Finding a Path to the Dinner Table

Last weekend I got the latest issue of Knights of the Dinner Table in my mailbox. If you’re reading this blog, then KoDT should need no introduction. I’ll say only that it’s the longest-running comic about a group of gamers, and quite frankly it’s hysterical. If you’re not reading it, you’re doing yourself a disservice (and you should check out the free web strips to see what you’re missing).

Part of what makes Knights of the Dinner Table so hilarious are the personalities of the characters. Rarely are real people so over-the-top as Dave, Brian, Sara, and Bob. Another aspect of the amusement comes from the game they play, HackMaster (a pastiche of D&D that’s now an actual RPG). Over the years we’ve seen the Knights’ characters perform a variety of unorthodox strategies that would likely never come up in a Pathfinder game. These are areas where the rules are silent, simply because the actions they take are so outrageous; for that reason alone, you’re not likely to see these happening at your game table.

So of course, we need to change that.

Presented here are Pathfinder rules for three of the outlandish strategies that have seen use in the pages of Knights of the Dinner table. None of these are presented as feats, class abilities, or other “purchasable” abilities, simply because the game already has enough of those, and because there’s no good way to practically reflect the in-game nature of having these be purchasable abilities (e.g. only select people with specific training can do them).

Taking a Chaser

A character is able to swallow a Fine-sized object, keeping it hidden within his body until it passes through his digestive system, at which point he may retrieve it. This is usually done to keep hidden something that would otherwise be found on a rigorous search.

The inventor of this hallowed technique.

A character may have a number of Fine-sized items hidden in this manner equal to his Constitution bonus at any one time (characters with a Constitution bonus of +0 or less have too weak a system to abuse like this). Characters that swallow items in excess of this amount are nauseated for 3d10 minutes before vomiting the excess item(s) back up.

Swallowed items cannot be located with a Perception check, and remain in the character’s body for 1d20+10 hours before they can be retrieved. Handling an item after retrieving it requires a DC 30 Fortitude save to avoid contracting filth fever; thoroughly washing the item for 1 minute reduces this to a DC 10 save, while thoroughly washing it for 10 minutes removes this danger altogether.

Swallowing something under these rules essentially removes the item from play for a time; it’s impossible to find, and not even the PC can access it until enough time has passed. That is the balancing factor here; enemies can’t get to such an item while it’s swallowed, but neither can the PC.

Since the rules generally disallow things to be put into or removed from a character’s body – otherwise it’d be too easy to teleport someone’s heart out – the only way to actively retrieve an item swallowed like this is to kill them and then cut them open.

Spell Tattoos

There’s no reason that a wizard’s spellbook must be a “book” per se. Any surface which can be written upon can record a wizard’s spells, including flesh. Thus, a wizard’s friends and allies may have spells written on their bodies as backup should anything happen to their spellbook.

A Medium-size character’s body may have up to thirty pages’ worth of writing tattooed on it, while a Small-size character’s body may have up to half this much. The cost of tattooing spells onto a character in this manner cost the same as inscribing them into a spellbook, and take the same amount of time. These tattoos act exactly as a character’s spellbook in all regards, save below.

Slashing or piercing damage, as well as fire, lighting, or acid damage, has a chance of disfiguring a tattoo, ruining its use in preparing spells. If the attack roll for such an attack succeeds, or if a saving throw against such an attack fails, the character must make a Fortitude save (DC equals the damage dealt) or have one randomly-determined page obscured by the damage.  Note that magical healing repairs this damage, restoring the tattoo to its pristine state.

An erase spell used against a character with spell tattoos has a 90% chance of successfully targeting them (a touch attack may be made instead, as per the normal rules of using a touch attack spell, to ignore this percentage chance). On a success, the affected character may make a Fortitude save (DC calculated normally for a spell) to resist having their tattoos affected. Otherwise, two pages of magical text, chosen by the caster, are erased. Magical healing does not restore tattoos lost in this manner; they must be re-scribed.

Characters with spell tattoos may hide them with a Disguise check. However, they take a penalty to this check equal to the number of pages they have beyond half (round down) the maximum number their body can have. For example, a Medium-size creature with nineteen pages of spell writing tattooed on his body would take a -4 penalty to Disguise checks to hide them (since half of the maximum number they can have is fifteen pages’ worth), while a Small-size character with ten pages of tattoos would take a -3 penalty (since half, rounded down, of the maximum number they can have is seven).

There was a feat in 3.5, from one of the later issues of Dragon as I recall, that let a wizard tattoo spells on his own body, but I’ve never seen anything to let a character tattoo spells on another.

Mechanically, there’s no particular reason not to allow this, as it costs the same as it would for scribing a spellbook normally. Likewise, the trade-off for having a “spellbook” with such little room for writing is that characters are actively trying to defend themselves, and so are more durable (and less likely to be stolen).

The damage rules regarding spell tattoos do place the “spellbook” in greater danger than a normal spellbook would usually be – and worse, the extra Fortitude saves can slow down game-play – but the rules regarding magical healing fixing ruined tattoos generally allow these problems to be ignored; it’s not necessary to make a character roll Fortitude saves every time they take damage if the cleric is just going to heal them after the battle.

Finally, a wizard may tattoo spells on himself the same way he would any other character. Likewise, it should be noted that these rules work for all characters that use spellbooks, such as a magus.

Keistering

Similar to taking a chaser, keistering is allowing a character to store a single Fine-size item “back there.” Storing an item in this manner requires a full-round action that provokes an attack of opportunity, while removing it is a standard action that also provokes an attack of opportunity.

Handling an item after retrieving it requires a DC 30 Fortitude save to avoid contracting filth fever; thoroughly washing the item for 1 minute reduces this to a DC 10 save, while thoroughly washing it for 10 minutes removes this danger altogether.

Keeping an item keistered grants a +20 bonus to Sleight of Hand checks made to hide an item on your body (characters without any ranks in Sleight of Hand are presumed to have made a check result of 20 plus their Dexterity modifier). A searcher that conducts a body-cavity search negates this bonus when making his Perception roll.

On the surface, keistering an item is similar to taking a chaser. The big difference is that you can retrieve the item when you need it, rather than having to wait for it. This is balanced by the fact that you can only keep one such item keistered at a time (taking multiple items as chasers spreads them out through your digestive system, while a keistered item is held right at the end of it).

While Pathfinder doesn’t recognize any mechanical difference between men and women, a GM may allow a female character to keep two items keistered at once, since, as someone else once said, “women have more hiding places than men.” In this case, the second item is treated the same as the first for all of these rules, save that the Fortitude saves against disease are reduced by to DC 20 when initially retrieved, and DC 5 after 1 minute of washing.

More rules inspired by the antics of the Knights will be posted in the future; until then, if you’ve got a request for a particular bit of KoDT craziness that you want to see Pathfinder rules for, let me know in the comments section.

We're not doing this one, though.

Until next time, dear readers, may you never need to flip your game table!

The XP Train(ing)

Have you ever looked, I mean really looked, at the NPCs in the Pathfinder GameMastery Guide? Specifically, at the NPCs listed under the “Villagers” heading in Chapter 8: NPC Gallery? Yeah, it’s fun to laugh at the village idiot entry, but what about the others?

More specifically, take a look at the entries for the farmer and the mayor. It doesn’t bother a lot of people, but it’s always rubbed me the wrong way that the farmer has not one, but two class levels; this is to say nothing of the mayor having ten. True, they’re all NPC class levels, but the salient question remains: how did these guys ever get the experience points necessary to level up?

It’s unlikely (though possible, albeit far-fetched) that these were the results of story XP awards. I find it hard to imagine exactly what the story there was, however. Perhaps the mayor got an XP award for winning the local mayoral election? But what would the farmer’s XP awards look like? “You survived another unbelievably harsh winter! Gain 100 XP!”

It’s only slightly more plausible that these characters gained XP the same way most adventurers do: by killing things. Partially this implausibility is due to how ridiculously weak both characters are (the mayor is a CR 8 character, but she wasn’t always that high-level). It’s hard to imagine a level 1 commoner wracking up enough kills to advance in level. True, he may fend off the occasional rat (100 XP) or two, and perhaps the rare goblin (135 XP), but those are still a long way from the 2,000 XP necessary to hit 2nd level on the medium XP track.

What I’m trying to get at here is that these NPCs likely gained XP in a way not covered by the Core Rules: training.

Training Troubles

Training as an XP activity is something that’s usually left out of most Pathfinder – and other d20 – games. The usual reason for this is that most GMs don’t see a need to include a nod to verisimilitude in regards to a meta-game function like earning experience points; particularly when doing so often seems to leave the system open to abuse. In other words, it offers too little gain for the headaches that come with it.

Because it only deals Charisma damage.

These headaches are usually found in a player saying that they want to have their character spend some drastic amount of down-time training, then hand-wave away that time having happened, and re-introduce their character now that they’ve leveled up (“okay, so I spend the fifteen years at the monastery, and when I come out I’ve gained eight levels of monk! Let’s go adventuring!”)

To be fair, it’s easy to shut this particular problem down at the beginning of a campaign (e.g. the GM says “No, you’re not starting with a 45-year-old graduate of the war college. You’re just like everybody else, a teenage knucklehead just starting out!”). The problem often comes after the campaign has started, when the GM has already laid out the training rules, and it’s suddenly harder to hand-wave things away (“We saved the village right? Why can’t I buy a house there and teach magic at the local mage’s college for a while? Let someone else rescue the duke’s daughter.”)

All of these issues, however, are actually symptoms of a single problem: the GM is making training too good.

Rate of Return

The solution here is simple – training grants XP at such a low rate that it shouldn’t ever be worth it to your PCs. The rate of return should be so abysmally small that it’s never worthwhile to contemplate if there’s any other avenue of XP acquisition available (and, for your PCs, there always is).

