Schadenfreude's page

Another monster I just realized we will probably lose is the demilich, at least as it stands now. Liches pop up all over the place but the only place I recall ever seeing a demilich was in D&D.

It's (the look at least) actually based on a Ffahrd and the Grey Mouser/Fritz Leiber story, so... maybe OK?

In terms of balance though, *would* it make much difference if shields had the shove trait (and the feats and critical specialisations still worked normally, usually to provide better action economy)?

Would that be different if shields only had the shove trait if they didn't have spikes or bosses?

As a GM, I'd be delighted to see Goblin Interpretive Dance.

I think any sane understanding of what is happening in that situation means that you lose the benefits of raising the shield.

RAW may allow you to see things differently for the reasons you describe.

Yes, it's part of (at least some versions of) the original myth.

Perhaps, although not necessarily. Perhaps harpy culture values substance over appearance, so they're completely unconcerned with cleanliness? After all, their description says they know how creatures acts and feel, and they can see how easily people are lead astray by a captivating song, but what they really value is what people are like beneath the superficial.

I think that would be an interesting change from the usual good = pretty/clean; evil = dirty/ugly.

Forgot to say: I like your ideas, and I'd encourage you to give them a go and see how they work. At worst, you can always change back.

My character, after a long and traumatic life, was finally able to let go of his anger and give up on adventuring, having realised that it was killing him morally and emotionally. He went back to a village where he'd had a romance a couple of adventures ago, settled down, had two children, and got fat and happy.

We picked it up after a few years has passed for him, only to discover that he'd been trapped in a dreamscape, and his wife, his children, and all of the quiet, peaceful life he'd built was nothing but a dream built on his wish for a quiet, meaningful life.

I didn't cry, but I felt weirdly and obscurely sad for him that the only happiness in his life had been stolen from him.

It occurs to me that changing a d20 to 2d10 would actually be a good use for something like the Assurance feat.

Sure, you're less likely to do something stellar (reduced chances of getting a 20), but much more likely to do something middle of the range, and no chance of rolling a 1 and bombing out completely.

Plus, every time you use that skill, you'll get a visceral sense of the difference spending that feat has made for you.

My main opposition to Players Roll Everything is that, as GM, I'm also playing the game, and I like rolling dice too.

If Twitter is a more positive environment than the Paizo messageboards, something terrible has gone wrong somewhere.

I think new players would benefit from having a very broad-brush approach to how a roleplaying game works before (or as the earliest section of) the "Basic Concepts" section.

You start by explaining the basic interaction in every scene of the game: the GM describes a scene that has opportunities for the players to make decisions. The player tells the GM what they want to do, and the GM decides whether it's trivial, impossible or the outcome is uncertain. If it's trivial ("I walk across the ballroom to the drinks table and help myself), it happens; it's it's impossible, it doesn't; if it's uncertain, the GM asks for more information or one of you rolls dice to see how successful the action is. The GM describes the outcome, and we start again at the top.

Then you have some of the basic mechanics stuff from the "Playing the Game" chapter, and probably an example of play.

The type of scenes (and therefore decisions being made) depend on the mode of play (so you can talk about that now). In the most high stakes scenes, decisions usually occur in a set order and take turns, and how much you can achieve on your turn depends on actions (so you can talk about that now). Then you say some actions, particularly common ones, have specific terms attached to them, like attack rolls or AC, and specific effects, which can be measured by things like hit points (and go into the key terms etc sections).

And there are probably examples of play in there too.

I think (a) this would make the whole process more transparent to new players, and (b) be more exciting to actually read, both of which would help bring new people into the hobby and keep them there.

Given they don't have stats at all, you could call them any type of tiny animal you wanted, rather than sticking to the two in the playtest bestiary?

Hythlodeus wrote:

The NPC wrote:

Also, Fahrenheit fits the setting better.

how so? there is nothing particularly archaic about it, it is just impractical to use

Older than metric. Its the messier more organic nature that makes it fit with a fantasy better. Also, since you're not actually traveling nor sharing results between different groups scientists, how does its impracticality actually affect you?

Only older by 18 years.

Its impracticality affects us because it's completely unintuitive to anyone outside of the US.

