Prepping for the Monk

Well, we got the druid knocked out (if you missed it, here's Part 1 and Part 2), which means it's time to move on to that other cleric subclass, the monk.

Hoo-boy.

I have only ever created one monk character (other than a sect of itinerant halfling monks for a short-lived D20 campaign...that's another story). Or maybe two. Hmmm...I know that I had one, for sure, that had the name "Soft Treader" (which makes me wince as I write the words). I also had one for whom I did a number of "character sketches," generally depicting an individual with a cloak and hood that obscured the character's face (like one of those Assassin's Creed dudes), armed with a variety of monk-eligible weapons (crossbows, daggers, quarterstaffs). Were these two characters the same? I honestly can't remember. Neither one was played more than once. Neither became major NPCs in our old AD&D campaign (of the late '80s), which is what often happened with unplayed PCs. Yeah, aside from the wince-worthy name and the illustrations of the other, I really can't any accomplishments of this (either?) character.

And as far as I can recall, I've never ever seen a monk in ANY D&D game before or since. Zero. That's even including a brief stint with 1E Oriental Adventures.

According to wikipedia, the monk class/concept was created by Brian "Buckshot" Blume, inspired by the Destroyer series of novels. Not familiar with those? Have  any of you children of the 80s seen Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins (starring no less than Fred "Timerider" Ward)? Well, that's the movie based on the books, and due to its disappointing receipts at the box-office, it never morphed into the film franchise it was intended to become. ANYway...

The inspiration for the monk.

The monk first appears in Supplement II (Blackmoor) for OD&D which mentions not Brian Blume even one time. Blackmoor states it's written by Dave Arneson ("with special thanks to Gary Gygax, Tim Kask, Rob Kuntz, and Steve Marsh for suggestions and ideas") and so I've simply assumed the subclass was an "Arneson Original" regardless of what Gygax says in his preface to Oriental Adventures (as far as I can tell, Blume never had contact with Arneson, unless they met at GenCon in Wisconsin). On the other hand, I could find no reference of any kind to "monks" in Arneson's First Fantasy Campaign (from Judge's Guild), and the "character list" therein (page 51) includes only the following:

Fighting-Man, Clerical, Magic-User, Ranger, Paladin, Assassin, Merchant, Sage

[and, no, there are no write-ups for "merchants" and "sages"]

The assassin definitely appears to be an Arneson creation; based on its inclusion in Supplement II, the stuff in the FFC, and his well-known love of pulp, I think it was probably inspired by the assassin caste of the Jon Norman Gor books. Of course, assassins are the next subclass of this series...

By 1975 (when Blackmoor was released) there were plenty more besides the Destroyer books to inspire a martial arts monk. Bruce Lee had finished the entirety of his film career (and died) by 1973, kicking off a Hong Kong action craze in the U.S. The popular television show Kung Fu ended its three season run in April of 1975 (combining martial arts and western tropes, I can see Blume being a fan...he did co-design Boot Hill). If the class had been written up during the '80s, it probably would have incorporated multiple ninja elements...mercifully, we missed that.

Originally (and this is different from every subsequent version of the class, with the exception of its "mention" in Holmes), the monk was a subclass of cleric. This is fairly important because, as a subclass, it is presumed the character has the same abilities of a cleric except when contradicted in the text. For example, Supplement II is explicit that the monk has no magical abilities (spell-casting) like a cleric; however, it does not say the monk cannot turn undead if Lawful (there is no alignment restrictions for monks in Blackmoor). It says monks may have no permanent followers and must treat treasure "as does paladins;" it does not say they don't receive divine aid to help construct their "modest stronghold" when the time comes to do so,

It makes sense for clerics to be a subclass of cleric, given their Blackmoor description of "Members of an Order [who] seek both physical and mental superiority in a religious atmosphere." As I wrote the other day, an individual in a pseudo-historic/ancient environment would have spent many years training in their expected profession (rather than attending elementary and secondary school), and the monks training would have been in a religious capacity supplemented by martial arts. At least ones similar to the Shao Lin temple-style monk.

