs will keep ranged weapons out of the hands of enemies, but a few well-placed snipers can give the players a much harder time with the group than they anticipate. 
  • Explosives Expert: These enemies are neither heavily defended nor prepared for a long fight; their strength in combat is that they can deal heavy damage to a number of players at once. You can equip this enemy with classic in-game devices like Alchemist's Fire or your take on a rudimentary explosive device. Whatever the nature of your device, it should be something that can deal lots of damage suddenly, making these enemies targets your players must quickly deal with. 
  • Commander: Oftentimes, GMs operate groups of enemies like they operate with a hivemind; every NPC knows what's going on across the battle, and the GM's knowledge of tactics is uniform across the group of enemies. You can avoid this conundrum and spice up battle by adding a commanding character who calls out strategic maneuvers and may even be able to provide small buffs to the other enemies. They are not the best combatants, but they are capable of turning the tide of a battle. 
  • Rogue: So often in battle, all of the enemies take formation and fight openly without variation. You can change that with rogue NPCs, enemies who can use stealth to disappear from combat and reappear only to sneak attack a party member. Like the Sniper, these enemies are not well-defended, but they use maneuverability to make the most of their attacks. You can have these enemies disappear by positioning them behind cover and then rolling Stealth to leave cover unseen. 
  • Weapons Experts: Sometimes, even just adding an interesting weapon to an NPC can be enough to set them apart from standard sword-and-shield blandits. A bandit with a reach weapon is considerably different from a bandit with an axe; a bandit with a whip will mix up combat entirely. Take a look at some of the more exotic weapons and use them to spice up your enemies. Players will remember "that guy with the pike" better than you might anticipate. 
These are just a few variations and enemy types. I recommend also describing these enemies as having distinctly different physical appearances. Tanks and Weapons Experts may be big and muscular, where Snipers, Rogues, and Commanders would be smaller but also have specific uniforms: Snipers and Rogues might want different kinds of camouflaged whereas the Commander wants something that sets them visibly apart in battle. I also recommend having your enemies communicate verbally in battle, suggesting maneuvers and calling out player strategies; not only does this make the enemies more challenging and realistic, but the players will be deeply engaged when the enemies are responding to their strategy in real time. 

A final note about these enemy types: as you can probably tell, most of the enemy types above are basically classes from D&D. That's intentional; just as player characters have distinct skills and fighting techniques, so should the enemies in the world. If everyone just smashes swords together over and over, your players are bound to get bored with encounters. By mixing up combat with the same variation that players get to enjoy, we can keep the game balanced and keep our players guessing. 

If you want to mix enemy types together, you can use both of the methods outlined above to create memorable enemies. A bandit with a sword has nothing on a pirate explosives expert or a hunting sniper or a mountaineer with a halberd. Any of these twists on normal enemies creates novelty for your players, which keeps them engaged. 

Some folks might counter that it doesn't make sense to have a smattering of enemy types--why would a pirate, a hunter, a mountaineer, and a rogue all work together? That's essentially what the party of player characters is, though. The variety of classes makes a party stronger and more ready to deal with anything. Similarly, a strong crew of bandits might employ various experts to improve their odds of success. 

You might also mix up your encounters by having different groups of enemies take different strategic approaches. The party might encounter skirmishers, tanks, a pincer attack, a balance of ranged and melee approaches, bandits who focus on spellcasters or healers, or enemies who strike and retreat, strike and retreat. These strategies make enemies more unique, as the battles themselves will change in response to the strategies. 

I also like to add some flair to my encounters by giving the enemies magic items. An enemy cleric with Bracers of Armor is a formidable foe; a bandit with a bastard sword that lights enemies on fire must be taken seriously; an enemy who can summon an ally to fight with them changes an encounter completely. 

Ultimately, it all comes down to this, though: encounters should mean something. If you're not playing a combat-based game, you don't really need encounters. If you are running a combat campaign, encounters should be varied and exciting. Increase the power of your enemies and develop them beyond just a type. This guide can help as a starting point, but to further develop them, start thinking about what you want the enemies to be like. Memorable foes have complexity, so give them more personality than just opposition. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: what to offer in city marketplaces, why roleplaying is the height of gaming, and how to build a player stronghold. Until next time, happy gaming!

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Thursday, April 29, 2021

How to Manage a Boss Fight

It's the end of your campaign, and all that's left is the final boss fight. Your players dig in for combat, and you're prepared for the BBEG to show why they're so intimidating. But how can you ensure that your boss fight is dramatic enough to merit being the finale of the campaign? You don't want it to be over too quickly, but you also don't want to wipe out your party. So how do you set up your boss fight so that it excites the players but is also balanced? Some folks would say that the answer is a carefully, mathematically-balanced encounter, but I argue that you can do even better than that by breaking your boss fight into three parts that are more scripted. Read on for how to use this method to create exciting boss fights. 

I've written something similar before: a guide to improvising encounters. That guide takes a few basic considerations and turns them into encounters, but the premise is the same as what we're doing here: we're balancing our encounters to create dramatic moments. The key difference with a boss fight is that it matters more that it be satisfying and dramatic; it's the culmination of your whole campaign. So we'll use the same concept to create boss fights that are more interesting than simply the result of dice. 

As I mentioned, you can spend a lot of time working out a mathematically sound encounter. This requires considering challenge ratings, character levels and abilities, and other details like weaknesses and spells. But you can make it simpler for you and better for your players if you wing it. No, seriously. We'll plan for three parts of the encounter, and in the final part, the players will defeat the BBEG. It's as simple as that. Obviously, this approach isn't for hardcore combat simulators; this approach is about storytelling and getting the most drama for your effort. If you like the sound of that, consider the three parts of a boss fight:

There are generally three phases you want to include in a boss fight. Part one is where the players make their first attacks or other tactical efforts. During this phase, you want the players to be able to deal a good chunk of damage to the BBEG, but you also want the BBEG to attack in a way that exemplifies why they are the final boss--what makes them so much of a badass? Part two is where the players run into trouble. During this phase, the BBEG should use a tactic that weakens the party's strategy, and they should strike hard at members of the party. You want this part to feel like the BBEG is getting the upper hand. Finally, in part three, the players pull ahead again. The BBEG should be able to make a last-ditch effort to turn the tide, and should even be able to render unconscious at least one member of the party, but ultimately, the players will win with a dramatic strike. 

Let's get into the details with each part now. Part one: the players make a strong initial showing, as does the BBEG. In practice, this should look like the party getting opportunities to strike the BBEG. I generally argue that it's better to give your BBEG a higher number of hit points and a lower Armor Class; this means more dramatic successes for the players, but an ability on your part to string the encounter along. So set a relatively low Armor Class depending on your party's level. I like to give them roughly a 50% chance of hitting initially, so a party with an average +3 to hit should have a 13 AC; likewise, a +6 to hit should mean a 16 AC. I generally let this phase of combat go for about three to five rounds or so; you want the party to hit the BBEG enough that it seems like they've done about half damage total. 

At this point, let's address the BBEG's hit points. I don't start with a number set in stone. I might decide that it has generally about 150 hit points or something like that, but this number doesn't matter very much. Whether the party is scoring 30 points of damage or 90, it should seem like the BBEG is at about half health. This just means that the players should work for three or so rounds to damage the BBEG, and it works. Whatever they accomplish should be enough. If they deal more damage than expected, just grant the BBEG more hit points in your head, but if they deal less than expected, string this phase out for another round or two until you can tell your players feel like they have made good progress. 

Then we get into phase two of the boss fight: the players run into trouble. I like to deploy a dramatic flourish here generally, usually by employing an effect that makes the BBEG harder to hit. Perhaps it's magical armor (an artifact or "Mage Armor") or simply the BBEG going Super-Saiyan; the effect is that they pose more of a threat than previous. I like to boost the BBEG's AC by enough to make the players only 25% likely to hit. To provide examples, this would be a +3 to hit with a 15 or 16 AC, or a +6 to hit with an 18 or 19 AC. Now, your players are only succeeding in hitting the BBEG half as often as they were, which allows the BBEG to deal more damage relative how much they're taking damage. At the same time, boost the BBEG's saving throws to defend more against spellcasters. I recommend a +3 or 4 bonus, but this can be adjusted with good fudging of rolls on the BBEG's part. You can go the other route with this as well: improving the BBEG's likeliness to hit the players or deal greater damage can also add the imbalance you need to create some drama. This phase of the battle generally lasts another three to five rounds. Your players need more time to deal the damage they were dealing earlier in part one. Just as important to your consideration of when to move on to part three is how much damage the party has taken. When you have one or two party members who are at about one-quarter health or less, it's time to move onto part three. 

