Contra Grognardia on Lovecraft: Nihilism, Eternalism and Meaning

I expand here on a comment made under a new Grognardia post on Lovecraft and the decay of Geek Culture™. This is only tangentially about RPGs or even Geek Culture™ to begin with, and then it falls off a cliff into amateur philosophy. This as also written in a rush, so I may return to the subject with more thought. You have been warned. 

(And just as I was finishing, another comment came up which is exactly appropriate to what I was writing about. Well, I have a game in half an hour and I'm not pushing the post back. John, I'll get back to you.)

James' post covers the transformation of Lovecraftian fiction and its elements, most obviously Cthulhu, into commodified, brandified, blandified, domesticated products, completely alien from the horror they originally evoked. Most obviously in the form of Cthulhu plushies and plastic figures.

I must confess to being one of James' targets in this, in spirit if not materially. I don't own any Cthulhu plushies, but I don't take Lovecraft seriously. I love the work, but I don't regard it as really horrific anymore.

Why yes, I am being deliberately provocative

I referred to Lovecraft, Speculative Realism and silly nihilism, a post by David Chapman, a former MIT AI scientist turned Buddhist philosopher and blogger (a quote from one of his papers adorns the blog banner at the moment). Chapman's point, which I summarized in the comment, is that the horror of Lovecraftian fiction hinges on the subversion of the assumption of human importance and a benevolent plan. Chapman calls this stance 'eternalism.' 

And yes, Chapman does in fact own a Cthulhu plushie. 

Nihilism is a subversion of eternalism, and the infringement of one on the other can bring about the sense of hopelessness and cosmic irrelevance which made Lovecraft important. Lovecraft's writing technique and storytelling are methods for emphasizing this. 

But without an eternalist stance to subvert, the actual horror of Lovecraft loses potency. I, and most other Lovecraft fans I know, started reading him in their early to mid teens. Stories like Pickman's Model (by far my favorite) are excellently creepy by introducing disgusting, disturbing elements into our own world. But stories like Call of Cthulhu fell flatter for me; they were still enjoyable as adventure fiction, but they weren't quite so scary.

Chapman explains this is because eternalism as a stance no longer holds so much sway. Two other commenters, Anon#8107 and John Higgins (of Playing Dice with the Universe) point out how technological advancement, especially in biology and astronomy, turned eternalism on its head. When the existence of black holes is a documented physical phenomena, when deep space telescopes can reconstruct the birth of the universe, and we can show definitively how organisms evolved, without any distinct plan, over billions of years, the eternalist position becomes untenable. 

The forbidden knowledge which mankind cannot comprehend, was in fact comprehended, and we're still here. Did that mean it had no effect?

Not quite. Chapman makes the case that the expansion of nihilism into the public consciousness, predicted by Nietzsche and moaned about endlessly by existential philosophers since, was a disaster. Some claim it was the cause of the World Wars. Certainly, the world is dramatically different in spirit than it was a century ago. 

Comment Responses

One reply to my comment offers a good point. knobgobbler writes:

Maybe that's where you live, but I see a whole lotta people who are neck deep in delusions about themselves, the universe and their place in it. If they're losing one religion they're joining another. Consumerism promises a sort of immortality through your purchases if you just. keep. buying.

I don't think 'cosmic meaninglessness' has gained anywhere near the acceptance you think it has.

I can confirm that people are neck deep in delusions about themselves where I live too. I regard this as baseline (cf Elephant in the Brain, Simler and Hanson, highly recommended). Nihilism is one of the foremost delusions I see in my general area, but knobgobbler's region may have a different flavor.

And I would bet good money that the religions people in knobgobbler's area are joining are one of two types. First, spineless, maximally vague creeds like Consensus Buddhism, or Universalist Christianity, or some New Age faith which throws everything from spirit guardians to energy healing in a spiritual grab-basket. Second, evangelical faiths with a high degree of orthodoxy and which prioritize faith, most likely one of any number of evangelical Christian sects, but also possibly Islam depending on the region. 

These two approaches to religion are major responses to the advent of nihilism; monist and dualist flavors of eternalism. The former tends to emphasize the idea of 'oneness' in a variety of domains, while the latter emphasizes, clear, eternal and objective boundaries.

As to the third point, I must confess I've never gotten this line of criticism. I assume it's Marxist in origin, but consumerism as a religion doesn't have much traction in my head (though perhaps I will understand if I start buying plastic figurines). Chapman does discuss consumerist spirituality, but in the sense that contemporary attitudes treat religions and faith as piles from which one can grab elements and stick them elsewhere, as opposed to coherent systems which must be taken whole.

Another commenter, Corathon writes:

I disagree that most people - at least in the USA, where I live - subscribe to the belief that existence is meaningless, or that murdering a human being has no more moral weight than swatting an insect, or that nothing is true (and consequently everything is permitted). And even those that claim that they do believe don't usually act like they do. Thankfully.

I first want to make a distinction: first, the statement that life/the universe/everything is not ultimately meaningful. Second, the statement that life/the universe/everything is meaningless.

There are degrees: the core of nihilism is that there is no ultimate meaning. From there, some go ahead and say that life is meaningless. Some go as far as Lovecraft and say that everything is meaningless. The Speculative Realists described by Chapman seem hellbent on going further. But those are not the only options. 

The core problem with nihilism, which makes it thoroughly silly in retrospect, is that it shares eternalism's view that meaning requires something objective, or eternal or obvious to be real. Eternalism claims there is such a thing, so there is meaning. Nihilism claims there is not, so there is no meaning (to whichever degree). The third option here is to recognize that you can make your own meaning. In fact, it's not all that hard. 

Behavior is a better indicator about what people 'really' believe than what they say about themselves (again, Elephant in the Brain, read it already). It is not original to point out that virtually nobody acts as if they believe in the faith they profess. The stock phrase is, "People used to believe their religion, now they believe in their religion." Likewise, none but the most dedicated nihilists can bring themselves to act as if life is meaningless. Most don't get further than dressing in black and giving in to malnutrition. 

No shit they don't act like they believe that life is meaningless. It's pretense. It's pure edginess. It's a fucked up form of play that's trendy among philosophy majors. Even they manage to make some meaning out of their lives (possibly by trying to outcompete each other in how much they definitely don't care) while desperately trying not to. 