[contrast this with the chivalrous knight ("paladin") whose training is in combat, riding, and warfare and only supplemented by religious tutelage in the churchy virtues]

A class has a focus...a subclass has a divergence from the "usual" training, but retains the focus.

However, beginning with 1st Edition PHB, the monk became its own class.

And I can see the (very sensible) reasoning of doing so. Despite a religious upbringing, the monk has almost nothing in common with the cleric. It wears no armor. Its weapons (at least in Blackmoor) were completely unrestricted. It has no spells. It has no followers. It possesses a variety of unusual powers learned as the character advances upwards. It has a level limit. It has restrictions on advancement beyond a particular level of experience. It uses D4s for hit points for God's sake, while clerics use D6s!

[this last may actually have been a typo, by the way. Supplement II lists the assassin (subclass of thief) using 6-sided dice and the monk (subclass of cleric) using 4-sided dice, whereas the ACTUAL variation (first presented in Supplement I) gave clerics the D6 and thieves the D4. It is conceivable that the editor of Supplement II missed the fact that the thief subclass should share the same HP progress as its parent class, and the cleric subclass share the larger die type. Things were a little "amateur hour" back in those days, as one can tell from reading the original books]

There are so many differences between the parent class and the subclass that it makes sense mechanically to divorce the two from each other, even when there's a thematic connection. Yes, you read that right...it makes sense to keep 'em the same and it makes sense to separate them. Both options make sense based on the mess we have here (thematic parallels with perpendicular mechanics). How to reconcile this?

Probably by throwing one of the two things away. And since Holmes has already designated the monk as a subclass of cleric (and we're doing this exercise in "Holmesian" fashion) I think we're going to need to keep the THEME of the class ("religious order") and chuck the mechanical kitchen sink of thing. In other words: overhaul the hell out of it.

Here comes the "flurry."

Sorry, monk-lovers. I know that in the early days of the hobby it was all about "including what feels fun" and whatnot, but over here we try to hold ourselves to a slightly higher standard. I've got few sacred cows about D&D, and that holds doubly true for a class that's been such a non-entity in thirty years of play. Plus, the monk class as written is brutally stupid (sorry, Brian). A 6th level monk strikes twice/round for D12 damage and (on a roll 5+ over the target number) has a 75% chance of stunning the guy 30-120 minutes and a 25% chance of outright killing 'em? And at maximum level (a lofty 16) the character strikes 4 times per round for 4D10 damage?! That's an average of 88 damage per round (well, presuming the character hits)...what fighter with a magic sword can hope to match that? The PHB nerfs this a little...but not much.

[as a quick example, fighters in the PHB receives their highest attack rate...2 per round...at 13th level, achieved at 1,750,0001xp. An AD&D monk achieves 14th level with the same XP total. At 14th level, the monk has a natural AC of -1, receives three attacks per round, and strikes for 5D4 damage: average of 38 points of damage if they hit with every attack. If the fighter had a halberd and 18/00 strength, they'd still only be looking at an average damage output of 23 points per round (more if the weapon was magical, but certainly not over 30)]

And here's the thing, folks: I like the idea of the monk. Some people might be surprised to hear that, given the general feeling that "Eastern and Western fantasy shouldn't be mixed;" that the martial arts monk is out-of-place in the pseudo-Camelot style D&D campaign. And maybe I was that way, too, once upon a time (I can't remember if I was). However, that was before I was introduced to the Scarlet Brotherhood. Once I got a whiff of that particular concept, I could see half a dozen ways to fit monkish orders into a fantasy campaign...at least one with a pulpy, sword-&-sorcery vibe to it (which is how I like my game).

SO...since this post is getting long (and its my third post of the day; my poor readers! Their eyes are melting!), I'm going to sign off for the moment. Next entry will be reviewing the monk-ish character's abilities line-by-line to see what can stay and what definitely needs to go-go-go.

Is it still cultural appropriation once
 it's already been appropriated?

