Do you get annoyed when a newcomer chooses the same avatar as you? Is this an unwritten violation of board etiquette?
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Is there anyone who plays D&D ?e or Pathfinder who plays strictly by the book outside of PFS? What I mean is, absolutely no house rules, up on all errata, that sort of game? I'm wondering, because I've never played one as far as I know in 25 years. My groups have always been willing to fling conventions out the window when we didn't care for them, and every homebrew setting has its own set of restrictions on what classes/races exist there. Does a pure version of any game exist with RAW only outside of tournament play? Do you think the majority of games are played this way? Or is the game better played while adapted to your own group's needs? And if the majority of games are mutations of official rules, what does that say about the rules themselves? Is the adaptability of an RPG a strength, or does it encourage further fracturing of the hobby?
as told by Gilman the Dog, captain of the aforementioned Starkhaven mercenary company of no repute Part i, prologue Here be the story of a ragtag group of misfits who met in the godsforsaken land of Argosia for the purpose of making some coin and thus diminishing the likelihood of our collective or individual starvation. For those not familiar, the land of Argosia is peopled with the beastmen ('orcs' being the polite term, which I had best adhere to lest I offend my comrade at arms, Rock the Rager). Most contracts in that land consist of venturing into the neighboring land of the elves and slaughtering as many non-combatants as one may before an armed response can be mustered. I found such work repugnant. I should have mentioned previously that I was not born in Argosia. My parents were both human, hailing from the frozen land of Astaria. They fled after being found out as magic users by the ruling body (known as the Sovereign Host, more on them in a moment). Magic is strictly forbidden in all the realms (but it is particularly hated in Astaria) unless one takes the Oath and Seal and joins with the Mage's Guild . The Oath is a declaration that one shall never use magic in ways forbidden by the Sovereign Host. The Seal is the means by the which the Host enforce their law. Should any mage act in such a way as to offend them, the Seal may be destroyed by any ranking Host member, thus causing the mage to bleed out from the heart in seconds. It is said even the very soul of the mage is destroyed in this process, rendering resurrection impossible. I think perhaps the member of the Host are so eager to destroy the souls of others because of jealousy, having lost their own souls when they agreed to be recruited by the Host. Needless to say, my parents found such restrictions not to their liking and became rogue mages. I know little else about them. The Argosians were no more merciful with them than the Astarians had been. Orcs turned them in for a minimal reward, and I was given over at the tender age of 7 to a Quartermaster to begin training as a spider-mounted cavalry rider. I believe that there is good (or the possibility of good) in the hearts of all sentient beings. That said, I have yet to encounter a people where that quality is so rare among its members as with the orcs. My training was mainly long and dull, punctuated at times by pain and terror. I owe the Argosians my gratitude for the strength of my arm and the spider mount given to me when I became a mercenary. That I do not exact vengance on them for having my parents killed is the means by which I consider that debt paid in full. That is my background. I found myself a corporal in a minor mercenary company along with 6 others. The first was our orc captain, whose name I never bothered to learn. (I fear it is now lost to history as he was slain on our first mission.) Eluette, an elven ranger, was our second in command (who professed a burning hatred of her own people for reasons she has yet to divulge to us). Her prowess with a bow is quite formidable. Then there was Rock the Rager, a half-orc cleric who served the nameless dead god the orcs once worshipped (strictly forbidden by the Host). Two gnomes had joined us just a week earlier, an Alchemist (the psuedo magicians of Astaria) and Zellan, a 'rogue' who wielded a spiked chain. I was to discover later that our roguish friend had more talents than he initially led us to believe. But such is understandable with the world (and the Host) being what it is. Then there was myself, and Charlotte my spider mount. The others tease me to this day over naming my mount. Though it may stem from some other reason. I must confess that my one strength lies in weilding a lance and wielding it boldly. I am well spoken, I am told, but I have no head for the subtleties of interaction between the sentient races. In all other things I am completely average. This is not self-deprecation, merely a straightforward account of my assets and limitations. They will be made manifest as the story progresses, in any case. Next: Part I, the beginning of our story.
Why do Monks and Rogues get all the attention? |