1) Losandro is found kneeling in a pool of her own blood, but where is she bleeding from? Maybe I missed it, but I couldn't find a specific injury listed, and the book makes it sound like a lot of blood.

I said she was bleeding from her pores and mucous membranes. My interpretation was that the planar energies which are hollowing her out are corroding her flesh from the inside, and the residue is just... leaking out where it can.

2) My players are really interested in curing Losandro. After having them roll some checks (so I could think of something) I told them that they would first need to help sever the Tatterman from coming into the Material Plane, as well as find the specific spell that she originally attempted in order to reverse engineer some kind of cure. Is there anything more specific in the book I might have missed? Did anyone else's players do this?

That sounds reasonable.

3) With the grandma in the wheelchair haunt (I've forgotten her name), how do the players learn that she needs her medicine to cure the haunt? I couldn't find any context clues for the players, so I had one of them notice a medical bracelet on her that states she needs her heart medication every day.

She stirred slightly when one of the players mentioned healing or medicine. I thought they needed to be thrown a bone, so that seemed fair.

Has anyone encountered b13 with the 3 prisoners yet? My group did last night and they found the weird eye wrapped in a handkerchief on the body of the middle prisoner. Does anyone know what the heck that is? All of the PCs were really intrigued (especially with the other prisoner yelling "Zandalus sees!") but all the book says is its a minor curiosity that can be sold. Which seems a little underwhelming given its cool description.

One of my players ate it. That was unexpected.

I'm more concerned about the unique encounters involving the dopplegangers, the nightgaunt and the Tatterman. Do I tweak their stats or do I include additional mobs as a distraction? What do you guys advise?

I'd add minions or duplicates for the boss fights.

If you just leave it as 1 opponent, the PCs have got 7 actions to your 1 each round, so even if you've tampered with the stats, you won't get a satisfactory use out of them.

Adding other (probably weak) opponents avoids that problem without being overpowering.

Another option is tampering with the stats *and* giving the monster 2 actions per round (in which case, they're basically 2 monsters anyway). It might add to the nightmare/broken reality feel.

Have you considered conversation and counselling rather than mind control?

Not a conversion of Castle Ravenloft/House of Strahd/Expedition to Castle Ravenloft/Curse of Strahd (it's had a lot of different versions it seems), but very comprehensive Pathfinder rules for Ravenloft from one of the 3e authors here, here and here.

I appreciate the Ravenloft references, I must say.

I just assumed you'd died.

Ciaran desperately wants to drink to relieve his pain, but does little more than wet his lips with it, not wanting to fall back into the drunken pit he recently escaped from.

His evening is therefore spent sitting in the one spot by the fire, painfully eating everything that comes within arm's reach.

Whenever is relevant...

"Logistically, we have three options - the resources we can carry with us, the ship, and (for as long as they remain friendly), the village. We should consider having the ship parallel us along the coast, so they we have their resources and a method of quick extraction should we need it in the event of an emergency. Or at least having it wait in designated harbours to check in with at set times. It would be risky for them though, although I'm sure Barbarosa would think it was worth it.

"We also need to decide what our goals are. Do we want to explore the island step by step, or do we want to head straight to the centre to see this 'home of the gods'? There's also the matter of the road, which we could follow for as long as it lasts."

Ciaran comes round to see Gratum and Matla peering down at him.

He coughs - blood flecking his spittle - and moans in agony as the coughing reveals several broken ribs and bruised organs.

"Am I dead?"

He tries to get up, but collapses immediately with another groan of pain. "Is the yak dead? Aeslin? Gado? Anyone else?"

Clutching at his chest with what is later revealed to be a fractured wrist, he moans again. "I dreamed I saw my family," he says muzzily. "And all the others. That bastard Andross. I've seen a lot of people die over the years."

"It's unfair I should be in this much pain and not dead."

The yak moos loudly as he sees his friends under attack, though no one important seems to be hurt yet.

;)

Sorry, Barley likes me because I secretly feed him treats and scratch him when no one is looking. See upthread :)

"Before the gods came, and before we came, there was only sea here. Bunjil the eagle came here in his canoe, and threw out his fishing nets, and dragged up the lands from the bottom of the ocean. Then the other animals came, and we came.