3 Stages of Exploration (Part 3)

[continued from here]

Sorry, for the short digression (we’re not talking New D&D after all)…let’s recap some of the ground covered so far:

1) Game play in D&D can be divided into three stages of exploration.
2) Each stage demonstrates a deeper and more immersive role-playing experience.
3) It is these stages of exploration that make the game so intriguing and thought-provoking.
4) The three stages developed organically, not purposefully.
5) Because they were not purposefully designed the latter stages are severely flawed.

Okay, how we doing? Hmm…looks like I forgot I wanted to come back to the three "Stages of Exploration." Let’s talk about them now (and get that out of the way):

[I’m going to try to make this short]

Basic Stage (Stage 1 Exploration): Hazard Site

This is your basic single site, adventure locale, generally referred to as “a dungeon” regardless of the specific setting (a temple, cave complex, tomb, etc.). Whether relatively small (e.g. Tomb of Horrors), extensive (e.g. Hall of the Fire Giant King), or “mega-“ in size, it provides rough physical parameters for PC exploration…that is, it is finite and limited in scope. This doesn’t necessarily mean “unchanging” but in general “clearing” a dungeon means just that…it’s swept clean of hazards.

And it is these hazards – monsters, traps, fiendish puzzles, etc. – that give the “hazard site” its name. It is hazardous to enter into it. The imaginary persona (whether PC or NPC henchman) risks life and limb (and possibly more) by exploring the hazard site. To compensate for this, the DM provides straightforward objectives: rescue these prisoners, fulfill this quest, loot the place for fabulous wealth and treasure, etc.

This is easy-shmeezy to understand: secure the goal, don’t get killed doing it. This is the BASIC stage of exploration (and by exploration I’m talking “exploration of the imaginary game world”). Challenges, rewards, all within limited parameters…it gives players the chance to explore their PCs capabilities (what can my fighter do? How do thief skills work?), and explore basic concepts of the game (hit points, armor class, saving throws, attack rolls, XP, etc.). It is incredibly useful for teaching the basics of the game to the new player…the straightforwardness and limited nature of the exploration provides a nice little “cap” on the “you can do anything you can imagine” preventing the newbie from being overwhelmed.

Expert Stage (Stage 2 Exploration): Imaginary Landscape

Roughly corresponding to the “wilderness exploration” presented in the Expert rule sets (both Moldvay and Mentzer), Stage 2 occurs once players come out of the dungeon with enough loot and wherewithal to choose their own adventure. Now, as said, it’s still possible to have an adventure that takes place “outdoors” that corresponds to the limits of a hazard site…I lost my copy of N2: The Forest Oracle sometime ago, but I seem to recall it being fairly linear and limited, for example.

However, once player characters leave the initial dungeon for the “whole wide imaginary world” things tend to get a bit more dicey. Without a generous (or railroad-y) DM, players are left to find their own adventures, following up rumors and answering want ads, etc. The characters have the potential to go anywhere, not just being confined to the hazard site…if they can afford a ship they can purchase one and sail to the Isle of Dread (or elsewhere). If they can’t afford a ship they can still make plans to stowaway aboard a vessel (perhaps later killing and replacing the captain and crew). The can hire out as caravan guards, or purchase their own horses and gallop off in any direction. They have to deal with food and getting lost and hiring guides and blacksmiths and other specialists. They can research legends, or become traders in mustard seed…whatever fancy takes them. And they can certainly become embroiled in the local political scene, at least indirectly. If the Dragon Highlords are moving this way and burning every town that doesn’t capitulate, they have a choice between organizing a resistance, or hightailing it out of there…or throwing in with the Highlords, offering up the townfolk as slaves.

