Tuesday, July 9, 2024

Mail Call: More Mayhem from Dark Wizard Games

 Nice little surprise in the mail today.  Two new adventures from Mark Taormino's Maximum Mayhem adventures from Dark Wizard Games.

Adventures from Dark Wizards Games

Again there are 5e versions (for my kids) and classic OSR versions for me.

The OSR maps are in classic blue and the 5e are in full color.

Seven Golden Demons

Slime Pits of the Sewer Witch

Legend of the Seven Golden Demons is his highest-level adventure to date at levels 14-18.  This will stretch my ability to use these for OSE-Advanced, but I am sure I can do it.

Maximum Mayhem Adventures

Slime Pits of the Sewer Witch is a low-level mini-adventure that honestly looks like a lot of fun. Normally I would put this one in with the others in my Maximum Mayhem box to run as a gonzo campaign. But my box is getting full, and I can add it to my War of the Witch Queens adventures instead. 

War of the Witch Queens

 Right now I have WAY too many adventures to run, so I should maybe be more selective on what I get.

Monday, July 8, 2024

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 8 July Dr. Seward's Diary (kept on phonograph)

Dr. Seward keeps us apprised of his patient.

Dracula - The Hunters' Journals


8 July.—There is a method in his madness, and the rudimentary idea in my mind is growing. It will be a whole idea soon, and then, oh, unconscious cerebration! you will have to give the wall to your conscious brother. I kept away from my friend for a few days, so that I might notice if there were any change. Things remain as they were except that he has parted with some of his pets and got a new one. He has managed to get a sparrow, and has already partially tamed it. His means of taming is simple, for already the spiders have diminished. Those that do remain, however, are well fed, for he still brings in the flies by tempting them with his food.


Notes

Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous

Stoker was reading up on popular theories of the new and growing field of psychology. Sometimes I wonder if my reading Dracula at an early age was not some seed that later put me on the path of a psychologist. 

I wonder what will happen to the sparrow?

#RPGaDAY2024 for August

 I know I have been really quiet here for a bit, trying to wrap up everything for Thirteen Parsecs. But I am taking a break to let you know I will be participating in Dave Chapman's #RPGaDAY2024 for August. I have done it in years past and this looks like a good list of prompts.

#RPGaDay2024

Here are the text prompts.

  1. First RPG bought this year
  2. Most recently played
  3. Most often played RPG
  4. RPG with great art
  5. RPG with great writing
  6. RPG that is easy to use
  7. RPG with 'good form'
  8. An accessory you appreciate
  9. An accessory you'd like to see
  10. RPG you'd like to see on TV
  11. RPG with well-supported one-shots
  12. RPG with well-supported campaigns
  13. Evocative environments
  14. Compelling characters
  15. Great character gear
  16. Quick to learn
  17. An engaging RPG community
  18. Memorable moment of play
  19. Sensational session
  20. Amazing adventure
  21. Classic campaign
  22. Notable non-player character
  23. Peerless player
  24. Acclaimed advice
  25. Desirable dice
  26. Superb screen
  27. Marvelous miniature
  28. Great gamer gadget
  29. Awesome app
  30. Person you'd like to game with
  31. Game or gamer you miss
  32. Alternative - Amazing anecdote

There is also an alternate version from Skala Wyzwania. who I do not know but seems to be a name in the Polish RPG scene. Here are her prompts.

Skala RPGaDay

Text version of the alternative campaign:

  1. Runes
  2. Forest
  3. Demonology
  4. Cosmos
  5. Fairies
  6. Portal
  7. Forgotten City
  8. Experiment
  9. Heroes
  10. Steampunk
  11. Invasion
  12. Parallel Worlds
  13. Zombie
  14. Awakening
  15. Genetics
  16. Dungeon
  17. AI
  18. Curse
  19. Hologram
  20. Battle 
  21. Disaster
  22. Interdimensional Space
  23. Ritual
  24. Antique
  25. Mutant
  26. Tattoo
  27. Shapeshifting
  28. Mimic
  29. Knight
  30. Trap 
  31. Dragons

Each day roll d10 to go with the prompt:

  1. Describe a Monster
  2. Create an NPC
  3. Write a Bulletin Board Quest
  4. Invent an Item
  5. Write a legend or rumour 
  6. Create a random table
  7. Create a simple mechanic
  8. Present an idea for a Random Encounter
  9. Write an Eavesdroppable Dialogue
  10. Draw!

I am not sure if I'll do just Dave's, both, or a combination.

In any case, it should be fun.

Monday, July 1, 2024

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 1 July Dr. Seward's Diary (kept on phonograph)

Dr. Seward keeps us apprised of his patient.