"I am of Bunjil's people." Ixchel displays a sweeping tattoo across her shoulders, that somehow conveys the sweeping wings and driving talons of an eagle in a few abstract lines and shapes.

"I think you are more of Wahn the crow. He is clever and brave, but excited by everything. And not always to be trusted. He used to be white like you, until he burnt himself stealing fire from the gods."
She looks at Gado shrewdly.

"These are some stories. There are others." She shrugs.

"Do not call me 'girl,'" snaps Ixchel.

Out of simple contrariness, she lays her hand casually on Gado's chest.

I think you said "exaggerate" when you meant "extol"

"Have I not told you repeatedly how brave and resourceful and clever he is? Yes, those impressed by the muscles and mind of an ox" (he ignores a plaintive moo from Barley) "might choose differently" Ciaran waves a hand vaguely towards Bazsil. "But a truly wise woman knows that there are greater strengths, because all muscles tire eventually, but minds become sharper, and courage never dims.

"His small size makes his children stealthy hunters with nimble and skilled hands."

Ixchel looks at Gado again.

"You are... not afraid of...?" she waves a hand towards the jungle and the wall.

"His is a mighty, hidden strength. And also surprising dexterity and stamina. He is also brave, having dived from our boat into terrible storm-wracked seas to save another man from drowning, and is therefore not afraid to talk about the wall and the things beyond it. So great a provider and protector is he."

Ixchel's other eyebrow rises to meet the first. She looks the meek and blushing man up and down, appraising his spindly limbs, disheveled clothes, and narrow chest.

"Really? He seems so..."

She shakes her head.

“As I was telling his third wife - Gado is a loremaster of great renown and high demand, and has many satisfied wives because of his deep understanding of many fields of learning - Gado is insatiable and highly skilled in his pursuit of knowledge."

"I am Ixchel. Pleased to meet you all, visitors from beyond the sea."

That left Ciaran.

And I thought we were friends.

As Barley moos again, Ciaran surreptitiously scratches him behind the ears when no one is looking.

"It looks to me like the wall is made out of blocks," he says to Gado and Gratum. "Which means there are two places it could have come from originally: magic or mundane. Either it's been quarried from somewhere on the island or it's been conjured by magic. If it's conjured my magic, I believe you can tell how powerful the wizard by how much stone is conjured in each block. If it was quarried naturally, it could have been transported and built by magic, or by labour."

He looks around, and finds a woman watching curiously nearby (reasoning that, given the matriarchal society, women are most likely to know the histories and stories of this place - but not wanting to bother the Chief while she's busy considering Bazsil's virginity).

"Madam, could you help us please? We wish to know more about your history and the gods who made the wall. My name is Ciaran; this is Gratum, our engineer; and this is Gado Folklo, a wise and powerful arcanist who is our guide, mentor and protector. And this is Barley, who is a yak."

Incidentally, I feel honey, sugar and salt would make good presents. They'd be quite difficult for the islanders to get in large quantities (even salt) and would be quite nice to have.

Real historical precedent too

"Blib doolp oolp. Blibdoolpoolp!"

If you summon some kuo-toa with this...

As water rushes over Ciaran's head, he feels a sudden flush of panic. And irritation. There are some days it seems like the world is run by an evil maniac.

A thin trickle of bubbles leaks from George's mouth at his feet. Ciaran feels a sudden stab of horror - the boy, unconscious when the water rushed in, hadn't held his breath!

Ciaran picks up the boy, throws him over his bare shoulder, and pushes off from the wall, swimming strongly towards his room.

Swim: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

Once there, he finds his handy haversack floating by the ceiling, grabs it, and thinks as hard as he can that what he needs to retrieve now is everything. Then he turns the bag upside down, and yanks everything inside out - leaving an upside-down, extradimensional space full of air.

He jams George's head into a bag and squeezes the boy's abdomen, ejecting water from his lungs.

Heal: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

After a moment, he feels him twist, cough, and then writhe in panic, so he holds him steady until George's disorientation and fear subsides.

Ciaran pulls the bag off George's head, refils his own lungs with air, and returns the bag to George, before swimming out again to help with the ship.

26/26

"Gado, is your message spell still active? Repeat my words exactly

"F%#%!"

You've really taken the Karate Kid to heart, haven't you?