So what rate is so horrifically low that it’d scare off your players? There’s all kinds of rates you can set, but the one I usually stick to is that one day of training grants 1 XP. Given that – plus the fact that no one can realistically train every single day – most characters would need around six years just to make it from 1st to 2nd level (using the medium advancement track). It’d take roughly another eight years to make it from 2nd to 3rd, and about twelve years to go from 3rd to 4th. At this point, your character has spent a quarter-century training, and hasn’t even made it to casting third-level spells yet.

Can you spot young Elminster in this photo?

One interesting side-effect of this system is that it gives demi-humans (that is, elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings, etc.) a plausible reason for being generally higher-level than humans…though not much. They’ve had more time to train; the diminishing rate of returns, however (as it takes more and more XP to gain a level) ensures that this will keep most demi-humans from having super-high levels from training alone (getting to 6th level using this system would take almost one hundred-fifty years of training!).

Of course, this brings up a salient point – if it takes lifetimes just to earn a couple of levels, how do guys like the aforementioned mayor get to be 10th level? Ah, but that’s the nice part about NPCs not needing to earn their levels through actual play – you can say that she actually did earn them fighting monsters or winning story awards. Perhaps the mayor personally lead the charge against an invading orc horde, despite having no military training (and killed several, earning XP). Or perhaps she uncovered political corruption in town (for a story XP award). At 10th level, the mayor should have some sort of noteworthy background.

Ironically, these low-XP training rules can be of help to PCs as well. Perhaps if the PCs find themselves just 200 XP short of the next level, they decide to take six or seven months off from adventuring to train and earn those last few experience points. That’s fine; remember, our goal is to stop the training rules from being abused, not make them absolutely useless. This is also a nice way to prevent your adventurers from going to 1st to 20th level in less than a year (something that seems to happen a lot).

Work Hard, Game Hard

Most likely, at some point while reading the above, you wondered to yourself, “why use training rules at all? If we’re keeping the PCs away from these, I can just make my NPCs whatever level I want.”

Leaving aside how, as mentioned above, these rules aren’t meant to repel the PCs but simply discourage abuse, the last phrase is true; there’s no reason the GM can’t set their NPCs with whatever level they want. The training-for-XP rules aren’t meant to shackle the GM; they’re meant to be a good shorthand for measuring a character’s age-to-expertise ratio, where their age is how long they’ve been training and their expertise is how much XP they’ve gained for it.

This guideline lets you quickly determine that a character that’s been a farmer for thirty years has about 10,000 days of farming, which means he has about 10,000 XP, which makes him about 4th level. Once you’ve got that, you can easily adjust the totals by providing other reasons for how he got his experience. Suppose you want your farmer to be a younger fellow, but still 4th level. Then he must have gotten some of his experience another way – did he go adventuring for a bit and then retire for some reason? Is he a local celebrity for having performed some incredible deed? Just like that, the training rules have helped stimulate our back-story for an otherwise-ordinary character.

Training, and providing a means by which ordinary people improve without killing monsters or completing quests, helps to flesh out the world just a little bit more. In doing so, it makes the game world a little more vibrant, and thus more fun, for everyone involved.

The 1% of Pathfinder

A while back I posted an article about how much your PC would need to retire. It assumed that your character would be trying to acquire enough money to retire and live extravagantly for the rest of their life. Of course, the numbers soon showed that that was exceptionally difficult to do, although retiring as merely “wealthy” was much more feasible.

But what about everyone else in the game world?

It’s a Hard Knock Life

The main purpose to this article is that it provides a quick shorthand for determining an NPC’s economic status – that is, where they fall under Pathfinder’s cost of living designations. This provides GMs with a better understanding for the background and lifestyle that their NPCs come from, helping to flesh them out more.

Of course, sometimes an NPC's background doesn't matter.

Simply take their bonus in one of the three skills discussed below (if they have more than one, use the one with the highest bonus, or whichever one best fits the background you want them to have), and add 10 (as an average, or as taking 10 on the check) and check on the results given below.

Working Hard for the Money

Pathfinder assumes that, other than finding heaping hoards of treasure, the main ways to earn a living are via skill checks. Specifically via three skills: Craft, Perform, and Profession. Let’s look at these skills and see how much money a typical NPC can earn in a year.

Craft and Profession

Craft and Profession both require a one-week period when making checks to earn a living. You bring in a number of gold pieces equal to one-half your check result for that week.

Our method assumes the following: that you always take 10 on your check, adding in whatever skill bonus (and/or penalty) you have to get an average result. We then figure out your lifestyle – from the aforementioned cost of living rules – by multiplying the results by 52, and comparing them to the cost of living thresholds multiplied by 12 (as those are based on monthly income).

This gives us the following breakdown:

Destitute: The only way you could possibly end up this poor when taking 10 on a Craft/Profession check is if you have enough negative modifiers that it brings your check result down to a 1 or 0. In this case, you likely have a seriously low Intelligence or Wisdom, and likely a curse on you too. You’ll likely want to switch to Perform checks (see below), and if that’s not an option then consider adventuring/suicide.

Poor: Poor is what you are if your adjusted Craft/Profession check result is a 2 through 4, in which case you’re still struggling with some serious negative modifiers, since you took 10 on the check. Likewise, it’s worth noting that this will be your economic status if you have no ranks in either Craft or Profession, and are an untrained laborer earning a measly 1 silver piece per day.

Average: Overwhelmingly, you’re likely to have an average economic lifestyle when you rely on these skill checks to support yourself. Any check result from 5 to 46 will put you somewhere in this range. There are still gradations, of course, but for the most part you can take comfort in belonging to the middle class.

Wealthy: You’ve pretty well got to be the god of whatever it is you do in order to become truly wealthy by doing it. Your Craft/Profession check needs to hit a whopping 47 or higher to break into this category, which means that you’ve got a +37 to your check. Enjoy your goods, and know that all the little people are cursing you as a min-maxer.

Extravagant: Don’t even consider living at this level on skill checks alone. Seriously, just don’t. You’d need to have a skill total of 462 to hit this level, and I don’t care how good you are, nobody has a +452 skill modifier (and if you do, then get your point-whoring ass back to the CharOp boards where it belongs).

Perform

Unlike the latter skills, Perform is made once a day to bring in an income (the skill description says that it may be made as little as once per evening, but the intent seems clear). Also unlike Craft and Profession, Perform’s ability to generate revenue isn’t based directly on your check results; rather, you get a certain amount of money at certain DCs (the amount of money earned has likewise been averaged for the results given below). Hence the following:

Destitute: This is how you live if you can’t hit a DC 15 on your Perform check. True, you earn no income at all if you get less than a 10 (which, again, would only be possibly if you have some penalties), but even a 10 through 14 won’t generate enough income to even rise to the level of being poor. Speaking of which…

Poor: Remember that we’re taking the statistical average of the die rolls made for Perform checks. So when it says “you earn 1d10 silver pieces per day” we’re interpreting that to mean 5 silver and 5 copper (a 5.5 on the d10). Based purely on these statistical averages, you won’t ever be “poor” using the Perform skill. You’ll either be destitute because your results were so bad, or you’ll roll high enough to become average.

Average: This is the result of having a 15 through 24 on your Perform checks. Earning silver pieces, either 1d10 or 3d10 per day, you’ll make enough to live as well as any other ordinary person.

Wealthy: If you can consistently hit a 25 or above while taking 10 on a daily Perform check, then you’ll live as one of the wealthy. You’ll be more secure in this particular income bracket if you can instead hit 30 or more, but it’s still wealthy either way. This is, quite literally, as good as it gets using this skill.

Extravagant: This one is impossible. Literally. The best you can get with a Perform check is making 3d6 gold per day. Even if you always got all 18s (and if you do, why aren’t you using them to roll up new characters?!), you still wouldn’t make enough to live extravagantly. You’ll just have to settle for being wealthy instead, isn’t that a shame?

Hard Work is Hard

Ultimately, what this says about working for a living in Pathfinder is that it’s true to real life in that hard work can pull you out of poverty, but rarely makes you rich.

Give me back my +2 stapler!

In fact, between this and the previous article on the subject, you may be asking yourself, how does anyone live an extravagant lifestyle in Pathfinder?

There are two answers. The first is that the “extravagant” cost of living isn’t meant to be sustained indefinitely; rather, it’s how you can live for a few months when you’re particularly flush with cash. No, it’s not fiscally sound, but if you’re someone who makes a living from raiding old tombs, extravagance is the “living fast” that accompanies the inevitable dying young.

The second answer is that those who live extravagantly aren’t actually financing that lifestyle based on their own work. Much like actual feudal lords, their wealth comes from a combination of inheritance and collecting money from serfs, alongside various large-scale business enterprises (to say nothing of profitable criminal activity).

Of course, the real lesson here is that it’s ultimately more economically feasible for your PCs to be adventurers (just look at the Character Wealth by Level values!), as they’ll be much more likely to strike it rich that way. And, of course, playing Sir Stomp-Evil the Paladin is much more fun than playing Joe Nobody the Farmer anyway.

Playing Mechanical Dress-Up

The demise of Dragon magazine – its print incarnation, at least – left a hole in our hobby that’s never truly been filled.

That doesn’t mean that many other publications haven’t attempted to do so, of course. The biggest one, Pathfinder, is something of a hybrid between Dragon and its sister publication, Dungeon. Despite its technically being a book and not a magazine, Pathfinder (the monthly adventure path, that is) is in many ways the post-3E Dragon.