Part three is where the players turn the tide and win. I like to use the AC-improving effect as a story moment; sometimes players will strategically try to negate the AC boost, and sometimes, the effect simply wears off. In any case, it can be helpful to have the AC boost disappear in phase three so that the party can get back on top of the encounter. You can have the boost you've granted to your BBEG disappear when a player strikes them particularly hard--basically use anything that would allow you to change the battle back to closer odds. In part three, I like to have one or two members of the party go unconscious. This really ups the drama. The BBEG should look both poised to win the battle and in fairly bad shape; we're imagining at this point (the beginning of part three) that the BBEG has only about 25% of their hit points left. This part of the battle should again be about three to five rounds, granting time to do and take damage. Then, when one of your players deal a considerably blow (more than 10 damage, let's say), the BBEG has taken all they can, and they fall unconscious. I think it's more interesting to have the BBEG incapacitated than dead, personally, so I generally have the BBEG rendered helpless rather than kill them; it should be a player choice to kill or spare a BBEG, not mine as a GM.

You can absolutely mix up the makeup of your boss fights. Add minions to the mix, use interesting terrain to create strategy, give the BBEG special powers; whatever you want can work. This guide simply shows you how to pace your boss fights for the enjoyment of your players. And trust me, your players will almost always prefer a dramatic fight than a statistically random one. It's more engaging and exciting, and that's the point of playing. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: how to design a custom TRPG, how to roleplay learning new skills and abilities, and descriptions of what each deity's temples look like. Until next time, happy gaming!


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Wednesday, April 14, 2021

Traveling Random Events: A Table for Travelers

Traveling is often a big part of TRPGs; the players are in one place and the adventure is in another, so it's time to set off on the road and get to the next bit of story. But simply walking or riding from point A to point B is not the stuff of exciting games. It should take more than time to get somewhere--it should also take effort. I have developed a table of random events for traveling that spices up the process of moving around, so read on to add some excitement to your travels. 

To implement this table, roll a d100 every time your players move five miles. The corresponding event will mix up the monotony of travel, and it may allow you to further develop your story and your world. 

1-5: Inspiration - One party member has a helpful idea about how to deal with the situation they're currently facing. You can use this to get a wayward group back on track or develop your story. 

6-10: The party recognizes the glint of metal in the plant life on the side of the road. Closer inspection reveals it to be a cache of coins. Roll for the amount they discover - 1d4 platinum, 1d6 gold, 1d8 silver, and 1d10 copper. 

11-15: Nothing happens.

16-20: A traveling caravan passes by in the opposite direction. The caravan guards are wary of the party and are tense enough that they will attack the party given provocation. If the party passes without engaging in combat, a trader lags behind to offer the party food and drinks for the rest of their journey. 

21-25: The road is blocked by a fallen tree. When the party moves to remove it, an ambush of goblins erupts from nearby cover. 

26-28: The beaten road wears away and the party must succeed on a DC 15 Survival check to find the road again 100 feet later. 

29-31: Mistaken Identity - A lone traveler comes down the road in the opposite direction. They mistake a party member for an old friend/business associate. It takes a few minutes' assurance that the party member is a different person, and even then the traveler suspects they are being lied to. 

32-34: Bandits! As the party comes to a bend in the road, they can notice hidden bandits with DC 15 Perception checks. If noticed, the bandits will pursue the party for up to a mile. If unnoticed, the bandits launch an attack on the players, focusing on ranged attackers and spellcasters. 

35-37: The plants surrounding the road grow taller and more unmanageable for about a mile. When the party gets within 5 feet of the plants, the tendrils of the plants lash out and bind the party. Treat the bound players as affected by the spell "Entangle" and allow them to escape with a DC 16 Strength saving throw. 

38-40: A colorful bird flies down and lands on a branch near the road. It speaks in a creaky voice, repeating the phrase, "All's well that ends well." If the players move toward the bird, it flies 50 feet to another branch, and so on and so forth until it has led the party half a mile into the depth of the area (deep woods, sand dunes, a marsh). There, it transforms into a witch and attacks the party.

41-45: Shrine of Fharlanghn - A small, simple shrine to the god of travel lies along the west edge of the road. There is a pedestal with an empty bowl on the shrine. If any of the players pray at the shrine, the whole party feels rested (including regaining spell slots) and the bowl is magically filled with a hearty meal. 

46-50: Nothing happens. 

51-55: An altar lies on the side of the road, all details worn away. There are faint letters in a dwarven alphabet, which if read will create a chaos effect. Roll another d100 for the chaos table. 

56-60: A troupe of travelling musicians and performers have parked their caravan on the side of the road. They are having a leisurely meal and invite the party to join them. After small talk, the troupe mentions that the last town they tried to perform in, which is only a few miles down the road, refused to let them perform or spend the night in town. To make up for it, the troupe performs a short show for just the party. 

61-63: Alongside the road appears a lake. The lake is murky and green, and twisted trees grow around its perimeter. A DC 18 Perception check will reveal a sword rising slowly from the lake, point first. It remains floating, pointed up, until the players move on or swim out for the sword. If they take it, it acts as a +1 Longsword with one daily use of the spell "Chain Lightning." After being used in one encounter, the sword disappears. 

64-66: A pillar of smoke rises from the horizon down the road. The smell of burning hair permeates the woods. When the party draws near, they can see a wildfire burning off the road which has trapped several woodland creatures. If the players save any of the creatures, Ehlonna (goddess of the woodlands) thanks the party for their help and blesses them with +20 feet traveling speed until the end of the day. 

67-69: The party finds in the middle of the road a tattered old book. Inside the book are notes in a wild scrawl which are just barely legible, and they describe the investigation of the beginning pages of the book, which are torn out. Any player who reads all of the scrawled writing must succeed on a DC 15 Wisdom saving throw or be driven insane (DM controls the character) for the next ten minutes. 

70-72: A strange stone formation rests on the side of the road, leaning precariously but remaining standing. A young halfling named Jaskin lies on the ground beneath the stone, and they explain that only the pure of heart can survive under the stone, for those with evil in their hearts are crushed by the stone. As Jaskin explains, a raven lands on the stone, and it begins to fall. Players can pull Jaskin to safety with a DC 15 Dexterity saving throw. Jaskin is disappointed and takes it as a sign that he is not pure of heart. 

73-75: The party sights an abandoned building in a clearing off the road. Investigating it reveals that it has been uninhabited for some time. A careful player can find a wand of Mage Armor hidden in a box in an old desk. 

76-80: A lone dog wanders down the road, sniffing idly as it approaches the party. It takes note of the players and begins to bark and run back in the direction it came. If the party follows the dog, it will take them to a thicket in the woods, where its owner (an orcish trapped named Barut) is trapped in a bear trap. If the party frees Barut, she will feed the party and promise them safe lodging for the night. 

81-85: A crackling sound erupts from a thicket to the side of the road. Suddenly, in the middle of the path is a displacer beast, its tentacles flicking through the air. If the party runs, the beast will pursue them for half a mile and then relent. If the party defeats the displacer beast, they notice a nearby nest with a litter of infant displacer beasts. 

86-90: Nothing happens.

91-93: Ruts in the road veer off the path and into the brush. By following the ruts, the party can track a wagon for nearly a quarter of a mile into the beginnings of a swamp. Inside the wagon are supplies, a rusty battleaxe, and a frightened half-elf child named Gera. Gera says that the swamp ate her family's horses and maybe her parents as well. She asks for safe passage to the next town, where she has extended family who can care for her. 

94-96: A DC 17 Perception check reveals that a piece of paper is stuck to a treebranch. Inspecting the paper, the party learns it is a map which indicates a shortcut to the party's destination, saving them as much as five miles from their journey. 

97-99: A traveling fortune teller comes down the road and stops a few feet short of the party. She bows her head, draws a card from her robes, and cackles. "The morning crow!" she cries. "A good morrow to you, then." She departs, refusing to speak another word. The following morning, each of the players awakens to discover a gold piece resting inside each of their shoes. 