The difference between Stage 2 and Stage 3 is the players generally don’t have the power to do everything they desire, and are still (at least half the time) reacting to the DMs scenarios. Invaders are coming; what do you want to do? A noble is organizing an exploratory journey by sea; do you want to apply for the job? The town has a lottery for sacrificing virgins to the local dragon; what are you going to do about it? Etc. Player characters are learning a LOT about the openness of choice in a role-playing game during Stage 2 and finding their own voices. They’re also (at this point) pressing the limits of most Old School editions, exploring the boundaries of the game. Weak DMs will have a difficult time with this stage of exploration; railroad-y scenarios (to get a group of PCs back into the next Hazard Site) is a common reaction to the overwhelmed DM in Stage 2 of the game.

The last few years of the old D&D campaign of my youth was spent mostly in Stage 2 exploration.

Master Stage (Stage 3 Exploration): World Shakers

Around the forums and OS blogs, there’s been much talk about the “endgame” scenario(s) of D&D; i.e. the denouement that occurs after a player character (or group of PCs) grow to such a level of wealth and power (i.e. level) that they can easily settle down, build a castle, and collect taxes from the peasants while growing fat and lazy in retirement.

But who wants to do that?

It generally takes a lot of ambition (and a lot of playtime with the same character) to get to a lofty high level…even so high as B/X’s “name level.” When my most recent B/X group finally got all their grooves ironed out and started playing seriously we made good progress and after several months of weekly play we were just starting to hit 5th and 6th level. In my youth, we had many high level characters, but those came from years of play, often with large (i.e. “Monty”) hauls of treasure, and many starting their careers as “mid-level” characters (to catch up to existing PCs in the game)…not to mention marathon game sessions unhindered by jobs and familial obligations.

Chances are if you’re playing a high level character that you’ve worked to advance, you’re not going to want to “go quietly into the night.” You’re DRIVEN to do more: to build that thieves guild or lead that Jihad or forge that kingdom or craft your magical magnum opus. Sure, high level characters like to go on “adventures” too: Tomb of Horrors is just a Hazard Site for high level characters, and what are “other planar adventures” but Stage 2 exploration only available to characters with the means to gate or astral travel?

But honestly, once you’ve spent a bunch of time in Stage 1 and 2 exploration (and amassed a serious amount of XP and treasure in the process) you tend to become a bit jaded to O Just Another Dungeon. Sure you can fight Orcus in his palace (H4: Throne of Bloodstone), but is that the most interesting thing you want to do with your time? Reacting to the scenario the DM gives you?

Certainly there is a degree of reaction in Stage 3, but most Stage 3 exploration is exploration of one’s OWN power, and the effects of one’s own choices on the game world. If you take down Greyhawk with your personal army of gnolls and polar bears, how does that affect the surrounding nations? If you decide to force the infidels to convert to the worship of Odin or be burned at the stake, who will rise up to stop you? What types of shady deals do you need to make to allow your illicit guild (thief or assassin) to flourish and function with impunity in the Empire’s capitol?

I watched the first season of Game of Thrones (and read the book on which it’s based) and I’d certainly call it a “fantasy adventure” but the adventure is not one of exploring a strange landscape or an ancient ruins. The adventure is found in navigating the cutthroat politics of a nation ready to tear itself apart…and that’s a fantastic maelstrom of action to take part in. Assuming the player characters still have the stomach for the game after ten years of nothing but killing monsters of ascending size.

That’s the thing that hit me like a (small) ton of bricks the other day when reading Noism’s post was this: his idea is great but ONLY when one is looking at D&D from the Big Picture Fantasy Adventure World concept. That is to say, it’s only great when you forget the little dungeon-delving game from which the whole thing developed.

See, Noism is talking like an intelligent human crafting a fantasy world. The medieval (or even pseudo-medieval) mindset is not conducive to treasure-seeking adventurers, while other historical periods and cultures are. However, D&D is not founded on any intelligent principle of design: Arneson created a limited scope of adventure to run a particular GAME and then that game evolved into the “World of Fantasy Adventure.” And no the latter doesn’t make a whole helluva’ lot of sense…but then neither does most of the pulp serials that probably served as a basis of inspiration for said world.