It’s not the only one, however. Kobold Quarterly makes the rounds every few months or so, having a nice a diverse selection of articles – and like the older issues of Dragon, covers multiple game systems. This is a trait also found in d-Infinity, Dragon Roots (before it unfortunately folded), and any number of OSR-themed periodicals.

Covering multiple systems was also the purview of a small, print-only monthly magazine called Loviatar. I say “was” here because, although the mag does still cover multiple game systems, it’s slightly smaller in its coverage than it used to be, having recently excised all d20/Pathfinder content.

This purge happened in the fourth issue. In the introduction, the editor recounts the story in which he arrived at this decision:

In the past year or two I have tried very hard to wrap my mind around Pathfinder and 4e. I think it’s important to remain flexible and to be open to new ideas, but I have to accept that perhaps I am not the target demographic. To illustrate this, I’d like to share a recent conversation from my game table.

“I want my Fighter to take a level of Bard.”

“Cool. Is this a role-play decision? Are you going to be some kind of warrior-poet?”

“Huh? Nah, I need an arcane spellcaster level for a prestige class.”

“Oh. But why Bard?”

“Good skills and access to healing magic.”

“So this is a meta-gaming decision?”

“Uh, yeah!”

What struck me was that of course it was a metagaming decision. Duh! That’s how new games are designed. If you aren’t optimizing and min/maxing you are setting yourself up to fail. Furthermore, you must optimize so that you don’t let down your fellow players, who are relying upon you to select feats, spells and classes that compliment their own.

Needless to say, I found this pretty unappealing. Partially, this was due to the fact that I’d just signed up with issue #3 (and purchased the first two back issues), only to find that the content I’d wanted most was now being cut.

Another reason I frowned at the above reasoning is that I think it over-emphasizes the differences between how “new games” and their older counterparts are designed. While I won’t say that there are no differences between older and newer games (as vague and imprecise as “older” and “newer” are here) – the existence of the Old School Renaissance alone is a testament to it – I don’t think that newer role-playing games are necessarily more meta-game heavy than old school games.

What I would stipulate to is that, in the wake of the d20 System, a lot of RPGs have focused on providing rules-sets that were “comprehensive” in scope. What that means is that they try to give rules that unambiguously define the results of virtually any action that characters can undertake – no rulings on the part of the Game Master are needed (how well these games succeed at making their rules comprehensive tends to vary depending on who you ask).

This is in contrast to old school games, which tended to use the rules to provide a framework that the Game Master could use when making a judgment call. Of course, even this definition of the difference between new school and old school games is fraught with exceptions, and likely to be debated by someone who finds it wanting, but I think it summarizes the “gamer divide” reasonably well.

What bothers me most about the decision that the editor of Loviatar made, however, is that, if it really was based on the quoted exchange between himself and one of his players, then it’s ultimately based on a misunderstanding:

The player’s decision was not meta-gamed.

In-character. Out-of-Character. I’m the Guy with the Plan.

Let’s look back at that exchange between the GM and his player. They’re discussing the next level that the player’s character is going to take. In general, we can break the player’s line of reasoning down into three points:

1. I want to take levels in X prestige class.
2. In order to join X prestige class, I need levels (at least one) in an arcane spellcasting class.
3. My next level will be a level of bard, since it not only casts arcane spells, but also A) offers good skill points/class skills, and B) can cast healing spells.

Now, the player presents these as being meta-game decisions, and the GM receives them that way, it’s true. What I take issue with, however, is that these aren’t truly meta-game issues; that’s just how they’re portrayed. Let’s examine each of those three points again.

In the first point, the player wants to join a prestige class. Now, the game is fairly silent on what exactly it wants prestige classes to be, from an in-game standpoint. As one of my favorite blogs once said:

First, the game never defined what a PrC is. Is is membership in an elite order with special training? Well, maybe. Is it a special skill you picked up? Well, maybe. Is it an inborn talent which you randomly possess? Well, maybe. Any of these could be defended, and it could easily differ by campaign setting. However, all of this got tossed into a blender.

Indeed it did. As such, it’s going out on a limb to say that the prestige class the player wanted to take was necessarily represented by an in-game group or organization. However, odds are the GM could have found some way to represent what it means to take a level in a given prestige class in the context of his campaign.

Whether it was joining a particular college of war-magic to become an eldritch knight or an ancient dragon who can shepherd him along the path of the dragon disciple, there’s room to represent this PrC in the game world, and thus give in-character context to what this player wants his character to do.

The second point deals with what class he’s taking as a means to the aforementioned prestige class. This is also the easiest point to resolve, simply because virtually all of the classes represent what the character does, rather than what they are. This is little more than a shift in focus in the character’s career, and virtually presents itself for an in-game explanation…especially when that explanation is already given as “I want to join [that prestige class's in-game representation].”

This brings us finally to the third point, the one that notes that bard was the chosen class because of its skills and healing spells. This one is also the most damning to consider, as on its face it’s about little more than the mechanics of building a strong character.

Again, however, the nature of the problem is blunted by considering that these mechanics have in-game representation. Bards, by virtue of what they do as bards, are skilled individuals – this skill is learned, rather than being inherent. It’s distinctly possible that a relatively-unskilled fighter would want to learn to do things like bluff convincingly, present a diplomatic face to people, and sneak about silently. All things that bards learn how to do.

This goes double for magic. While bardic magic is learned in an ad hoc manner, their use of healing spells would be fairly obvious to anyone who knew of bards (something easily done; that’s what downtime and backstories are for).

So, putting all of that together, the player and the GM could very easily have had the following conversation about the same exact set of circumstances:

“I want my Fighter to take a level of Bard.”

“Cool. Is this a role-play decision? Are you going to be some kind of warrior-poet?”

“Not exactly. My character wants to join the Universitae Belli, but they won’t accept anyone without arcane spellcasting ability.”

“Oh. But why Bard?”

“Well, he was pretty impressed with how resourceful that Bard NPC was a few adventures back – that guy could sneak into the king’s treasury, talk the guards into believing he belonged there, and pick all of their pockets clean on the way out! Plus, what soldier wouldn’t want to be able to cast healing spells on himself if things get ugly?”

“So this is a role-play decision?”

“Uh, yeah!”

And just like that, the problem of meta-game versus role-playing has been solved, in role-playing’s favor.

So if the editor of Loviatar is reading this, I look forward to more 3.5/Pathfinder content in future issues.

Gib Nuf

My first collectible card game was Magic: the Gathering, which my mother bought for me when I was a kid. She’d noted my growing obsession with D&D and thought that I’d get a kick out of this new fantasy card game that she’d heard about.

I, of course, was intrigued by the new game, and played it thoroughly…for a few months. My love affair with Magic ended before it really got off the ground, however, when I saw an ad in Dragon magazine saying that, if you sent them your Magic: the Gathering deck, they’d send you a two-deck starter set of their new D&D CCG: Spellfire.

I didn’t even have to think twice. Magic was out, Spellfire was in.

Of course, with the benefit of hindsight it’s easy to see just how flawed a game Spellfire really was. For the most part, this was because its initial run of cards were lacking in special powers, save for a relative few, which made them comparatively worthless against those cards which did have a special effect. Later editions of the game corrected this, but by the time they did it was too late for the game, which had failed to upset Magic’s growing hold on the CCG market it had created.

I didn’t know any of that at the time though, and enjoyed the hell out of the game, both in play and for its presentation of the many different characters, places, and things from D&D. I also, naturally, collected like mad, particularly the limited set of “chase” cards. These were cards that were outside the usual numbered set, and always had powers…usually greater than those of non-chase cards with powers.

Some of the most famous of the original chase cards were the Gib cards. There were three to begin with, those being Gib Ekim (1st chase/4), Gib Evets (1st chase/11), and Gib Htimsen (1st chase/13). Obviously these were “Big Mike,” “Big Steve,” and “Big Nesmith” all spelled backwards, being the names of people who worked on Spellfire. Still, it was a quirky, and endearing, trio of characters; so much so that the Gib cards eventually became de facto representatives of Spellfire itself, and as the booster packs continued, more and more Gib cards would be unleashed.

Of those first three though, Gib Htimsen was the most interesting, and as you can see on the left, it’s not hard to figure out why. In addition to an arresting picture, Gib Htimsen also had an impressive – for when the game first came out – set of immunities. He was pretty well immune to almost anything you threw at him! He was one of Spellfire’s most fearsome champions in the game’s early years.

Fast forward to a few days ago. I found myself thinking about Spellfire, and while mentally comparing over how certain facets of D&D were translated to Spellfire, I came to realize that the reverse wasn’t true – that many of the things original to Spellfire had never been officially brought over to D&D.

In particular, none of the Gib cards.

Well, as a fan of both D&D and Spellfire, I couldn’t let that stand! I immediately set out to convert the Gib cards to D&D and unleash them upon the world. Of course, I play Pathfinder now, so those are my stats of choice for bringing these classic cards into your game world.

Here’s the first, and greatest, of the Gibs: Gib Htimsen. I’m hoping to eventually convert all of the Gib cards, but since there are (with the official online booster packs) fifteen of them altogether (and a few other cards that specifically affect the Gib cards, to boot), it’s anyone’s guess if I’ll manage to convert them all. Of course, a direct conversion isn’t feasible, but I’ll do my best to keep the stat blocks true to the spirit of the original cards.

And besides, it’s the very least that these characters deserve after all the oddly-named fun they gave me over the years.

GIB HTIMSEN

This nether monstrosity is the size of a small forest, complete with dozens of tree-sized serpentine heads!

Gib Htimsen CR 25

XP 1,638,400

NE Gargantuan magical beast (extraplanar)

Init +4; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, scent; Perception +30

DEFENSE

AC 43, touch 6, flat-footed 43 (+47 natural, –4 size)

hp 562 (25d10+425); regeneration 25 (acid and fire)

Fort +31, Ref +16, Will +10

DR 20/good; Immune magic; Resist acid 30, fire 30

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft., swim 30 ft.