100: Divine Intervention - One of the players' gods appears and offers help to the party with one major action. This is best implemented in the form of a piece of useful information or instantaneous travel to the party's destination. 

Tuesday, April 13, 2021

Glyphs: My Custom Magic System

Magic is one of the greatest draws to TRPGs like Dungeons & Dragons. Players long to have great effects on the world around them, and few moments in games are more exciting than when the right spell is used at the right time. But magic is also heavily regulated by the game's design, and spellcasters often find themselves in the situation of having to work creatively to get their spells to apply as desired. Perhaps, like me, you want to empower your spellcasters to make more meaningful decisions and have greater control over the effects of their spells. In that case, glyphs are perfect for your game. Read on for the way the system works and how you can implement it in your game. 

When I was running Listen Check years ago, we were at the forefront of a new technology and the beginning of the tabletop game boom of the 2010s. I was telling a story about a port city, full of criminals, and the designs of a vengeful god who wanted to see the city torn to the ground. The players were up against forces they struggled to understand let alone combat, and the group's spellcaster, Rupert, used his available spells as cleverly as possible to get by. But I wanted Rupert to have the tools to succeed against his foes so long as he was creative enough. So I dropped mention of a new magic system in a book Rupert had read (and which I had created in-game), and Rupert took to it immediately. I drafted the glyph system, and before long, Rupert was creatively solving all manner of problems with his experiments in magic. In the end, Rupert used a glyph spell to help defeat the vengeful god, so the system played a major role in the campaign--no way around it, these spells changed the trajectory of the game. 

Glyphs work simply. As I note in the instructions in my glyph resource, all you need to do is some quick subtraction. You take the level of the spell slot that will be expended, add two, and that's how many glyphs you can use to cast the spell. A cantrip allows for 2 glyphs, for instance, and a 3rd level spell allows for 5 glyphs. Spellcasters can reuse a glyph multiple times in a spell to emphasize it. From there, it is a matter of GM interpretation to determine the effect of the spell. 

The first set of glyphs; check out the link for all 13 pages of the symbols. 

A successful glyph spell includes considerations for each detail of the spell. The link above also leads you to the array of glyphs and their meanings. Combining glyphs takes the meaning of each symbol and combines them. Have your spellcasting character list the glyphs they use, in order (the order affects how predominant the effect of that individual glyph is), and then describe the intended effect of the spell. If you believe that the chosen glyphs align with the intention, the spell should largely succeed. If the glyphs are a bit off from how you think the spell should have been built, have it go wrong in some small way. Read on for examples of good and bad glyph spells. 

A traditional spell has a clear intention and definite limits. Glyph spells may or may not have either. Let's start with a more traditional spell, recreated with glyphs. "Enlarge/Reduce," a second-level spell, will work well. There are a number of ways to rebuild this spell with glyphs. A reliable start would include the direction the spell is supposed to work in: either "Limit/Restrict/Verge" or "Increase/Improve/Grow"  would be good indications of either enlarging or reducing. Similarly, "Calibrate/Adjust/Tune" could indicate that change is taking place, but a more specific glyph like the two above would be stronger indications of the intention. That gives us three more glyphs to work with. Let's say we're going for a general increase or decrease in size, which means we want to have a balanced growth/shrinking. We can cover several types of size with the following glyphs: "Fatness/Width/Abundance," "Height/Tallness/Altitude," and "Strong/Powerful/Potent" would all add up to proportional growth or shrinking. You might also use "Thinness/Spareness/Scarcity," "Smallness/Fragility/Fineness," or "Weak/Powerless/Stunted" if you're keen on shrinking rather than enlarging. These would be suitable and successful glyph spells. 

But your players might not put together a strong glyph spell without practice. You'll need to know how to describe an unsuccessful spell as well. Let's try "Enlarge/Reduce" again, but with some issues in two different version of the spell. The first goes like this: "Flesh/Body/Visceral," "Height/Tallness/Altitude," "Mastery/Conquest/Rule," and "Control/Influence/Impose." The spellcaster is trying to increase the size of the body with careful control. But these glyphs might be interpreted in other ways. The spell may backfire, causing the spellcaster to become tall and thin with the ability to control the shape of their body for the duration of the spell. Not exactly what the player was looking for. And that's okay! Glyphs do create the opportunity for spell failure, but the greater customizability of spells balances it out. Your players won't mind having a spell fail every so often if their successes are all the more spectacular. 

But the player might try a different tactic. Rather than a one-to-one reproduction of the "Enlarge/Reduce" spell, a player may try to customize. They use "Increase/Improve/Grow" to signify making the target bigger and "Strong/Powerful/Potent" to indicate the way the growth should be characterized. Then the add a few glyphs to focus on keeping the target safe from damage: "Defend/Guard/Steward" and "Damage/Destruction/Ruin," the intention being to guard the growing character as able to resist damage. If the spellcaster's intention had been to recreate "Enlarge/Reduce," the spell would fail, growing the target but not matching the growth with the kind of strength needed to do extra damage; instead of a damage boost, that character receives a small bit of damage resistance until the spell ends. But if the intention was to buff a tank character, it would be very successful. That character would become larger and more powerful with significant damage resistance. Intention matters a lot; the glyphs themselves understand a spellcaster's intention and try to act accordingly, though within the limits of what each glyph stands for. A spell that aligns with the spellcaster's intention should be especially successful. 

Now let's consider a custom spell unlike recreating a traditional spell. In Listen Check, Rupert used some of the more specific and uncommon glyphs to interesting effects. At one point, trying to develop an alternate identity, Rupert cast a spell to create an enormous tattoo that covered his back--its design was to be a symbol of his deity, Wee Jas. Rupert picked his glyphs carefully: "Scar/Tattoo/Piercing," "Wee Jas/Death/Magic," "Flesh/Body/Visceral," "Complexity/Nuance/Faceted," "Imagination/Artistry/Fantasy," and "Magic/Glyphs/Energy." Specifically, Rupert was creating a tattoo of Wee Jas that had some of the god's magic in the tattoo; it affected his body, had fine levels of artistic detail, and was itself a magical effect. The result was a stunning work of art depicting Wee Jas staring directly at the viewer, waves of magical energy coming off the tattoo, and it helped Rupert stay in contact with his god as the adventure continued. 

A successful glyph spell should be similar to a natural 20 in that it should be memorable and celebrate the success of the caster. On the other hand, failures should be closer to success than outright failure because the spellcaster has intention guiding their spell. It is more dramatic and interesting to have a near-success than a complete failure, as it makes the glyph-using character(s) more like scientists experimenting than experts in an established field. Glyphs are meant to lend some excitement to spellcasting, so consider the ways you can interpret glyph spells in terms of where it will take the story. 

Rupert could have failed with his tattoo spell, however. He might have used "Wee Jas/Death/Magic," "Ink/Charcoal/Paint," "Symbol/Suggestion/Allegory," "Identity/Personal/Private,"  and "Pattern/Design/Symmetry". Here, the first emphasis is on Wee Jas rather than the tattoo, and the glyph selected for the art itself is ink rather than a tattoo itself. Partnered with the other factors in the spell--symbolism, identity, and patterns--this spell could have radically different effects depending the GM's interpretation. If the spellcaster's intention is muddled here, I would have the spell fail pretty wildly. Rather than a tattoo of Wee Jas, I would have a drawn image of Wee Jas appear on a nearby building or sheet of paper, an image which depicts the goddess as powerful and alone in distinctive, symmetrical patterns. But if the intention is clear, the spell might come closer to succeeding. They may get a small image of Wee Jas in charcoal on their body where they wanted the tattoo, or they may end up with an image that is closer to a comic strip depicting a Wee Jas allegory than a single image. It all depends, as I said, on the GM's interpretation. 

I mentioned above that glyphs can break the game if you're not careful. I especially recommend it to parties with lots of spellcasters, as it makes the act of breaking down the glyphs a collaborative game rather than an opportunity for one player to shine. But with a responsible player, glyphs will not break your game. In fact, the only way that they can break your game is if you let them. If you're concerned about the power level of a spell, look to a few traditional spells of the same class. Is what the player wants to do in the same order of effects as the traditional spells? This informal style of balance works just fine, and you shouldn't feel hesitant to take your time to preserve this balance. But even better still is developing your own sense of difficulty based on effect rather than input. By this I mean getting a sense of how your players use glyphs--are they using them for roleplaying effects, like helping NPCs? Even if you did grant extra power to the spellcaster through glyphs, you wouldn't be breaking the game because they're using the spells to advance story moments. Are your players using the glyph spells in combat? Now we need a closer eye on balance. Keep your approximate levels of spell powers handy and don't let the creativity of glyphs ruin combat for your non-spellcasters. 

