Facing Rules

Izzy asked about opinions on the facing rules in a discord server I frequent. That made me realize... I've never read the variant rule for facing in Dungeon Master's Guide. I figured I'll give it a shot before I have a chance of reading the rule. What I came up with is something I'd consider interesting enough. Hope you'll enjoy!

Fun fact: Hoods would actually hinder your peripheral sight. That is, unless you have a set of supernaturally enhanced senses.
I didn't want to have my hastily drawn diagram be the thumbnail of this article, so I figured I'd go with something prettier.
Stealth, by Andis Reinbergs

Cones of Sight

Make a point in the middle of your character token. Draw a line perpendicular to the direction in which they're looking. Then draw two more lines, splitting the area around the character into 6 equal cones. The section in the direction the character faces is labeled C. The two neighboring them L1 and R1, the two neighboring those L2 and R2, and the final sector should be labeled X. Don't worry, these labels are here just in case I'll be too lazy to add an image later, it's actually intuitive.

Woohoo, I made it afterall!

This rule of mine distinguishes three types of sight: clear sight, peripheral sight, and no sight. Things that you can see clearly are things that you can describe well enough for someone to imagine clearly. Peripheral sight lets you know vague shapes, lighting, colors, and motion, severely lacking in detail. It's good enough to let you know you need to dodge an attacked, but not good enough to read a book. No sight is self-explanatory, you don't see there. When a section of your sight isn't mentioned in the next paragraph, it stands for no sight under that condition.

When you look ahead of yourself, you see the section C clearly, and the sections L1 and R1 peripherally. When you turn your head left, you see the section L1 clearly, and the sections L2 and C peripherally (same goes for right direction, but swap L for R). You could even use this to simulate looking to the side, in which case one of the peripheral cones (depending on the direction) becomes a clear sight, and the central cone grants a peripheral sight instead. For example, looking to the left without turning your head makes the section L1 a clear sight, and the section C a peripheral sight. All of this of course assumes that the body doesn't move at all below the neck. Extra note, looking directly to the right or left would be rounded into R1 and L1 respectively.

Is this useful? Hardly. It's way too But it's a neat start. I still haven't read their execution of the rules, chances are it's simpler. But this thought experiment has led me to thinking and pondering... this might be very useful for my sprinters RPG, as well as for Fairy Heist. Not sure when I'll get to updating the latter, but the former game is a goal of mine for 2024 (more on that in about a week).

A Soup Stone game

I wrote most of this article a month ago apparently. As some of you can tell, I'm a fan of minimalistic TTRPGs. Sometimes, this can go too far, even beyond my personal preferences. The most extreme example of that would be We Are But Worms, a 1-word TTRPG. How many words are too little? How many does one need to give actual value? These are the thoughts I considered when I was challenged to write a 10-word TTRPG. Below is my output.

007+

Be secret agent. Roll 7+ on 1d8 to defeat baddies.

It has some substance, evoking James Bond with his iconic label of 007 and being described as a secret agent. But rolling 7+ on a 1d8 to defeat the baddies is too vague. Aside from the fact this would mean that only one in four of your attempts succeed,... what exactly does this mean? Is this only about attacks, or about other activities too? Does it have to hinder a baddie directly? What if you're not trying to hinder anyone, or to fulfill your mission overall with your current action? I'm not even going to comment on the fact that this means you succeed 25% of time.

The Soup Stone

In one of the English lessons back when I was at school, the first fairy tale I learned that wasn't told to me in my native language before was the tale of The Soup Stone. I'm gonna retell it off the top of my head how I remember it for those who don't know it.

A tramp convinces an old selfish woman to make soup for him by convincing her that his stone is magical. When she wants to see how it works, he asks her to cooperate with him because the stone's magic is quite mysterious and complicated. She sets up a pot of boiling water that the soup stone goes into, gets some vegetables, depending on the telling of the story some meat, a dash of salt, and viola - they've got a soup that they can now share.

So... this might be a little bit awkward, but while searching for the story online, I came to learn it's called Stone Soup, not Soup Stone like I thought. That being said, I'm keeping the phrase "Soup Stone game" as is - the game has the same role as the stone in the fairy tale.
Stone Soup, by magmatixi

This story has stuck with me since then, it's a story of convincing someone that something is amazing if they put a lot of work into it. It's also the reason why I like to call games like We Are But Worms, 007, and plenty of other games "A Soup Stone game": it's only as good as you make it.

I hope I didn't come off as negative. A soup stone game isn't necessarily a bad thing, I know several people who say that's all they need to have a fun time. And they are right, why bother with all these complicated mechanic and rule interactions, when you could just let the GM make up a ruling for it on the spot, roll some dice, and keep things moving? Well, the downside with this sort of system is that it tends to be a blank canvas: the less material one has to work with, the more work is required by the GM and the party to make use of it. Take for example 007+. If you are familiar with what 007 stands for, you know you're playing a James Bond-type secret agent who's just that good.

