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Has anyone tried to homebrew the old school XP for gold mechanic in pathfinder 2e? My current thinking would be to use the suggested treasure by level charts alongside the automatic bonus progression variant.

Note: Not interested in comments about whether they like the old-school XP for gold mechanic or not, just interested in how to make it work within the 2e ruleset.

The problems I am seeing is that magic items typically sell for half value. So there is a tradeoff for players will face (keep magic items but less XP, or sell item, but have less magic). Because items play an important role in power progression, it seemed easier to make the hard stat bonuses automatic, and magic items focus on more interesting effects. Moreover, alot of GP for XP type rules stipulate that XP is rewarded to players after they bring it 'home' and spend it on certain campaign themes, for example fight hard, party hard, or on class specific goals (strongholds, temples, titles, etc). This is appealing to me, especially in the kind of campaign I'm setting up: I'm planning to run a hexcrawl where clans are competing to become the next high magnate, by plundering the most riches, throwing the best parties, and basically showing the people that they can provide, a la Vikings. No AP compatibilities required.

I'd love to see an update on this thread.

I am interested in running a campaign using gold for XP, probably along with automatic bonus progression...which I think would simplify the issue of gold vs magic.

Collect their weapons and bind them. Gag that captain as well. Tap orders. Tap watches grimly as the weapons are collected. At the command, a sailor hauls over a long rope from the Oncoming Storm, and one by one he binds the legs and hands, into a long snake of frightened men and women. Last, Tap hauls the captain up, ignoring the captain's frantic attempts to parley through a dirty rag, and stands him up with his back to the mast. Search him! The officers as well. Tap commands.

Once done, Tap orders the captain to be tied to his crew. He walks down the line. Suddenly Captain Taptap points his thumb to a young man who appeared to actively be reconsidering his ill-fated choices in his short life. Untie him, and bring him aboard our tub. Strip him of everything and tie him to the mast. We must have a witness.

Turning back to his captivated audience. For the sins of slavery and stupidity, I command thee all to the death, as the sea, our mother, extends most willingly

Over groans of fear, Tap gives the order for them to be cast overboard. With an initial shove, a snake of men begin to be pulled overboard, with the helpful kick and shove to move things along. Last the rope tightens, yanking on the captain to the deck, and pulls him to oblivion.

Now. Search the ship. Take all booty and bring it back to the Oncoming Storm, save provisions enough for the enslaved men, and then provision each freed slave with 10 pieces of silver.

Casting Cacophonous Call result?

[bNo you don't[/b] Tap growls. This better work one of these days
He returns to his refrain:

Great and mighty are we.
Fists of Iron, Giants of Heart
Strike down these bastards and make them FART!!!!

And the last word rings out with a disturbing reverberation.
Continuing the +2/+2 inspire courage
Casting Cacophonous Call on the Captain. DC15

Taps heart goes cold. Many of such wretches will find death a welcome freedom. Tap reaches back and pulls out a cracked blackened shard of a whale's skull, yet intricately traced with magical scripts. Judging the ships distance (within 170 feet?), Tap whispers a most dark spell upon the deck of the slave ship.
Black Tentacles oh my

Its good to be dry, eh Rush!

It is not that Kynes has been absent. He'd stumbled along with the rest. Through muddy fields, hasty encampments, whispered meetings at twilight, in a haven for Blackbirds. But blackness hung over every intention, every motivation, every willful glance. Another step. He was of the Lamp, but the Lamp was distant.

Again, waking from a fugue of half written dreams. Again striding at dawn. Early mists clinging after a sparing rain. A crunch comes from beneath his boot. Pausing, he lifts his sole, finding the fractured remains of a shell, and a glistening trail of slime of what had been, in all probability, a slimy meaningless life. Another step. Another step. Kynes bites his tongue and tastes salt.

Kynes was aware of his descent, yet identification offered no remedy. He only had his tame stubbornness. A tame refusal to end. Kynes smiles to himself mirthlessly. A naïve counselor would diagnose from which dreadful event laid this black cloud upon him: The fall of Korvosan society. His fierce exchanges with demonic powers. But the truth was embarrassingly mundane, and thus enigmatic… A bit of bloodshot cheese, too dried. His lacings about the waxed parchment had become loose. A cheese now as unpalatable as Old Korvosa. Surely it had been growing of its own accord secretly under his skin, in his cerebrum, setting a trap. All that had been needed was bait for the trigger. Another step. Kynes bites his tongue and tastes salt. The only way out was to gnaw through the bone, or End.