Dracula - The Hunters' Journals


1 July.—His spiders are now becoming as great a nuisance as his flies, and to-day I told him that he must get rid of them. He looked very sad at this, so I said that he must clear out some of them, at all events. He cheerfully acquiesced in this, and I gave him the same time as before for reduction. He disgusted me much while with him, for when a horrid blow-fly, bloated with some carrion food, buzzed into the room, he caught it, held it exultantly for a few moments between his finger and thumb, and, before I knew what he was going to do, put it in his mouth and ate it. I scolded him for it, but he argued quietly that it was very good and very wholesome; that it was life, strong life, and gave life to him. This gave me an idea, or the rudiment of one. I must watch how he gets rid of his spiders. He has evidently some deep problem in his mind, for he keeps a little note-book in which he is always jotting down something. Whole pages of it are filled with masses of figures, generally single numbers added up in batches, and then the totals added in batches again, as though he were “focussing” some account, as the auditors put it.


Notes

Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent

This is the start of one of the great exchanges in the novel, a prequel as it were to the exchanges between Van Helsing and Dracula. Note that in the novel, there is actually very little interaction with Dracula in London and Dracula and Van Helsing have no interactions at all.  But that is for a later date.

Here, we see the acolytes match wits. Renfield is Dracula's and Seward is Van Helsing's. 

Personal notes.

I played Seward in our High School production of Dracula. 

Years later, when working on my Master's degree in psychology, I was a QMHP (Qualified Mental Health Professional) for the State of Illinois. I worked with schizophrenics and yes, I saw one or two of them eat bugs.

Monstrous Mondays: Nouveau Orcs

 Still busy this week so this is drive-by. 

Art previews of the new D&D 5R (D&D 2024) Player's Handbook were released including art for orcs as a playable species.  As expected the Grognard crowd is taking this with measured patience one should expect from the elder statesmen of our hobby.

5r Orcs

No, they didn't. They predictably completely lost their shit. Again.

This seems especially true of the segments that claim never to play "WotC" versions of D&D and don't pay any attention to them.  So the ones that will be least likely to play this version are also bitching and moaning the loudest.

I mean the art is bit too cutesy for me, but a.) this is for a Player's book, not the monster book. and b.) I am not (nor should I be) the target audience.  That is something I am going to get back to, but let's address the prominent issue; that of non-evil orcs.

When it comes to orcs many like to point to their history as defined by the Professor. This great, IF (and only if) we are talking about Lord of the Rings or Middle-Earth. This is D&D and Gary did nothing else if not spend a lot of ink telling us that D&D is not Lord of the Rings. So all the talk of "Melkor can't create" is cute but has little bearing here. 

D&D and AD&D has had "good orcs" before, this is not a new concept. The Forgotten Realms boxed set had them. The AD&D 2nd Ed Monstrous Compendiums had them. Good Orcs are not a new thing. Even Half-orcs were a playable race as long as they were non-good.

One of the cardinal rules of D&D has always been to change what you want to work with your group. That means yes, people can have "good" orcs, and other groups can have "evil" orcs. This should counter any "one true wayism" that seems to clutter up the D&D-related YouTube channels.  

Besides no one is saying you can't have purely evil orcs as well. I have several sub-species of orc, some good, many very evil. Works great for me. Pathfinder 2 has orcs you can have as characters and still fight. 

I think what the older crowd, of which I am a member of that crowd, needs to realize is that we are no longer being catered to. We do not have the buying power we have enjoyed for so long. This group, or at least many members of it, have said "we are not buying any non-TSR D&D" and WotC has said "fine, we don't really need your money."  And they don't. The younger generations have shown they have buying power all on their own. 

Look, Wizards of the Coast is not without some serious flaws and a lot of blame. Their handling of the OGL, sending out Pinkertons, all the layoffs and firings. Not to mention some rather lack lustre adventures. But freaking out over good orcs? Yeah, that should not even be on the list.

So here are a couple of reminders.

  1. Whatever appears in the D&D 5r books only maters to people playing D&D 5r.
  2. Nothing posted in D&D 5r effects any other game. Same as nothing in Pathfinder effects any version of D&D.
  3. Despite the Chicken Littling out there no past book has ever been changed.

Play how you want. Let others play how they want. Stop acting like it's the end of the damn world.

Better yet, adopt these new orcs into your old-school games to challenge your players. 

Sunday, June 30, 2024

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 30 June, Jonathan Harker's Journal (Cont.)

Harker fears his end is near and plans an escape. He makes a terrifying discovery. 

Dracula - The Hunters' Journals


30 June, morning.—These may be the last words I ever write in this diary. I slept till just before the dawn, and when I woke threw myself on my knees, for I determined that if Death came he should find me ready.

