Gary Gygax Passed Away

Most of you have already heard by now that Gary Gygax, creator of Dungeon's and Dragons, has passed away at the age of 69.

When I heard the news, I was not particularly moved. I was ‘bummed,’ for lack of a better work. He was a minor celebrity and though I enjoyed his creations, I had no real connection to the man.

However, I then began to think about him and what DnD has meant to me.

I started playing DnD when I was 9. I’m 38 now, so that means I’ve been playing for 29 years. My love for DnD has outlasted friendships, pets, numerous girlfriends, and quite a few Presidents.

Since learning to play, I have completed Elementary and High School and earned a college degree. I’ve lived in 8 different places, moved between states, and lost my dad and a couple friends, including the one who introduced me to DnD in the first place.

DnD has influenced my choice of careers, the friends I keep, and even Wayfarer’s Moon. It has been the single biggest constant in my life besides my family.

After thinking about all that, I am now truly saddened by Gary Gygax’s passing, if only because I never got to meet him, shake his hand and say ‘thanks’ for creating something wonderful.

-Jason

+3 Shield of Fiber: Part 2

As I pointed out yesterday, not every barbarian or pickpocket has the looks or the style to cut it as a real hero. Here are a few magic-items that might help bring them up to the standards we expect from our fantasy heroes. Feel free to use them in your campaigns.

The +3 Shield of Fiber
The item that started the whole blog. A player asked what bonus another players shield had and when told it was a +2, responded with an Oh, is that all, which prompted me to respond with What do you want, a +3 Shield of Fiber? The Shield of Fiber keeps you, well, regular. Because theres nothing worse than having to duck out of the fight with the Overlord of Terror because those Iron Rations are acting up. Conan surely never did.

+2 Rapier of Wit
Not every swashbuckler has the quick wit needed to add insult to injury (I know I do not). This rapier not only provides extra sting, but also feeds the bearer lines during combat. Your only retort will no longer be Oh yeah!

Pointy Hat of Tallness
Wizards judge each other by their hats. The bigger the hat, the more powerful one must be. Its the equivalent of a really big sword for the robe and staff set. This hat automatically gets taller if it senses another hat of greater height in its vicinity, always ensuring that its wearer has the biggest one. Care should be taken when going through doors however.

The Comb-Over of the Gods
A major artifact, the Comb-Over of the Gods resembles a regular comb, save that it can take the thinnest, wispiest strand of hair and turn it into a head of hair so thick that even a wooly mammoth would feel inadequate. From crewcut to dreadlocks, the comb can create any hairstyle, though oddly enough, it wont do a mullet.

Cheers,
-Jason

+3 Shield of Fiber

After an hour, the mage finished the last rune to needed to complete the eldritch ring.

Give me the sword, he said, holding out a bony hand.

Its about time, grunted the warrior, holding out the massive two-handed sword. He smirked as the mage almost dropped the weapon, but never-the-less took a step back when it was unsheathed and placed within the circle.

I will now begin the spell. The mage began to chant, hands weaving in a complex and subtle pattern over the weapon. After ten minutes, there was a flash and the chalk ring disappeared in a blaze of green.

Well? Said the warrior.

I have it, said the wizard, after a moment. This sword is called Azure Flame. Its edge will never dull and it will glow with a blue flame when fighting any of the tribe of Kheth.

A true treasure! My thanks, sorcerer. The warrior stepped forward, reaching down to pick up the blade.

Wait! The mage held up a hand. There is more. Additionally, he who bears the sword will always smell pleasantly of lilac.

What?

And his hair will always shine and be full of body.

Do you dare mock me, wizard?

You wished to know the properties of the blade. I am merely informing you of my findings.

Both of them looked down at the sword.

Good hair? Asked the warrior.

Indeed.

The warrior raised an eyebrow. Huh.

During a rousing game of DnD the other day, it occurred to me that magic items in games and fiction always tend to be useful or combat oriented. However, for every handsome hero or beautiful sorceress, there has to be a least a couple balding heroes with big noses or witches with thick ankles and a moustache problem. They might want a little something extra in their magic items, something to improve the image, so to speak.

Tomorrow: Chainmail that lifts and separates!

Darger of the High, Soft Boots: Part 3

I then decided to open the first door in the hallway, which I did.

Darger found himself face-to-face with five orcs in an otherwise perfectly empty room. Why there were five orcs in a perfectly empty room is one of those great mysteries of life. Maybe they were interior decorators? Maybe they were lost? No one will ever know, as I did not ask. I was nine. Five orcs in a perfectly empty room seemed eminently logical.

Darger looked at the orcs. The orcs looked at Darger.

I decided five-on-one was bad odds. I decided to talk to them. This was my first ever attempt at roleplay.

Me: Hi.

Orc#1: Hi.

Loooooong pause.

Me: Are you orcs?

Orc#1: Yes.

Looooong pause.

