Rules

About the Reedition of Phenster’s

In “Pandemonium Society House Rules,” L’avant garde #32, Phenster takes offense at the accusation that the Pandemonium Society plays an unsophisticated children’s game. As proof their D&D game is “plenty sophisticated,” he gives examples of the group’s house rules. Many more house rules follow in later issues of L’avant garde.

Phenster’s style, while explanative, is verbose and haphazard. My purpose in the reedition is only to make the rules more concise. Where I make assumptions or attempt to patch any holes Phenster leaves, I make it clear in the text.

Sources

In the August 1980 article, Phenster hints the starting point for the house rules is the Holmes edition of Basic D&D, which, once the perforated leaf is removed, has 46 pages. Later, he also writes that he started playing D&D when he got “a strange game that came in a box with a dragon on the top with 5 crazy dice” as a gift for Christmas in 1979.

He doesn’t specify the edition of Holmes. From the late date, we might assume 2nd or 3rd Edition. Other clues bear out the hunch. One article in the series adds a curious assortment of rules. Three entries among them come from the earliest printings of the D&D Basic Set:

Phenster adds an “enormous type to the spider list,” which has 6+6 hit dice. A new magic item is a “ring of plate mail,” and “Throwing salt on zombies makes them dry up and wither.”1

…[Phenster] started playing D&D when he got “a strange game that came in a box with a dragon on the top with 5 crazy dice” as a gift for Christmas in 1979.

That these are added as house rules further supports the idea that Phenster’s base rule set is not the 1st Edition (first three printings) of Holmes. The presence of only five dice in the box narrows the field to the fourth or fourth+ printings—both 2nd Edition, or the seventh, which is the last printing of Third Edition Holmes.2

The dungeon Phenster mentions in his “Welcome” message in Paradigm Lost #1 (April 1980) is titled “The Great Halls of Pandemonium.” The name suggests there are multiple Great Halls, and the adventure locale described, “Great Crone Hall,” bears cosmetic resemblance to the Caves of Chaos from Dungeon Module B2. The dungeon consists of several rooms, densely populated by monsters. The accompanying narrative “dungeon report” indicates Great Crone Hall is higher up a cliff face from the previous dungeon and makes the conclusion “so it’s more dangerous.”

Similarities to the Caves end there. The map of Great Crone Hall shows the straight lines of stone-block construction, not natural or rough-hewn cavern walls. In the narrative, player characters 3rd-level and higher encounter monsters of up to 10 hit dice. Though when two player characters are felled and others wounded and short on spells, the party goes “back to the fortress to heal and get the gemstones appraised,” activities typically conducted in a base town.

But this only hints that Hazard, the DM who we presume made the dungeon, had some experience with The Keep on the Borderlands, which circulated by then in the sixth and seventh printings (November-December 1979) of the Holmes boxed set. I don’t know when the module became available separately in stores. In any case, the similarity does not mean B2 came in Phenster’s Christmas set.

…this only hints that Hazard, the DM who we presume made the dungeon, had some experience with The Keep on the Borderlands…

Although Phenster claims the single book in 1980, some additions and rules changes in articles from later years appear to be inspired from other sources. For examples: He makes specific reference to pole arm articles in the Strategic Review. He notes, in separate articles, that the Pandemonium Society uses the experience point tables for high level characters from Men & Magic and Greyhawk, and psionics from Eldritch Wizardry.

Categories

Phentster’s are a diverse array of house rules. He covers topics from the mundane cost of a sling, through the fantastic summoning of infernal beings, to the gonzo “rod of ICBMs.”

I class the house rules into the following four categories:

[H] Holmes

These house rules patch the Holmes edition to make it a more coherent game, while maintaining its simplicity. In this regard, Phenster does a decent darning job without sewing a whole new garment.

Examples: Damage and attacks per round by weapon class.

[E] Extra

Not strictly necessary, the rules in this category extend the game beyond 3rd character level and add elements that most gamers were used to even in the early ’80s. While these come with more complexity, they also add real value to the game without interfering with play.

Examples: Additional adjustments to ability scores, advancement to higher levels, wilderness exploration.

[C] Campaign

This category adds elements as suggestions or models to apply to a campaign. These ideas might be applied to a bare-bones campaign to give it some ambiance without much effort.

Examples: Coins of the realm, human languages, birds of war.

[P] Pandemonium

These are additional house rules employed by the Pandemonium Society. They often go a step—sometimes leagues—beyond fair or useful. But they can be fun.

Examples: Magic-use without spell books, combat complications, a number of improbable and horrific monsters, and “the Boomtown Rule.”

While Phenster’s start point is Holmes, many of the house rules are applicable to other old-school editions of the world’s most superlative role-playing game.

1 Again, Zach Howard’s Zenopus Archives cast light: in the Holmes first printing, an “enormous” 6-HD spider lurks in Room J (44), a ring of protection “serves as plate armor +1” (38), and zombies are vulnerable to salt (14).