What I've learned this year

I'm pretty sure that if you follow my activity or my blog, you've noticed the challenge I've been going through this year. The 200-word games are simple to make, but ultimately they tend to feel rather... barebones. A couple more words could make them into proper, more replayable games. Why is this?

Well, as I worked on more and more of these, I came to a conclusion why. It will sound obvious, but you can only do so much with a certain word count. These limits might be different for others, but to me personally, it goes something like this:

• Give me a couple of pages, and I can make a game that will last a couple of months.
• Give me a single page, and I'll make something for 5 or fewer sessions. It will be a game alright, but it might be a oneshot deal or something suited for a short campaign.
• Give me 200 words, and I'll make a proof of concept for one or more mechanics. It will look like a game, but it'll likely be missing something, if not a lot of things.
• Give me less than 200 words, and I can make you a Soup Stone game. There will be some flavor to it, maybe even some simple mechanics, but it won't be fun on its own, likely.

And this concludes my 27th article this year. With 11 days to spare, I hope to write at least one more. We'll see how that goes. Thank you for reading, and have a great day!

A Chandelier Encounter

I've made it clear that I no longer feel like running combat encounters in a game like D&D. But recently I had an idea that's too cool not to share. And really, I'm a couple articles away from breaking my personal record of a number of articles in a year, so why not pitch in with something quick and neat?

A Chandelier Encounter

This battle takes place ideally in a spacious interior with a high ceiling and at least one extra floor that overlooks an empty space in the middle. In the middle of the room is a huge chandelier. Sometime during the start of the encounter, a powerful/heavy enemy runs up to it and grabs onto it mid-leap, causing the chandelier to begin swinging. The chandelier moves at the end of every turn (yes, even if your ruleset says that a round lasts 6 seconds, it'd be boring to wait for the chandelier to get anywhere). I'd personally give the chandelier three positions: one at its lowest point, and two at its highest points. It might be a good idea to also telegraph to the players where the chandelier could be on any given turn.

A character can grab the chandelier if they are close enough to it during their turn, and they can let go of it after the chandelier moves, even outside of their own turn. They need both hands to be free, or one hand if they are powerful enough. Use it as a mode of transportation, use it as a mobile environment, watch the players work out the timing of it, and encourage the characters to prepare their actions. Maybe even consider what material is the rope that holds the chandelier made out of. Is it easy to burn? Hard to cut? Impossible to cut so that you don't lose on this cool chandelier idea? And how does this chandelier swing? Is it just a straight line, or does it slowly revolve around the room?

"Great job, guys. I guess that's it for our chandelier encounter."
 I've considered saying that the chandelier hangs on an adamantium rope, but that's not a thing in every game. I figured I should try to make this a bit setting-agnostic. And I really hope that your players' first instinct won't be to cut the chandelier off.
Le Grand Hotel, by Alexiuss

If you want precision, start by determining the length of the rope the chandelier is hanging from (include the chandelier to keep it simple for yourself), and the maximum angle of a swing. At its peak, the chandelier is at a height equal to the rope's length multiplied by the cosine of the angle. For example, for a rope that's 30 ft. long, its peak is about 21 ft. off the ceiling when the angle is 45°. As for the distance from the middle, you just need to replace the cosine with a sine, which in this specific case also results in a distance of 21 ft. This means that for an optimal interesting fight with a chandelier 30ft off the ceiling, you'd ideally have two balconies 10 ft. above wherever the chandelier's lowest point is, and have them about 40 ft. apart.

Precision isn't necessary of course. You could just say that the chandelier swings from one balcony to another, with the lowest point at the bottom, and keep the exact measurement of the rope and chandelier's height abstract.

Summary:

• The chandelier has at least 3 distinct positions: the one in the middle is the lowest, and the two on the edges are the highest. Add more positions at your own discretion. Give some consideration to the chandelier revolving around the room.
• At the end of each turn, the chandelier moves to its next position: low to high, and vice versa, alternating between the highs.
• It takes an action to grab on, and free hands (one if you're strong enough). If you're a kind GM, you could consider this to be a replacement for one of the attacks, if the system has something like this.
• It takes no action to let go of the chandelier, but you can let go of it only immediately after it has moved.
• In case you need it, work out an appropriate amount of damage it could deal to someone when struck by it, or how difficult is it to destroy its rope.

Math summary, for those who care:

• r is the length from the ceiling to the bottom of the chandelier,
• x is the maximum angle the chandelier swings up to,
• r*cos(x) is the distance from the ceiling to the peak of the chandelier's swing, therefore at its peak the chandelier is at a height of r*(1-cos(x)),
• r*sin(x) is the horizontal distance from the lowest to the highest point of the chandelier's swing.

That's all, have a great time and a great day!