Melee 25 bites +35 (3d6+13/19-20)

Space 20 ft.; Reach 20 ft.

Special Attacks pounce

STATISTICS

Str 37, Dex 10, Con 45, Int 2, Wis 11, Cha 9

Base Atk +25; CMB +42; CMD 52 (can’t be tripped)

Feats Combat Reflexes, Critical Focus, Diehard, Endurance, Improved Critical (bite), Improved Initiative, Improved Natural Attack (bite), Iron Will, Lightning Reflexes, Power Attack, Staggering Critical, Stunning Critical, Weapon Focus (bite)

Skills Perception +30, Swim +21; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception

SQ hydra traits, regenerate head, relentless

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Hydra Traits (Ex) Gib Htimsen can be killed by severing all of its heads or slaying its body. Any attack that is not an attempt to sever a head affects the body, including area attacks or attacks that cause piercing or bludgeoning damage. To sever a head, an opponent must make a sunder attempt with a slashing weapon targeting a head. A head is considered a separate weapon with hardness 0 and 25 hit points. To sever a head, an opponent must inflict enough damage to reduce the head’s hit points to 0 or less. Severing a head deals 22 points of damage to Gib Htimsen’s body. Gib Htimsen can’t attack with a severed head, but takes no other penalties.

Immunity to Magic (Ex) Gib Htimsen is immune to any spell or spell-like ability that allows spell resistance.

Regenerate Head (Ex) When one of Gib Htimsen’s heads is destroyed, two heads regrow in 1d4 rounds. Gib Htimsen cannot have more than twice its original number of heads at any one time. To prevent new heads from growing, at least 25 points of acid or fire damage must be dealt to the stump (a touch attack to hit) before they appear. Acid or fire damage from area attacks can affect stumps and the body simultaneously. Gib Htimsen doesn’t die from losing its heads until all are cut off and the stumps seared by acid or fire.

Regeneration (Ex) This regeneration applies only to damage inflicted on Gib Htimsen’s body.

Relentless (Ex) Gib Htimsen does not need to breath, eat, or sleep. Additionally, it treats all ability drain as ability damage, and regenerates 1  negative level and 1 point of ability damage to each ability score per round. Gib Htimsen is immune to fatigue and exhaustion.

For one of the deadliest creatures in the cosmos, very few know of Gib Htimsen’s existence. Perhaps that is fortunate, for if the creature was more widely-known, then it would surely be brought forth much more often by those wishing to spread havoc and destruction throughout the multiverse.

Gib Htimsen’s origins are unknown, though its clearly from one of the evil Outer Planes. Some have speculated that, given its hydra-like qualities, it’s perhaps the original hydra from which all others sprang. Others put it as kin to Demogorgon, citing a  vague resemblance to the Prince of Demon’s twisted offspring, Arendagrost. A few hold that it was the prototype of the monstrosity known as Demodragon.

Whatever the creature’s beginnings, Gib Htimsen’s existence is one of unending rage and devastation against all within its reach. Unsleeping, the creature ceaselessly wanders, never failing to destroy anything that falls within its gaze. This eternal rampage seems without cause, for the creature does not even eat what it kills. It simply ravages everything it can find.

Those with the courage to fight this engine of annihilation usually don’t live long enough to regret their error. Most find out too late that Gib Htimsen is immune to virtually all magic, and that it quickly shrugs off even the most egregious of wounds. Those who try to hack its myriad heads from its body usually find themselves ripped to pieces before felling more than a handful.

More Than A Healing

One of the best parts of the RPG blogosphere is the endless array of ideas it presents. Even a casual perusal of a fraction of the blogs devoted to our favorite pastime is often enough to present a bevy of interesting options and directions to take your game. It’s just such a blog-inspired idea, for example, that’s the genesis of today’s post.

An older post over on Playing D&D With Porn Stars talks about a goddess of healing and medicine…an evil goddess of healing and medicine who is also a goddess of mutation and flesh-warping. That’s a pretty cool idea, simply because healing is almost-universally the domain of good-aligned deities.

Of course, the first thought I had when I read this idea was “Hm, so maybe her healing spells cause flesh to warp and twist, healing the person but also deforming them.” But the major problem then became how to reflect that in the rules, because although it’s certainly possible to just have that be a descriptive element, adding a mechanical aspect helps to drive the point home in game-play.

The answer came in the form of this slightly-tweaked spell:

FUSE FLESH LIGHTLY

School conjuration (healing); Level alchemist 1, bard 1, cleric/oracle 1, druid 1, inquisitor 1, paladin 1, ranger 2, witch 1

This spell functions as cure light wounds, but the healing takes place via painful twisting and deformation of the body, causing 1 point of Charisma drain.

Now THAT’s the sort of healing spell you’d expect of an evil deity!

Of course, there’s more to this than just a single altered spell, so here are the alterations for the other classic healing spells:

FUSE FLESH LIGHTLY, MASS

School conjuration (healing); Level bard 5, cleric/oracle 5, druid 6, inquisitor 5, witch 6

This spell functions as mass cure light wounds, but the healing takes place via painful twisting and deformation of the body, causing 1 point of Charisma drain to each creature affected by this spell.

 

FUSE FLESH MODERATELY

School conjuration (healing); Level alchemist 2, bard 2, cleric/oracle 2, druid 3, inquisitor 2, paladin 3, ranger 3, witch 2

This spell functions as cure moderate wounds, but the healing causes terrible scarring and mutation, causing 2 points of Charisma drain.

FUSE FLESH MODERATELY, MASS

School conjuration (healing); Level bard 6, cleric/oracle 6, druid 7, inquisitor 6, witch 7

This spell functions as mass cure moderate wounds, but the healing causes terrible scarring and mutation, causing 2 points of Charisma drain to each creature affected by this spell.

 

FUSE FLESH SERIOUSLY

School conjuration (healing); Level alchemist 3, bard 3, cleric/oracle 3, druid 4, inquisitor 3, paladin 4, ranger 4, witch 4

This spell functions as cure serious wounds, but the healing is agonizing and misshaping, causing 3 points of Charisma drain.

FUSE FLESH SERIOUSLY, MASS

School conjuration (healing); Level cleric/oracle 7, druid 8, witch 8

This spell functions as mass cure serious wounds, but the healing is agonizing and misshaping, causing 3 points of Charisma drain to each creature affected by this spell.

 

FUSE FLESH CRITICALLY

School conjuration (healing); Level alchemist 4, bard 4, cleric/oracle 4, druid 5, inquisitor 4, witch 5

This spell functions as cure critical wounds, but the healing causes unbearable pain and horrific disfigurement, causing 4 points of Charisma drain.

FUSE FLESH CRITICALLY, MASS

School conjuration (healing); Level cleric/oracle 8, druid 9, witch 9

This spell functions as mass cure critical wounds, but the healing causes unbearable pain and horrific disfigurement, causing 4 points of Charisma drain to each creature affected by this spell.

 

GRIM SURVIVAL

School conjuration (healing); Level cleric/oracle 5

This spell functions as breath of life, but the subject pays a horrific price for their flirtation with death, as this spell effects torturous alterations to their body so that it continues to function, causing 5 points of Charisma drain.

 

ANGUISHING HEAL

School conjuration (healing); Level alchemist 6, cleric/oracle 6, druid 7, inquisitor 6, witch 7

This spell functions as heal, but the spell wreaks havoc on the target’s body, wildly reshaping it while repairing damage, causing 6 points of Charisma drain.

ANGUISHING HEAL, MASS

School conjuration (healing); Level cleric/oracle 9

This spell functions as mass heal, but the spell wreaks havoc on the target’s body, wildly reshaping it while repairing damage, causing 6 points of Charisma drain.

 

IMPERFECT REGENERATION

School conjuration (healing); Level cleric/oracle 7, druid 9, witch 7

This spell functions as regenerate, but the regrown limbs and organs are incorrect for the affected creature, (though they still function normally), causing 7 points of Charisma drain.

Of course, just having these spells is only half of the equation. After all, these are the spells of twisted healing that an evil deity of fleshwarping and mutation would use, right? Well, in the Pathfinder pantheon, that would fall to Lamashtu, the Mother of Monsters.

If mama ain't happy, then ain't nobody happy!

Except…Lamashtu is an imperfect fit. Yes, she’s the patron deity of twisted and warped creatures, but there’s no healing aspect to her; for her it’s about birthing malformed creatures rather than twisting existing creatures to become that way. She doesn’t even have the Healing domain.

It’d be slightly cumbersome to add a completely new deity just for this, particularly when Lamashtu is so close to what we’re looking for already. Luckily, there’s a way to have our cake and eat it to – by taking a page out of Alluria Publishing’s Cerulean Seas sourcebook/campaign setting, we can create a new dedicated to an aspect of Lamashtu that’s different from her “traditional” aspect.

DIMME

Alignment NE

Domains Animal, Evil, Protection, Strength, Twisted Healing

Subdomains Fur, Defense, Ferocity

Favored Weapon natural weapon or dagger

Symbol Variations A smaller animal skull, held (but not crushed) in the jaws of the larger animal head

Originally a minor deity devoted to motherhood, primarily raising and protecting one’s children, Dimme was devoured and subsumed long ago by Lamashtu (similar to Curchanus). Now Dimme is still a goddess of maternity, but in a twisted and savage way. She teaches that children must suffer pain and hardship in order to become strong, and that those who die in the process are weak and unfit to live (since, after all, a mother can always have more children).