So perhaps you want to implement glyphs into your game--but how would you do so? It radically changes the way spellcasting works, and unless you implement it from the start, how would your spellcasters transition into glyphs? Well, it's actually not that bad. I implemented glyphs midway through Listen Check, and the transition was pretty seamless. In the show, I had an NPC named Tasselman who was something of a library scientist; when the party needed difficult-to-find information, they went to Tasselman, and he would dig up the information in question. Glyphs were mentioned in a book about magic use in the modern age, and Rupert sought more information on the mysterious symbols. I ended up writing the resource found in the linked glyph information as an introduction for Rupert, and soon he was casting all manner of custom spells with myriad effects. 

So to implement it in your game, all you need is a trip to the library or bookstore. Have your players find (or have recommended to them) Shadestepper's book and invite them to try the system out. Some players may find the range of choices overwhelming--it's important to not force them to use glyphs, as their fun is more important than trying out a new system. But if your players respond favorably to glyphs, there are practically no limitations on the adventures they can have. Familiarize yourself with the glyphs before using them so that you have a general sense of which symbols are best suited for which effects, and trust that your players will work to master the new system. Above all, have fun! Glyphs are meant to increase spellcaster agency, creativity, and novelty--the three things that form fun in a TRPG. So get out there, get casting, and have some fun with magic that's as wild as it gets. 

If your players really like the glyph system, you can let them lean even further in that direction with my custom class: the glyphist. With this class design, you can convert traditional magic to glyphs easily and provide your players with the challenge of collecting all of the symbols in their quest to master the dangerous art form. I wrote the rules based on the Wizard from D&D 3.5, but you can still use it for 5e games without much disruption, so long as you're consistent about how glyphs work. 

And of course you want to describe the effects of the glyph spell in an interesting way. Use this guide for describing magic, and especially use color associations with each glyph. If you do, each spell will be characterized by an array of colors and effects which can make glyphs even more dazzling. I like to run my game so that glyph casters cast by drawing the glyphs in the air in front of them, but you can choose whatever method of casting suits your campaign. The point is to make magic more fun, so go with whatever you think will be the most interesting to your players.

That's all for now. Coming soon: my expanded familiar table for every class, random events for traveling, and how to deal with party splits. Until next time, happy gaming!


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Friday, April 2, 2021

How to Keep Your Game Balanced

A classic concern in TRPGs is in keeping everything balanced. The developers of whatever game you're playing strove to make it a balanced experience, and they likely relied on hundreds of hours of playtesting and refining to strike the right balance. You as a GM can undo all of this careful balancing act with a single action. How do you keep things in the sweet spot, where all the players are equally powerful and no one can magically wave away serious story issues? The short answer is that everything is already kind of broken, and as long as you can compensate as you play, you'll be fine. But of course, it is more complicated than that. Let's dive in. 

Before I go further, let me address the elephant I see in the room. I am not a crunchy numbers GM. If you've seen my guide to improvising encounters, you know that I care more about momentum and storytelling than Challenge Ratings and to hit ratios. I cannot provide you a guide to keeping each number in check; rather, I can offer you a mindset for adjusting to the changes you make to the game. If you want a statistical balance, there are dozens of resources for each TRPG to keep it in line with the creators' intentions, but if you are interested in keeping your roleplay-oriented game balanced enough to be interesting, read on. 

I asked my mystery campaign group for some ideas to write about here, and both Montana's and Beor's players asked about balance. Specifically what they wanted to know was this: What do you do when a player tries to break the game (what if they succeed)? Bigger topic could just be about handling "failure" as a DM. And: How to politely decline character ideas and why you would do so. I.e., a character wants to play a god in a level 1 one-shot. I'd like to handle each of these ideas in turn. Let's start with a player trying to break the game. 

Many GMs have seen it: some players set out to break the game. Maybe they're a min-maxer; perhaps they are exploiting a homebrew rule you've set; they might just be ignoring the spirit of the game you've set out to be more powerful. Whatever the case, having a single player character who is significantly more powerful than the rest of the characters creates problems. People generally play to experience the agency associated with TRPGs, so feeling less able than another character can diminish the player's experience. Sure, some player characters are more capable of certain things than others--a wizard's powerful magic is counterbalanced by how frail and physically unintimidating they are, for instance--but if a character is far and away more powerful than other characters, the balance is off. Especially with beginning characters, we want everyone to feel relatively balanced. Here are some tips to keeping things in order:

For starters, one cause of an overpowered character is the line between beginning and experienced players. To a certain extent, it is your responsibility as GM to work against this. You can use this guide for beginning players to get them started, but you'll want to guide them through the character creation process so that they aren't completely in the dark with it. But there's always the chance that a player will use some knowledge of the game to get ahead. My first thought for an example is when players choose exotic races or classes--these have been less heavily tested and are more likely to be unbalanced. One might look back at Gerald from the Eastweald campaign as a bit overpowered; goliaths are unstoppable in combat, and his access to magic via his custom class made him highly intimidating in a way that other characters would struggle to embody. I generally try to discourage exotic races and classes unless the player is really connected to a specific idea, otherwise I run the risk of granting them unbalanced power. A good general rule is this: if the player has a significant story reason for their background, allow it, but if they're looking more to capitalize on numbers, encourage them to express that idea via the core backgrounds. I know that this generally runs counter to my philosophy of gaming, but consider this: I am not barring players from participating as they see fit--I'm asking them to engage with their characters in a way that benefits the story rather than the numbers. I recommend this for any roleplay-heavy game. As Orson Welles so famously said, "The enemy of art is the absence of limitations." Give your players a few limitations (small suggestions), and they will create interesting characters who strike a balance. 

To keep your player characters balanced from the beginning, you'll probably need to use your first session as a diagnostic tool. Provide a few challenges in your opening session--some skill checks you plan to use regularly, an encounter, some roleplaying exercises--and take note of who is the most talented with each type of challenge. If the same player emerges as the best at most things (discounting the luck of the dice, considering only bonuses), consider adding a conditional handicap to that character. You can do this gauging of talent by just looking at character sheets if you're confident with that method, but there's no drawback to balancing after the first session. If a single player is overpowered enough to necessitate a change (if it affects how fun the game is for people, that is), you can develop a story reason to adjust that character. Perhaps they have upset their god, who revokes some of their unbalanced power. Or perhaps they are injured in a way that leaves permanent damage, lessening their impact. The main story might come into play--the BBEG might use magic to siphon off some of that character's powers, and only defeating them will restore their powers. You don't want your player to feel short-changed, though, so be judicious about this process. Only resort to this strategy if a player has successfully broken the game. You can rebalance the game later than the first session with a similar strategy, especially if a level up or a magical item unbalances things later on. 

One of the most important elements of this process is addressing it with the player. I personally opt for a direct conversation. "You built your character so well that the other characters can't compete. I need to have a collaborative spirit here, so I want to curtail your character's powers a bit. Will you work with me to balance the game?" Most players will understand and play along. What you absolutely do not want to do is come off as accusatory or blame them for breaking the game. They were trying to have fun and may not have recognized that their fun can put a damper on others' fun. Present it as a challenge to that player: how can you still succeed even after being powered down a bit? Once you are working with your player to solve the problem, it will be much easier to balance things. If the player is upset that you want to reduce their character's power, empathize with them; explain that you don't want to impact their fun, but the game as a whole needs to remain balanced for the good of the party. Remember to be diplomatic in this conversation, as you'll need that player's cooperation to make your balancing changes work. 