---
Kynes steps forward as an amulet is thrust into his palm. He pockets the article with neither comment nor interest. The Twisted Door. The Black Star. The Black City. All as garland upon his dark mania. He trods forward. Gnaw through the bone, or End. Kynes. Gnaw through the bone, or End. Over and over. Echoing in head. A mantra.

The cart stops. Brick explodes. His darkness envelops upon himself, and all that he saw smoldered red. Stupid small-minded shitheads. F%!$ you. Kynes looks around, furious. It was Trinia. That b#&#&. That f@*@ing b$+*#. Why was she looking at me? Kynes let his scarf snake down in a coil blunted iron and woven knots. F*%$ you. He twists his arm up savagely, causing the coil to weave through the air violently before striking Trinia’s face.

Will: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
Will: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13
Will: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22
Add +1 trait bonus if against charm and compulsion effects

oops

I'll be gone in mid May. Yeah that is a super early heads up. :)

I couldn't pass up the $200 round trip tickets from Cali to Hawaii that are available right now with dates from now until the end of May. Thank you Coronavirus?

Hmm Maybe the "worst" case Coronavirus scenario will involve me being quarantined onto a Hawaiian beech for a few.....weeks.

The map is open to edit. See link above my post.
You'll not I added Rickety's on there. Moreover, the Rickety's label is actually a link to a google doc where we can add detailed info.

Last time I used telekinetic charge to send a poor fellow to fight an ogre of the Tsar Desolation, he nearly got decapitated. :)

I read half of volume one of Death March last night. What a fun page-turner. Lord Talfryn Blackoak has a real talent, especially in compelling action writing. The first encounter with the ogres was visceral! The lit rpg element IS a lot of fun...I keep waiting for the upgrades.

Those praises said, I must confess I totally misunderstood the series concept. When it was described at lit rpg, I misunderstood lit rpg to mean interactive fiction, like this cool series: Middle-earth Quest

and
These GameBooks

but, can the party still use your flat while you are away?
:)

Sapping Offensive

I forgot to mention that with Kyne's hit against a studied target, the fungal is sickened for 1 round

https://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/hybrid-classes/investigator/investigator-t alents/paizo-investigator-talents/sickening-offensive/

and cannot make attacks of opportunity for one round:

https://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/hybrid-classes/investigator/investigator-t alents/paizo-investigator-talents/sapping-offensive/

Tap drunk and delirious wanders onto the wrong boat, interrupting the tryst between the wrinkly man and a pox marked baker. Tap yells for them to get off his boat,chasing them across the deck, tripping then falling into the bay. Tap comes to an hour later, clinging to a pole, leans his head side ways and vomits over-salted ale.

Leeoli kicks around trying to find a hand for Rufus.
Perception: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27

You'll probably find a hand down there without us, Rufus.

Just published a new paper!
Sex Differences in the Amygdala Resting State Connectome of Children with Autism Spectrum Disorder

Sorry. Just got excited.

Artists are forever dependent on benefactors, and it is hard going if you are choosy. But then, you hang with those you keep. The Arkona family casts shadows faster than the Lamplighters can hang lamps. But by saving you today, we have become your new benefactors, and a debt of work is owed. Your next exhibit will entail a dissertation on the redeeming and benevolent qualia of butterflies, rainbows and kittens.

Great writing y'all.

I'll not be telling ye that anytime soon.

Taptap pauses to perform an exagerated act of rumination, then clear his throat. The Oncoming Storm...hails from the same origin as do all storms: The sea. For, on the sea we were born, and with the ever shifting tides, we are reborn each night and made anew, Besmara willing. Tap lets his eyes drift to the port window with a far away look.

Bemmie ma'lad. Do you like Jack's cutlass! It carries a fishy magic! But fear not, the fish will stay in his belt.

Do you like Sea Shantyies lad? Tap looks to the Captain. By some accounts, I am Singer of the Seas, and with this voice I can calm the seas, and make a sailor's tired limbs flow with renewed vigor. As is my wont, I sing to them each night, like a father to his children. Today, for your lad, I will perform a shanty about the fish of the sea, out of the Maelstrom, lad, Swirling Green indeed.

Tap stands upon the bench, with a lopsided grin.

Come all you ye sailormen, listen to me
I'll sing you a song of the fish in the sea,
and it's...

Tap grins. See now lad? Men of the sea, through and through. And Jack's cutlass really does blow.

Tap looks the lad over.