Cults to Dimme persist among primitive races and societies, usually with oracles, druids, and adepts, rather than clerics, mending to the faithful. Teaching that the entire community is a symbolic child of Dimme, they encourage a savage lifestyle where the strong oppress the weak; this mindset engenders much hatred towards sorcerers, who are seen as gaining unnatural strength and subverting Dimme’s natural order. Sorcerers are thus “purified” by having healing spells used on them over and over until they are cleansed of their “unholy” powers (that is, until they take enough Charisma drain to be unable to cast spells).

You may have noticed that one of Dimme’s domains is Twisted Healing. That’s the variant of the Healing domain that uses the above spells, and alters the domain powers in line with the above changes:

TWISTED HEALING

Granted Powers: You are able to mend bodies, though doing so is painful and renders them warped, but functional.

Painful Revival (Sp): You can touch a living creature as a standard action, healing it for 1d4 points of damage plus 1 for every two cleric levels you possess, but also inflicting 1 point of Charisma damage. You can only use this ability on a creature that is below 0 hit points. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Wisdom modifier.

Effective Reshaping (Su): At 6th level, all of your cure spells are treated as if they were empowered, increasing the amount of damage healed by half (+50%). The amount of Charisma drain dealt also increases by 1. This does not apply to damage dealt to undead with a cure spell. This does not stack with the Empower Spell metamagic feat.

Domain Spells: 1st — fuse flesh lightly, 2nd — fuse flesh moderately, 3rd — fuse flesh seriously, 4th — fuse flesh critically, 5th — grim survival, 6th — anguishing heal, 7th — imperfect regeneration, 8th — mass fuse flesh critically, 9th — mass anguishing heal.

Of course, the above presumes that you’re adding this to an ongoing Pathfinder game where, for divine spellcasters dedicated to most deities, healing works as per normal. But if you’re working on a new campaign, you can change the tone of the entire game very easily using what’s here. Just slow down the rate of natural healing, make the above the only type of healing magic available (perhaps good clerics automatically gain the Turn Undead feat instead of being able to channel energy), and maybe remove or nerf spells that undo ability drain, and all of a sudden your PCs will be much more careful about taking damage in combat!

Until next time, here’s to healing not being taken quite so lightly.

Law of the Land, Part 3 – Suspicious Spellcasting

Two of the most major aspects of “fantasy” as a genre are the presence of monsters, and the existence of magic. As far as laws go, monsters aren’t protected by it, nor do they typically recognize or abide by it; that’s part of what makes them monsters. Magic, however, is something altogether different. In Pathfinder, magic is a tool that can be used for good or for ill or even for other things altogether, by virtually anyone. Hence, some laws need to be devoted to magic.

"Look, that rabbit's got a vicious streak a mile wide! It's a killer!"

In this article, we examine the use of magic in upholding the laws and investigating their misuse, as well as look at what constitutes criminal uses of magic.

(I must confess, this article is the main reason for this entire series. I originally wanted to examine laws governing spellcasting, but quickly realized that this would be exceptionally difficult without a backdrop regarding the basic structure of laws in a Pathfinder campaign. Hence the first two parts to this series.)

Supernatural Sleuths

In order for criminal laws to have any real effect, you need to be able to investigate violations of them; otherwise you had better hope that law enforcement is present when a crime occurs. Given that, how can uses of magic be invested?

One of the first ways is to examine the magical auras left behind after magic has been used, as per the description in detect magic. That’s not very helpful though, as the auras don’t last very long and only reveal the school of magic used, rather than the actual spell. For that, I suggest making a correction to the spell’s functionality. In general, this should be enough that the rest can be solved by good old-fashioned detective work (e.g. working out who had the ability to use such a spell, why they would have cast it, where they were when the crime occurred, etc.).

For those looking for magic to provide results near-instantly, higher-level divination spells can also gather information about something that’s already happened, but it usually requires quite a bit more magical ability. The earliest available such spell in the Core Rulebook is contact other plane, with spells like legend lore and vision offering even greater answers as levels are gained.

Divine spellcasters make, pound for pound, better detectives than their arcane counterparts. With a bevy of low-level spells like speak with dead, zone of truth, discern lies, a cleric, paladin, or inquisitor can likely whittle down a list of suspects very quickly.

And that’s not even getting into what can be done with magic items and a good Use Magic Device skill bonus.

Even beyond these, there are plenty of sourcebooks out there that can offer great new spells and abilities where magical detectives are concerned. For a particularly useful one, check out the 3.5 supplement Crime and Punishment (available for free over on the Grand OGL Wiki).

Intervening in the Divine

The above notation that divine spellcasters make some of the best magical-crime investigators may seem somewhat odd (if not outrightly hypocritical), given that the first part of this series made note that most of what’s here was going to be independent of the game world’s religions. We’ve gone this far without presuming much of anything on that front, so why start now?

The answer is that while this series takes a hands-off approach to in-game religions, that’s due solely to practicality – there’s no reason not to have them be more active as it suits your game. If there are Lawful Good divine spellcasters who want to take part in enforcing the laws, then (presuming it makes sense for a given country to allow them to do so) let them do so. Likewise, having paladins or inquisitors in the city guards may be normal in a state religion. Some religions may even have religious dispensations in regards to some of the laws listed below. Like any other part of this article, change what’s necessary to make the divine spellcasting aspects work better in your game.

Magic Is As Magic Does

It should be clear, both to the players and their characters, that the law won’t make fine distinctions between “types” of magic. Whether it’s by arcane or divine magic, a spell-like ability or a supernatural one, a magic item or an inherent magical ability, it all falls under the laws listed here. Using magic to commit a crime is enough for those in charge of enforcing the law – the type of magic doesn’t matter except as it relates to bringing the perpetrator to justice.

Criminal Thaumaturgy

The list below presents criminal actions that can be performed using magic (as examining specific spells is impractical in the extreme). The category of the crime refers to the degree of punishment it commands, as laid down in part one of this series. Some magical crimes refer to non-magical criminal activities from part two.

Attack Spells: As a general rule, spells which cause hit point damage are treated as crimes equal to non-magical attacks which deal damage. So killing someone with magic is murder (this includes death effects that don’t necessarily deal hit point damage, unless those attack the soul, in which case they’re necromancy (q.v.)), damaging things with magic is destruction of property, starting a fire with magic is arson, etc. Note that area-effect spells can quickly rack up multiple counts of such crimes.

Conjured Creatures: Depending on the type of creature summoned (or called) this can constitute devilry (q.v.; see part two). Further, creatures brought forth via magic are subject to the Principle of Transferred Guilt (see enchantments, below).

Enchantment: Mind-affecting spells, particularly charms and compulsions, are governed via two distinct legal principles. The first is the Principle of Non-Consent. This states that someone under the effect of an enchantment (which, to be clear, means any magic that affects their mind) is automatically presumed to be unwilling in everything they do while so enchanted. Hence, someone under an enchantment who then signs a contract is not legally bound by it. Someone who is charmed to offer a discount on an item has been subjected to theft (the amount stolen being equal to the discount given). Someone who is enchanted to have sex with the caster has been raped, etc.

The second principle governing the use of enchantments is the Principle of Transferred Guilt. This holds that someone who performs an illegal action while under an enchantment is not responsible for their actions, and the blame for them is instead placed at the feet of the one who enchanted them. So someone dominated and made to kill someone isn’t guilty of murder; the person who cast the spell on them is.

By themselves, enchantment spells don’t constitute any sort of crime, save for usually being an impermissible use of magic (q.v.). However, these two principles usually mean that whatever you want the charmed person to do will usually be a crime.

Impermissible Use of Magic: This is the most basic law governing magic – that people have the right not to be affected by magic without their consent; this also extends to the things they own. In other words, this makes it a crime to cast a spell of any sort on someone, or on something of theirs, without receiving their permission first. However, given the ubiquitous nature of magic, this is an infraction-category crime – if its discovered, it’s usually sufficient for a law-enforcement official to make the perpetrator stop…if it doesn’t break any other laws.

Necromancy: Criminal necromancy is any magic that raises or otherwise aids the undead, or damages or otherwise harms the soul. So using enervation would constitute necromancy, whereas vampiric touch would not. Note that magic to bring the dead back to life is not considered necromancy, since the soul must be willing for such magic to function. Likewise, spells that deal negative energy damage may aid the undead – since they heal them – but generally aren’t considered necromancy unless actually used to heal an undead creature. Necromancy is a felony-category crime.

Scrying: By itself, using magic to spy on someone (e.g. via clairvaudience/clairvoyance) is an impermissible use of magic (q.v.). However, when used against a ruler, this can instead be charged as treason, unless there is highly-convincing proof that the spellcaster wasn’t attempting to spy for purposes of bringing harm to the ruler or the realm.

Unauthorized Transformation: Changing someone into something else, or changing their possessions into something else, is a misdemeanor-category crime (and, of course, always includes immediately changing them back to normal). Likewise, using magic that creates or alters things in a way that disrupts economic conditions (e.g. using a lyre of building to construct a building, rather than allowing the carpenters’ guild to do so) is considered to be a form of enterprising (see part two), unless the spellcaster has permission from the government or relevant guild.

In Conclusion

Hopefully, this series has given you some ideas on how to flesh out your game world using the laws of various communities. The legalities of a community can offer great new avenues of play in your Pathfinder game, whether the PCs are the breaking the laws, writing the laws, or laying down the laws.

(Four wheels of fury are optional.)

Law of the Land, Part 2 – Compendium of Crime

In the previous article, we laid down a framework for presenting criminal laws in a Pathfinder game world. This time around, we’re going to cover some of the specific crimes that a society would recognize. While a large number of these are obvious (“Everyone thinks murder is bad, duh.”), some aren’t the sort of thing that would immediately come to mind. So with that in mind, let’s go over some of the finer points of crime in a standard campaign world, followed by a list of crimes.

