The Beckett family ventures into the Temple of Pholtus described in part 1 of this adventure narrative.
The session began with the PCs at a ruined temple of Pholtus, not far from the western shores of Blackwater Lake. They had already explored one outbuilding, where they found some hidden valuables in a buried stone vault. One such bauble was a silver decanter that slowly filled with fresh water. Daniel discovered this the hard way when it leaked through his backpack and breeches, giving the group a laugh.
Cast of Characters
Most party members are part of one large extended family—the noble Beckett family. A few are retainers. Characters in gray text were not present during this encounter.
Granny Beckett: Witch, eccentric matriarch of the family Jade Cormallen: Half-elf ranger, distant relative to most Lord Roger Beckett: Ranger, new family head Acolyte Denston Beckett: Cleric of Pholtus, grumpy and dour Daniel Beckett: Assassin, passionate and protective Sir Callum Beckett: Cavalier, burly and jovial Sir William Beckett: Cavalier, sarcastic and brave Brother Lewie: Cleric of St. Cuthbert, erratic but insightful Sven Ragnarsson: Barbarian, bastard of Granny, Bjorn’s twin Bjorn Ragnarsson: Barbarian, bastard of Granny, Sven’s twin Brother Liam: Cleric of St. Cuthbert, comrade of Brother Lewie Sir Raynard: Cavalier, handsome and witty Raymond: NPC (Fighter 1), stoic and responsible Owen: NPC (Ranger 1), introverted and self-sufficient Kieran: NPC (Magic User 1), gentle and intelligent Sergeant Blaine: NPC Fighter, porter to the Beckett family Dagis: NPC (Fighter 0), new squire to Sir Callum
This is RPG-ology #10: Labyrinths, for September 2018.
In game terms, a labyrinth is a geometric puzzle, a system of passable and impassible spaces solved by the discovery of a consecutive path of passable spaces connecting some number of points, commonly the entrance and the exit. A maze, usually, refers to a type of labyrinth for which there is a unique solution, only one path that connects two points; a labyrinth might instead have many solutions, or no solution. The distinction is significant in several ways; they are related puzzles, but both the ways in which they are created and the techniques for solving them are different.
Labyrinths can occur naturally, when geologic forces crack rocks in seemingly random patterns. Even mazes can be naturally occurring—if a tunnel system was carved by water which has since mostly evaporated or drained away, it commonly carves one exit point, and then the current follows that path and ignores the others. Mazes are more commonly created by intelligent action, although sometimes an intelligence will create a labyrinth for any of several reasons.
Labyrinthine road patterns sometimes develop from the process of acretion, as new residents add new housing and thus new streets attached to old ones. Suburban developments are often labyrinthine by design so that residents familiar with the roads can exit in any of several directions but others will not consider the connected roads a viable short cut between two points outside the development.
The Minotaur was kept in a labyrinth because a maze would have been too easy to solve.
A maze in two dimensions is easier to solve from above than from within; the eye can trace patterns and look for the connecting path, spotting and avoiding dead ends early. Still, from within a two-dimensional maze you are guaranteed to find the way through if you pick one wall and follow it. This will take you into many dead ends, but it will take you out ultimately. A labyrinth with more than one solution cannot necessarily be solved this way, as there is a high probability that you will be caught in a loop.
Three-dimensional mazes are considerably more difficult to solve, because we are not generally accustomed to considering them three-dimensionally. These are most easily created as multi-level constructions with stairways, ramps, or chutes and ladders connecting them in specific points, often connecting some levels but not accessing intervening levels.
One mistake often made in maze design is designing inward only—that is, many mazes are easily solved by working backwards, the tricks and turns and deceptive paths all designed to mislead the one coming in from the front. This is not as much of a problem in a role playing game maze, because these can often be placed in locations in which the characters will initially approach them from one side. On the other hand, the designer can take advantage of this by creating the maze backwards, such that characters will easily find their way in but will be confronted by the confusion on the way out. However, many tabletop gamers become very good at mapping, so the scenario designer might need some particularly complicated tricks to stymie his players.