2 See the Acaeum for an exhaustive list of D&D Basic Set contents by printings.

Recalculating a Coin’s Weight

In “Holmes on a Coin’s Weight,” we take the Editor’s proposed weight of a standard coin—twice that of a quarter—and calculate that 40 coins make a pound. This was prompted by questioning the validity of old-school D&D’s standard, ten coins to a pound, to measure encumbrance.  Now I’m curious about the real weight of coins made from precious metals.

Source of Incongruence

In his review of the TREASURE chapter of the Holmes manuscript, Zach Howard notes that the section with heading BASE TREASURE VALUES (Holmes, 34), in which the weight of a coin is specified as twice that of a quarter, is not present.1 We deduce, then, that neither the 1⁄10 nor the 1⁄40 pound coin is proposed by Holmes. Rather, the incongruous weights entered the publication during editing.

I added a brief mention in an update to the earlier article.

Precious Metal Coin Weights

A US quarter-dollar piece, 1.75 mm thick and 24.26 mm in diameter, has a volume of 808.93 mm3 or 0.81 cm3. By the weight of the precious metals from which D&D realms mint coins, we can calculate the number of coins in a pound by metal. We ignore electrum as the alloy varies in weight depending on its composition.

Precious Metal Pieces
Piece Copper Silver Gold Platinum Average
Volume (cm3) 0.81 0.81 0.81 0.81 0.81
1 cm3 Weight (lbs.) 0.0197 0.0231 0.0426 0.0473 0.0332
Piece Weight (lbs.) 0.0160 0.0187 0.0345 0.0383 0.0269
Pieces in 1 lb. 62.64 53.38 28.99 26.11 42.78

More precious metals are heavier. A pound of copper counts 64 pieces, while less than half that number make a pound of gold or platinum, 29 or 26 pieces respectively.

Forty Coins to a Pound

We could justify a pound of 40 coins by assuming most treasure hauls will have a mix of silver, gold, and platinum, with silver making up a half. We leave the copper pieces in a trail behind us, so we can find our way back to the hoard for a second load.2 The average of 53, 29, and 26 is 36 coins, which rounds up to an even 40.

And let’s take another look at the Holmes quarter-sized coin. Its weight, 0.025 pounds, is practically the average of the ensemble of precious metal coins: 0.027 pounds.

Precious Metal Pieces Compared to the Holmes Quarter
Piece Average of Precious Metal Pieces Holmes Quarter
Volume (cm3) 0.81 0.81
1 cm3 Weight (lbs.) 0.0332 0.0309
Piece Weight (lbs.) 0.0269 0.0250
Pieces in 1 lb. 42.78 40.00

The average number of pieces per pound is 42.78. Adding electrum (not shown) with equal parts gold and silver brings the average down to 41.74.

Aside: Early Calculations

That the average weight of precious metal coins comes so close to Holmes’s twice-a-quarter’s-weight makes me wonder whether some editor might have done the research and made the calculations.

In the Internet Age, out of sheer curiosity, I looked up the precise dimensions of a quarter and plugged them into a volume calculator, found a web page that gives weights of metals by volume, and entered a few simple formulas into an electronic spreadsheet.

Certainly, the average 1970s high school student could accomplish the same,3 though by other means. All the calculations—the coin’s volume and each formula for each metal—must be done by hand, possibly with the assistance of a handheld calculator. Before doing the numbers, the research to find the weights of precious metals—unless one had a set of encyclopedias on the home shelf or a reference work noting specific gravities of metals—required a library trip.

Again, it was doable without the web, but it took more time and effort. Whoever did it, if it was done prior to 1977, had to be motivated.

Ten Coins to a Pound

To weigh one-tenth of a pound, how big would a coin have to be?

The average weight of 1 cm3 of the given precious metals is 0.033178 lbs. One-tenth pound divided by 0.033178 is 3.014. So we need about 3 cm3 of metal. A coin of that volume and, let’s say, twice a quarter’s thickness, 3.5 mm, must have a diameter of 33.1 mm, which is 1.30 inches or just shy of 15⁄16.

Coincidentally, the Eisenhower dollar coin, with a 1½-inch diameter and 1⁄10-inch thickness, has a volume of 2.8958 cm3. It weighs 24.624 grams or 1⁄20 of a pound. So, instead of a quarter dollar, we might say coins in D&D are the size of an Eisenhower dollar and twice the weight.

In a world of fantasy adventure, I could go with a coin of such an important size. It’s treasure, after all. It ought to look like treasure!

Still, even at quarter-size, we could argue for the ten-coin pound. As Moldvay suggests, when measuring encumbrance, we mustn’t neglect bulk. A coin seems to be the antithesis of bulk. It’s small, stackable with others, creates minimal lost space between pieces, and fistfuls of them fill voids between silver goblets and gold statuettes.