Hear me out! ... but what if there were more chandeliers?
The Hall Of The Golden Hand, by azadraw1

Lethal Companions

Lately, I've been playing a game called Lethal Company. It's about going on abandoned moons to collect scrap that's sold to an ominous company afterward. I couldn't resist joining the trend, and it really is the funniest horror game I've ever played. Spooky monsters, sudden deaths, and perfect proximity voice chat make for an awesome experience. This was my mindset when I started pondering what I should make for my December game. I took some extra time with it because I agreed to a collab with a streamer King Starman. I was a guest on his stream to help him and guide him through the process of writing a 200-word TTRPG of his own. I believed in his capability to do it ever since the summer, and today his moment finally came. With minor assistance from me and his chat, he wrote a game named Lighthouse Keeper. Going by his description, it's a game of Among Us, except it's about a ship that's steered by the captain based on the directions given to him by his crew. He thought less of it, but I'd say it's better than my first 200-word TTRPG ever. I was happy to hear just how proud he felt about actually finishing the very first game that he could call his own. After the stream, we agreed on more collaborations in the future, which is awesome. One possibility is... playing Lethal Company together.

That's not the only reason why I brought up the game, though. The main reason for that would be that it is the major source of inspiration for my game. And it all started by flipping the premise on its head: what if the players were the monsters?

Thank you for reading this ahead of time, and I wish you a wonderful day!

The rules I present in this article are given in the form in which I wrote them during the stream. I had to do the formatting after, figured I should give that a go.

Lethal Companions

Your created monsters protect their home from the burglars. Distribute d4, d6, d8, d10, d12, and d20 into:

Hide	Kill	Resist
Sway	Track	Steal

You succeed on a roll if you roll 4+. Die on failing Resist thrice.

Generate the facility starting from the entrance by rolling a 1d6 or 1d4 for every room. Add a corridor of choice if only dead ends are left. All rooms are squares, connected if at least one has a corridor aimed at the other.

1. Dead end
2. Corridor (roll for Direction)
3. Two routes (roll for missing Direction) 
4. Crossroads
5. Staircase (d6: 1-3 up, 4-6 down) + 1d4
6. Entrance + 1d4

Direction d6: 1-2 left, 3-4 straight, 5-6 right

For each room, roll for the loot and describe it.

1—3	Nothing
4	Small
5	Expensive
6	Two-handed (holder can't act)

The game begins when 1+1d6 humans enter. Each has 1d6 Morale, reduced when they:

• See a monster
• See a dead body
• Have an item stolen

A human with 0 Morale runs away. When all humans leave, every living monster chooses one stat to increase by 1 step.

Look back, look back!
     Lethal Company (Coil Head), by Cuautzin

The biggest reason why I said before the game that I present it in the form in which I finished it during the stream is because it has some shortcomings. But let's start with the strengths.

I wouldn't have guessed that I would be able to fit an interior generator into a 200-word game. I surprised myself here, I think it's pretty well done. If one wishes to do a flat map, they just keep rolling d4 and decide wherever the entrances are, or they roll d6 but keep rerolling a 5 (or just ignore the stairs part). The loot generator isn't that in-depth, I mean it barely says that a two-handed item prevents you from acting.

The stats were fun to come up with, but eventually, I realized I should get a sixth one. During the stream, I settled on Sway because I figured some of the monsters were so threatening/cute/passive that one wouldn't want to kill them. But honestly, ... if I were to edit the game, I'd replace it with the Speed. It would be pretty cool for enemies like coil heads. The stat system and the conflict resolution are otherwise picked up completely from the Savage Worlds.

The action economy of this game isn't quite clear either, so let me clarify: the intent is to both move and either pick up an item in the room or do something that requires a roll in a turn. This applies to humans too, with the fact that their attack actually causes the attacked monster to make a Resist roll. A couple more and a little more time would have resolved this, but I'll just fix that if I want to rework the game into something bigger.

Of course, I couldn't fit into it special abilities or "monster types" that I hoped I would include at the start, but... I hope at least the stats will provide some variety, along with the players' descriptions. For what it is, I'd say the game is kind of neat.

This is the final 200-word TTRPG that I've made for this year's challenge of mine. I will list all twelve of them during my 2023 retrospective, and I can confidently say that I am proud I finished this challenge I set for myself. Whether I'll keep making more 200-word games or not is a question I can't answer. What I can say though is that I will make these tiny games when I'll have a concept that I want to test out quickly. I don't have plans as of yet to keep up the challenge in 2024, so my blog activity might go down a bit. I do have some of my resolutions figured out, though. It's hard to tell whether I'll make a post around Christmas time, so just in case I won't: Happy Holidays and Happier New Year!

P.S. Almost forgot to link my Twitch channel, where I'll likely play more Lethal Company and make more funny clips.

Thank you for reading, and have a great day!