This leads us into our next issue: declining player decisions. Generally speaking, game-breaking behaviors are not a clear-cut issue. There is no action that would always be game-breaking, nor an action that would never be game-breaking. It all depends on context. I think back to the first session of the mystery campaign, when Montana used the spell "Speak with Plants" to question a dandelion in the alleyway where they found a murdered woman. I as DM had not considered that he could find a witness so easily--I had not considered that Montana could simply talk to a weed growing in an alleyway and have a description of the murderer. Using "Speak with Plants" is not a game-breaking action practically ever, but it meant that the party had cut a lengthy step in the plan completely out. It kind of broke the game. By a similar token, "Speak with Dead" could have turned the murder victim into an encyclopedia of information about the murder. (The reason for this unbalance is simple: D&D is not designed to tell mystery stories, so using the system for a mystery means that some effects are not intended for use with what I'm trying for.) Had "Speak with Plants" truly stymied my plans as DM, I could have denied the use of the spell. But doing so would leave a bad taste in the players' mouths--"Why can't we use a basic spell to investigate?"--so I would have needed an appropriate story reason, like the dandelion in the alleyway having been closed up because it was nighttime when the murder happened, thus not being able to act as a witness. But at the time, I played along because I liked the creativity of using the spell. (Side note: I think it is always better to let your players unbalance the game with creative thinking and then compensate for it rather than turning down ideas to keep your plans intact. Remember that improvisation and rewriting plans is part of your job as GM; don't deny your players' plans just so you don't have to work as rebalancing.) 

But let's say a player comes up with a truly game-breaking action that you have to deny. Perhaps you're running a game about protecting a royal family from assassination, and an assassin manages to get past your defenses and kill the king. Now the cleric in the party wants to cast "True Resurrection" on the king to negate the effect. (This happened to me years ago; the party had split and I had to decide between keeping the king dead after one player had killed him and allowing the king to come back via the spell.) To allow "True Resurrection" to work as intended would have made the killing of the king (the entire point of the campaign) meaningless; if he could come back as though nothing had happened, what was the point in protecting him in the first place? I had a decision to make as a DM, and I decided to deny my cleric's player. "True Resurrection," I ruled, could bring the king back, but in a weakened form and for only one week; further, should he be killed again, no spell could bring him back. 

This was a drastic choice. By reducing "True Resurrection" to such a weaker spell, I made it effectively impossible for dead player characters to regain life after dying. I made the assassin player's actions permanent. I made the cleric fundamentally useless to the king he served. But the other option seemed much worse. The whole campaign had been driving towards assassination attempts on the royal family. The assassin used stealth, invisibility spells, social cunning, and lots of strategy to kill the king. To deny all of that to preserve the spell's integrity seemed to defeat the purpose of the campaign. But you can see how balance factors in here: either player actions hold meaning, or game rules do. I chose player actions because I was running a roleplaying campaign. Choices like these are judgment calls, and you should make them based on what the goal of the campaign is. If balanced combat is your goal, then you would probably choose to make "True Resurrection" function as the handbooks direct. What matters, though, is consistency. Balance relies on the players being able to predict the outcomes of their actions to a certain extent--so if you're defending the sanctity of your story or the balance of combat, stick to your guns. Your players will learn (or you can explain to them) that you are making these choices with a consistent reason in mind, and that will improve their ability to participate. 

A note on this idea: it's tempting to view TRPGs are systems where the fun and the magic just naturally flow. But it's work, and it's more specifically group work. Everyone in a tabletop game has joined in a kind of compact: I put forth my time and energy, and I get in return a fun experience with my friends. More specifically, players are looking for a particular experience. Key to those experiences is balance. Balance keeps it so that all the players can meaningfully cooperate, and it makes it so that participating in the story or combat is open to everyone. Most players will understand when you have to curtail a certain detail about the rules or a character as long as it serves to balance everyone's experience. If it's not obvious (and it rarely is) why you're rebalancing things, have a direct, out-of-game conversation about it. It's better to have everyone on the same page than try to handle balancing solely in-game. 

Let's tackle something that was suggested by Beor's player: what do you do if a player wants to be a god even as a low-level character? This one requires even more out-of-game talking. I've written before about what to do when your players don't know enough about the game to play confidently, but what about the opposite, when the player is a little too confident (but still might not understand why they need to stay balanced)? This falls into two categories: your player is too confident because they know the game, and your player is too confident because they don't know the game. 

If your player is a veteran to TRPGs and comes in wanting to dominate the game, have a conversation with them. You might have already dealt with this issue when building your party; hopefully, you have selected players who all agree on what they game should be like. But let's say for illustration's sake that you have a player who's trying to min-max in a roleplaying-focused campaign, and it's thrown off your encounters. Talk with your player and try to figure out how to compromise. Maybe you allow them to remain excelling in combat but with the twist that encounters only happen when your players are focusing on roleplaying. Maybe you reduce the number of encounters in your campaign to maintain your focus. Then again, maybe your player gets into fights because they know they'll win. Then you have two main strategies. You can be a nice GM and address it with them out-of-game; explain that they should respect what everyone wants from the game and try to invest that player in roleplaying. Or you can be a mean GM: overwhelm them in combat (enemies target specifically that character because they're such a threat) or handicap their character (they might lose an arm, rendering two-weapon-fighting and shields impossible). Make the decision about whether to be nice or mean depending on how the player is acting. If their heart is in the right place, be nice; if they're trying to steal the spotlight or deliberately disrupting the game, be mean. 

But maybe your player is confident because they're new. You experience this with players who are strongly into video games most often, but anyone can come in a little too hot. It does create issues: an over-confident player can be reckless, they can drag the party into bad situations, and they might drive the focus of your campaign to the side in search of ways to display their power. Again, you can be nice or mean. A nice GM will scale up and down encounters in difficulty or frequency to suit the party. A nice GM also talks to the player in question and pushes them towards the focus of the campaign. You can take the advice from how to deal with players ignoring your story and meet them halfway--allow the player opportunities to shine in a balanced way while still providing the story you're telling. But you can also be mean: let the player get into as much trouble as they like, but have appropriate consequences. In the National Treasure campaign, I had one player who would kill any NPC they thought they could get away with. When they killed the head guard in a small town, they got the whole party run out of the area. This places the balancing on the other players, who can now roleplay being upset that their plans were scrapped due to this player's bursts of violence. Complaints from other players pretty quickly changed this player's tune, and the bursts of violence stopped. (This is a form of the "evil character in a good party" problem, which you can and should avoid by carefully building your party.) But when you can't solve that problem until after it's already happening like I did in that case, you can always push the story to meet the player's challenges. In that example, the party was run out of about 80% of the towns they initially visited, often because of this particular player. The other players adjusted in their own ways, and I made the guards in the towns they visited hardier and less corrupt to lessen the desire to kill them. It's rarely a numerical change that can fix these problems; story solutions not only solve the problem, but introduce new opportunities for roleplaying. 

Finally, Montana's player's big question: How do you handle failure as a DM? Failure, in this specific case, refers to a game becoming unbalanced. Well, as the solutions above suggest, I think the answer is in twisting the story. To illustrate this point, I'll refer to a mechanic I'm using in my mystery campaign. For each unit of the story that my players complete (learning a secret involved in the mystery represents a unit), I grant them a statistical bonus. For the first two sessions, it was a +1 to all Investigation checks. The third and fourth sessions grants a +1 to their choice of Persuasion of Insight checks. The fifth session, the halfway point in the story, grants a bonus of both +1 to Investigation and the player's choice of a +1 to either Persuasion or Insight. Investigation is one of the main skills in the campaign, so granting a small boost to each player character's skill represents both getting better at what they're actively practicing and a classic game reward: something that makes what you've been doing incrementally easier (while at the same time, the story-based checks go up by a similar increment). Likewise, Persuasion and Insight are important skills for getting the truth out of people, which are critical in my story (perhaps even more important than Investigation).  

But I'm granting bonuses without the party leveling up. Doesn't that throw off the balance? 5e is very sparing with skill bonuses, especially compared to 3.5; a bonus of as much as +6 is a huge bonus for 5e skills. And Montana began the campaign with a +9 to Investigation. Doesn't giving him an additional +3 over the first half of the adventure break the game? Especially when the core mechanic of moving the story is so far from an average score, this could radically affect balance. Montana is a professional private investigator, so it makes sense that he's especially skilled with this stuff, but what about Beor's and Ais' abilities to keep up and contribute? My answer is simple: yes, it all breaks the game, and that's okay because I can compensate for it. 

