This week I ran a party of players through their second session exploring the Tomb of the Serpent Kings.
I used Fantastic Medieval Campaigns Basic by Marcia B. of Traverse Fantasy to run it - and have already run it in the past for a different group of players using White Box: Fantasy Medieval Adventure Game.
The session went in a very unexpected direction, and sent my thoughts spinning in several different directions - so I thought I'd go over some of them here.
"He Who Fights Monsters..."
Tomb of the Serpent Kings is a great adventure, that manages to make even a supposedly trad (and "introductory") dungeon crawl interesting by building upon the complexity and strangeness of the dungeon the deeper you go, and by offering a bunch of divergent paths and different experiences to be had - from mummified hands bursting out of a pool, through fungus goblins that might declare you their king and then sacrifice you, to a basilisk in a dungeon intended for first level characters.
Each of these can be approached and overcome in different ways, and encourage clever and creative approaches by players. The last group I ran dealt with the basilisk in a way the adventure expected (and arguably intended) - by blinding it (and then proceeding to attack ith with several lucky rolls on their part - and several unlucky rolls on its part) and killing it.
But this week, one player did something I never expected — which I don't anyone could have expected: he became the basilisk.
To understand what happens it's important to note that one of the spells available to magic-users (even at first level) in FMC Basic is "Transmigrate" - which allows the caster to inhabit the body of another creature. In true OD&D fashion, the rules don't explain how long the transmigration lasts and whether or not there are any limits to which bodies can be targeted.
So when one player — we'll call him Reuven — asked if he can cast it on the basilisk, my immediate reaction — of course — was "absolutely you can". I ruled that unwilling targets require the player to roll a test (50/50 chance, as per the system's rules). One character cast invisibility on Reuven's character, while another one used his marionette puppet (using his "puppeteer" expertise, as per FMC Basic's Expert Class) to distract the basilisk, giving time for Reuven's character to approach the basilisk - and allowing him to roll with advantage.
He succeeded.
He spent the rest of the session as the basilisk (closing his eyes so as not to petrify his allies), while his own body was inhabited by an enraged and confused basilisk, tied up and carried on his back. The players even asked me if the basilisk is too big to fit through doorways - but how boring would that be? So I said it can fit through most doorways in this dungeon fine (in other places? who knows).
According to the adventure, a living basilisk is worth 1,000 gold pieces. So when they returned to the village with a basilisk in tow (but kept hidden, of course), I decided to award them the experience accordingly (10,000 XP). They all leveled up to level 2, one is already nearing level 3.
This experience is perfect for a short, stand-alone adventure that I have no intention of turning into a full campaign (would I allow it in a full campaign? Probably yes, but I'd make more of a big deal out of where they hide the basilisk and such. I might also have some basilisk hunters that have seen the party come after them to try and grab the prize for themselves - hell, I might do this in the next session regardless). It also highlights a couple of important things.
- Don't be afraid of saying yes. I disagree with the "always say yes" mentality. Instead, when someone a player asks me if they can do something and my gut instinct is "no", I ask myself "why not". If the only answer is "this breaks the game", usually it's better to say yes. A game can't be 'broken'.
- The player who came up with this idea only played an RPG once before. I often find that new players are much more likely to come up with crazy ideas than players nursed on modern iterations of D&D - as learning something new is much easier than unlearning something you know
Thoughts on FMC Basic
I am drawn to minimalistic systems — especially for running one-shots — but few of them have actually worked for me in practice.
FMC drew me in particular because of the lack of attributes. It seems to distill D&D into its most spartan, core mechanics, and then builds a bit on those mechanics with abstract takes on things like spell-casting and what thieves do.
Minimalism is great: it makes the game faster, it encourages player creativity, and it keeps the game from getting bogged down in rules. Minimalistic systems that work easily with pre-existing modules are particularly alluring for this reason.
And yet, this system is not without it's problems. The way magic items work is a bit finnicky for my taste - especially the arcane focuses. The warrior is a bit too flimsy - I'd probably beef them up, HP wise, ever so slightly if I do play this again. And the expert is a bit too broad for my tastes. But really the main thing I didn't like was the 50/50 chance for success.
The problem with lack of attributes is that it means everyone has the same odds of success. So even if I were to change this to a 2-in-6 baseline chance of success I'm still a bit unhappy with how it works. I want two warriors to feel more mechanically distinct from one another than just the weapons they use.
Also, this was the first time I tried playing with OD&D's initiative system (with rounds segmented into movement, missiles, magic and melee). After two sessions of running combat like this, I think I've confirmed I don't like it.
Most of this can of course be fixed with house rules - I myself added the background rules from Black Hack, and if I played this again I would probably make all starting equipment and spells randomized to speed things up.
However, I think the lack of attributes, while tempting, doesn't quite work for what I want for my games. So I will be looking elsewhere for my future dungeon-crawly minimalist game (next up on the docket: Tunnel Goons!)
The Sun Shone and the Wheat Grew
In one of his most famous and harrowing poems, "The City of Slaughter", Bialik wrote of nature's indifferent response to the masses murdered in the Kishinev pogrom: "The sun shone, the wheat grew, and the butcher butchered". That line is one of the most famous lines of Hebrew poetry of all times. But not just nature is indifferent to the slaughter - people too, grow accustomed to it overtime, and it's a strange feeling.
We played this session against the backdrop of an all-too-real war. The massacres of October are still fresh on all of our minds, with more and more horrific testimonies coming out each day; there are still over a hundred captives in by all accounts horrid conditions held in the Gaza Strip, and meanwhile masses are being killed in Gaza as a result of the war - most of them likely innocent, many of them children.
And yet - life goes on. It has to. People cook, and listen to music, make love and watch movies - and play games. But this session, as I was describing an amputated leg on a spear I decided the fungus goblins had left as a warning to the adventurers on their second excursion into the tomb - I froze. I, and I assume many of my players, immediately remembered the descriptions of mutilations in the October massacre. Reality bled into the fantasy - all too literally - and cast a long shadow on the game.
So I will probably think twice in coming months about putting in content that in the past wouldn't have made me or my players so much as flinch. And it's strange that the mere thought of having their fictional avatar turned into stone can terrify someone even when there's a far more real and palpable possibility of bodily harm lurking outside their door.
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