For example, I recently read Tarnsman of Gor. I remarked that it would make a fine D&D setting, because it has this Deus Ex Machina in it called the priest-kings that can automatically incinerate at any time (with blue fire!) anything they don’t like. Like people wearing armor better than chainmail or the building of automotive vehicles or the use of gunpowder. Why do people fight with swords when they’re from a more advanced civilization and living among several (specific) examples of high technology? Because the priest-kings incinerate you if you don’t. The world of Gor is a big game, with rules only its masters understand.

While reading it I found myself thinking, you know, this reminds me a bit of the flavor of Blackmoor. Low and behold that when I managed to get my hands on a copy of The First Fantasy Campaign about a week ago, what do I find but Tarns and Tarnsmen and slaves of various types. Yeah, Blackmoor (and Arneson) definitely had some Gorean influence mashed in.

Gor is an artificial, nonsensical, game-type world…just like the world of D&D. Why are there Norwegian monsters side-by-side with Indian spirits (rakshasa) and Greek mythology…not to mention Tolkien humanoids? Because it’s a game and a goddamn hodge-podge, that’s why! If you take it seriously you end up gnashing your teeth or looking utterly ridiculous or both.

And yet, as I said at the beginning of this series, D&D is a whole helluva’ lot more than your “average game.” It provides players with an opportunity to escape into a fantasy world and pretend (for the duration of a session) to be a heroic warrior or wizard or whatever. To experience and to EXPLORE a waaay different way of life from that to which we’re accustomed. To deal with issues and challenges of a different (and often drastic or deadly) nature than the normal ones we find ourselves facing…and, of course, like a weekly sitcom, we can turn it off for the night when the session is done and be none the worse for wear (depending on our snack preference) while having packed in some damn decent entertainment.

This entertainment, this experience, is richer when coupled with deeper and better role-playing and with a layered and textured world. But that means getting rid of the artificial restraints imposed by the game itself, and that’s a tall order.

Noism’s suggested exploring the New World or Africa or Asia…doing the Marco Polo or Hernan Cortez thing…as a reasonable way to build a world looking for adventure. But the type of exploration he’s talking about is Stage 2…and that’s pretty rough for starting adventurers with the rules as written.

Just like life’s pretty rough in a dungeon when you're playing a 1st level druid or assassin, you know?

[to be continued]

Tarnsman of Gor

Just finished reading Tarnsman of Gor, the first book in John Norman's 30+ fantasy book series begun in the 1960s and still being written today (Mariners of Gor was just published in 2011 and Conspirators of Gor planned for 2012 according to wikipedia).

Norman's books are technically of the "science fiction" variety, though there are a lot of the trappings of sword & sorcery fantasy in them. In the tradition of Burroughs's protagonist John Carter, Norman's character Tarl Cabot is a man of earth who is frequently brought to another planet (in this case, Gor or "Counter-Earth," a planet that shares the same orbit as the Earth but on the opposite side of the sun). On that planet he is a great warrior, or "tarnsman," trained to ride the gigantic hawk-like birds called tarns and becomes embroiled in the politics and sword-wielding adventure of that world.

Now, Norman and his books has received a lot of bile and revulsion over the years due to his subject matter; critics have panned his books for outright misogyny and gross tastelessness due mainly to its depiction of women as slaves and masochists and the "rightness" of the slave-master dynamic as a social system. I first got a sense of that from the description of the series in Fantasy Wargaming (published 1981):

Unfortunately, John Noman suffers from a deeply rooted bondage fetish which he obviously expects his readers to share, for all of these books are full of nubile slave girls who are forced to call men, "master," who are kept permanently chained and whose erotic instincts are usually aroused by a touch of a whip.

[this passage comes from the chapter on inspirational reading material for possible fantasy settings]

I'd read other reviews (prior to acquiring the book) that described Tarnsman as "the epitome of misogyny" or "having horrendous levels of misogyny." Apparently the series as a whole is responsible for inspiring a niche subculture of the BDSM community.

Well, maybe that's true of the later books, but I've only read the first one and I don't find any of that.

