Use an experience point ’slush fund’ to encourage role-playing

While there are several different connotations for the term, one definition for “slush fund” is an account in the general ledger of a company that uses the double-entry system of bookkeeping. Essentially, the slush fund is used to record transactions involving funds commingled from other accounts, and as the default place to record transactions and expenses that shouldn’t properly be recorded elsewhere in the ledger. Strangely, the concept of a slush fund has applications for a Dungeons & Dragons game, which can inspire superior role-playing. 

The fourth edition of the D&D game (4e) is especially suited for this function, due to the formulaic nature of encounter design and character advancement. The Gentle Reader will remember that the 4e Dungeon Master’s Guide recommends that each experience level be divided into a number of combat, skill challenge and quest encounters, the total XP award of which is enough to bring the heroes to the next level. This post suggests that while the 4e experience point (XP) system allows for the dungeon master (DM) to reward heroes for victory in combat, success at skill challenges, and broad completion of campaign quests, a formal mechanic for rewarding superior role-playing – like the individual XP awards presented in legacy editions of the D&D game – is absent.

Using battlefields as adventure sites

 

This battlefield at Hastings, England saw the success of William the Conqueror, one of history's pivotal moments. As a result, it's much more than a grassy field - and battlefields in your D&D campaign can have the same significance.

 

When visiting a battlefield, a person is likely to feel a range of sensations and emotions. There is an almost mystical quality to the way battlefields seem to be peaceful, overwhelmingly silent, sad and even unsettling all at once. Given the other-worldly, magical and supernatural forces brought to bear during a battle in a Dungeons & Dragons campaign, one might imagine that battlefields in a fantasy setting would inspire the same emotional responses we feel – albeit at a higher level – in addition to other responses connected with the realities of those settings, such as the fact that undead in a D&D world are real. Battlefields are emotionally charged settings that can be pregnant with malice, making them ideal adventure sites.

Before using a battlefield as an adventure site…

There are two basic tasks the dungeon master (DM) needs to complete before using a battlefield in a D&D game. The first is to ensure that the heroes have an idea of what happened at the battlefield and why the battle happened. This task can be accomplished through referencing the site in a player handout detailing campaign setting, having a the battle play a role in a player character’s (PC’s) personal background, or having the heroes hear bards and minstrels sing of legends or prophecies related to the site. If the heroes don’t know what happened at a battlefield, it’s becomes an inexplicably creepy field, and much of the emotional impact of the site is lost.

More fantasy inspiration from real sites

The famous Hanging Temple is a feat of ancient engineering - and great inspiration for a potential D&D setting.

Creating awe-inspiring, fantastic locations for a Dungeons & Dragons game is a challenge placed before every dungeon master (DM). Fortunately, there are real sites that press upon the boundaries of fantasy which can inspire DMs.

During the months that passed since writing this first post on the topic - a post describing the Crystal Cave of the Giants, Bannerman’s Castle, The Barringer Crater and Centralia, Pennsylvania – this writer has learned of three more sites which, with modification, could make ideal settings for a D&D adventure.

The Hanging Temple of Xuankongsi

Construction of this remarkable edifice began in the Sixth Century, in the Chinese province of Shanxi. Also called the Temple in the Air and the Temple in the Void, the structure was built a third of the way up a nearly sheer cliff, roughly 75 meters above ground. Construction began with a massive excavation into the cliffside, large enough to house 40 rooms and six main halls. The subterranean portion of the complex is positioned behind a massive wooden facade extending well into the open air, supported by horizontal beams from within the excavation, wooden pillars from below and the cantilevered weight of the facade itself.

Using PC investments as adventure seeds

The Republic of Darokin Gazetteer quantified PC financial savvy by allowing heroes to gain levels in a merchant class. Image Copyright TSR Hobbies/Wizards of the Coast, 1989.

While amassing a personal fortune is a goal of many Dungeons & Dragons heroes, few of them engage in financial investment as a means to that end; this is an unfortunate circumstance, since heroic investments can make fine starting points for adventures in which player characters (PCs) have strong personal stakes.

This post does not propose that heroes drop their swords, wands, holy symbols or lockpicks in favor of taking up the abacus. To do so would give a D&D game all the excitement of insurance underwriting. But what if the dungeon master (DM) entices the heroes to invest some of their hard-earned coin, and encourages them to help ensure the success of their investments? By doing so, the DM can combine the heroes’ love of (or need for) gold with the hazards of mercantile ventures to place the heroes in the dramatic position of facing grave danger in order to move forward, and losing their investment if they retreat.

Surprise your players with a ‘dumb’ villain

 

'Dumb' Villains don't need to be as dim as Boris and Natasha - just overlooking an advantage or two will suffice. Image copyright Jay Ward Productions.

Scheming, devious villains are a mainstay of most Dungeons & Dragons campaigns. It’s not difficult to see why that is; players enjoy unraveling the convoluted plots of their foes and, realistically speaking, who but the most cunning adversaries could oppose a resourceful, determined band of heroes?

The answer is: the “dumb ones,” i.e., those who overlook obvious tactical advantages.

As the 42nd Murphy’s Law of Combat Operations states, “Professional soldiers are predictable; the world is full of dangerous amateurs.” In fantasy role-playing games, the player characters (PCs) and standard “big bad guy” (BBG) types are the professionals. Experience teaches players – especially veteran players – to expect a level of tactical ability from their foes at least comparable to their own. Even when the heroes are facing truly mindless foes, such as oozes or zombies, players will often expect to find some sort of sentient force behind the behavior of those foes. 

As dungeon masters (DMs), we  design encounters for the express purpose of providing a challenge for the heroes, and accordingly provide any necessary tactical advantages for the BBGs we install as adversaries. Doing so is completely logical, since everyone expects villains to use their home terrain to best advantage at all times. Our own history, however, shows that this is not the case.

Using symbolism in D&D campaign design, Part III

The traditional crest of the Papacy is composed of symbols representing the spiritual and temporal power of the Pope and Catholic Church.

This post is the third and last of a series on using symbolism to add depth to a Dungeons & Dragons setting. It is based in part upon Symbols and Their Hidden Meanings by T.A. Kenner, who argues that symbolism effectively constitutes an unspoken language that we humans all understand, sometimes on a subconscious level.

The first post in the series introduced the topic and discussed the symbolic meanings of numbers. The second post dealt with symbolism in art and architecture, and this final post will discuss the use of symbolism to convey connotations of power and identity.

Power

Power is a concept that all sentient creatures understand, but the various symbols used to represent power may not be so obvious to uninformed observers. For example, a well-known symbol for the Papacy is a pair of crossed keys, one silver and one gold, bound with a red cord. The keys represent the keys to the kingdom of heaven; the silver key binds and unbinds on earth, while the gold does the same in heaven. The cord represents the connection between the two realms, embodied by the Pope himself.