At last I felt that subtle change in the air, and knew that the morning had come. Then came the welcome cock-crow, and I felt that I was safe. With a glad heart, I opened my door and ran down to the hall. I had seen that the door was unlocked, and now escape was before me. With hands that trembled with eagerness, I unhooked the chains and drew back the massive bolts.

But the door would not move. Despair seized me. I pulled, and pulled, at the door, and shook it till, massive as it was, it rattled in its casement. I could see the bolt shot. It had been locked after I left the Count.

Then a wild desire took me to obtain that key at any risk, and I determined then and there to scale the wall again and gain the Count’s room. He might kill me, but death now seemed the happier choice of evils. Without a pause I rushed up to the east window, and scrambled down the wall, as before, into the Count’s room. It was empty, but that was as I expected. I could not see a key anywhere, but the heap of gold remained. I went through the door in the corner and down the winding stair and along the dark passage to the old chapel. I knew now well enough where to find the monster I sought.

The great box was in the same place, close against the wall, but the lid was laid on it, not fastened down, but with the nails ready in their places to be hammered home. I knew I must reach the body for the key, so I raised the lid, and laid it back against the wall; and then I saw something which filled my very soul with horror. There lay the Count, but looking as if his youth had been half renewed, for the white hair and moustache were changed to dark iron-grey; the cheeks were fuller, and the white skin seemed ruby-red underneath; the mouth was redder than ever, for on the lips were gouts of fresh blood, which trickled from the corners of the mouth and ran over the chin and neck. Even the deep, burning eyes seemed set amongst swollen flesh, for the lids and pouches underneath were bloated. It seemed as if the whole awful creature were simply gorged with blood. He lay like a filthy leech, exhausted with his repletion. I shuddered as I bent over to touch him, and every sense in me revolted at the contact; but I had to search, or I was lost. The coming night might see my own body a banquet in a similar way to those horrid three. I felt all over the body, but no sign could I find of the key. Then I stopped and looked at the Count. There was a mocking smile on the bloated face which seemed to drive me mad. This was the being I was helping to transfer to London, where, perhaps, for centuries to come he might, amongst its teeming millions, satiate his lust for blood, and create a new and ever-widening circle of semi-demons to batten on the helpless. The very thought drove me mad. A terrible desire came upon me to rid the world of such a monster. There was no lethal weapon at hand, but I seized a shovel which the workmen had been using to fill the cases, and lifting it high, struck, with the edge downward, at the hateful face. But as I did so the head turned, and the eyes fell full upon me, with all their blaze of basilisk horror. The sight seemed to paralyse me, and the shovel turned in my hand and glanced from the face, merely making a deep gash above the forehead. The shovel fell from my hand across the box, and as I pulled it away the flange of the blade caught the edge of the lid which fell over again, and hid the horrid thing from my sight. The last glimpse I had was of the bloated face, blood-stained and fixed with a grin of malice which would have held its own in the nethermost hell.

I thought and thought what should be my next move, but my brain seemed on fire, and I waited with a despairing feeling growing over me. As I waited I heard in the distance a gipsy song sung by merry voices coming closer, and through their song the rolling of heavy wheels and the cracking of whips; the Szgany and the Slovaks of whom the Count had spoken were coming. With a last look around and at the box which contained the vile body, I ran from the place and gained the Count’s room, determined to rush out at the moment the door should be opened. With strained ears, I listened, and heard downstairs the grinding of the key in the great lock and the falling back of the heavy door. There must have been some other means of entry, or some one had a key for one of the locked doors. Then there came the sound of many feet tramping and dying away in some passage which sent up a clanging echo. I turned to run down again towards the vault, where I might find the new entrance; but at the moment there seemed to come a violent puff of wind, and the door to the winding stair blew to with a shock that set the dust from the lintels flying. When I ran to push it open, I found that it was hopelessly fast. I was again a prisoner, and the net of doom was closing round me more closely.

As I write there is in the passage below a sound of many tramping feet and the crash of weights being set down heavily, doubtless the boxes, with their freight of earth. There is a sound of hammering; it is the box being nailed down. Now I can hear the heavy feet tramping again along the hall, with many other idle feet coming behind them.

The door is shut, and the chains rattle; there is a grinding of the key in the lock; I can hear the key withdraw: then another door opens and shuts; I hear the creaking of lock and bolt.

Hark! in the courtyard and down the rocky way the roll of heavy wheels, the crack of whips, and the chorus of the Szgany as they pass into the distance.

I am alone in the castle with those awful women. Faugh! Mina is a woman, and there is nought in common. They are devils of the Pit!

I shall not remain alone with them; I shall try to scale the castle wall farther than I have yet attempted. I shall take some of the gold with me, lest I want it later. I may find a way from this dreadful place.