Nobility and Tiered Crime

One aspect of crimes in society that wasn’t discussed in the previous article was how the laws apply to people of different social classes. While a fantasy medieval world often has an egalitarian presentation, it often still includes people of different social standing – specifically, it usually has people as belonging to one of three groups: commoners (the ordinary people who need to work for a living), nobles (members of the aristocracy, usually with hereditary privileges, who tended to follow pursuits not related to manual labor or producing/selling goods), and rulers (people in charge of the regional/national government).

The difference in rights and privileges between peoples of different social classes is beyond the scope of this article; for the purposes of crime and punishment in a fantasy world, the difference we’re going to focus on is something called “tiered crime.” Tiered crime is the concept that the same crime is more heinous, and thus deserves a harsher punishment, if done to someone of a higher rank.

This guy has more rights under the law than your PC. How's that for a crime?

All of the crimes listed below are written under the premise that these are committed by one commoner against another. If committed by a commoner against a noble, the severity of the punishment is usually raised by one category (as laid out in the previous article). A commoner who commits a crime against a ruler will find the punishment increased by two categories.

A commoner who steals from another commoner, for example, is likely to be whipped or spend some time in a stockade. If that same commoner steals from a noble, however, he might have his hand chopped off, or spend the next twenty years in prison. If he stole from the king, it would be punishable by death.

Note that, in the case of a noble committing a crime against another noble, the degree of punishment remains unchanged, but rather than being judged by a magistrate, nobles may usually be tried before a jury of their peers (other nobles), or even (if the crime is severe enough, or the noble is of particularly high standing) before the ruler of the land. Note that in either case the actual question of guilt or innocence may be secondary to the politics between nobles and rulers.

In the event that a noble commits a crime against a ruler, the category of punishment is increased by one. Rulers, however, have two types of special punishments that they can bring to bear against nobles (in addition to the usual ones):

Ignominy is a punishment of the larceny category which results in the noble no long being a noble; they’re reduced to the status of a commoner. Typically, the duration of the sentence (which can include life) is pronounced at the time the sentence if rendered, though the ruler may change their mind at a later date and reinstate the disgraced noble. Note that many nobles punished this way tend to flee to other realms, trading promises of favors (usually of information to use against their former ruler) for being formally recognized as a noble in that realm, thus maintaining their status.

Withering of the Blood is a felony category punishment which has not only a given noble losing his nobility, but all of his children as well. In essence, a noble against whom this punishment is levied has their entire branch of the family tree removed from their noble house. If levied against the head of a noble family, it essentially means the destruction of that noble house altogether.

It’s important to note that the converse of tiered crime holds true as well: crimes committed by those of a higher stature against those of a lower one are typically punished less harshly. However, the degree by which the punishment is lessened is stacked in favor of those of higher social strata. Typically, the punishment for a noble who commits a crime against a commoner is decreased by two categories (meaning that a noble murdering a commoner typically has to pay a fine, usually to the victim’s family). By contrast, rulers usually never face punishment for a crime committed against anyone, as they are able to implicitly (or even explicitly) pardon themselves, and so are not held accountable to their lessers.

Having said that, nobles and rulers typically didn’t commit crimes against the people below them willy-nilly, since repeatedly taking advantage of being favored by the law was a good way to incite a revolution against them.

Repeat Offenders

The listed punishments presume that the guilty party is a first-time offender. If a person keeps committing crimes, then eventually the people in charge of dispensing justice will realize that greater punishments are called for, since the existing ones have failed as a deterrent. Given that, at some point committing a crime with the same category of punishment will result in a harsher punishment than is typical.

A good shorthand for this is that if a person commits a misdemeanor-category crime three times, the fourth time will result in a larceny-category punishment. If they commit a larceny-category crime twice, the third time will result in a felony-category punishment. Typically, infractions are too small to pile up in this manner.

Criminal Activity

The following is a list of the most common crimes in a given region. Each has a listing of what their punishment usually is, along with a brief explanation of the crime and some additional notes.

Apostasy – Apostasy, in this context, is practicing a religion that has been outlawed (by secular law, rather than religious). This is predicated on the idea that the state has declared certain religions (typically those that worship evil deities or outsiders) illegal. Apostasy is a felony crime, and death tends to be more common than non-capital felony punishments (since otherwise the criminal can continue worshiping an evil entity).

Arson – This larceny-category crime is when someone starts a fire that is large-scale enough to potentially cause serious damage and loss of life. The reason for such a harsh punishment (as opposed to destruction of property; below) is that a fire can quickly get out of control and spread to a wide area. Note that this crime doesn’t require criminal intent; if you cause the fire, even accidentally, you can be held accountable.

Assaulting an Official – “Official” here means anyone who works on the state’s behalf, and usually means law enforcement officials (e.g. the sheriff, soldiers, etc.). Worse than mere brawling, which is disturbing the peace (q.v.), assaulting an official is a misdemeanor-category crime.

Attempted Murder – Attempted murder is a larceny-category crime; this crime is committed when someone deals hit point damage to another person (as opposed to nonlethal damage).

Brandishing – Brandishing is an infraction involving handling a weapon in a threatening manner. This is usually resolved by having the weapon confiscated, but can also include peace-binding it; that is, tying it so as to make it difficult to draw (conversely, not having your weapon peace-bound can also count as brandishing). Note that societies with this law may have exceptions for nobles and/or rulers.

Defamy – Defamy is publicly slandering someone else in such a manner that is likely to start rumors or wide-spread gossip. Because this is an infraction-category crime, and because doing this about rulers is considered treason (q.v.), this crime tends to only result in punishment when a commoner commits defamy against a noble.

Destruction of Property – Destroying that which belongs to someone else is a misdemeanor-category crime, and virtually always includes making amends in addition to the punishment. Note that in societies where slavery is legal, this is the crime of killing/crippling a slave that someone else owns.

Devilry – Devilry is the catch-all term for dealing with evil monsters intent on harm to people. This includes not only things like demons and devils, but also things like evil dragons, drow, aberrations, etc. This is a felony-category crime.

Disturbing the Peace – This infraction-category crime is anything from brawling to public drunkenness.

Enterprising – Enterprising is the term for conducting guild-regulated activities when you’re not a member of a guild. Doing so is a misdemeanor-category crime. Note that a state may have both guilds and free-practitioners in certain areas, but some states may require that the latter register their status with the government.

Extortion – This misdemeanor-category crime includes all forms of trying to coerce money, or other actions or activities favorable to the criminal, by threat. This includes threats of violence as well as blackmail.

Kidnapping – The act of abducting someone is a larceny-category crime. Note that this doesn’t always depend on the non-consent of the being kidnapped – a common man and a noble’s daughter who run away together to elope may find that the commoner has been charged with kidnapping, despite the girl’s wishes.

Murder – Killing someone is a felony crime. In societies that have this as a less-severe crime, the perpetrator will usually have to pay the costs of resurrecting the victim, with not having the funds putting them into prison (as a debtor); all of this alongside the penalty of having killed someone to begin with.

Rioting – Rioting is engaging in mob violence of any sort, and is a larceny-category crime. This includes attempting to incite a riot, and is often charged in addition with crimes committed while in the act of rioting.

Sexual Impropriety - This larceny-category crime typically covers rape and other forms of sexual assault, but may be applied more broadly to ban certain sexual acts or practices.

Theft – Stealing is a misdemeanor-category criminal act. Typically, the thief will have to make restitution by returning the stolen item(s) or making appropriate compensation, in addition to the standard punishment. Note that persons who take part in trafficking of stolen property are also engaged in theft.

Treason – Treason is a felony offense that involves anything done against the nation or its ruler(s). This includes everything from assassination plots against the rulers to colluding with enemies of the state to publicly defaming the government (or other subversive activities).

A Quick Reminder

It bears another mention that these crimes are designed as a framework – modifying them for a given region is expected, and indeed will probably be necessary for your game. Moreover, different countries will recognize different crimes, and have different punishments. Even a few small tweaks can make one place seem very different from another.

Next Time: How does a society where spellcasting is common regulate magic? In our next article, we cover criminal magical activity!

Law of the Land, Part 1 – Lexicon of Legal Loquacity

One of the background elements that is all too often ignored in most Pathfinder games is the nature of the law in various cities, towns, and other areas where the PCs frequently spend their time. For the most part, there’s little actual need for any sort of codified laws, since the PCs rarely run afoul of them. When they do, it tends to be simply part of a larger plot-hook, and is forgotten about once it’s served its purpose.

That’s something of a shame, because the laws of a given society are one of the best ways to demonstrate just what makes that society different from others. The extent of what the laws are and what punishments they mete out to those who break them can communicate a great deal about a given region of the game world. At the very least, it makes the Knowledge (local) checks more flavorful.

The source of all rules lawyers.

However, this bit of game theory tends to run headfirst into a problem of practicality. Laws – even the implicitly simple laws of a (fantasy) medieval world – are vast and complex. Coming up with a body of them can be quite a bit of work, and so tends to exist as little more than an interesting idea that never gets actualized.

It’s that problem that this series of articles aims to correct. We’re going to present a set of basic laws for a typical region in a Pathfinder game, complete with descriptions and punishments. These laws can then be tweaked, altered, and otherwise used however is most beneficial in your game. So let’s lay down the law!

A Legal Disclaimer

While it was heavily implied above, it’s worthwhile to come right out and say it: these laws aren’t intended to be anything other than a thorough framework for use in your Pathfinder game. They aren’t meant to represent or even approximate the laws as they actually were in medieval Europe or any other real-world society.