But a sack of coins isn’t rigid. I’m guessing that the only difference between a sack of 1,750 metal pieces and a party member’s corpse carried over your shoulder is that one of them will pay for a round at the base town tavern.

Euro Equivalents
Euro Equivalents.
The 2- and 1-euro coins are just larger and just smaller than a quarter: 25.25 and 23.25 mm in diameter, respectively. The 50-cent piece is the closest match at 24.25 mm, though its thickness, 2.38 mm, is a third again that of a quarter.

Notes

1 Zenopus Archives blog, “Part 34: ‘Many Monsters Carry Treasure.’”

2 In adventurer jargon, copper pieces are called “dungeon marks.”

3 In a December 1983 Dragon article, David F. Godwin makes such calculations. “How many coins in a coffer?” (Dragon #80, 9) doesn’t question the tenth-pound coin but addresses the related problem of a coin hoard’s volume. One point Godwin makes is that, due to the heavier weights of metals, the volume of coins in a “full” sack is much less than the sack’s volume. Imagine a stack of ten quarters. It weighs one pound. Make six rows of stacks by ten columns. Rounding to convenient dimensions, a stack of ten quarters takes up a volume 1" × 1" × ¾". Stacked, the 600 coins take up 6" × 10" × ¾". Dump them into a large sack. Any more weight would burst the seams, but there’s still a lot of air in the volume. So much that even four times as many coins doesn’t begin to take up the space.

For an example of a large sack overfull, see the Erol Otus illustration in Moldvay’s D&D Basic Rulebook, B20.

Holmes on a Coin’s Weight

“…for 300 gold pieces are assumed to weigh about 30 pounds” (Holmes, 9).

Melqart raised the torch over his head. Flickering light glinted off gold and silver. An alabaster frieze decorated the far wall. Before it, coins spilled from coffers, chests, and brass urns. A gold chain adorned with precious stones sparkled red and green.

Melqart drew a breath. “How many rounds1 you reckon, Hathor?”

Hathor-Ra stood, shield lowered, mace pointing down, mouth agape.

“Hathor?”

She blinked at the dazzling mound. “Thousands and thousands!”

“How many sacks do we have?”

“Three large, one small… and I’ve got room in my backpack.”

In early D&D editions, the base unit to measure encumbrance is the “coin,” and ten of them weigh one pound. I struggled with that idea for a long time. Even if we assume that encumbrance is “a combination of weight and bulk,” as Tom Moldvay puts it (B20), a one-tenth-pound coin seems hardly credible. Eventually, I came around to accept the absurdity in favor of playability.

Ten coins to a pound started as early as OD&D, in which the average man weighs 1,750 coins (Vol. 1, 15). That the entry tops the encumbrance list is either to set a benchmark—175 lbs. was average for a 1970s American male—or to remind us it’s a dangerous world: there are rules for carrying a comrade’s corpse.

The ten-coin standard continued through AD&D and the “Basic” line (B/X, BECM/I, and the Rules Cyclopedia). It was abandoned in 2nd Edition, which uses pounds to measure encumbrance.

The quote at top from the section on encumbrance in Holmes Basic D&D pulls the heavy coin forward from OD&D. But Zach Howard’s reading of the Holmes manuscript implies that it wasn’t the Editor who wrote the encumbrance section,2 but rather a subsequent editor.3

Elsewhere in Holmes we read:

“All coins are roughly equal in size and weight, being approximately the circumference and thickness of a quarter and weighing about twice as much” (34).

Reading Zach Howard’s discussion of the Treasure section in the Holmes manuscript, I see that Holmes didn’t write about the size and weight of coins either. [22:30 13 February 2022 GMT]

This gives us the idea that Holmes used, at least in his own game, a smaller value for the weight of a coin.4 A US quarter-dollar piece weighs 5.67 grams. Twice that, 11.34, is 0.025 pounds. Using this as the standard, there are 40 coins in a pound.

Do you know what that means? You can carry four times more treasure out of the dungeon. That’s four times more treasure! More treasure for you, more treasure for me—more treasure for everyone!

Laden Thieves
Laden Thieves.
Adventurers carry 9,600 rounds in four large sacks.

Notes

1 A round, in adventurer jargon, is a precious-metal coin of any realm, past or present.

2 Zenopus Archives blog, “Part 6: ‘Fully Armored and Heavily Loaded’”

3 Howard suggests, with compelling evidence, Gary Gygax for the Editor’s editor: “Interlude: Who Edited the Editor?”

4 Written accounts from the Editor himself indicate that Holmes knew and used some rules from an early third-party OD&D supplement called Warlock. I wonder if a coin’s weight is addressed in those rules. Zenopus Archives blog, “Warlock or how to play D&D without playing D&D?”

Having now had the opportunity to read Warlock as printed in The Spartan #9 (August 1975), I can report that, other than that it weighs one unit, no mention of a coin’s weight is contained therein. Nor is any other of Holmes’s unique rules. [18:34 19 May 2022 GMT]

Firing into Melee

“Once the party is engaged in melee, arrows cannot be fired into the fight because of the probability of hitting friendly characters.”