Especially in roleplaying campaigns, you'll have players whose characters are specialized in certain things. This goes back to classic party design (a balance of strikers, tanks, healers, and experts to keep a party ready for anything). It's not necessarily a broken game if every character has a time to shine. In the mystery campaign, all the characters have access to magic, so that doesn't unbalance them. Ais is actually from the city the game is set in, so she gets access to special information that only she knows. Beor has a variety of magical abilities like his werebear condition and his druid background that make him someone who often grants an important outside perspective on things. Montana's proficiency with investigation skills means he often plays the face of the party, but that doesn't mean he always is. In fact, Montana's high bonuses to skill checks mean that he is likeliest to notice important details, but due to the randomness of roles, he is not the only one who can notice these details. And his identity as a private investigator gives him an excellent set of reasons for being so well-suited to the task. Here we have a story reason for something that is unbalanced, which means we can counterbalance it with another story reason. 

So I've broken my game a bit by granting the players stat bonuses to what they're mainly doing. So what? I'm running a storytelling game with lots of roleplaying. Should dice really be the deciding factor in whether that story progresses? What if my players are all at a critical juncture and must notice a particular detail to progress, and everyone fails the roll? It would be ridiculous to hold them back just because the dice said so. Isn't it more interesting to grant the players a success based on their intentions? I have made my mystery players significantly more formidable as investigators, and that actually works well for my storytelling purposes. Not to mention, game design would call for the skill checks to get harder as the story progresses. Since 5e doesn't increase skills when you level up, my players would be always reaching for a particular DC which would grow further and further out of reach. So I broke my game a bit to compensate for the changing experience of the game. What appears to be breaking the game (adding stat bonuses) is actually a remedy for using the D&D system for something it wasn't designed to do (telling a mystery story).

Some GMs would look at Montana's +12 to Investigation checks and dismiss this as a broken game. But as I hinted out in the last paragraph, if you're using a TRPG for anything besides its directly intended purpose (often combat), you're going to need to compensate for the way you're breaking it by stretching its purpose. All of this is to say that an unbalanced game is never a failure. Failure indicates that the game is broken beyond repair, but unbalance in a TRPG just means you have some details to compensate for still. 

Exact balance in a game is for D&D battle royales, where the calibration of each number must be precise for the system to work. But for storytelling games, you don't need exact balance. You just need a system to work well enough to support everyone having the experience they're looking for. Some of the conditions I've described above might not even be problems to solve; for instance, a combat-focused player in a roleplaying campaign might be a welcome presence so that everyone knows combat is handled and can focus on what they really enjoy. Similarly, an overpowered character who doesn't diminish the roles of the rest of the party can be very helpful. (My most recent character, a cleric named Asa, is fairly overpowered by most standards due to high ability rolls and some great starting equipment, but since he's the group's healer, no one minds him kicking ass as long as he keeps the party healthy.) Pay close attention when diagnosing balance issues to whether they're causing the other players or the story to suffer. If they aren't, there's very little harm in allowing an unbalanced detail to stand. 

So, "failure as a DM" when it comes to balance is really about whether you can recognize balance issues and correct them if they call for it. Any unbalanced detail can be changed by the story to better reflect what you're trying to accomplish. If you're worried that your game is unbalanced, just determine what would fix it and develop a story reason to implement it. The only balance issues that signify "failure as a DM" come from DMs who fight so hard for mathematical balance that the reality of everyone's experience is lost. TRPGs are an art more than a science, so strive for the right effect more than the right method. 

That's all for now. I hope that as you strive for a balanced game, you are successful, and remember always to treat your players as unique ingredients in the meal that is your game. Coming soon: how to help players find their fun, what works when trying to tell a grand story, and my variant gods rules. Until next time, happy gaming!


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Sunday, March 14, 2021

How to Improvise Encounters

You're running your game and then your players end up in an encounter. Maybe they're up against a plot-related enemy and maybe it's just a random encounter. But you haven't prepared stat blocks or anything you need for combat. You know that combat is complicated and requires special balance to keep things from being too easy or too hard, so how can you create something balanced on the fly? The surprising answer is that you can create an encounter very easily if you keep a few things in mind. 

The first thing you should decide is what type of enemy your players are facing off against. For a story-based encounter, this is easy enough: you want the enemy type that is most involved in your campaign. For random encounters, you can make the decision based on the same idea, but you can also mix it up if you feel like it. What matters is that you're getting a baseline of what your enemies are capable of. 

Then you want to determine the number of enemies involved. Is it a single foe, a party, or a horde? This will depend on the type of enemy you selected to begin with. Your BBEG fight will likely be a single enemy, a party of rival adventurers or monsters will be somewhere in the middle, and a horde will feature less powerful enemies. For the purposes of most encounters, you want to select one of these three options. There is a basic mathematical relationship you want for each one, and it's straightforward. [I will address armor class after discussing these other considerations.]

  • A single enemy should have twice the hp of the party's average character; they should be more likely to hit by a small number (if the party averages +5, they should be +7/8); and they should deal about twice as much damage as the average party member.
  • A party should be roughly equal to your players' party: slightly less hp (10%-25% less), slightly less likely to hit (if the party averages +5, they should be +4), and about the same amount of damage. 
  • A horde should be about twice as many as are in the party: half the hp of the party's average character; a half less likely to hit (if the party averages +5, they should be +2/3); they do about half as much damage as the party's average. 
These numbers are rough and largely approximations. You can use the official mathematics to find the exact balance according to the game books, but we have another trick up our sleeve: fudging rolls. We can use that tool to moderate any imbalance in our combat. More on that later. For now, let's look at an example of each possibility with real numbers:

Single enemy: Your players have found themselves a young dragon and are itching to fight. You can look up dragon stats if you want, but if your playstyle is storytelling-based rather than combat-based, you'll want this dragon to be an appropriate challenge more than you'll want an actual dragon's kind of challenge. So let's say our average player in the party has these vital stats: 55 hp, +6 to hit, and 1d8+3 damage (which is about a 4th-6th level character, appropriate for a young dragon fight in the first place). So we'll follow the doubling formula and end up with these stats for the dragon: 100 hp, +9 to hit, and 1d12+5. I dropped a few hp from the dragon for a clean 100 hp--this is in part because 100 hp is a large amount we rarely want to go over. I selected +9 to hit because it fits in our formula and because it means that the dragon is likelier to hit than to miss, which makes it a challenging foe. And I expanded its damage not by a complete factor of 2, but by a step less than double--there is no d16 in standard dice sets, so we go for the next down, and the +5 is a step up from +3 without overwhelming the players. Now we have the vital combat information for our dragon, and it only took a moment. You would be able to design the stats for this encounter in less than a minute and be able to keep rolling with the game. 

Party: Your players have been running up against a rival band of adventurers for days and the tensions have finally boiled over. You could use a handful of pre-designed characters or the numbers provided for specific enemy types from the game books. But you could also just slap together the stats for a bizarro version of the party. We'll keep our numbers from the last example: the average player as 55 hp, +6 to hit, and 1d8+3 damage. So our rival party has variations on those numbers. Let's say the player party is three characters. So our rival party also has three characters, with these numbers: rival adventurer 1: 50 hp, +5 to hit, and 1d8+1 damage; rival adventurer 2: 52 hp, +4 to hit, and 1d6+4 damage; rival adventurer 3: 45 hp, +4 to hit, and 1d8+2 damage. Each of these numbers is slightly below the party's on average--our goal is to create an almost equal but still winnable fight using our bizarro version of the party. I suggest directing these party-sized combats as though the players are fighting themselves--one rival adventurer could use similar tactics to a certain player character. Or you could try out strategies you're interested in. What matters is that as the players fight, you track the momentum as you go. More on that shortly. 

Horde: Your players have entered a dungeon which appears to be inhabited by kobolds, who become defensive and territorial when they come in. You could use kobold numbers, but how many will you include to strike the right balance? I suggest that instead, you use the formula given above. Our players still average the same numbers: 55 hp, +6 to hit, and 1d8+3 damage. There are still three players, so our formula says we need 6 kobolds for the combat. Their numbers will be about half the party's:

  • Kobold 1: 25 hp, +3 to hit, 1d4+2 damage
  • Kobold 2: 27 hp, +2 to hit, 1d4+1 damage
  • Kobold 3: 28 hp, +2 to hit, 1d6+2 damage
  • Kobold 4: 23 hp, +3 to hit, 1d6+1 damage
  • Kobold 5: 24 hp, +2 to hit, 1d4+3 damage
  • Kobold 6: 26 hp, +3 to hit, 1d4+2 damage

  • Now we have the same numbers are our first two encounter types, but reorganized for more creatures. You'll notice that the total hit points in each step are slightly different--all the kobolds combined have more hp than the dragon, so aren't they a greater threat? But we still haven't addressed the final vital stat for combat: armor class. 