After Nihilism

We already went through nihilism. To butcher another sci-fi property, nihilism passed over and through us, and we remained. 

Nihilism used to be very scary. It threatened the social and philosophical order at the very base. It was a major cause for concern among the academic and religious establishment when it first began to spread. And it kept spreading. And the face of the world changed utterly as a result, with dire and harmful results for faith, family and society as a whole. Once it came, the only way to escape it was to, in Lovecraft's phrase, to flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age. 

And people did flee. The explosion of evangelical faiths following the World Wars in particular seems to me everything that Lovecraft predicted. 

But the result of this was not the destruction of humanity by an Elder God. It was a new generation growing up amid the ruined shells of prior meaning systems. The terror of nihilism was in the anticipation, but once it arrived, people were still here, and after they got over their goth phases, they still managed to make some meaning out of their lives.

Nihilism is no longer scary. It's just a problem. A massive problem, with distinct and visible harm to those it afflicts, but nevertheless a problem which can be ameliorated and solved. 

That's why Lovecraft doesn't horrify. Stories like Pickman's Model can very effectively creep out, but, in Chapman's words, his overwrought aghastness at the lack of ultimate meaning just comes off as funny. Silly. Endearing, in the same way that mathematicians horrified by non-Euclidean geometry are endearing in retrospect. 

That's why we can show Lovecraft's stories to children, buy Cthulhu plushies, and play RPGs where the player characters go insane as a result of comprehending the vast indifference of the universe. It no longer hits close to home. Hell, when James Maliszewski first came back to the blogging scene, I announced 'That is not dead which can eternal lie!'

A Personal Digression

If you allow me a personal digression: When I was very young, I was an aficionado of astronomy. One night, I watched an educational video which taught me that, in the far future, the Milky Way would collide with the Andromeda galaxy. This distressed me for days, until I wrapped my head around the times and distances involved, and realized that I didn't actually have much riding on the integrity of the Milky Way. 

For a much longer period of time, starting some years after that, I was distressed by nuclear war. For years I remained convinced that nuclear holocaust was likely to occur, and in the dark of night, when a strong wind picked up or a truck passed along the road or a plane passed overhead, I would cross my fingers and toes, close my eyes, and think to myself, 'Ah, so this is how it ends.'

This happened quite frequently, though more rarely as time passed and Armageddon never seemed to come when I expected it. 

It lasted for so long because I reasoned myself into that position through a shoddy understanding of global nuclear policy. I did not actually live my life as if I expected to die horrifically, except at those times, when alone, because I recognized I would be teased for it. If I actually believed, I might have insisted on moving to a secure bunker. 

Likewise, a great number of people reason themselves into any number of positions, from nihilism to wicca, and may talk at length about them, while still acting in largely reasonable ways, and not acting on the obvious results of their philosophy. 

(Closely regarding John's comment linked at the top, I also routinely induced existential fear in myself by trying very hard to imagine death. I can generally scare myself a lot with that, but less than before. I intend to use this as a practice for desensitization to that terror, and hopefully to understand it better. I have also heard that some psychedelics induce a sense of non-dual awareness which offers some insight, but I have not yet been able to confirm this myself).

Snarkiness

Another practice I find quite funny is the use of quotes from authors who would have hated my essay to support it. CS Lewis likely would not appreciate the points made here. Still, I leave you with a quote of his which summarizes my feelings about the passing of nihilism, from the Screwtape Letters, Chapter 31:

Defeated, out-manoeuvred fool! Did you mark how naturally — as if he’d been born for it — the earth-born vermin entered the new life? How all his doubts became, in the twinkling of an eye, ridiculous? I know what the creature was saying to itself! “Yes. Of course. It always was like this. All horrors have followed the same course, getting worse and worse and forcing you into a kind of bottle-neck till, at the very moment when you thought you must be crushed, behold! you were out of the narrows and all was suddenly well. The extraction hurt more and more and then the tooth was out. The dream became a nightmare and then you woke. You die and die and then you are beyond death. How could I ever have doubted it?”

P.S. 

None of this is to say that I condone the commodification that James describes. I am told that those plastic big-headed figurines are called 'funkopops' and I find them revolting. 

If you have enjoyed what you read here, please comment below and follow the blog. I have no doubt that my conclusions here will be picked apart, and I will likely come back to this. Until the next post, have an excellent week!

The Smiling Sphinx: A Magic Shop That Isn't a Magic Shop

I've never been much of a fan of the idea of a magic shop. I don't know of any fictional basis for it outside Harry Potter (which I read as a kid, but wasn't my favorite fantasy book), and it always struck me as a bit silly in tone. Plus, I've never run a game with a high-magic setting. Castle Xyntillan features a magic shop and a potion shop, but I ran both as specialty merchants with small stocks of expensive gear, and as a result, visiting them is rarer.

Then I watched this video by Taking20, which shifted my thinking and gave me some ideas. I now think a magic shop could work, in a medium-high magic setting, by switching the context from 'friendly neighborhood store that happens to have a Flametongue in stock' to a shop which maintains the mystique of magical items while allowing players some agency in choosing them for themselves, while offering a money sink.

Source

First off, it doesn't look like a magic shop. It looks like a restaurant.

The Smiling Sphinx

When the Smiling Sphinx first came into the city, the party heard a great deal of hubbub about it. Some foreign haute-cuisine to tantalize the nobility. It only got more attention after it opened, since it never seemed to be open.

It was built out of an abandoned manor house, remodeled at great expense in reds and golds, with stone friezes echoing ancient civilizations flanking the main doors. But there's no grand marquee, or even a visible sign. Just a framed pamphlet set on the door reading:

The Smiling Sphinx 

 Table by reservation only

Nobody you know knows how to get a reservation. Nobody you know even knows anybody else who knows. Of course, there are rumors about the clientele. A few days out of the month, a couple carriages full of elegantly dressed parties pull up at lunchtime. They are seen leaving several hours later, again by carriage, often with luggage boxes they didn't carry inside. 

The Smiling Sphinx is classy. It is elite. It is exclusive. You have to be in the know, high class, rich, famous, politically important, just to get a reservation. At least, that's what all the rumormongers say. None of them have ever been either.

Speculation about the Smiling Sphinx runs rampant, and nobody who works there has any interest in dispelling it. In fact, everyone who works at the Sphinx also seems to live there, coming and going from the old manor house by side entrances. 