—Holmes, 20

“Kaytar attacks it with his dagger.”

“And I shoot an arrow at it.”

“You can’t fire into melee.”

“Why not?”

“You might hit Kaytar.”

“He’ll live!”

I was never big on tinkering with the game rules. But the first rule I ever questioned was no missile fire into melee.

For me, two big attractions to the game are that it simulates a reality of heroic fantasy and that, through a character, you can do anything within the realm of possibility. A well aimed arrow between comrades to save the day seems to fall within its purview.

In the scene above, Garth relented and let me roll the missile attack.

“A 9, you miss,” he said. “There’s a fifty-fifty chance you hit Kaytar.”

It was an embarrassing moment. All at once, I fumbled an opportunity to make a difference, put Kaytar in jeopardy, and interrupted play with the argument—however brief—plus an extra dice roll.

I don’t find in the OD&D booklets any reference to firing into melee. I turn, therefore, to Chainmail, which reads: “Missiles cannot be fired into a melee” (16). Terse and unambiguous for once—we count ourselves lucky this day.

Holmes, quoted at top, carried the Chainmail rule forward. But later, on the same page, the text is less definitive:

“Remember that spells and missiles fired into a melee should be considered to strike members of one’s own party as well as the enemy” (20).

The Editor doesn’t give us any kind of rule to go with the permission. We might take “as well as” to mean the chance to hit an ally is equal to the chance to hit the enemy.

I could have missed it, but I don’t see a reference to firing into melee in AD&D or in B/X. Firing into melee is allowed in 2nd Edition AD&D, but it’s a “risky proposition.”

It’s also awkward. Before the missile is fired, allies and enemies are counted and weighted by size to calculate the chance that the impending attack roll will be against a party member’s AC (PHB, Chapter 9: Combat, Firing into a Melee). Depending on the result, we may have a distasteful situation where a player must roll an attack on a friend’s character.

A reader points me to a page in the AD&D DMG, where Gygax tells us how to handle “the discharge of missiles into an existing melee” (63). The system is similar to that of 2nd Edition, though more wordy. [05:54 29 January 2022 GMT]

From memory, 3E (in which I include 3.5) allows firing into melee with a simple −4 to the attack roll and no possibility to hit an ally. An optional rule allows for friendly fire—if the dice result would have hit the opponent without the penalty.

This lacuna in early editions has been the target of countless house rules. I’ve tried a few approaches in my own games, none satisfactory. Most require an extra dice roll, like 2nd Edition, or some additional calculation, like 2nd Edition again and 3E.

I recently made another attempt. No extra dice rolls in this one, no complex calculations, and it’s easy to remember. It assumes that allies give the opponent some cover from the shot. As soon as the dice comes up, you know whether you save the day or cripple a comrade.

One caveat: when playing with young children or sensitive adults, consider applying the attack roll penalty but ignoring the chance to hit an ally.

Odd Miss Hits Friendly

When targeting an opponent engaged in melee with friendly figures, subtract 4 from the attack roll. If the shot misses and the natural dice result is odd, the missile hits the friendly figure nearest its flight path.

Firing Into Melee
Firing Into Melee.
A reconstruction from a vague memory. The monster—I don’t remember which type—surprises the party and closes to melee with Kaytar. The neutral human fighter takes careful aim.

Progressive Dice, a Misnomer

This is a follow-up article to “Progressive Dice for Effects Durations,” in which I propose a method to roll each turn for the chance for an effect to end. This, in order to maintain the secrecy—and suspense—of an effect’s duration when playing solo or otherwise without a DM.

So-Called “Progressive” Dice

“Instead of rolling for the effect duration at the trigger to know on what turn the effect ends, we roll the same dice at the beginning of each subsequent turn to see if the effect ends in that turn.

“A dice result equal to or greater than the current subsequent turn indicates the effect continues. Roll again at the beginning of the next turn. A lower result means the effect ends.”

—“Progressive Dice for Effects Durations”

I’ve used progressive dice for effects durations and a number of other things for years. My assumption was that the chance for the effect to end each turn stands alone turn by turn, increasing as turns go by, therefore “progressive.” I also assumed that the overall probabilities, compared to the traditional method, were somehow the same.

Progressive Dice - Assumption

Writing the previous article forced me to think a little deeper on the method. I wondered if I’d got it right. Does it really yield a progressive chance, turn by turn, for the effect to end?

The smartest D&D mathematician I know is Dan Collins of Wandering DMs and Delta’s D&D Hotspot. A 40+ year D&D veteran, Dan is also a university lecturer in mathematics and computer science.

So, I sent him a query outlining the problem. Dan’s response, a few lines and a table of probabilities, shows how it is that progressive dice are not so progressive after all. For, using the proposed method, the chance of the effect ending is much higher in the initial periods than the later, so, not at all statistically equivalent to the traditional method.