Likewise, the descriptions here are focused solely on criminal laws. No discussion is given to any sort of civil or tort law; these are the laws that govern the people, and if you break them, you’re subject to the punishment that doing so entails.

Laws for the Lawful

It’s inevitable that any discussion of a society’s laws will necessitate some discussion about alignment. In general, there isn’t as much overlap between the two as you might think. The Law-Chaos axis of alignment in Pathfinder, viewed in terms of the laws that tend to govern a society, can perhaps best be summarized as follows:

I am the Lawful!

A lawful society will see their laws as ideals to be followed for their own sake, with an implicit trust (almost to a degree of faith) in that they promote and protect what’s valuable in their society. Thus, breaking the law is an affront to these ideals and, through that, an affront to the society in which the people live. The nature of the laws and the punishments for breaking them will be fairly standardized, with relatively little flexibility based on the specific circumstances of the incident committed.

A chaotic society will, somewhat surprisingly, still have laws. However, these laws will function largely as guidelines outlining a series of general prohibitions (e.g. things that are crimes if you do them) and what to do to an offender. The actual facts of a particular incident will have a strong determining factor in whether or not a crime actually occurred, and how to punish the offender if so. The practical circumstances of what’s best for the people involved, and the community as a whole, will reliably take precedence over any particular body of legal conduct.

A neutral society is, of course, a blend of these two views. Laws will likely be codified, but with an understanding (whether formal or not) that the laws which are enumerated cover unspecified crimes and circumstances that may arise in the future (e.g. a law against murder can be understood to apply to someone who orders a mercenary to commit murder). Likewise, there’ll often be a range of specified punishments, with the circumstances of the crime determining which are applied.

Inquisitors Need Not Apply

One area that this series of articles will not cover is the impact of religion on the law. That is, none of the laws and punishments listed here will deal with any sort of crime against a religion, nor apply any particular religious punishment to a given crime. The default assumption is that the law is secular, in terms of specifying crimes and denoting punishments.

Thou shalt not suffer the witch class to live.

The reason for this is two-fold. First, there are too many in-game religions, each with a different view of what is and is not virtuous, to possibly try and develop any sort of standard beyond the most bare-bones approach…so bare-bones that there’s little point to making the attempt at all. Secondly, the degree to which church and state mingle is likely to vary widely even within the course of a single game world. Keeping the two separate allows a given GM to add religious laws (usually for a state religion) as he or she sees fit.

Of course, for all of the above disclaimers, there are a few places where religion and the law intersect in this series, but these are relatively few and fairly universal in scope when they do happen.

In the Criminal Justice System…

Before going any further, let’s look at how crimes are investigated and judged in the context of the game world.

Most localities will have people whose occupation is to represent and enforce peace and justice within that area. Typically, this tends to fall on the sheriff, town guards, local watchmen, or even soldiers. These people are responsible for stopping crimes that they see/know are occurring, as well as investigating crimes that have previously occurred. They have the power to question suspects, collect evidence, and make arrests. While small towns might choose who functions as the head of local law enforcement, larger areas will have their chief lawman (or law-woman) appointed by the head of the (local) government, with that person then hiring others to work under them.

Once a suspect is brought in, they’re typically brought before a magistrate; a person chosen by the local government to hear cases and render judgment. Typically, one who investigated the case (and made the arrest) argues for the suspect’s prosecution, though in some cases the wronged party might also be active in asking for punishment to be delivered. The suspect is usually on their own to argue their defense. Once both sides have been heard, the magistrate makes their decision (if there are multiple magistrates sitting in on a case, then it’s the majority opinion that carries), and that’s usually final – unless a member of the governing authority cares to step in (which is likely quite rare).

The Executioner's Perform (song)

Once the sentence is rendered, it’s usually up to the local law enforcement to carry it out, particularly if the sentence is something impermanent (e.g. a fine or a relatively short stay in jail). For more severe punishments, the criminal is usually turned over to a warden who runs a prison (notice the difference between a prison and a jail – the latter is meant to hold people for short durations and is usually a small establishment or even just part of another building, whereas the former is always a sturdy edifice and is meant to hold people for much longer stays), or even sentenced to die. In this case, the executioner – who’s identity is usually kept secret so as to foil retribution – carries out the sentence (often in public, both as a spectacle and to present confirmation of death).

Categories of Crime

One of the easiest ways to discuss the nature of a crime is by measuring how serious a crime it is; that is, measuring its degree of criminality. This, in turn, allows for the severity of the punishment to be more easily gauged. Below are several degrees of criminality, along with the typical punishment that they carry.

Co-opted from actual criminal terms, these are divorced from their real-world implications, and presented as broad categories from most-severe to least-severe. Note that these are not the actual crimes themselves (which will be dealt with next time) – these are just what sort of crimes they are.

Felony - The worst sort of crime that can be committed, this is typically punished with death, but banishment is also possible. In the event that death is the punishment, the body will typically not be allowed to be subjected to resurrection magic (perhaps by destroying the body, by using magic such as trap the soul, or by placing a mark on it indicating that they were executed for criminal conduct). Likewise, someone banished will typically have their banishment made known, whether by general proclamation, a brand forced onto a conspicuous spot on their body, or a mark of justice.

Larceny - This is a terrible crime, and commands a commensurate punishment. It typically involves long periods of imprisonment (possibly for life), being taken into slavery for a certain duration (also possibly for life), or mutilation of the offender (e.g. losing an finger, hand, eye, etc). As with a felony, pains will be taken to prevent the punishment from being circumvented (e.g. a tattoo so that people will know the criminal is not to be given the aid of regeneration magic).

Misdemeanor – Comparatively moderate crimes, misdemeanors are usually punished by inflicting pain/damage on the criminal (e.g. whipping or flogging), public humiliation (e.g. kept in the stocks), fines, or short-term incarceration. Additionally (or as an alternative punishment) the criminal might be sentenced to make some sort of restitution to the wronged party.

Infraction – Infractions are criminal acts so small that they typically don’t require a formal punishment, instead being disruptions that are fixable by the direct action of a local official. This typically involves sending people away from a particular person or situation (e.g. to let people involved in a fight cool off), settling a small dispute, or very brief incarceration (e.g. spending the night in jail).

Next Time: We go over specific crimes, discussing them in greater detail!

When Playing by the Rules is a Dick Move

There’s a lot to be said for running a Pathfinder game by the (Core Rule)book. While supplements and house rules can add a lot to a game, there’s a simplicity to running things by the Core Rules only that can be refreshing, both for the ease that comes from sticking to the rules that everyone (presumably) already knows, and for the fun that comes from working with a limited set of tools (which tends to heighten creativity). As they say, “simple is best.”

And yet for all of that, there are several areas of the Core Rules that are routinely ignored in many, if not most, Pathfinder games.

Now, that statement has likely left you scratching your head and wondering just what the hell I’m talking about. Surely there aren’t entire sections of the rules that are ignored by everyone, are there?

Well actually, yes. Yes there are.

Because I couldn't find one where it had the rules saying you're actually right, but also a dick.

These are the parts of the game that tend to get ignored because players don’t want to be subject to them, and GM’s are wary of pulling them out, since they tend to be upsetting to the point of killing the fun. In fact, it seems to have gotten to the point where there’s an unconscious-but-understood “social contract” between the players and the GM that these things won’t be used in the game at all. That’s an overstatement, of course, but these rules do seem to be generally ignored.

Today, we’re going to shine a spotlight on these oft-ignored parts of the game and examine them in more detail. We’ll also cover why they shouldn’t be so readily dismissed, and hopefully make a good argument for why they deserve to be used as much as any other parts of the game.

Say hello to the dick moves of the Pathfinder Role-Playing Game.

Broken Gear

This one is a classic among the things you’re Not Supposed To Do To The PCs. Character death is tragic, even after leveling to where you can be reliably raised from the dead. But destroying a character’s items (both magic and mundane)? That’s just mean.

The above sentiment is fairly pervasive among Pathfinder players, despite the fact that destroying gear is built into the rules at myriad points. Beyond even the rules on item hit points and hardness scores, we have example upon example of the rules giving characters ways to break stuff. From the sunder combat maneuver (and Improved Sunder) to the shatter, disintegrate, and mage’s disjunction spells (despite the latter being neutered in Pathfinder) to the rust monster, it’s pretty clear that this is a very viable tactic.

It’s also a tactic that no PC is ever willing to use themselves. After all, notwithstanding experience points, treasure is the reward they get at the end of the adventure, and a significant portion of that comes from the gear that enemies are using. When you’re 3rd level, that masterwork longsword that the villain’s wielding is too valuable to be shattered. And who in their right mind sunders the enemy’s metamagic rod of quicken? Just kill him instead and take it!

The greatest and most feared of spells.

The problem is that, as mentioned above, a lot of players seem to think that because they don’t engage in this tactic, they don’t deserve to have it pulled on them. Unfortunately, that line of reasoning applies meta-game logic to decisions that are made in-game. It might make sense for a demon to disintegrate the party’s cubic gate so that they can’t escape a fight that’s going badly, but the players will still likely be ticked (and that’s a utility item – heavens help you if it happens to weapons and armor!) and likely will be upset with the GM for doing it, even though it made sense for the NPC.

It’s here that we need to talk about a subset of this particular dick move – one that’s extreme enough that it needs to be talked about specifically: targeting the wizard’s spellbook.

You can lose material components, or (divine) foci, but nothing seems to say “@#$% you, buddy” like having something happen to the wizard’s spellbook. Right?