Yes, there are slaves, male and female. The male slaves feature most prominently as resources used during the siege of a major city. The female slaves are dealt with more explicitly because Cabot (the main character) interacts with them in the story...usually finding their treatment abhorrent and spending his time freeing them and rejecting Gorean society.

To me, the books read more as a "stranger in a strange land" type of story. The book, narrated in the first person by Cabot, often has the character not just questioning but outright rebelling against the values of an alien culture when they fail to match his own civilized Earth values, which are pretty standard 1960s American/British and male...perhaps a bit chauvinistic (though less than, say, Jack Hamm's character on Mad Men) but certainly he falls on the side of "right," decrying Gor's customs as "rude" and "barbaric" most of the time (and while he comes to take up their warrior code as his own, he is happy to question it and modify it when it doesn't suit his personal ethics).

The one female character portrayed as (perhaps) having a mild fetish for bondage is only that: a single example...and she herself is a free woman who gleefully admits to abusing her own slaves. Another female character, while accepting of her slavery as part of the tradition of Gor (whereby prisoners of wars and raids are enslaved) is still happy to have her freedom and leave her shackles behind given the chance. There's no promotion of slavery being a "happy state of affairs" by the author, speaking through the protagonist's narrative. One gets the impression that Tarl would, if permitted, attempt to overthrow those parts of Gorean society that oppress others...which is why he's returned to Earth, unhappily, at the end of the novel.

But as I said, maybe the later books are different. For me, Tarnsman of Gor is a fairly good book if you enjoy pulpy, sword-wielding fantasy, though I get tired of the first person narrative and the 1960s moralizing...again, I find Cabot to be a bit of a goody-two-shoes (more on that in a bit). For being a 45 year old book, it still holds up remarkably well...it doesn't feel as dated as say, some of Heinlein or Bradbury. And part of that has to do with the setting which, from the snatches of description provided, seems to be well-thought out and fairly rich, containing social structures and traditions, language and politics, alien flora and fauna (much more than just the giant tarns), and an interesting premise: alien "priest-kings" abduct earth humans and strand them in this Lord of the Flies situation for their own whimsical amusement.

The priest-kings...who are never actually encountered, only described through hearsay in the novel...are fascinating individuals. They provide the humans of Gor with a certain level of high technology (for example, electrical lights and lifts and doors, high caliber structural engineering, and medicine and medical advances that exceed 20th century earth medicine), but forbid the use of any weapon of greater technology than a crossbow, and do not even allow the crafting of chain mail armor. The penalties for trying to break these taboos is pretty severe: offenders are incinerated in a ball of blue fire by the unseen priest-kings.

Not a bad little mechanism for enforcing arbitrary conventions in an RPG: yeah, your magic-user can't wear armor or wield a sword because he'll be horribly and immediately destroyed by the local divinity. Nice. Despite the lack of supernatural magic, the world of Gor would make an excellent campaign setting for an RPG. The Gorean caste system is a good basis for character class archetypes (ha! there's even an "assassin caste"), and there are more than a few adventure ideas in the game. Plus, the premise provides a way to include 21st century Earth personality and morality in a pseudo-primitive/medieval setting, something that might be fun around the gaming table ("yes, you know what a car is but they don't have them: you can ride a giant bird or a giant lizard"). Oh, yeah...and impalement is the main form of Gorean justice/punishment for criminals, which I found amusing considering my own posting on the subject a few months back.

There are a couple thoughts that came out of reading this book that I'd like to elaborate on, both regarding elements of the writing/subject matter and how they apply to (role-playing) game play, but those are going to have to wait for separate posts. Tarnsman of Gor wasn't "the best" fantasy book I've ever read, but it was a good read, and the quality of the writing was a big step up from some of the other fantasy series on my book shelves (sorry, James Silke, Steve Perry...). It made me put my reading of David Chandler's trilogy on hold (I'm currently on the third book of his Ancient Blades series), though I'll probably return to that before starting Outlaw of Gor.

Probably.

; )