The Smiling Sphinx may remain just an odd detail on the rumor tables, something for your party to idly conspire about, until they start making serious money. Once the party's purse has grown heavy with adventuring funds, say levels 5+, they receive a letter from a liveried courier.

You are cordially invited to dine at the Smiling Sphinx, with the full complements of the house, on the following date. Our establishment's dress code requires formal dress, and the surrender of all arms and magical tools prior to entry. A carriage will arrive at your residence at the appointed time.

- Ataxas Bloom

The party is fully expected to be dressed and ready once the carriage arrives. Tardiness or sloppiness is disrespectful, and will likely result in missing out on future invitations.

Assuming the party goes through with all this, they are conveyed in style to the Smiling Sphinx, where they are allowed entry. Inside is a stylish sitting room where the party is served appetizers and a decanter of wine. Everything is chef's choice. The proprietors of the sphinx have the best taste, and the sooner one accepts this the better.

The food is good, but hardly anything to get excited over. The service is polite, but not exceptional. Party members of noble birth will likely be miffed. And there's just 1d3-1 other parties there. 

Once the party is escorted from the sitting room to their private table in a private room, the hostess leaves them the menu. 

'But wait!' party members may say. 'I thought all the food here was chef's choice! And the invitation said all the food was complementary! What's going on here!'

The food is indeed, all complementary. The menu doesn't contain food.

Source

The menu lists various magical items, with corresponding illustrations and prices. The Blue Menu lists minor magic items. The Red Menu lists more powerful items, priced appropriately higher. The Gold Menu lists not just Greater magic items, but magical creatures and their offspring.

During their first visit, the party will just be given the Blue Menu. Just one, to share, so they have to pass it around. They will be subtly informed about the Red and Gold Menus. There will be notes in the Blue Menu that more potent varieties may be found there. The party will not be provided with them. Not yet. They haven't been approved to see them.

Anything you dream of may be purchased from the Smiling Sphinx, if you have the coin. Potions, scrolls, spellbooks, weapons, remarkable items of myth. Anything. 

But before the proprietor of the Smiling Sphinx is willing to offer these to the party, they have to be trusted. They have to prove they're good for the money, that they have the subtlety to maintain the shop's mystique. They will be made to wait. The proprietor keeps a close eye on who's who, who has the money to purchase his items and how many. The party will be exposed to many items they can afford, and many others they can't. 

Once the party have made their orders, the hostess notes them down, and returns with lunch. The party is encouraged to take their time while their order is filled. They can always ask for seconds. Entertainment, such as music, tricks and dancing, can be provided at request.

Within the several hours the party is likely to take with lunch, the hostess and her assistants return from the basement with their orders, presented at the end of the meal. They have already received payment from whichever institution the players keep their money with. Their items are loaded into the carriage that takes the party back home.

And like that, the party now has their Flametongue, or Wand of Cold, or Broom of Flying, or Bag of Holding. More to the point, the party is now viewed by others are people in the know, with access to exclusive levels of society. An invitation to the Smiling Sphinx transforms an adventuring party from a crew of wandering murderhobos into participants in important society, a force to be reckoned with.

What is the Smiling Sphinx Really?

The Sphinx is an enterprise by the archmage Ataxas Bloom. It's not just about making money, but about giving Bloom power by creating a sense of luxury and exclusivity alongside his ability to procure and sell rare and wonderful things. He seeks to cater to the wealthy and powerful, but in such a way that they come to him and not the other way around.

There are, in fact, many Smiling Sphinxes, in many cities. They are all made as similar as possible. It is a veritable institution unto itself, which status-seeking nobles will pay dearly in coin and favors to have in their own domains.

And a good thing too, because the Sphinx is very expensive to run. It's not the food and the carriages, those expenses are drops in the bucket. The problem is the security.

Every member of the staff has to be deeply trusted. They are usually magically learned themselves, apprentices to Bloom or his associates, using service at the Sphinx to pay for their apprenticeships and prove their dedication. The hostess that welcomes the party prepares spells and wears items to detect and deal with any subterfuge or ill intent from guests. The manservant at the door is tasked with putting any uninvited guests to sleep, or using more lethal measures if necessary.

And then there's the main event, the big feature which makes the Sphinx truly secure. Until the items are ordered, they aren't even on site. The basement of the Sphinx is the location of a long-range teleportation circle, built at enormous expense. It connects to a hidden vault at an undisclosed location, where Ataxas Bloom keeps his hoard, along with a zoo of magical beasts. 

All the Smiling Sphinx locations connect to the same central vault, and so pull from the same stock. That also means that if you want to break into the shop and steal their stash, you're going to have a hell of a time. Breaking into the Smiling Sphinx's vault would be a high-level adventure, with potentially massive payoff.

--------------------

Do you already use magic item shops in your games? Are you thinking about it now? Comment below. As always, if you liked what you read here, be sure to follow the blog. Until the next post, have an excellent week. 

Castle Xyntillan Sessions 26 and 27: The Great Count Caper

After a long hiatus, Castle Xyntillan has returned! In the last session, the party concluded their latest expedition to the castle, battling and losing an ally to the shambling mound, fulfilling another hirleing's revenge against the Malevol skeleton Tristano, and fleeing the vampire countess' wrath as she found that they had killed her husband.

But all is not well. The party returned to find Tours-en-Savoy taken over by Rel and his band of orcs, with the assent of the Count of Chamrousse! The homes of their allies were under siege, Rel had taken over the Prefecture, and both Claude and Giacomo had been arrested and taken to the dungeons under suspicion of treason! Now the party are criminals, their closest friends imprisoned. Will they rescue their allies? Bring the fight to Rel? All this and more in this week's session of Castle Xyntillan!

The Party

Longo Lightfoot, Halfling Thief, wears a sky-blue headscarf. Played by CaptainSabatini.

Corby the Joyful, Human Cleric of Sucellus, wears a short, conical hat. Played by diregrizzlybear.
Idred the Most Omniscient, Human MU, wears a full-visored greathelm. Played by David Perry.
Boroth Swinney the Joyous, Human Fighter, wears a masked helm depicting a happy human face. Played by Justin Hamilton.
Francois, Light Footman, noticeably dogless. 

Clovis, Heavy Footman.

Eric, Light Footman and cart driver.

Oscar, Arbalist of unusual strength

LaBeouf, Camp Cook.
Raymond, Mule.