As it happens. We needs a cabin boy to run errands about the ship. Now I won't strip ye from your father, you'd be no use to me then, and I've already put his crew under my protection, and I won't be breakin' my word. But there it stands. An offer for riches and adventure, a life of more than fish and fish guts, our galley cook excepted.

Now Cap'n, you are worrying that I am offering your son a dishonest life of roguery, but you being the first ship I've encountered in my current enterprise, I'm not wedded to an evil course. Tis hard times, and other men would have killed you and your son. We are making our way, and will happen upon a code of honor, and a set of business propositions, mission statements, I believe they've been called.
Tap pours more rum into the Captain's glass, then into the lad's glass.

While you are contemplating missing your son, tell me, best you can, besides Sargava, which merchants, sail their ships into the Shackles, and where are the primary shipping lanes?

Sea Shanty ability. Additional Savings throw against fatigue ect, because why not.

Tap considers for a moment, and it was as if his future hinged on this moment, a pin upon which souls and fortunes turned. A breath. A gull cries. Tacktack wiry hand grips his neck and squeezes. Tap's heart turns cold.

Fish eh. Who guards fish with crossbows. Thieves. Who fails to pay their dues for protection honestly provided? Thieves. Pay your due and beg for mercy, or prepare to die for fish. And if yer Captain be a fool, mutiny to save your own lives. You have moments to decide.

1d1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12 Sargava

Do we have a battle ram, or is that something we need to purchase?

Jack you are a knave. I am Captain Taptap. Here it is simple. These are dangerous seas. Why, I've seen the sails of at least two pirate vessels since we sighted your tub. Now, we appreciate commerce, and honest wages for honest work, so we've set out to run off those pirates in these seas that we claim, so all can work and live on these seas. But this protection we have afforded you is labor, both honest and hard, and so we must collect payment from those we protect, when we sight their ships. Never mind Jack's threat, what ye owe us is Tap pauses, taking account of their ship, 10 tons of your cargo. That be a fifth of your cargo hold, I'd estimate. If you'd rather pay in coin, I'd estimate that would be about 1,000 gold. Tis a low price compared to losing it to some ruthless pirate, eh? And you might even start spending less on you those crossbowman, think of the savings! But if you refuse to pay, well then that would make you thieves, and as we are the law out here in these seas, we will have to meet out justice by boarding your ship and keel hauling the lot of you. So, Captain, may I suggest you have your grunts run down to your hold and start loading up that row boat for transport.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25

If you remove the bandana from your eyes, you might see better Campus jokes softly.

Cheer up Rufus, you are good at this. If you put your mind to it, I bet you'd become a fine professor of law on day.

You are correct. But often in Play by Post, exact ordering is less important than not making other people wait...so I decided to post early...battles can take a long time.

Well, after talking to him, he said he didn't want to say no, but that he is seriously thinking about writing a novel, a notion that has fermented in his head since he was a boy, but his experiences writing Ulave in the Slumbering Tsar campaign reignited the idea.

I guess he has been outlining and writing passages already.

For context, Ulave was a memorable character that my brother threw himself into in the really cool Slumbering Tsar campaign, a game that DM Wicked aka Cerio had been GMing before he had to pare back.

Tap squints at the man. On matters of luck and fair fortune, I often defer to my officer, Rush Weather-Wise. Rush, what do you say?

Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 9

Show them the balls Jack!

Rufus's desperate thoughts escape out to another plane of existence only to be observed by a few mundane humans on otherworldly squares of light. Suddenly Rufus snaps back to the now and acts!

Imagine a dark forest at night. It’s deathly quiet. Nothing moves. Nothing stirs. This could lead one to assume that the forest is devoid of life. But of course, it’s not. The dark forest is full of life. It’s quiet because night is when the predators come out. To survive, the animals stay silent.

Is our universe an empty forest or a dark one? If it’s a dark forest, then only Earth is foolish enough to ping the heavens and announce its presence. The rest of the universe already knows the real reason why the forest stays dark. It’s only a matter of time before the Earth learns as well.

Kynes unleashes a studied strike against the brute that he'd failed to take down with his first blow. studied strike against red Kynes turns his analytical eyes to the brute lurking behind him Swift to study orange

Attack red+6BAB+4STR+1Magic+1WeaponFocus+4StudiedCombat: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (5) + 16 = 21
Studied Strike Non-Lethal damage_1Magic+1trait+6twohanded+4 studied+3d6studied strike: 1d6 + 12 + 3d6 ⇒ (1) + 12 + (2, 2, 3) = 20

Assuming red is down Kynes gently pushed past Talfryn to stand by Li.