Ciaran lifts his chin.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"I can't believe you'd call for him and not for me. My whole purpose on this damn cruise is to protect you all. Aroden's death, you people annoy me."

Ciaran looms out of the alley mouth. His voiced is a little thick with alcohol and the broken nose, but he still manages a reasonable line in menace.

"I warn you three. I've had a good day, and I'm out drinking with my friends. Well, colleagues. You don't want to turn this into a bad day."

Ciaran cracks his knuckles.

"You won't like me when I'm angry."

Ciaran wrote:

Well played, sir. We who are about to die salute you.

In my mind, you had a Kaiser Soze like reaction as you put the pieces together of how those attacks were possible.

I appreciate you playing that out with me, Ciaran. It wasn't what I was expecting.

If I were a half-orc, I would have had you... :)

I didn't go for the full Kaiser Soze, but I did raise an eyebrow (and sink the stomach).

It was fun.

What were you expecting?

My post at 5:27pm (#837) highlights one of my favorite posts in years of PbP. It highlights so much of what I love about PbP: story and action, RP and random movie quote, and a sneaky reveal. No one else liked it, but it's a keeper for me.

Mine is the montages.

I should have realised: I was destined to lose from that moment. After all, the Karate Kid is about an obnoxious brat who wins his bout, whereas Rocky is about a decent person who loses his... :)

Scene 1
Da. Da-da-da. Da-da-da. Da-da-duuuuum

Ciaran eats his breakfast in a quiet guesthouse away from the docks. He cuts a chunk off the sausage, dips it into the egg, spoons some beans over it, and eats it.

Scene 2
Da. Da-da-da. Da-da-da. Da-da-duuuuum

Ciaran stares at himself for a long time in the mirror. Eventually, he sighs, spits on the floor, and begins carefully checking his breastplate for dents or signs of corrosion.

Scene 3
Rising up, back on the street
Did my time, took my chances
Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet
Just a man and his will to survive

Ciaran stretches, joints popping, and rolls his head around on his neck. He strolls slowly across the deck of the ship, nodding to his companions, padded great sword unsheathed across his shoulder. A coughing fit doubles him over on the gangway.

Scene 4
So many times it happens too fast
You trade your passion for glory
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past
You must fight just to keep them alive

Ciaran munches on an apple. "Good weather today," he tells the woman behind the cart.

"Yes. I think it might rain later," she says.

Scene 5
It's the eye of the tiger
It's the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival

"I'm sorry about my... companion," Ciaran tells the outraged meat vendors. "He's just like that. If there's any permanent damage, have the bill sent to Captain Barbarossa on The Audacious. Tell him to take it out Bazsil Grimalkim's pay."

Scene 6
And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he's watching us all with the eeeeeeyyyyyyeeeeeee
...Of the tiger

One of the Bazsil's screaming urchins wanders too close to Ciaran, who smack him on the ear. "Piss off."

He watches the Bollywood dance spectacle reach it's conclusion.

"Are you finished? Are we here to fight, or do you just want to f##@ around all day?"

The moist sea air aggravates Ciaran's lungs, and Gratum can hear him through the wall of their cabins, coughing long into the night. Despite the lack of sleep, Ciaran is no more (or less) surly than usual. He weathers Donal's language lessons with grim forbearance - a forbearance that perks up notably when, in a moment of desperation, Donal offers to share his private supply of liquor with Ciaran if he'd only mark Aeslin's pop quizzes. Since Ciaran has no understanding of either language, and can only read Taldan slowly and carefully, Aeslin finds her feedback is terse and... unusual.

Ciaran spends much of the rest of his time with Gratum and George in the workshop, away from the sea air that bothers him and the rolling ocean which bothers the dwarf. The two adults trade stories from their adventurous past - bonding over dead goblins - while George listens (occasionally chiming in with tales from his horrific childhood in Magnimar). Desperate for exercise, he assist Gratum in his tasks, or (when desperate) takes to prowling around the topdeck in the early hours of the morning, jogging in endless circles around the tiny space while the night shift tries to avoid him.

The rest of his time, Ciaran spends in the armoury with the Colonel. On his first visit, the Colonel raised one bushy eyebrow in fierce outrage at the intrusion, but Ciaran simply nodded to him, quickly surveyed the weapons in the store, then sat down in a spare chair and began to carve a piece of wood. After a few moments of silence, the Colonel sniffed, and returned to his work.