In a traditional game, the DM rolls a single dice (or combination thereof) when an effect is triggered to determine its duration. A duration of 1 to 6 turns, say, is rolled on a d6. The probability that the effect ends on any turn is ⅙ or 16.67%.

Single Dice Roll [Traditional]

Using so-called progressive dice, “It stacks up differently,” Dan writes. “It’s very unlikely that you’ll get to turn 5 or 6, because you have to survive all the prior rolls to get there. Over half the time you’ll have the effect stop after two or three rounds.”

Here I had to make a saving throw vs. Death Ray. Reading the email, I was talking to Dan through the screen: The progressive dice method is so elegant, man—it has to be right!

Dan goes on to explain: “Computing a compound probability like this is a series of multiplications…” He also includes a table with a note that, if the calculations are correct, the sum of all chances should be 100%. I reproduce the table here.

Progressive Dice, Chance to End After Turn n
Turn Multipliers Product
1 1⁄6 16.67%
2 5⁄6 × 2⁄6 27.78%
3 5⁄6 × 4⁄6 × 3⁄6 27.78%
4 5⁄6 × 4⁄6 × 3⁄6 × 4⁄6 18.52%
5 5⁄6 × 4⁄6 × 3⁄6 × 2⁄6 × 5⁄6 7.72%
6 5⁄6 × 4⁄6 × 3⁄6 × 2⁄6 × 1⁄6 × 6⁄6 1.54%
Total   100%

So, it isn’t just the simple chance (bold) each turn that the effect will end. We have also to factor in the cumulative chance (italics), which is each previous roll inverted, that the effect hasn’t already ended.

Note that, in the previous article, we roll to see if the effect ends at the beginning of the next turn. “Ends after turn n” is a different way to say the same thing.

Progressive Dice - Correction

Therefore, at best, I misnamed “progressive dice.” Though the number to roll increases turn by turn, the chance to make that number is not at all progressive. The chance to end the effect after the second or third turn is much higher than the first or later turns.

Alternatives

So, what is a DM-less player to do? We might accept the statistical difference and use the so-called “progressive” dice in play. Or we might seek out other solutions. We look here at two—one of them works.

Single Dice, Effect Ends on a 1 (Not a Solution)

I thought of an alternative method. Roll the same dice every turn, with a result of 1 signaling the effect’s end. The effect ends automatically at the end of the  maximum duration.

It’s more simple than counting turns. But, if I’m following Dan’s lesson well, we still have to factor in the chance that the effect ended with the previous roll(s).

Effect Ends on 1, Chance to End After Turn n
Turn Multipliers Product
1 1⁄6 16.67%
2 5⁄6 × 1⁄6 13.80%
3 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 1⁄6 11.57%
4 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 1⁄6 9.65%
5 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 1⁄6 8.04%
6 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 5⁄6 × 1⁄6 6.70%
Total   66.51%

Ends on 1

Furthermore, I note that the total percentage is only 66.51, which is 33.49 short of 100. I’m guessing that’s because the effect automatically ends at the duration’s upper limit. The chance that it will end after the 6th turn is, in fact, 6.70 plus the remaining 33.49, or 40.19%.

Ends on 1 - Corrected

1 to n Cards

Dan suggests a card solution: a number of playing cards n equal to the upper limit of the range, 1 to n, one of which is an ace—or, if you have a deck of many things on hand, the Donjon (ace of spades) or the Fates (ace of hearts).

Shuffle the deck once when the effect is triggered. Draw one card from the top of the deck at the beginning of each turn. When the ace comes up, the effect ends.

Here, the shuffling is the dice roll, which determines on which turn the effect ends (on the ace). The chance that it will end in any particular round is 1⁄n, just like a single dice roll. The only practical difference from the dice roll is that the ending turn, while predetermined, is hidden within the deck. Also elegant.

A disadvantage is that the card method cannot duplicate dice combinations. Melqart’s stun duration, 2d4 turns, for example, cannot be reproduced using this method. In this case, it was the first effect duration of the campaign, but dice combinations might be infrequent.

Another disadvantage is that you have to manage an additional tool at the table. The suspense about when the effect ends, though, may well be worth the trouble.

For myself, I love to incorporate playing cards into my D&D, and if there’s an opportunity to get more use out of a deck of many things, I’ll take it.

Other Solutions?

I’m interested to hear your suggestions for maintaining the secrecy of effects durations in a DM-less game. I would also entertain a counterargument showing that progressive dice do in fact produce progressive results. Because it’s elegant, man, it has to be right!

My thanks to Dan Collins for his statistical analysis of the problem as well as an alternative solution. For interested readers, Dan offers several venues to learn more about dice and probability. In an episode of Wandering DMs, Dan gives a course in Basic Dice Math, and in another episode with cohort Paul Siegel, he talks Dice Mechanics. In addition, you’ll find a plethora of articles about dice statistics on Dan’s blog.