And then away for home! away to the quickest and nearest train! away from this cursed spot, from this cursed land, where the devil and his children still walk with earthly feet!

At least God’s mercy is better than that of these monsters, and the precipice is steep and high. At its foot a man may sleep—as a man. Good-bye, all! Mina!


Notes

Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent

So in his "ever-widening circle" one wonders what Harker knows about Vampire already and why none of that knowledge was used till now. 

The contrast is made between Mina and the vampire brides, this contrast will come into play later one in the form of Lucy. 

It will be a long while before we hear from Harker again. 


Saturday, June 29, 2024

Dracula, The Hunters' Journals: 29 June, Jonathan Harker's Journal (Cont.)

Dracula prepares to leave his castle for England. 

Dracula - The Hunters' Journals


29 June.—To-day is the date of my last letter, and the Count has taken steps to prove that it was genuine, for again I saw him leave the castle by the same window, and in my clothes. As he went down the wall, lizard fashion, I wished I had a gun or some lethal weapon, that I might destroy him; but I fear that no weapon wrought alone by man’s hand would have any effect on him. I dared not wait to see him return, for I feared to see those weird sisters. I came back to the library, and read there till I fell asleep.

I was awakened by the Count, who looked at me as grimly as a man can look as he said:—

“To-morrow, my friend, we must part. You return to your beautiful England, I to some work which may have such an end that we may never meet. Your letter home has been despatched; to-morrow I shall not be here, but all shall be ready for your journey. In the morning come the Szgany, who have some labours of their own here, and also come some Slovaks. When they have gone, my carriage shall come for you, and shall bear you to the Borgo Pass to meet the diligence from Bukovina to Bistritz. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle Dracula.” I suspected him, and determined to test his sincerity. Sincerity! It seems like a profanation of the word to write it in connection with such a monster, so asked him point-blank:—

“Why may I not go to-night?”

“Because, dear sir, my coachman and horses are away on a mission.”

“But I would walk with pleasure. I want to get away at once.” He smiled, such a soft, smooth, diabolical smile that I knew there was some trick behind his smoothness. He said:—

“And your baggage?”

“I do not care about it. I can send for it some other time.”

The Count stood up, and said, with a sweet courtesy which made me rub my eyes, it seemed so real:—

“You English have a saying which is close to my heart, for its spirit is that which rules our boyars: ‘Welcome the coming; speed the parting guest.’ Come with me, my dear young friend. Not an hour shall you wait in my house against your will, though sad am I at your going, and that you so suddenly desire it. Come!” With a stately gravity, he, with the lamp, preceded me down the stairs and along the hall. Suddenly he stopped.

“Hark!”

Close at hand came the howling of many wolves. It was almost as if the sound sprang up at the rising of his hand, just as the music of a great orchestra seems to leap under the bâton of the conductor. After a pause of a moment, he proceeded, in his stately way, to the door, drew back the ponderous bolts, unhooked the heavy chains, and began to draw it open.

To my intense astonishment I saw that it was unlocked. Suspiciously, I looked all round, but could see no key of any kind.

As the door began to open, the howling of the wolves without grew louder and angrier; their red jaws, with champing teeth, and their blunt-clawed feet as they leaped, came in through the opening door. I knew then that to struggle at the moment against the Count was useless. With such allies as these at his command, I could do nothing. But still the door continued slowly to open, and only the Count’s body stood in the gap. Suddenly it struck me that this might be the moment and means of my doom; I was to be given to the wolves, and at my own instigation. There was a diabolical wickedness in the idea great enough for the Count, and as a last chance I cried out:—

“Shut the door; I shall wait till morning!” and covered my face with my hands to hide my tears of bitter disappointment. With one sweep of his powerful arm, the Count threw the door shut, and the great bolts clanged and echoed through the hall as they shot back into their places.

In silence we returned to the library, and after a minute or two I went to my own room. The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing his hand to me; with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a smile that Judas in hell might be proud of.

When I was in my room and about to lie down, I thought I heard a whispering at my door. I went to it softly and listened. Unless my ears deceived me, I heard the voice of the Count:—

“Back, back, to your own place! Your time is not yet come. Wait! Have patience! To-night is mine. To-morrow night is yours!” There was a low, sweet ripple of laughter, and in a rage I threw open the door, and saw without the three terrible women licking their lips. As I appeared they all joined in a horrible laugh, and ran away.

I came back to my room and threw myself on my knees. It is then so near the end? To-morrow! to-morrow! Lord, help me, and those to whom I am dear!


Notes

Moon Phase: Waxing Crescent

Of course, Dracula has no intention of letting Harker leave. He has already promised him to his Brides "to-morrow."