Fortunately, fantasy and science fiction give us such tricks. In Dr. Who: The Horns of Nimon, the space in which the Nimon lived was a giant logic circuit, the walls switches which seemingly randomly switched from “A” to “B” positions making it impossible to have an accurate map created from passing through it. I have recommended using teleport points, in either fantasy or science fiction settings, by which any character crossing a specific spot on the map in a specific direction is moved to a specific other spot on the map not necessarily facing the same direction, but is not moved back on the return journey, passing the arrival point unaware that it was there. There are many ways to use this—creating recursive occlusion, as in Dr. Who: Castrovalva, a section of the map in which there are many entries, but only one exit, all the other exits delivering you to the entry point on the opposite side of the isolated area; creating maze-like labyrinths in which the characters are moved to parallel paths but the occupants know how to use their teleport points to get where they want to be; creating duplicate rooms in which characters who enter one room always leave from the other. I have used all of these techniques, and have had players trying to resolve their situation for several play sessions.
I have also confused players by using maps with repeating patterns, causing them to believe they had returned to a place they had already been when they were instead in a different place exactly like it. Nothing is quite the same as watching a player attempt to erase and correct a map that was already right.
The House of Foura is an odd house by comparison to the others. The House is closely associated with the Aruman, dreams and destiny. They are sought when a way must be found. Despite their good fortune, they often don’t accumulate much wealth or seek fame. They instead seek to fulfill their purpose. To a one they are driven towards one goal or another and become focused on that need. Their temples are usually in disarray, but some are places the desperate seek when all else fails.
Granted Power: Providence. Once per game session the player may pick either an attack, skill or save. The results will be the best possible outcome. If an attack, not only is it automatically a critical but it will also be maximum damage.
This is Faith in Play #10: Goodness, for September 2018.
Back in May I introduced the notion that in the original Dungeons & Dragons game, alignment was the True Religion of the game, what the characters ultimately fundamentally believed. I did not at that time delve into what those religions were, but promised to return to the question in future articles. This is the first of those, second in the alignment miniseries, dealing with the alignment aspect everyone always mentions first: what does it mean to be Good, and what does a “Good” person believe?
First, let us be clear that “good”, in game terms, does not mean “obeying the rules” or something like that. It is not a religion of laws, but a religion of attitude. It is defined as the belief in promoting the greatest benefit for the greatest number. The word beneficence is perhaps the best synonym for it. Javan’s Feast was an example of good in action: how do I help these poor people who are struggling to survive? Good King Wenceslas, in initiating the practices of the Feast of Stephen (the day after Christmas, known in England as “Boxing Day” because Christians box up their spare and leftover food and deliver it to the poor), demonstrated the acts of a good-aligned person in giving one poor man food in the depths of winter. A “good” person (or character) will break the law, if doing so will make the lives of others better. If indeed Robin Hood robbed from the rich and gave to the poor, his actions were criminal—but decidedly good, which is why his story is so revered.
Good has a good reputation. Most people, even most “evil” people, want to be perceived as “good”. It is characteristically compassionate, caring for the needs of others, in a sense putting others before self. Good people are generally against torture, will probably not perform it themselves, and will only tolerate it if it seems absolutely necesssary to rescue someone else or somehow beneficial to the one being tortured. They are generally against unjustified killing—to put a sentient creature to death, there must be some evidence that the creature is guilty of some heinous evil and unlikely to be rehabilitated. Killing orcs just because, hey, they’re orcs, is questionable. Killing orcs because there is clear evidence that these orcs have committed felonious crimes against nearby human or similar settlements that need to be defended is certainly acceptable.
On the other hand, good people can be misled or misinformed, in essence wrong. They can genuinely believe that certain actions promote the welfare of the greatest number of people which in fact do not. At that point the question becomes whether they should have known better—is it that the orcs they killed were not involved in the attacks on the human settlements, but the characters had good reason to believe they were, or is it that orcs attacked the human settlements so humans are attacking random orc settlements? Understanding good can be tricky, because people often do what we might think bad things for good reasons. Many slavers genuinely believed that they were taking primitive sub-human creatures out of the poverty of their homeland into a better life as domesticated animals. Indeed, most domesticated animals live longer than their wild counterparts, and are healthier and more comfortable along the way; why might it not be so for humans? We abhor such practices—but our characters’ perception of the best possible benefit for the greatest number might well be something we would not perceive as “good” because of our own background.
There is a degree to which “good” is definitive of Christian love. The game version probably does not need to be held to quite that standard of self-sacrifice and servanthood, but a saint who lives so would definitely be a clear example of the “good” alignment. I hope that your own alignment is “good”, whatever alignment you prefer for your characters.