Casualties

None

Loot

None

The Game

• Fernand Bonnel, the proprietor of their favorite tavern, got the party up to speed. They were wanted men, suspected of treason against the crown. Three hirelings—the arbalists Karo and Allan, and the lightbearer Emil—left the party. They expressed a willingness to rejoin if the dust settled and they were no longer wanted men, but until then, they would return to their homes.
• The majority of the hirelings stood strong with their benefactors, wanting their own payback against Rel for the murder of Bruno.
• And so, the party began to plan. 
• They pushed forward to Tours-en-Savoy, arriving soon after Brother Michel and his party did. They spotted the paladin being harangued by an orc guarding the gate, and caught up with him as he moved around the town walls. Idred enchanted an ivory fan with Invisibility 10', and used it to remain out of hand while they conspired with Michel.
• They exchanged information, and formed a pact to help get Claude and Giacomo out of prison and expel Rel and his orcs from the town.
• The party snuck in under invisibility, evading patrols and making their way to the safety of the church. It was full to bursting with townsfolk looking for comfort in this strange time, and the parish priest was preaching his heart out.
• They let Fernand go to collect information. The party waited for cover of night to break into the prison.
• At sundown, they were surprised by a man who appeared in the cloister, dressed like a Jester. He introduced himself as the Black Comedian, after whom Fernand's tavern was named. The one who died years back.
• The Black Comedian thanked the party for slaying Patrice Desjardin-Malevol, his killer. He gave the party a magic ring, and told them where to find a secret entrance to the dungeons beneath the Prefecture.
• The party followed his instructions, and gained access to the dungeon. In one of the many cells, they located Stanislas, another of their hirelings who had been in the hospital when Rel took over. They broke him out, got him up to speed and armed him.

• In a common cell, with an unlocked door, they detected the presence of orcs. They backed away, not wanting to alert them.
• In the dungeon's main chamber, they spied a lone figure working at a desk, silently and diligently. Corby and Idred cast their spells against him. Corby's attempt to Hold him failed, but Idred's Charm took effect. Idred left invisibility to speak with the figure.
• This was The Auditor, the leader of the ninja accountant clan retained by the Malevols, and recently hired on by Rel to join his own party. He and Idred spoke amicably, but despite their newfound friendship, the Auditor refused to break his contract with Rel, and regretfully informed Idred that he would be obligated to kill him tomorrow.
• Idred excused himself and rejoined the party under invisibility. Corby enchanted another item, a small stone with Silence 15'. Under both invisibility and silence, they snuck past the Auditor into the secure cells. A luxuriously appointed cell for VIPs contained the Malevol lawyer, Vincet Godefroy-Malevol, but they didn't disturb him.
• They located Giacomo and Claude in a pair of Wizard Locked cells, which Idred Knocked open. They freed their friends, and high-tailed it out of the dungeon, whereupon they told Claude about the Will.
• He insisted on going to retrieve it, and the party returned to Mordechai's Curios. The orcs had tried to siege it when they first arrived, thinking it was a possible hiding place for the Will, but Mordechai's magical prowess and the threat of a clay golem on the premises drove them away. It was fortified and boarded up. They were let in by his sons, and the party requested that Mordechai open his chest. Mordechai did, and returned the Wizard Locked box which contained the Will. At Claude's direction, Idred dispelled it, and let Mordechai read it. 
• Seeing he was in the presence of the true Count of Chamrousse, Mordechai bowed. The party escaped back to the church, where they picked up supplies prepared for their journey by the nuns, and left town. They rejoined their wagon in the forest, and made the journey to Wolkmarstal.
• The party has now spent several weeks there, establishing contact with the local Count, helping Claude form an alliance with him, and laying the groundwork for the overthrow of the false Count Jean-Giscard. Completion of their plans requires returning to Castle Xyntillan, though viable paths are many. 
• They could travel to the Beast's court deep in the northwest, or to the court of the Judge's Guild in the Lake Tower. If they just want to cause havoc on their way out, Claude suggests they break open the crystal coffin containing his aunt, the vicious mummy Aurora Malevol, and hope the resulting chaos upsets the balance of power to their advantage. If all else fails, they could even search for the lich, Aristide Malevol, and tell him that his Will has been subverted. Claude heavily discouraged this.
• Which strategy will they choose? Will they survive the journey to any of these locations? And will they continue to seek the Holy Grayl—which they have not told Claude about—or will they abandon that sacred quest? All this and more in next week's session of Castle Xyntillan!

Takeaways

These last two sessions were composed, in large part, of planning and discussion. The typical dungeon delve scenario of the campaign limits this, but taking the party out of the dungeon into an open ended social situation without a default action made it move a good deal slower. Talking with The Auditor also took a lot of time, and I've cut most of that from the session report (in large part since I don't recall most of it enough to render it accurately).

Still, it's presented a different kind of challenge to the party, and it's served to shift the campaign situation. Now, the party has a new home base, a new political situation, they have to juggle Claude's ambitions, and they have to figure out how to leverage actions in the dungeon to change the feudal structure around them. Potentially very good stuff.

Next Chapter: Judgement Day

Stop Writing Lazy Quest Intros

Rime of the Frostmaiden is the first WOTC book I've ever read. My library of RPG products isn't large by any means, but until now I've restricted myself to OSR or old D&D products, with only a glance at a few 5e books. I've heard plenty about WOTC's products, mostly through reviews and critiques, like the Alexandrian's Remixes, though I've never checked the source material.

Now that I'm running my Icewind Dale campaign, I've got to pay close attention to the book and... yeah I'm not surprised.

Now, let me make clear that the work and skill that went into the module is immense. My own attempts at making a module of much smaller scope and scale have shown me how difficult it is to make a product, let alone one this huge. Those who can, do, and those who can't, write spiteful blog posts, all that jazz.

That being said, there's a whole lot of baffling content in here, and the parts which grate the most are quest introductions.

Consider the boxed text for Foaming Mugs, one of the Chapter 1 quests. It involves retrieving a lost dwarven iron shipment in the tundra, dealing with the elements and some goblins. Standard stuff. 

This is quite possibly my least favorite RPG trope. "Hello there heavily armed stranger, I happen to be in a bit of a pickle and it would be great if you could risk life and limb to help me out. By the way, I have money, possibly in a compact and easily concealed form."