The next time, Ciaran brought the man his grog ration, and the silence was more companionable. Despite spending hours together, the two exchanged no more than a few words at most.

Should he ever. Ever. Come above decks while the captain is steering the ship while in "Underwater Mode" he will ask Ciaran, "Are you sure he's safe on this ship?" and promptly spew green chunks on Ciaran's boots.

Ciaran isn't unduly bothered by this - he's had worse on his boots in his time - and gently helps the heaving dwarf back belowdecks. He opens a new hogshead of ale to calm the groaning dwarf's stomach.

@Ciaran: "You there," Bazsil approaches Ciaran. "You are not as weak as most on this ship. You look like you know how to fight, much like me. And fight angry, much like me. Perhaps we should train and spar a bit. I do not think anyone else would suffer a chance blow from Lucy very well, but you might." That last sentence would be considered a complement coming from Bazsil.

Ciaran shrugs. "Certainly. I can think of nothing that would give me more pleasure," he says with a little irony.

Ciaran ducks into the workshop.

"Do you mind if I join you here for a while? Barbarosa doesn't seem to need my services as bodyguard until we get to the island - 'Stop floating around like a dead fish' was the actual phrase, I think. Bazsil appears to be trying to seduce one of the crew by playing hard to get, and the others have all either gone on a rowing holiday or are in a classroom."

He extend a thumb at George.

"Who's this? Your apprentice? Excited to be heading away from Magnimar, boy? I remember what leaving Mendev was like. The Silver Axes, the mercenary band was called. Most of them died in the Goblinblood Wars in the first Chitterwood campaign. Some of them might still be undead in Gillamoor for all I know. Bastards, most of them, but no one deserves being stuck in Isger for eternity."

Ten minutes later, the group surveys the blazing ruin of the farmhouse. The core of the wooden building glows white hot; it must be hot enough in there to melt lead.

The central beam collapses under its own weight, and the farm house slowly implodes in a blast of flame and sparks.

"I suppose that answers that question, Gado. Do you think any of the cultists managed to escape?"

"So, you're not going to answer my questions then?" says Ciaran.

He shrugs, and in a single movement, draws and hurls a dagger into the throat of the nearest cultist, who staggers backwards with a gurgle.

The cultists draw their own blades, but Ciaran lunges at the nearest, spinning her into an arm lock with one arm across her throat, so when the next cultist thrusts at him, Ciaran swings her in front as a human shield. The cultist's blade sinks into her body so deeply Ciaran feels it glance off his breastplate, before he hurls the dying woman onto her killer. Her dead weight bears them both to the ground.

Four cultists close in on Ciaran. There's not enough room in the crowded basement to draw his greatsword, so, with a twist of his lips, Ciaran balls two gauntleted fists and prepares to fight for his life.

And then he hears Bam! from the door above.

"Gentlemen. Meet Barley."

...As the pirate-yak explodes through the wall and ploughs through the four cultists in front of him.

Sorry Wrigley. Seem to have posted at cross purposes at the same time. Interestingly though, they both kind of fit together...

"I have a question. Why are we doing this? What do we want from the Isle of Dread? Is it just because it's a mystery, or do y- we have some special interest there?"

The cultists turn to face Ciaran.

"What?"

I more or less agree, although I'd add lighting conditions before monsters. It's the sort of thing that's easily forgotten, but really ruins things if you get it wrong.

If you wanted a light touch approach, the rest of the text could more or less go as usual, if you needed to, once you've got the reminders as the first thing you see.

e.g.

A2. LIBRARY (EL 3)
Darkness
5 skeletons

------
This room is a library. Leather bound tomes fill the oak shelves that line the room. 4 unlit lanterns hang from the ceiling.
------
More stuff
Creatures: More stuff
Treasure: More stuff

The Alexandrian has a room key layout I've found useful:

Here

"Bazsil clearly understands one of its potential purposes. He was just talking about how much pleasure a new rod would add to his cruise.

"Given his relationship with his hammer, that man has a worrying infatuation with inanimate objects. And hair oil."

the... Prim

Oh, this is gold.