OD&D’s “Recommended Equipment”

A 1st- to 9th-Level Campaign
The Outdoor Survival Map Amid Other Tools for a D&D Campaign.

Don’t Throw Out the Box the Map Board Came In

In this article, I don’t mean to say anyone is playing the game wrong. I mean to say that our OD&D games—or at least our esteem of the rules—might improve if we reconsider the ignored parts of Chainmail and Outdoor Survival.

A recent Grognardia article reminds me of a point I’d like to bring up. In “Retrospective: Outdoor Survival,” James Maliszewski gives adequate treatment to the 1972 simulation game, with due attention to designer Jim Dunnigan, mention of the included Wilderness Skills primer—which reminds James of The Boy Scout Handbook, and a brief summary of play and the five scenarios typical of a wilderness environment: Lost, Survival, Search, Rescue, and Pursue.

He doesn’t miss the map board, of course, and its suggested use in OD&D as the setting for impromptu adventures. James notes that Outdoor Survival is the second entry in Vol. I under the heading “Recommended Equipment.”

When playing OD&D, I think1 we don’t take the rulebook’s advice seriously enough. It’s true, “Recommended Equipment” is misleading. Considering the “Dungeons and Dragons” rules are first in the list, “Required Equipment” would be more accurate. We would hardly think of playing D&D without dice, to cite the list’s third entry.

Likely due to the cost of two more games in addition to the ten 1970s dollars we already spent on a box of three slim booklets—not to mention dice, we content ourselves to replace Chainmail with the Alternative Combat System and sometimes use Outdoor Survival’s map board as a wilderness setting.

In so doing, we neglect the other—admittedly cumbersome—combat rules, like move-and-countermove (Chainmail, 9), parry and number of attacks per round by weapon class (25-26), and I’ve talked enough about jousting.2 In fact, the Alternative Combat “System” replaces, with a d20, only Chainmail’s fistful of dice to determine hits.

Later D&D editions revisited Chainmail to restore some of the combat options. The Holmes edition’s oft-bemoaned implementations of parry and number of attacks per round (20-21) are examples, as is B/X’s oft-ignored combat sequence (B24). But OD&D combat, bereft of these options, becomes the stereotype “I miss, I hit… I miss again.”

We also explore the wilderness on a hex map, but without any dangers apart from monsters with lots of hit dice rolled on the Wilderness Wandering Monsters tables. For this reason, commenter Gus L., in response to James’s article, likens adventures in the OD&D wilderness to “a bus ride with fistfights.”

It doesn’t have to be that way. On the page before the wilderness monster table, Vol. III refers us to Outdoor Survival’s rules as well as its board to handle lost parties (17). Further, when a party becomes lost, food may well run short. In a desert, water is scarce. Maybe it makes for a less than heroic adventure, but rules to handle starvation, thirst, weather, and fatigue are found in Outdoor Survival. By breaking up the succession of fistfights, incorporation of those rules can turn the bus ride into a challenging journey accompanied by the threat of many-hit-dice monsters.

Grognardia doesn’t mention Outdoor Survival’s most interesting innovation for an early 1970s game. After we’ve learned the rules playing a Lost scenario and maybe a Search or a Rescue, lackluster as they may be, we must press on to Scenario 6.

Scenario 6: One of the most interesting aspects of OUTDOOR SURVIVAL is the opportunity it provides for devising your own scenarios. Once you have mastered the mechanics of play, many additional ideas, providing more testing of outdoor knowledge and skills, will come to you. Integrating these situations with the standard games will add pleasure and skill-sharpening to the playing.

—Jim Dunnigan, Outdoor Survival

There is a certain irony in that Scenario 6 appears under the heading “Optional Rules.” For best results, I recommend using “Dungeons and Dragons”—those slim booklets containing lists of spells and monsters—as additional equipment.

Notes

1 I use “I think” as a lazy and weak shield against attacks from those whose opinions differ. Excuses to my sophomore English composition teacher, who pointed out, “If you didn’t think it you wouldn’t write it, would you.”

2 Strategy on the Jousting Matrix

Turn Undead in Movement Phase

It was a table perhaps some decades ago. Remaining now are crumbling bits of dry rot wood next to a single stool in similar condition. One plate, flatware, a goblet, and two candlesticks, all of tarnished silver, lay amid the friable refuse.

Bending, Hreidmar scooped up the goblet. “Now there’s a treas—”

The north door opened and a troop of skeletons filed in. The first held a covered plater high in one hand, a threadbare towel laid over the bones of the other arm.

Thorsdottir stepped forward and thrust the Ouroboros1 toward the advancing column—“Back!”

The silver platter dropped to the floor with a clang. The cover rolled aside. Heel bones scraped stone as the skeletons turned away, fleeing through the door…

Lower Levels of the Lonely Tower
Lower Levels of the Lonely Tower.
The scene takes place in the central room (unnumbered), lowest level.