I know why it exists, and I know that in most cases players go along with it because the pathologically trusting NPC is a gateway to wondrous realms of GM-prepped adventure. But if I ever use a hook like this and the NPCs aren't doppelgangers I think I'll choke on my own shoes. 

It's grating in large part because it doesn't fit the frame. If the party were members of a guild with distinctive clothing or marks indicating they were looking for work, it would be perfect. Or if they were in a place and situation where such an approach would be appropriate, such as in the court of a noble being petitioned for aid. 

In this case, that's dubious at best. This hook is built to be given either in the Northlook, a rough-and-tumble tavern, or just out in the street. The former situation is marginally acceptable, but in the street? Mind you, in the game fiction, a street which is in near-perpetual darkness, where nobody is out unless on business and which is in -40 degree cold. Why? 

Yes, yes, that's rhetorical. The honest answer is 'because this is obviously a plot hook.' But if this blog is dedicated to anything, it's dedicated to the idea that one shouldn't settle for the minimum viable experience.

In this precise case, there's a few fixes. I put the dwarves in the local temple, recovering from frostbite, which the party visited to deliver a dead body (yes, it is that sort of campaign). You could also have the dwarves be in a shouting match by the smithy, or just rely on tavern rumors. If the party seeks out the questgiver based on information they've heard, you're already building engagement, not just reskinning a plot hook vending machine.

This issue recurs in a bunch of places, in various forms. In Easthaven, the militia captain sidles up to the party as they're watching a man get burned at the stake, and seeing their rough and tumble demeanor, offers them a job. I have a wonderful image in my head of a party standing transfixed by the agonizing screams of a slowly carbonizing wizard, only for the her to slide next to them and say, 'Soooo... come around here often?'

It's like picking up dates at a funeral. Even if your campaign's tone is dark enough that the experience isn't totally alienating, it's just going to be funny. 

Or, a commonly used example: just as the party is faced with an extremely urgent situation involving a living superweapon, a powerful mage shows up with sled dogs to offer the party a lift. Also, they're transparently a necromancer. If you run this as written, this is the first time the party has ever encountered this NPC. 

These sorts of hooks really require a party that's just looking for today's quest hook, and don't much mind how they get it. And there's hundreds of thousands of game tables that play just like that. Far from me to denigrate a beer and pretzels game. If I get invited to someone's home game and my character gets approached by Grieving Widow ID#0004376, you can bet I'll follow that quest hook as eagerly as everyone else.

But in a published product, let alone a massive campaign book from the titan of contemporary RPG publishing? No. This is not up to snuff. I'd say I expected better, but I've spent the last few years being inculcated in the flaws of 5e products by every other OSR blogger alive. So my expectations were largely met. 

I assume by reputation that this same sort of writing recurs in other WOTC products. I don't want to go overboard without knowing what it's really like to write there, but, really? Are there any WOTC customers who think 'wow, I never would have thought of having a bunch of dwarves just walk up to the party out of nowhere, thank goodness it's included in the module to inspire and elevate my GMing?' 

The conceptual density here approaches zero. The whole thing could be conveyed in a couple of lines, and is. But then a piece of boxed text jumps in front of the reader, taking up a whole paragraph to add only token detail. I daresay it could be removed entirely with no effect. Does this really warrant boxed text?

The only charitable interpretation I can cobble together is that WOTC doesn't think their audience minds this sort of writing, and they don't mind either as a result.

Lest I be accused of just being a big mouth without any creativity of my own, here's a couple alternatives, made in WOTC style.

Three frostbitten shield dwarves lie by the fire on the House of the Morninglord and call the party over.

Three stocky figures soak in the hearthfire under thick fur blankets. Your arrival causes one to rise shakily, a dwarven woman, afflicted by terrible frostbite. She stretches a discolored hand towards you and gasps in a raspy voice, "Beg your pardon friend. My name's Hruna. These here are Korux and Storn. We'd be horribly grateful if you could pass on some news to Garm at the Blackiron."

At the Blackiron Blades, the blacksmith yells at three other dwarves for their loss of an iron shipment.

Angry shouts echo across the northerly street from the Blackiron Blades, where a dwarven blacksmith scolds three of his frostbitten kin. "What will the Battlehammers think of us now? They went to all the trouble to mine and forge and shape that ore for us, and we go and lose it! I don't want to hear a word out of any of you. You'd best find a fix, and fast before this ruins us!"

I think both of these are much more flavorful than the original. I expect to be replacing most of the quest intros like this. And to the canned excuse 'you can always change it,' I give the equally canned reply 'if I was planning on doing it all myself I wouldn't be buying a module.' 

One point strongly in the product's favor though, it's one of the few nontechnical works I've read in years that actually taught me a new word. Did you know the bit of the sundial which sticks up and casts a shadow is called a gnomon? Or that you can use the word 'beard' as a verb meaning 'to boldly confront?' Good stuff. 

Icewind Dale Campaign Prep Part 1: Intro Quests and Rumors

In the last post, I expressed some desire to run Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden.

In an usually quick development, I ran the first session last night. Before I did so, I substantially reworked the introduction to the adventure and the structure of several quests. if you're looking at running, as at least one other reader is considering, keep an eye on this blog! Today, I'll show how I reworked the intro quests to be more organic, what I did with a few NPCs, and my rewrite of the Chapter 1 rumor table. 

Source

The Intro Quests

The book advises that the GM use one of the two starting quests, Cold Open or Nature Spirits. They're wildly different in terms of tone, danger and reward.

I and every other commentator on Rime have observed that it's better to use both quests together. Their purpose is to give the party a reason to travel all over Ten-Towns, visiting each one and collecting their local quests. Since both quests end essentially at random, it's better to have two intertwining threads. The contrast in tone is also fun.

The other common comment is that Cold Open should be a proper murder mystery, instead of a kill quest with delays. I'm going to bring this all together. 

Welcome to Ten-Towns

One of the biggest departures from the module I've used is right in the opening. Instead of starting in one of the Ten Towns, I started the party in a sled on the Ten Trail, coming into the Dale. Some party members were Dale natives returning, while others were new to the region.