Me: I am a fighter.

Orc#1: Cool.

Loooooong pause.

Orc#1: Did you kill the rat.

Me: Yes.

Orc#1: Lets be friends.

Me: Okay.

Looooong pause.

Orc#1: There is a vampire in the room next door.

Me: Really?

Orc#1: You shouldnt fight him. Hes tough.

Me: Okay.

Looooong pause.

Me: Im going to leave now.

Orc#1: Bye.

And I left the room. Obviously, not quite Oscar-level performances, but not bad for a nine-year-old talking to a bunch of orcs.

I decided to keep going and wisely skipped the room next door. Why a vampire was living in a room next to five orcs is once again a question that can never be answered.

I opened the third door and discovered a baby red dragon. Flush with excitement after my victory over the rat and successful parley with the orcs, I decided to attack.

I rolled the twenty-sider and was informed that I missed. The dragon attacked me and hit, doing approximately 57,000 points of damage. Darger of the High, Soft Boots was no more.

I was disappointed, but immediately rolled up another character, who also promptly died. We were nine. We did not grasp the concept of level-appropriate encounters. If the random encounter table said Horde of Pit Fiends, by god, we fought a Horde of Pit Fiends (and died). Eventually, we hit upon the concept of running away, so our characters started to live a little longer.

Our DnD group eventually expanded with a couple more guys and we played constantly through early high school, when we started to find new friends and drift apart. Chuck and I kept in touch over the years until, sadly, he died in an accident when he was twenty.

I like to think, however, that somewhere out there, an Ancient Red Dragon is sitting on his massive hoard. His scales are scarred and twisted from countless battles and the bones of hundreds of would-be adventurers are piled high about his lair, mute testament to his might. And at the very bottom of his hoard, almost forgotten, lie the trophies of his first victory: a pair of black Converse All-Stars.

Cheers,
-Jason

Darger of the High, Soft Boots: Part 2

Upon entering the dungeon, I found it was a sparse 10-foot wide corridor with doors down one side, approximately every 10-feet. It was, as dungeons go, pretty basic.

I was thrilled. I proceeded down the corridor towards the first door. Now, a more skillful player might have paused to search for traps, hidden doors, or invisible things. I did not. I pretty much charged forward. I was nine.

This is when I encountered the rat. It was, apparently, a big rat. I know because I asked Chuck.

Me: How big?

Chuck: Big.

I could have asked for specifics, but that seemed beside the point. I declared my intention to attack.

Me: I attack it.

Chuck: You cant.

Me: Why not?

Chuck: You dont have your sword out.

This precipitated our second DnD argument, as I pointed out it would be foolish to walk around without ones sword drawn and therefore it would always be drawn, whereas Chuck insisted I had not told him it was drawn. This argument probably lasted another 30-minutes. Finally, I ended it.

Me: Fine! I draw my sword.

Chuck: Okay. You can attack.

Me: What do I do?

Chuck: Roll a 20-sider.

Me: Which one is that?

After a pause to examine all the dice and compare numbers, we figured out which was the 20-sider. I rolled it and Chuck told me I hit (In retrospect, I think he just said I hit. I doubt he knew about to-hit tables). We then had to figure out how to roll damage. 2-8 was a complicated number. We eventually figured out I had to roll a d4 twice. I rolled well and the rat died.

I was victorious.

Knowing what I know now, I should have just had Dergar turn around, walk out of the dungeon, and retire. But I was flush with my first victory and decided to press on.

Tomorrow: Orcs and the Art of Diplomacy

Darger of the High, Soft Boots

Some of you may have guessed this already, but I am a DnD nerd. I have been playing since the 4th grade, when my best friend Chuck introduced me to this cool game that had funny dice and you killed stuff. Needless to say, I was hooked.

Currently, I am DMing a campaign that has been going on for about 14-years. It has an over-arching plot and everything and the players are really close to actually finishing it (I figure another two-odd years should do it).

In working on my game the other day, I was reminded of my first DnD adventure and my first character: Darger the Fighter. Chuck helped me roll Darger up and DMed my first adventure.

Darger was a human with 15 strength and 6 hit points. He had a broad sword, ring mail, a small shield, and high, soft boots. I hesitated about the boots, as footwear seemed like an important decision, but neither Chuck nor I were clear on what high, soft boots actually were.

Being nine, we of course argued the point for the better part of 30-minutes. I championed the idea that high, soft boots were more like high-top sneakers, while Chuck insisted that they were more like army boots. This debate could have gone on all day, but then Chuck said that he was right because he was the DM.

This was my first encounter with DMs Prerogative, which loosely translated means I am the DM, so shut up.

I was forced to give in. However, when Chuck went to the bathroom I drew a quick picture of Darger and he was clearly wearing a pair of black Converse All-Stars. So there.

With footwear decided, I entered the dungeon.

Tomorrow: The Rat of Doom!