While Jack carefully uncovered every last mushroom Tap's clumsy hands bruised their delicate tissue, ensuring premature rot would ensue.

Survival: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (9) - 2 = 7

The wizard opens his eyes. Fey nestles next to him, yet unwilling to meet the dawn. In a few hours yet, the first rays of the sun would dart from the horizon onto the Camp, yet steeped in a fog that clung like death upon every limb. Time to go. Ammonis quietly rolls his gear, then begins to read from his worn book of conjuration. Fey enjoyed this time as he’d no requirements of her, and his low murmurs would usually coax her back to a light slumber. Summons. Of course. Fireball. Three. Phantom Steed. Two. Black tentacles. Merciless. Mad Monkeys? Devious. Greater invisibility. Gorgeous. Ammonis deposits his book into his haversack, and slowLY stands, stretching old bones. He was going home.

Ammonis was an outcast. Last year, Ammonis had been explaining emphatically to the city council that his garden was NOT impeding upon his neighbors, when a dozen infernal demons had materialized before the council and killed Jandice as he sat in his councilor’s chair. Naturally everyone blamed the conjuror who’d been waving his hands. …not that anyone actually liked that man... . Ammonis grimaced in remembrance. In any case, Jandice’s son, secretly relieved to be rid of the father, had convinced the judge to make an offer of corrupt leniency. If Ammonis failed to die in the wastes, and indeed discovered some wealth, a reparation of over ten thousand gold pieces to the judge and councilor’s son would earn Ammonis a public pardon. Recent fortunes and a small loan from his brother, Ammonis calculated, meant he had a chance to get his life back. But not before Ammonis finished business in the camp.

Fey was not thrilled with his plan, but acquiesced. Putting a sack over her faerie limb, she flew high into the air until she was the tiniest of dots. Silently saying farewell to his friends, Ammonis cast invisibility upon himself, and secreted through the camp. First, for Ulave, the mortuary. Now! Two small flasks dropped silently through the night to land upon the mortuary’s roof. Liquid fire ran along the shingles. Quickly! Now for the most dangerous part. Ammonis races invisibly to the Usurer’s land whilst summoning four aurochs, one to block each exit of the Usurer’s home. Silently, he whispers the words of madness, calling forth swarm of wicked monkeys. Mad Monkeys, take his iron. Take his gold!

Time to go! Calling a phantom steed, Ammonis flees the Camp, invisible and shrouded in fog. Heading to better lands and a better life.

Eddwick, as a simple model you are absolutely correct. I, like you, had once been enthralled with idea of modeling complex social phenomena, but when I mentioned this interest to my old master, she, quite simply, slapped me bin the face and called me a dolt. The next morning, an intimidating tome appeared on my dresser, written by the great Dandeleius, a mind beyond the beyond. Quite simply, that tome convinced me of the futility of such an endeavor. Briefly, the variable interactions between each element of the model cannot be discounted, and quickly lead to a combinatoric explosion of terms that is quite intractable without erm, some computing machine better than several stadiums full of half starved scribes...sure one might object that the Camp and the wastes represents a simple environment easily modeled, compared to what might expect in the great cities at the very least true, but even a system of just 10 variables can lead to geometric explosion of the errors of measurement, leading to predictions less confident than a virgin bookworm in a house of the rising sun.

Heads up. I'll be on a beach with the family from the 22nd until the 27th. I can probably make minimalist posts, but bot as necessary.

Me mum's earplugs, dad snored such a ruckus.

Ramundr stands slowly. The hunting has just begun. he manages.

A lot in common, save for a sense of humor. Ammonis lets his remark drip dry. Ah well, I just popped in to say hullo, and ask if Fey, my familiar, might be introduced. She is besides herself to talk with one of her own kind.

I was run out of town on a false accusation. I see we have a lot in common, Konstiantina. Ammonis remarks from the window.

Ramundr nods in remembrance. We missed you brother on our last hunt. I recall a morning spent in the longboat with your arse over the side. I learned that day that even the Godwytch Ragnar Hedefødt may fall by the way with an illness of the gut.

Ulave exists in a world of dreams and recollections, serving his Lady with a faith requiring no choice or burden, save submission to her endless enchantments and the moments of his life that led him to her mercies.

What a fun character.
No small feat for a Paladin :)

Will: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (6) + 9 = 15
A piercing scream rips through Ammonis's mind, petrifying his limbs. They fall limb by his side. Then Ammonis watches in horror as Ulave is tackled by mounds of dust, and the ghoul begin to move forward to feed.