The party shared the covered sled with a wizard, Dzaan, and his bodyguard, Vetala. If you know the adventure, you see how this is a substantial departure. I'm using Dzaan to replace a couple of the clunkier questgivers in the first chapter, Dannika Graysteel, who gives the Nature Spirits starting quest, and Tali, who gives the Lake Monster quest in Bremen. I still intend to have his execution scene in Easthaven, but now it likely won't be the party's first time in that town, and they'll likely be there to turn in a quest to Dzaan and get a reward. Awkward.

With this, we introduce the Arcane Brotherhood, albeit in disguise, from day one. Also, I like the flavor of Dzaan looking for a live chwinga for much less altruistic reasons, and sending the party on a potentially dangerous quest to investigate the lake monster, while not giving them the magic items he has which, as far as he knows, would make the quest much safer.

(Also, his bodyguard's name in the book is Krintaas, not Vetala. That's just an easter egg for the Indian and Tibetan readers I don't have). 

In the intro as I've run it, the party gets introduced to Dzaan, get offered the Nature Spirits quest, and then get interrupted. The sled driver calls out about a tinker's sled up ahead, and instructs the party to get their purses ready if they want to buy supplies.

When they get closer, they find four wolves eating the tinker's sled dogs, growling at the party. If the wolves are killed or driven away, the party may find that the tinker is also dead. But they weren't killed by the wolves. The tinker has a deep stab wound through his heart, and each of the sled dogs was killed with a similar weapon. The wolves came later.

The sled is still loaded with supplies, which the sled driver insists on taking if the party doesn't. But there weren't enough supplies to take the tinker over the mountains. Why would he be heading south on the Ten Trail if the couldn't make it over the mountains?

Further investigation would reveal humanoid tracks to and from the sled. One set, with large gaps in the tracks, as if jumping great distances. The tracks lead back to Bryn Shander. The work of our mysterious killer. 

The sled driver insists on taking the tinker's body back to town, showing it to the sheriff and getting the tinker his final rites.

Bury them right
Or else!

Cold Open

With this setup, the game is pretty much required to start in Bryn Shander. It's the gateway to the Dale, it's centrally located, it's the nicest city, which helps give the real decrepitude of places like Dougan's Hole more weight. It also has a good town quest, which introduces blizzards and is less likely than some others to result in a TPK. 

Assuming the party took the tinker's body, there's a few hooks to pull. First, taking it to the sheriff in the Town Hall. Getting to the Town Hall puts the party near the market square, which they're likely to go to anyway. If they bring the body with them, they'll be approached by a man with bright blue eyes, who asks how much the body costs.

This is Sephek Kaltro, bodyguard on Torg's caravan, and a bounty hunter on his own time. He assumed the body was a bounty the party was bringing in, and tells the party he makes business out of buying bounties from hunters and bringing them into the final destination. 

The Sheriff can inform them that this is the fourth such murder in similar fashion in a few months. Second time a Bryn Shander citizen has been targeted. He's offering a 100gp bounty for the murderer, dead or alive.

While they're in his office, the party has the opportunity to put their names in the lottery, which is just under a month away (in my own session last night, one party member, an Auril worshiper, put the entire party's names in the lottery. He also detected that Sephek was an Auril worshiper).

Getting the tinker his final rites can get the party over to the House of the Morninglord, where they can overhear a raucous shouting match between the priest and the acolyte. The gnome acolyte, Copper, is a fellow tinker, and recognizes the body as Jericho. He can tell the party that Jericho was paranoid and panicked about the lottery the previous week, but got over it. Inside, there are three frostbitten dwarves receiving medical help. They can tell the party about how they lost Blackiron's shipment, and that they'll offer 100gp in exchange for it safely delivered.

If the party heads over to the Northlook, they can hear the crowd inside chanting, 'Poke the fish!' and see a young soldier poke Ol' Bitey and get bitten for his efforts. Blood, laughter and free drinks abound. The party will likely get rooms and hang about, so they'll each get a rumor. If they hang about until late, they'll likely bump into a drunk Sephek. 

And that's how you make the intro more organic. No Hlin Trollbane, no dwarves walking right up to total strangers and giving them a job out of the blue (and certainly no overpaying). But, of course, there's much more to the chapter. That's what the updated chapter 1 Rumor Table is for.

The Rumor Table

There's a couple rumor tables in Rime, one for the first chapter of the adventure, and another for the second. The first has ten rumors, one for each of the Ten Towns, which points the party at their respective intro quests. The second is called 'Tall Tales', which points the party at the chapter 2 quests dotted across the Dale. Notably, as the Alexandrian has pointed out, these 'Tall Tales' are all perfectly reliable sources of information.

I'm not satisfied with this approach. Not in the least because the tone of the rumors as written feels like a dossier, not a wild tale you heard at a seedy tavern. There's no red herrings or misdirection. 

So I went ahead and reworked the chapter 1 rumor table. First, I mixed up each of the starting quest rumors, rewriting them to give them a more appropriate voice, adding extraneous or deceptive details. Gives some more flavor, and connects to some elements of the adventure that are less emphasized, such as town rivalries. 

Then I added ten more rumors whole cloth. Some point towards quests and encounters from chapter 2, but don't give enough actionable information, giving elements like the goblin fortress or the Id Ascendant some foreshadowing. Others just give some local flavor. A few of these rumors bear further elaboration, included below.

Rumor Table

1. In Bremen, fishers’ boats keep getting busted up by a monster that lives in Maer Dualdon. I think it’s just sabotage by some Termalaine boys.

2. Garn Blackiron’s swords are the flimsiest in Bryn Shander. Now they’ve got costlier somehow!

3. In Caer-Dineval, no one has seen the town speaker for a long time. A hunter from there told me he died and his ghost haunts the castle!

4. Caer Konig is a mess. They’ve got thieves stealing everything in sight, their speaker is a lush, and they don’t get anything in town since the lake froze over.

5. Dougan’s Hole? More like shit hole. Ha! But seriously, don’t go there. They’ve got wolves big as horses eating anyone who comes near.

6. The Easthaven ferry ain’t been running since Lac Dinneshere froze up. Fine by me. Too much evil shit in that lake, and it’s always the fishermen dredging up something creepy. 

7. A frost giant attacked Good Mead! It killed their speaker, their sheriff, then it picked up the whole mead hall and ran off with it!

8. Have you met the Lonelywood speaker? She bakes halfling cookies for travelers. Nothing bad ever happens in Lonelywood! Except for all the hunting deaths. That's probably bad. 