I’ve always counted Turn Undead as some kind of magic for the purpose of when, in the combat sequence (B24), a cleric should take the action. The B/X Rulebooks give no guidance on the matter (nor on a number of other details about Turning).

In my experience, Turning in the magic phase makes for some awkward moments:

  • Maneuvering and preparation for combat against half a dozen or so undead takes up time that will be for naught if the cleric’s Turning is successful.
  • Players, thinking about tactics in the movement phase, make a certain emotional investment in the combat, of which they are then deprived.
  • Missiles fired on the undead before they are Turned in the following phase is often anticlimactic.

During a recent Wyrmwyrd session, it occurred to me that Turning is only a quick gesture and maybe a couple spoken words. A cleric could easily do that while moving. If successful, the field is cleared—or at least thinned. If the Turning fails, the players can get into the combat with confidence their actions will be meaningful.

Rules Clarification: Turn Undead

A cleric attempts to Turn Undead in the movement phase of the combat sequence (step B, phase 2).

In the scene depicted above, neither side was surprised, and the player party won the initiative roll. Thorsdottir turned seven of nine skeletons.

Notes

1 The Ouroboros is the holy symbol of the Pantheon.

A Cleric Presents a Holy Symbol

 

Progressive Dice for Effects Durations

In the first foray into the Deep Halls, Melqart is stunned by the defensive explosions of scarab beetles. The effect lasts for 2 to 8 turns.

Normally, the DM rolls 2d4 and makes note of the turn on which the character recovers. Playing solo or otherwise without a DM, though, we should not know when the effect is to wear off.

In Melqart’s case, had I rolled the variable duration immediately, I might be tempted to plan the next turns—or otherwise use the information unconsciously. “We guard Melqart until he can move again…” This breaks the narrative tension and challenges verisimilitude.

Procedure

For these occasions, I use what I call progressive dice. Instead of rolling for the effect duration at the trigger to know on what turn the effect ends, we roll the same dice at the beginning of each subsequent turn to see if the effect ends in that turn.

A dice result equal to or greater than the current subsequent turn indicates the effect continues. Roll again at the beginning of the next turn. A lower result means the effect ends.

Examples

Simple Variable Duration

A shrieker’s alarm sounds for 1 to 3 rounds after exposure to light. The next round is the first round of the effect duration. No need to roll this round, as the effect continues even on a 1. On the second subsequent round, the shrieking continues on a 2 or higher. Third round, the shrieking continues only on 3 result. In which case, it ends at the beginning of the next round, having reached its maximum duration.

Fixed Plus Variable Duration

A character quaffs an invisibility potion, which lasts a fixed period of 6 turns plus a variable duration of 1 to 6 turns (by my reading of Holmes, 37), which is 7 to 12 turns. For the first 7 turns, no roll is necessary. The character is invisible. At the beginning of the eighth turn—that is, the second turn of the variable duration—roll a d6. On a 2 or higher, the invisibility effect continues. Less than 2, the effect ends; the character becomes visible.

Table of Turns, Duration: 6 plus 1 to 6 (7-12) turns
Duration Turn
Fixed 1 2 3 4 5 6
Variable (d6) 7 8 9 10 11 12
*No. Subsequent Turn (1) 2 3 4 5 6
*The effect continues on a dice result equal to or greater than the current subsequent turn.
() No need to roll when the result can only indicate the effect continues.

Any Dice Combination

Melqart is stunned for 2 to 8 turns. Roll the same dice combination, 2d4, at the beginning of each subsequent turn, ignoring the first and second, when the result can only indicate the effect continues. But count all turns following the trigger as subsequent turns. At the beginning of the third turn of the duration, a 2d4 result of 3 or greater means the effect continues.

Table of Turns, Duration: 2 to 8 turns
Duration Turn
Variable (2d4) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8
*No. Subsequent Turn (1) (2) 3 4 5 6 7 8
*The effect continues on a dice result equal to or greater than the current subsequent turn.
() No need to roll when the result can only indicate the effect continues.

In Play

Disadvantage

More Dice Rolls: We are effectively replacing a single dice roll with a series of rolls, which we like to avoid as it takes more time.

Advantages

Fewer Notes: On the other hand, rolling the usual way, the DM must note and remember when the effect will end. Rolling progressive dice, at least one player has a vested interest in the roll, so it isn’t easily forgotten.

Player Agency: Even with a DM, the player may be allowed to roll the progressive dice.

Increasing Tension: There can be a lot riding on that dice roll. As the turns pass, the tension mounts.

While Melqart squirms on the floor, moaning, palms over ringing ears, the harpy is leading the rest of the party—all charmed—to its nest. Will Melqart come to his senses in time to save them…?

Dice

Statistically Equivalent?

I am uncertain whether there is a difference, using progressive dice, in the statistical chance for the effect to end in any particular point in the duration.