    I decided to leave armor class for last because it's a delicate number. Whereas you can fudge any rolls involving to hit and damage, armor class is a set number which can't be changed mid-combat without some serious fudging. So you want your armor class to be a little more carefully considered than how many hit points a character has. I say that generally, you want your armor class to reflect how long you want the combat to last. A higher armor class means more misses by the players, which means more time in combat, which means more damage taken by the players' characters. But you're throwing this encounter together off the top of your head, so how do you get it right? 

    I recommend a simple sliding scale. It involved taking an enemy's to hit and damage into consideration. There's a mathematical way to do it and an estimating way to do it. The mathematical way say to start with their to hit. Let's assume that our party averages a 14 armor class, which is pretty normal for most parties. That means that a +4 to hit would mean striking the players about 50% of the time. (That's the number for our party of rival adventurers, so let's run with it.) Their average damage (at 1d8+1) is 5 or 6. At 50% of the time, that means that rival adventurers will deal 2.5-3 damage per turn. Our players have about 55 hp, so they should be able to withstand about 20 rounds of combat before ending up seriously hurt. Now we run this number back through our other player information: 20 turns to go through the rival adventurer's 50 hp means the players should average about 3 damage per turn to stay ahead, and we know they average 7-8 damage per successful strike, so the players should successfully hit 1 out of 2.5 attacks. If they have a +6 to attack, then the rival adventurer's armor class should be about 16 or 17. So we can give the rival adventurers armor classes of 16 or 17, and we have a balanced encounter. 

    We could do the same math on the young dragon and kobold examples. Young dragon: +8 to hit and 1d12+5 per hit means that an armor class 14 would take 11-12 damage roughly 75% of the time, or about 9 damage per turn. At 55 hp, the players can safely take damage from the dragon for 6 rounds. The players need to go through the dragon's 100 hp in 6 rounds. There are three adventurers, so this is really only 33hp in 6 rounds per character. This is roughly 5 damage per turn, and they deal 7-8 damage on a successful strike, so they must hit roughly 2 out of 3 attacks. With a +6 to attack, the players will strike successfully that often against an armor class of about 13. On the other hand, the kobolds: +3 to hit and 1d4+2 damage means an armor class 14 would take 4-5 damage a little less than half the time, which is about 2 damage per round, but from 6 kobolds total. Since we have twice as many kobolds as adventurers, we double these numbers; the average player character takes about 4 damage per round from the kobolds as a whole. The player characters have 55 hp, so they can take 13-14 rounds of combat from the kobolds. So we take the 14 rounds and the kobold's collective 150 health and find that the player characters need to deal about 10 damage per round collectively, or 3/4 damage per player per round. (Eliminating kobolds from combat will shift these numbers, but not enough to throw things off completely, and you can always fudge things.) The players deal 7-8 damage per successful strike; the players should be facing a kobold that allows them to hit every other turn. With a +6 to attack, we want armor classes of about 16 to keep combat balanced. 

    But that was a lot of math to do, especially on the spot when improvising an encounter. If you improvise enough encounters, you'll get a feel for how to do this without breaking out a calculator. But in general, here's a simple rule to allow you to do this without much effort: For party- and horde-sized encounters, if you're using the formula I showed you above, you can just take your party's average bonus to attack, add it to 10, and make that the enemy's armor class. That will give your players about a 50% chance to hit the enemies, and the balance of the rest of the numbers will suffice to keep things even. For your occasional lone enemy, cut your players' average bonus to attack in half and add it to 10. If you're using the above method for doubling their vital stats, this will mean that your player characters will hit the enemy about two-thirds of the time, which will create a tense combat. These shortcuts will get your started, but they won't carry you through the encounter. 

    Other features of encounters can enrich the experience for your players. Interesting terrain or distinct strategies can make things memorable; consider which is more interesting, a scrap with some bandits in the woods, or a scene in which bandits scale makeshift walls to fire projectiles down on the party before leaping down on top of them? You can also give the enemies access to artifacts and magic items which will affect the way that they fight. The momentum of an encounter can be exciting too; perhaps you spring one on the players just as they're beginning to feel safe or in a part of town where combat shouldn't be happening. What matters here is that an encounter feels like a unique and valuable part of the game and story, not just a way to get experience and loot. 

    Finally, as I've written about previously, it is often a great idea to fudge rolls. Encounters, whether devised by the guidelines above or improvised or taken directly from a sourcebook, are inherently random, and sometimes things will go awry. But should a few unlucky rolls mean that the players are stopped dead (literally) in their tracks before completing their adventure? Wouldn't it be meaninglessly tragic for a random encounter to be the end of a years-long campaign? I think that fudging rolls is an important part of walking the line between telling a story and running a random simulation. So as I describe in this previous article, it is a good idea to soften the blow of random chance with some fudged rolls. 

    Let's say you've done some quick math, improvised your encounter, and now your players are floundering anyway. They had some unlucky rolls and now the BBEG has rolled a critical hit on a player character with little remaining health. The dice say the damage is enough to outright kill the character. But you have no plot reason to do so, so you fudge the roll. Maybe the BBEG failed his attack, or rolls incredibly low on damage, or directs his attack at a healthier player character. You can adjust here and there as you go to keep the momentum going in the right direction. 

    The most obvious issue here is that you don't want your players to be overwhelmed. But what if your players are kicking the crap out of the boss you've created for them? Fudging is even easier this way. Add a few dozen hit points to the enemy. Grant them a critical hit on a player character who's giving them a hard time. You could even have the enemy take on a greater form by adding another piece of armor, increasing their attack stats, or gaining access to a new spell. Whatever you do, it helps to have an in-game rationale for the change--not only does this rationalize the change, but it will enrich the story of the encounter. 

    So you see that developing an encounter on the fly is a relatively easy thing to do if you strip away all the math. You can give your players a memorable combat scene before returning to your regularly scheduled adventuring, and all without having to get involved in rules-heavy reading. 


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    How and When to Fudge Rolls

    Your players are locked in combat with intermediate enemies. You're in the middle of a combat that will eventually lead to the final encounter of your session. Your players are rolling low numbers and the enemies are rolling well; it looks like the party may not survive the encounter. What do you do? Let the players die because they weren't proficient enough in combat to survive? You could, especially if you were running a hard combat simulation. But most groups are not well-served by dying like this. You could fudge a roll or two, but how do you decide when it's appropriate to do so? This guide will tell you everything you need to know about fudging rolls in and out of combat. 

    Let's start with combat, since it's the realm that requires fudging most often. As described in the above hypothetical, your players might be outmatched. Perhaps that's the fault of the module you're running--it overwhelms the players. Or perhaps you've dropped in too powerful an enemy, and it's going to wipe the party. Perhaps--and this is usually a stretch--the players are too poorly-built or too non-strategic to defeat an enemy they should be able to beat. No matter which of these is true, the players stand to lose everything: the story, their characters, every detail that's led them to where they are. And while some DMs would rationalize that makes it right to let the party die, I disagree. The point of D&D and TRPGs like it is that the players can inhabit a fictional space and do with it as they please. The end of the story is what matters, not the players' fitness as combat gods. So we want to grant them some balance. 

    The most obvious case in need of fudging a roll is when a character will die otherwise. A character has low hit points and is targeted by the BBEG; a successful attack would mean their death. You have a few options here. First, you could fudge the roll. The BBEG rolls a 2 or so and misses the character. Crisis averted, and now the whole party has another chance to attack the BBEG. You can use a tool like a low roll here to stretch out the combat and allow the party to catch up. But you can only use this tool so often. The players will notice if the BBEG misses again and again because they're supposed to be the biggest challenge. So you can only get away with a straight-up fudge in big moments. Fortunately, there are other ways to fudge the numbers. 