9. Ever heard of Oyaminartok? She’s a goliath werebear, been alive gods-know how long. They say if you fight her and win, you can become one too! Some adventurers have tracked her down to Kelvin’s Cairn. If you hurry, you might be able to catch up!

10. The gem mine in Termalaine is closed down again. You know what that means. Monster infestation. Whoever wins the next round of three-dragon-ante gets to collect the extermination contract - hey, where are you going?

11. There are kobolds on the move. Small packs of them cutting through the snow. Some of them head to Ten-Towns looking for warmth and safety. Others head somewhere else, but won’t say where. 

12. There’s a goliath that came down from the mountains to Easthaven. Turns out she’s a beast at three-dragon-ante. There’s nobody she won’t play against, and no bet she won’t raise.

13. There’s a big game hunter from Neverwinter who’s set up shop in Targos. He’s running a fight ring between hunts. Head to the docks and ask for Mylbor Tafferac. 

14. There’s an old structure in the mountains just west of Ten Trail. Nobody knows who built it. Some say it’s elven or dwarven, but nobody really knows!

15. There’s a tinker hiding out in the tundra, working on some crazy machine meant to end the Rime. But I don’t think that’s what it’s for. What if it’s meant to control the minds of Ten-Towns? Or blow up cities? And why is the Church of the Morninglord bankrolling this? How deep does the conspiracy go?

16. My cousin’s husband’s neighbor caught a hare in a trap, and when he went to slaughter it, it talked! Talked! What if every animal is like that? Watching us with their beady little eyes...

17. Alright, I’ll say it. I don’t mind that Termalaine’s speaker is a half-orc! He was a damn good soldier and he’s a good speaker. 

18. The goblins have a new chief, and he must be a smart one. Rumor is they’ve been building a fortress, and their attacks are ranging farther and farther.

19. The glacier tribes scare the shit out of me. I can never tell if they’re friendly or they’re two seconds from biting my face off.

20. My cousin says she hears voices in her head whenever the sky sparks. I tell her it’s nothing, but now she’s met this guy from Targos who says the same thing. If we don’t stop it now they’ll start convincing other people they hear things!

6. As mentioned before, there likely won't be a wizard burning at the stake when the party arrives in Easthaven for the first time (but no guarantees are made about subsequent times). This part of the book feels off to me, since the execution is a cutscene which introduces the party to the local sheriff, which then sends them on a totally unrelated quest. Yes, it's there to set up the simulacrum in chapter 2, but I'm already doing that by making Dzaan a real NPC. As a result, just hinting at dark things and the frozen lake in Easthaven is enough for me. The Cold Open will be reason enough to visit, since one of the murders occurred there. 

9. This rumor originally pointed to Targos. The issue is that the quest it connects to doesn't actually take place in Targos, but on Kelvin's Cairn, halfway across the map. The intro to that quest is also ridiculous. Adventurers hired a guide in Targos to help them climb the Cairn, okay, fair enough. Then they have a bad time. Sure. One of their sled dogs gets loose, and runs... guess where. Not to Caer Konig, the closest town where the expedition organizers happen to be. Not to the next-nearest town. Not the next. No, not even the next after that. This dog runs 12 miles across the tundra to the guide's husband's house, but before it arrives it happens on the PCs and recruits them.

Nope, sorry, not buying it. I just reworked this rumor to point the party directly to the adventure location. A little more questioning can tell them about Frozenfar Expeditions. Also, we start building Oyaminartok's legend.

13. As written, Mylbor Tafferac just comes into existence in chapter 2 with the Red Yeti hunt, then disappears. I thought the idea of a big game hunter was very interesting, so I'm giving him a little place in Targos. If the party wants they can go to his fight club on the docks, bet or fight themselves, win and lose money, maybe get involved in some other local drama. Not much more detail needed for that, it's a stock scene that the party should be familiar with, but adds some variety.

Also, the Red Yeti quest doesn't give the party a real chance. They just end up coming across an entirely different adventuring location, do that, and when they get back to town find that Tafferac killed the yeti. I'll likely rework that once chapter 2 rolls around. But that section described him as 'the incomparable Mylbor Tafferac' and I got so enamored with that description that I know conceive of him as a camp, self-praising showman (who totally has the combat stats to back it up). 

14. This points towards an adventuring location I'm thinking of homebrewing. I won't say what, but it has some connection to the Id Ascendant, and scratches my itch for ancient alien tech in fantasy.

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Icewind Dale: Running the Good Mead Election

I'm a great fan of Justin Alexander and his remixes of WOTC material (even though I've not yet had an opportunity to play any of it). The newest WOTC outing, Rime of the Frostmaiden, looks solid as these things go, and I may just end up running it. Albeit with some changes, and after I'm done with everything else on my plate.

The Alexandrian has already done great work done in that direction, but the parts which most appeal to me in the sandbox approach is the idea of getting to know the Ten-Towns, their inhabitants, and rising to become actual heroes, not just heavily armed hobos. The reputation system promised in Rime would help do that... if it actually existed. That's something to change.

I've just skimmed so far, but one bit I really do find appealing is the conflict in the town of Goodmead. In summary, this town produces lots of honey and mead, exporting it to other towns, but trade has been disrupted by a giant that stole some casks and killed the town leader! In the course of this quest, the party can steal back the mead, with or without killing the giants, gaining the town's respect and restoring trade. But they also have the option of bolstering their ranks with local soldiers to help them!

Even better, if they succeed, they can get involved in local politics. The town needs a new leader, and it's between a popular but corrupt dwarf logger, Shandar, and a well established but reluctant cask maker, Olivessa. But Olivessa doesn't want the position, so if the PCs want in, she'll throw her aid behind them.

That's a great setup. Giant hunt after one attacked your mead hall? Straight Beowulf. Muster the locals to fight the menace. Awesome. Get involved in seedy local politics, demonstrating you've really made an impact on the community. Sweet.

The execution is, disappointingly but not unexpectedly, less well done. After dangling an opportunity for local leadership in front of the characters, the module takes steps to nullify it, and makes only a token concession to player freedom. The dwarf used his Zhentarim contacts to stage a scene to make him look like a hero, also it all happens in a cutscene. Sure, the party might be able to 'expose the deception' but the module really seems to strain against the idea.