This is it. My death sentence is carried out. Then he realizes that he is still invisible, even if helpless. The ghouls might very well not know I exist; I'd been in the hut,before turning invisible and shifting out. A selfish chance emerges. Survival. He'd be no good to them dead. If he got a chance to help them he would, else he'd hide and run. Thinking hard, Ammonis called up a mental trick he heard of from a haggardly wizard at Conjuration school. He had never quite got it, but this moment's need laid the trick bare with exquisite clarity. Funny how death focuses the mind. and with that Ammonis blinks from existence to approximately 100 feet to the south, stiff as an invisible plank.

I've got about 8 minutes of invisibility. I'll wait here and see if his limbs recover their function.

At least that what Kynes had planned to do and say before he realized that jesters were like clowns: Entirely too scary. With a sudden wonder where he might find Lord Talfryn, the Investigative Legate of the Korvosan Order of Lamplighters bolts for the door.

I just wanted to say that it is a real pleasure to write here with such a talented and fun group. Thank you for accepting me into it. You all continually impress me.

Li. I just love your character. I can tell that Li really resonates with her author, and really manages to evoke protective feelings from readers, while not admitting weakness. I am not sure if that is more me or Li, but love it anyway.

Garvid. This character feels so alive to me...and is sooo expressive. What you've done with him exceeds the stereotypical foul-mouthed fighter. Real complexity. I love it.

Lord Talfryn Blackoak. I love the balance your character expresses between fulfilling responsibilities of his social class and the meeting the needs of the moment. A talented writer as always.

Yaziyah Tanja. There is such a sensitivity in your characters that, frankly, I am drawn too. The meek shall inherit the earth. Meow.

Wicked: I think Rufus our Carrion Crown game is very subtle and interesting. You are a more talented writer than you give yourself (at least publicly) credit for. You are also a GM that is ruled by the rule of cool. Thank you for inviting me.

That was my gin'n'tonic text to y'all.

Kynes smiles in satisfaction. I can play the parts. Sweet and inviting. Scary bastard. I was well trained. I admit, it is not my favorite exercise, but I can do it well if necessary.

Kynes walks over to Garvid, and offers his hand. Garvid. Some might think you a foul mouthed brute, but I see a great respect in you for Korvosan law...and the lives it protects. I know what you did down there was not easy, but it was just, and proper.

In the historical lexicon, a pragmatic designation: Enshroud Thoughts. But among the nobles and rich merchants of Korvosa, it bore a different moniker: Mind Shadow. As an indispensable tool of diplomatic negotiation Kynes was deply familiar with its ability to hide intentions from arcane inspection. Kynes decision made, turns then sits down just outside the basement. From his pockets, he pulls the elements of his art. Chipped crystal, a pungent charcoaled block, and a small rack securing a series of meticulously labeled leathered tubes constructed from the bladders of a local species of vermin. Starting slowly, his hands begin to move in deft articulations, inexplicably weaving tendrils of vapor into clarifying flashes of fire and plasma that pulse within the crystalline capsule that soon contained his extract, which, with a flick of his wrists, is punctually consumed.

I have no leverage here;they do not believe they will be allowed to live. Kynes enters the basement, doubting his chances.

Kynes smiles. Veracity is life, yet deceit leads to execution. One may find life. One might not. I need information. Give me that information, and I shall allow you your freedom. There. No lies in that, though I can’t speak for what Garvid and the others would allow

Do not let your end come in a nameless basement for a couple of coins you were promised. You owe them nothing. Think, you instead upon younger days. Perhaps a life in Katapesh that you once had. Or a lad or lass you once cared for. You still have much to live for. Assist us.

He continues on until his mouth is dry. Kynes, pulls out a flask of water, but instead of taking a drink, provides a drink to each prisoner in turn. There is much you can unlearn. Let me tell you a tale of my youth on the outskirts of Yord. You've never heard of the place, most like. A squalid village of a few huts and man with one leg and a pet gorilla, Skave was his name, and this was.. Kynes continues on, working each of them in turn.

Diplomacy + Inspiration: 1d20 + 16 + 1d6 ⇒ (13) + 16 + (3) = 32 Kyne's Diplomacy can shift a creature's attitude up to three steps rather than just two.
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11

Finally Kynes stands and asks the others to please separate the two assassins. I will begin with the woman. Once the man has been carried up, Kynes slips a gravelly tonic onto his tongue, and continues.