Rolling in the usual way, we have a 1 in 6 chance for the effect to end after any of six turns. At the same time, there is a 100% chance (6 in 6) for the effect to last at least one turn, a 5 in 6 chance it will last at least two turns, 4 in 6 for three turns, and so on.

With progressive dice, the chance to end the effect increases as the turns go by, starting at 0 in 6 in the first subsequent turn, 1 in 6 in the second turn, and so on, up to 5 in 6 at the beginning of the turn of maximum duration. If it doesn’t end on this turn, it will certainly end at the beginning of the next turn.

Intuition tells me it’s the same chance, but that guy has been wrong before. I’ve put the question to a smart math person. Your comments are also welcome. I’ll add an update when I get something.

Once again intuition leads me astray. The so-called “progressive” dice method described in this article is not statistically equivalent to the traditional method. This method is still useful in play, provided we accept the limitation. For further explanation and an alternative solution, see “Progressive Dice, a Misnomer.” [08:30 21 January 2022 GMT]

The Importance of Wandering Monsters and Tracking Turns

Wandering monsters are a DM’s best friend. They are indispensable to old-school D&D game play. By draining the party’s resources without hope of a treasure reward, the possibility of such a random encounter keeps the characters moving, keeps the players on their toes. It raises the tension in a way a DM can only hope some planned story will do.

Keeping track of turns is a basic task a DM must learn. Not only wandering monsters, but light sources, party rest, and spell durations all depend on time keeping. It’s a habit that isn’t so difficult to pick up.

I make a simple four-by-six grid in the corner of the map or, as in this case, in the adventure log. That’s four torches or a lantern’s worth of turns. In one square of six, the party must rest or suffer fatigue, and every third turn (Holmes Bluebook) brings a dice roll for a wandering monster. Durations measured in turns are noted in the appropriate square. The turn a spell is cast, for example, is marked, as is the turn in which the party rests.

Turns and Order of March
Turns and Order of March: Melqart (M) Leads Penlod (P) and Hathor-Ra (H) into the Deep Halls.
“Ps” marks Penlod’s scouting position. Also shown are the order of opening doors and order of attacks by dexterity score (Holmes).

Adventure Log Excerpt

The photo above is from Dreaming Amon-Gorloth’s adventure log.

First Turn: At the rubble-strewn entry, Melqart lights a torch (“t”). The party enters. Penlod notices a secret door, and the group inspects the contents of the room beyond: a dozen skulls set into wall niches.

Second Turn: Entering the grand entry hall, the group encounters scarab beetles at the north door. The giant insects scurry. A burst of three explosions shakes the vault as jets of acid shoot from their nether parts. Melqart, stunned by the noise (“St”), slumps in a puddle of sizzling acid. Penlod throws a spell, and the insects collapse unconscious.

Third Turn: Penlod carries Melqart toward the entrance, while Hathor-Ra, carrying the torch, guards the withdraw. Among the rubble, the two are halted by an enchanting song emanating from within. The explosions attracted a harpy.

Fourth Turn: Turning, Penlod lets the magic-user slide from his shoulder. He and Hathor-Ra move toward the harpy’s lovely voice. The harpy puts a hand on each of their shoulders.

Fifth Turn: Now charmed, Penlod and Hathor-Ra follow the harpy down the grand hall, descending stairs, as Melqart comes to his senses. Lighting another torch (“t”) from his pack, Melqart follows the harpy song.

Sixth Turn: The harpy makes room in her nest. Just as the she descends to fetch the waiting Hathor-Ra, Melqart arrives at the top of the stairs. He casts charm person on the harpy.1

Seventh Turn: The party rests (“R”) while debating what to do with their new friend…

Notes

1 Holmes on Charm Person: “This spell applies to all two legged, generally mammalian humanoids of approximately man size…” (14). We could argue that a harpy, being only half mammalian, is not subject to charm person. A counterargument is that her mammalian half is very much so.

Optional Rules for Steep Stairs

In “Vertical Scale,” we consider stairs which incline at angles greater than 45 degrees. At the DM’s disgression, such steepness impacts movement and melee combat.

Movement

At vertical rises of 15 and 20 feet over ten horizontal feet, the distance traveled is 18 and 22 feet. For either, we round to 20 feet of movement.

Considering also the extra effort to step up and, in the 20-foot case, a vertiginous decent, we justify halving the explorer’s move rate. So, moving up or down stairs—a ten-foot square on the map—costs 40 feet of movement.

Moving faster, an explorer must roll his or her dexterity score or less on a twenty-sided dice or tumble to the bottom of the stairs, taking d6 damage for each ten feet fallen.

Melee

Higher Ground

If your chosen rules do not address the issue, add 1 to attack rolls for melee combatants on higher ground.

Falling

When a melee combatant suffers a violent blow (i.e. takes damage), he or she must roll against dexterity or fall and suffer damage as above.