Not in the least because I can't find any details of the election in the book. The loggers like Shandar, and Olivessa comes from an old family... and that's it? No mention of how to do an election scene either, despite how flavorful that would be. Does it take place in the meadhall, after every voting town member has abstained from mead for a day to keep their head straight, followed by an orgiastic drinking session? Who votes? Every adult who resides there? Only heads of households? Only those capable of fighting? Only a council of elders? Do the candidates get to cast votes? Is there some kind of anonymity or is everyone supposed to call out their vote before the town? What is the situation like that a small, insular frontier town would consider making their leader an individual who has only just arrived? We need to know dammit!

Good Mead is a town of just 101 100 people. Of those, just over a fifth are willing and able to fight in the militia when the time comes. The same seems to hold true for most other towns. You can't have a population below Dunbar's number and not have flavorful gossiping and politicking! 

And what about mechanics? I'm not asking for a rigorous electoral subsystem, but at least give me something that connects to existing mechanics! Can the candidate's Charisma score turn the tide? Is their reputation score going to impact their likability? 

That's a whole lot of missing speculation about missing stuff. Here's how I would run it.

Asking the Big Questions

First off, who's voting? In my mind small towns like Good Mead would be run as collections of households, and the head of each household votes. This brings the number of electors down to a small enough number that the PCs can meaningfully know who they are, get to know what they think, and put real human (or dwarvish, whatever) faces to the townsfolk.

Aside

By not specifying what the election looks like, the implied default would be a popular vote of adults, which is how I think a lot of people would end up running this. To me, that betrays a lack of imagination. How is a small town like this made up? A bunch of atomized individuals? Don't make laugh. It's family all the way down. And when the community is made up of families, not individuals, it makes a lot more sense for votes to go by head of household.

Of course who counts as the head of a household? Olivessa comes from a lineage that helped found the town, but explicitly has no surviving relatives. I suppose she would count, but that very assertion might be a matter of political dispute in the town.

Likewise, Shandar has only lived in town for a few years. No mention is made of a family, just that he's popular with the other loggers. A bachelor and a recent immigrant is out of the norm. 

Also, where's the previous leader's family in all this? Any children or spouse should be important voices here. 

This gets further complicated by the inciting incident of the election, the verbeeg hunt. If the PCs go ahead and do the quest themselves, without mustering a militia, they have more leeway to do it their way, but they haven't demonstrated their leadership ability to the townsfolk. Also, the townsfolk would be uneasy if they didn't kill the giants.

'Three kobolds in a trench coat' is 100% a character idea I came up with years ago

By bringing a militia with them, even a small one, the party not only displays leadership, but has witnesses. Witnesses who can tell their friends and family how cool the party was under pressure, or how fearless, or how adaptable. Or, witnesses who can tell everyone how the party chickened out and negotiated with the giants instead. No good.

And if the town is really made up of households, how many of the heads of households are coming along on the giant raid? More to the point, how would it look for a prospective town leader to not go along with the party? Olivessa and Shandar are both statted as commoners. Meanwhile a fifth of the town population has the stats of a tribal warrior. Why are these people the frontrunners again?

The Hunt

Before the election even starts, before the party even gets to Goodmead, Olivessa and Shandar should be having a visible effect on the town. Introduce them and the leadership vacuum up front, not after the giant hunt. Their leader is lying dead in the town shrine, trade is disrupted, everyone is living in fear of giants in the woods.

Olivessa, seeing as she's probably not making casks right about now, is leading a civic ceremony, a memorial to the old town speaker. Shandar is boasting back at the mead hall. Both are yet unaware of the deaths of the five militia members who went out to hunt the verbeeg. 

If the PCs accept the quest to go hunt it themselves, Shandar should insert himself into the situation. Some of the loggers are bound to be among the militia members, and coming along for the ride will let him share some of the glory, even if it's undeserved. 

This is also a good place to introduce the militia, and the opportunity to raise it. Since many of the townsfolk are with Olivessa at the memorial, this will be a good moment to introduce her as well.

In the course of recruiting the militia, note that the two veterans are heads of household in Good Mead (we can give them some names later). If they like what they see during the hunt, their votes will most likely go to the party. If they don't like what they see, they will most likely oppose the PCs. And if they happen to die, well, their places are taken by their children, who probably don't like the party too much.

Leadup to the Election

After the hunt, assuming it went well and the party wants to run for speaker, the next section can run mostly as written. Maybe some of the veterans take Olivessa's place in encouraging them to run. Olivessa needs to know the party actually cares about the people before throwing her support behind them. The role of a speaker is really just to negotiate with other towns and resolve conflicts, without special authority in the town itself.

Shandar protests, and the party will hear, probably from a younger person, that Shandar just left the town, the PCs ran him out! This should pique their curiosity. Tailing Shandar to his meeting with the Targos speaker should be an option.

The plan is to make Shandar look like a hero by staging an invasion by some thugs, which Shandar is in the right place to prevent. Instead of turning this into a cutscene best to make the PCs inability to act a bit more diegetic. In particular, have a distraction get them away from town briefly, such as another verbeeg sighting (very easy if the second verbeeg was left alive. In this case, there may be an alliance between it and Shandar). Once the party returns to town, looking like chumps, Shandar was in place to prevent a real threat.

This should clue the party in to some foul play. Thugs don't appear out of thin air, so they must have come from somewhere, and they're probably still close by. 

Running the Election

When the day of the election comes, flavor it as you like. Personally, I like the idea of the entire town crowding together into the mead hall, with the electors abstaining from alcohol for the last day, casting their votes in front of everybody, representing their families. When the winner is declared, they get to give a little speech, and inaugurate a feast. This is a good opportunity to suck wealth from the party's pockets to pay for the food and entertainment.

How many electors there are is up in the air, but I'd put the number around 20. This isn't a rigorous method, but if you want something besides 'win if the dwarf is exposed, lose otherwise', then maybe introducing a random element might help. 3d6+Cha bonus could work, maybe adding Reputation on top? That's how many electors vote for you. Get the majority, you win. If Shandar is still in the running, add a modifier to his benefit due to his 'heroism.'

And if the PCs want to go ahead and become speakers for other towns, a system like this might be generalized. Oust the sitting speaker somehow, then convince the people that the party is the right way forward. Put their cronies in place in towns where the PCs can't become leaders themselves. Rime of the Frostmaiden is now a political intrigue campaign.

You're welcome.

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