    You can also make the enemies easier to hit. You may have established a higher armor class for your enemies early in combat, but now you want your players to be more likely to hit. You have options. You can simply lower their armor class on the grounds that their armor has become damaged in combat. If you do this, I recommend using a successful hit from a player to harm the armor of the enemy, lowering their armor class for the rest of combat. You could also have the enemy remove a piece of armor--perhaps their shield is getting in the way and they want to use their weapon two-handed, so now their armor class is a few points lower. Alternatively, maybe they remove a helmet that obstructs their field of vision, or they get rid of a heavy gauntlet to swing faster. Each of these examples allows the characters to get a leg up in combat without compromising the encounter. 

    You can also manipulate the numbers that players can't see. Imagine that we're in an encounter with the BBEG and the players have only removed half of their hit points, but are on the edge of death. We can, as the DM, decide to simply cut short the remaining hit points of the BBEG. Our numbers say he has 45 hit points left, but who's to say they don't have only 3? The players won't know that you've abbreviated the encounter (unless they have compared the standard amount of hp for that type of monster, and even then, who's to say that enemy wasn't weaker or already damaged?). So you can keep the story going even when the enemy is overwhelming. 

    Hit point manipulation goes both ways. Just as you can adjust the damage to enemies, you can do it for your players. Let's say an enemy does heavy damage to a character. You think it's enough to knock out or even kill the player's character. But your story isn't served by the players failing, so you want to fudge the roll. My favorite tool for this moment is to act very concerned and ask the player, "Uh, how many hit points do you have left?" Whatever they answer, adjust the damage so that they end up with only a few hit points remaining. This creates drama--now that character is badly hurt, meaning the strategy of the battle must change or else the character will face serious consequences. 

    All of this is not to say that you want to protect your players' characters at all times. When they do something reckless, ill-advised, or just plain stupid, there should be consequences. If a character ripped off all their armor and charged the BBEG with nothing but a pointy rock, we would want them to suffer consequences rather than fudge a roll for them. Think of consequences in combat as being a balancing act. If your players are strategic and careful, they should be rewarded with survival, even by a narrow margin. If they are wild and unwise, they should be allowed to fall unconscious or suffer some lasting impact (a minor handicap like a -1 to hit or disadvantage on certain rolls). But you don't want things to feel too random. 

    "Not too random?" I can hear you saying. "But it's a dice-based game! It's supposed to be random." And that's true. D&D was designed to have randomness as a key feature of the game experience. But when we use a TRPG as the mechanism for delivering a story, the rules change. Randomness makes things exciting, so we use a degree of randomness for spice, but a truly random game could have no overarching story. It would just be scenes with no rhyme or reason. So we curtail some of the randomness in favor of guided storytelling. It's a matter of spectrum as opposed to binary: most DMs and players would agree that a certain degree of fudging rolls can be appropriate or even necessary, but the question is how much you should do it. 

    My rule is that if fudging a roll makes a story moment more interesting in a way that benefits the players, I allow myself the option of fudging that roll. That's pretty broad, obviously, but it serves me well. Big moments are obvious contenders for fudged rolls--that's where we shift the momentum of our story in the right direction. But small moments can be appropriate too. Consider the following scene: The players are investigating claims of ravenous animals living in an abandoned mine shaft outside of a small town. There's a clue I've planted as DM: the mixture of animal tracks outside the mine include a dire wolf's. The characters do survival checks to scout for information, and all of their rolls are just shy of the DC I've decided on beforehand. But I really want them to be aware of the dire wolf threat, and at least one player is enough of a tracker that he probably would have found them in a normal situation. So I pretend the DC is a little lower than I had previously decided, and I allow the party to notice the tracks before moving on. 

    Obviously, this only works in certain situations. If the players all rolled below a 10, they certainly wouldn't find anything useful. The players all know they've rolled low, and there's nothing I can do to fudge the rolls. We more or less have to stand by the failure and keep going. There are, however, two ways we could push it further. We could treat the dire wolf tracks as obvious information and imply that there's some greater information being withheld for a higher roll. This lets us tweak the story in the direction we want and keep going despite the failure. Or, we could have the party advance a bit and then offer the same survival check, allowing them a new opportunity to succeed on the roll. Because this second attempt is in a different place, we can also lower the DC, arguing that the dire wolf tracks have become more obvious in this second location. So you can see that fudging rolls is not just about changing the number on the die; it's about shifting the goalposts so that your players stand a chance. 

    You'll notice that this most recent example is not combat-related. In fact, for me, many of the rolls I have to decide whether to fudge or not are not combat rolls. This is in part because I run a low-combat campaign most of the time, but also because skill checks are a great place to fudge rolls. When you're doing a story-based campaign, oftentimes the players' ability to progress will be tied to specific rolls. Does the party notice the mercenaries approaching? Does their persuasion check convince the BBEG to take mercy on the countryside? Does their athletics check allow them to survive a leap across a chasm? These sorts of rolls are delicate and important, and you'll need a way to ensure the players succeed if you want them to advance through your story. 

    A skill check can be easier to fudge than a combat roll. In combat, it's generally known that a roll below 12 or so is a miss and a roll above 17 or so is likely to hit, depending on the level of the enemies. But DCs are more variable. You can decide that a roll as low as a 7 or so is a success if the check represents a simple enough action. Should your players succeed in this way, describe their success as barely being enough. In addition to making the low roll seem more legitimate, you'll have the opportunity to create a dramatic moment by highlighting the narrowness of their success. 

    I'll provide an example skill check from each of the six attributes so you can see how fudging a skill check works:
    • Strength: Athletics - Your player is trying to run up a tree's trunk and pull themselves up into the branches; they roll a 10. You tell them that they manage to get off the ground and wrap one hand around a low branch. Their success is not what they'd hoped, but it's still a success enough to allow them to progress in the direction they had intended. 
    • Dexterity: Stealth - Your player is trying to move through the shadows and sneak up on an enemy archer; they roll an 8. You tell them that they stay in the shadows but don't remain 100% silent--the enemy notices them only when it is too late, and the player character gets a sneak attack. This is not a pretty or elegant success, but it does allow the player to get the kind of tactical advantage they were hoping for. 
    • Constitution: Saving Throw - Your player is on the ground, choking from having been forced to ingest poison; they roll a 4. Rather than have the poison shut down their system, you interpret the low roll as an inability to process the poison, and the player character vomits it up. Now they've taken the damage they must because the roll was so low, but they avoid further damage from it because it's out of their system. 
    • Intelligence: Investigation - Your player is walking through town, asking strangers for the last known whereabouts of a person of interest; they roll a 6. You tell them that they spend an hour getting no real responses, until just as they are about to give up, a bystander overhears their question and comes forth to share what they know. Rather than an outright failure, the player succeeds in a way that takes time and energy, and so their success is moderated. 
    • Wisdom: Medicine - Your player is attempting to stop the bleeding on an important NPC; they roll a 7. You tell them that the NPC loses a good deal of blood, but they manage to stop the bleeding just as the NPC passes out. Rather than an outright success (where the NPC is able to immediately assist the party) or at outright failure (where the NPC dies), this option allows the player to succeed but retains the consequences of a failure. 
    • Charisma: Performance - Your player is attempting to curry favor with a noblewoman by playing a beautiful piece on their lute; they roll a 5. You tell the player that although their performance is mechanical and awkward, it stirs the court, who have not heard a lute played in generations--the noblewoman is not moved, but agrees to help the party because of what they have done for her people. Rather than accept that the player outright failed, we can twist this story moment into a moderated success. 
    With each of these examples, you want to explain the moderating feature that allows their success. For the performance check, for instance, you want some NPC explanation of the way that the court has missed out on music like this. You could improvise that the noblewoman has not allowed music to be played because it confuses the passions. Now, rather than a player failure that halts the story, you have a moderate success that moves the story forward and characterizes the scene you're in. 

    So when should you fudge a roll? I would argue that any time a fudged roll allows your players to have a better time than a random roll. You will need to stick by critical rolls--those cannot be avoided. But use your strength as a GM to control the experience of your players by fudging anything that would change the story you have planned. Remember that D&D was invented as a twist on miniature wargames, and that storytelling emerged from that form over time--you don't have to abide by the dice if you're aiming for a story instead. 

    Coming soon: spicing up my homebrew world with dragon lore, a guide for beginning players, and a guide to using the dice for beginners. Until next time, happy gaming!

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