But even this seems to be implicitly acknowledged within the game itself. Traveling spellbooks are still on the equipment list (albeit kicked over to the Advanced Player’s Guide). There are clear rules on the monetary and time costs of copying spells. Scribe Scroll is a 1st-level bonus feat for wizards (all the better to copy those backup scrolls you made into a new spellbook). And of course, there’s the Spell Mastery feat. All of this functions as backup for a wizard should their spellbook be lost or destroyed.

And yet, should that happen, the wizard’s player will often act like you just crumpled up their character sheet.

This is another one of those areas where players feel like they should have “script immunity”; that is, where something like this simply shouldn’t be in the cards. Enemies will never even think of going for the wizard’s spellbook, let alone do so if they have the opportunity. It’s just expected.

The problem with all of these assumptions is that they rest upon the more fundamental assumption that the PCs shouldn’t ever be crippled – that is, nothing should happen that puts a damper longer than a few rounds on their ability to function.

This assumption is flawed. Deeply, heavily flawed. The PCs enemies – the ones with the intelligence, means, and mindset to do so – should go for whatever means of winning they have, and if that means taking away the PCs tools, then that’s what they’ll do. After all, if you’re willing to kill someone, is it really worse to break their toys?

Alignment/Ethos Violations

Of all of the Pathfinder no-no’s listed here, this one is perhaps the most personal. Ironically, it’s also the one with the least in-game penalty (sometimes; see below).

Virtually everything else on this list is an in-game interaction between characters that creates a point of friction. But the GM telling someone that they’re not acting like their listed alignment is basically the same as pointing at them and saying

Calling someone out on alignment violations isn’t that far off from calling them out as a bad role-player, in other words. It doesn’t help that alignment is probably one of the most contentious parts of the game (hence why I prefer to play without it).

For what it’s worth, the Core Rules do broach this topic:

In the end, the Game Master is the one who gets to decide if something’s in accordance with its indicated alignment, based on the descriptions given previously and his own opinion and interpretation—the only thing the GM needs to strive for is to be consistent as to what constitutes the difference between alignments like chaotic neutral and chaotic evil. There’s no hard and fast mechanic by which you can measure alignment—unlike hit points or skill ranks or Armor Class, alignment is solely a label the GM controls.

It’s best to let players play their characters as they want. If a player is roleplaying in a way that you, as the GM, think doesn’t fit his alignment, let him know that he’s acting out of alignment and tell him why—but do so in a friendly manner.

The GameMastery Guide goes into this a little further, but really, that’s about all you can say. Given that alignment changes don’t carry a penalty, however, there’s little reason that – so long as the GM doesn’t do so nicely – an alignment change can’t be mandated.

Of course, this is a much bigger problem when the alignment change takes a character out of the acceptable alignment for his class (e.g. a barbarian acting lawful). In that case, the GM is essentially levying a penalty, one that ranges from not being able to take further levels in that class to losing all of that class’s powers.

Things are pretty well the same in regards to an ethos or code of conduct. These tend to be expressly called out for paladins, druids, and some other classes, and most divine spellcasting classes have an implicit set of religious tenets that they’re supposed to follow too. Breaking this ethos tends to be similar to having your alignment change to one that’s out of bounds for your class, in that there are tangible penalties.

These can be pretty hefty, but there’s still no reason to necessarily avoid them if they’re warranted. After all, the player knew about those restriction when he had his PC take that class, and how the character acts is (mind-affecting effects notwithstanding) completely under the player’s control. Hence, there shouldn’t be any hesitation on the GM’s part to go there if it’s necessary.

Besides, repentance is only one atonement away anyway.

Independent Hench-NPCs

You’ll have to forgive the imprecise terminology here. “Hench-NPCs” are those NPCs whom the PCs get as part of a class feature, feat, or other game mechanic. I’m talking about familiars, animal companions, cohorts, etc.

It's better than a red shirt...I guess.

There’s been a long-running debate over who gets to actually run these characters, the player or the GM. Honestly, both sides have some merit, but here at Intelligence Check we tend to side with the idea that the GM should control NPCs, including those that are gained because of a game mechanic.

The reason for this is that players have a tendency to treat these characters as being extensions of their PCs. Now, in some cases (e.g. familiars) that’s true, and the NPC’s primary motivation may be “obey the PC and work towards his/her best interests.” But for most other characters, that won’t be true – they’ll follow a PC for the in-game reason given in the mechanic, but it’s not some sort of absolute.

Take, for example, animal companions. These are actually a LOT more limited than most players give them credit for. I like to look at this article over on the Emergence Campaign Weblog that points out a little item that was in the 3.0 SRD (adjusted for readability), and was in the 3.5 DMG (but, oddly enough, not the 3.5 SRD) that seems to have vanished entirely in Pathfinder:

The lists of possible animal companions assume that the character spends most of her time in the animals’ home territory and treats it well. If she spends most of her time at sea, in cities, or otherwise in places that her companion doesn’t like, her companion will soon desert. Remember, animal companions are loyal friends but not pets or servants. They won’t remain loyal if being the character’s friend becomes too onerous.

The animal is still an animal. It’s not a magical beast, as a familiar or a paladin’s mount is. While it may have learned some tricks, it’s still no more intelligent than any other animal of its kind, and it retains all its bestial instincts. Unlike intelligent followers or cohorts, animals can’t follow complex instructions, such as “Attack the gnoll with the wand.” A character can give a simple verbal command, such as “Attack” or “Come,” as a free action, provided such a command is among the tricks the animal has learned. A more complex instruction, such as telling an animal to attack and pointing out a specific target, is a standard action. Animals are ill-equipped to handle unusual situations, such as combats with invisible opponents, and they typically hesitate to attack weird and unnatural creatures, such as beholders and oozes.

Left to its own judgment, an animal follows a character and attacks creatures that attack her (or that attack the animal itself). To do more than that, it needs to learn tricks. An animal with an Intelligence of two can learn six tricks.

So yeah, druids and rangers, along with cavaliers, samurai, and even paladins are likely to have a bit of a more difficult time than they thought with their animal companion.

Similarly, the Leadership feat says you gain a cohort and a number of followers, but fails to say why you gain them; there’s an implication that they’re following you just because you’re that cool that they’re hoping some of your greatness just sort of saturates into them, though that’s iffy. But far more iffy is if you need to pay them, if they automatically replenish when some of them are killed, through what hardship they’ll follow you (“No, I really meant it. Tonight, once we go through this portal, we will literally dine in Hell.”), etc.

The problem here isn’t with the game rules, per se. Pathfinder may be utterly silent on these issues where older editions were more forthcoming, but the silence isn’t the issue. The issue is that, in absence of any guidance on this, there’s become a general assumption that hench-NPCs just sort of accept that their lot in life is to serve their master’s (the PC’s) will, which they automatically know and faithfully execute.

Now, even this is usually underscored with the understanding that the PC will at least try not to put them in harm’s way. But even that tends to be undercut when these characters are gained as a result of a class feature or feat, simply because if they’re lost if leads to the complaint that “this is something I earned via levels/feat slots, and you [the GM] are making my character function at sub-optimal strength.” Remember what we said above about how PCs hate having their characters take long-term penalties? It’s that syndrome all over again.

Coup-de-Grace

A bit of a misnomer here, this actually refers to when an NPC focuses on killing a particular PC in combat. Now, on the surface, that sounds like a nonsensical statement. After all, aren’t all the enemies that the PCs engage in combat with trying to kill them? Yes, but they’re trying to kill the PCs as a group, rather than focusing on a particular individual.

To put it another way, when the PCs engage with enemies, they tend to expect that the enemies will vary their targets over the course of the combat. A single enemy (or smaller group than the PCs) will tend to switch up their targets every round or two, never concentrating on one character to the exclusion of the others. Groups of enemies will split up, dividing themselves evenly against the PCs rather than ganging up on a single character or two.

The rationale here is that no one likes feeling picked on, and that’s what it feels like when the monsters tend to single you out. Now, that’s a justifiable response if there’s no reason for it…but there’s usually a reason for the monsters to do that. Sometimes it’s for a reason that the PCs can understand, e.g. the horde of ghouls knows that the cleric can do the most damage to them. But it could be for something more arbitrary, such as knowing that it’s just smart tactics to reduce the number of enemies you face as a whole, rather than gradually trying to wear down the entire group at once.

And besides, these are the tactics that the PCs use all the time, so why shouldn’t the bad guys play by the same rules?

That about sums it up.

It’s worth noting that this section also covers how, a lot of the time, monsters don’t seem to finish a downed character off. A PC that falls below 0 hit points but hasn’t yet died all too often gets ignored by the enemy that just dropped it, giving the character an opportunity to receive healing from another party member. This is usually justified by saying “with the immediate threat down, the monsters turn to the next one.” That’s plausible, but so is saying “the monsters knew to make sure a downed character stays down.”

Some GMs don’t want their NPCs to make a coup-de-grace, in the above situation (AoO’s, after all), and have that be the reason why the creature that was trying to kill the character mere moments ago is now not delivering the death blow. This ignores that the monster can still make a normal attack against a downed character (which will almost certainly hit, due to the PC being prone and having massive Dex penalties from being helpless) which will likely finish them off.

All of this isn’t to say that the GM should try to wipe out the party; just that there’s good reason for the deadly foes the PCs face actually be…well, deadly.

Attacks of Inopportunity

A regrettable pun it may be, this section’s title refers to those attacks that happen when the PCs aren’t expecting them, with a particular emphasis on when they’ve made camp for the night.

Now, it’s not hard to see why this one gets frowned on by the PCs. After all, a sleeping character is the very definition of helpless (literally, where the game rules are concerned), and even if they don’t just get coup-de-grace’d by their enemies, the PCs are still in a very disadvantageous positions. Most defensive spells will have run out, and it can take a long time to get armor on (not to mention the actions just spent grabbing gear).

Attacked in the middle of the night by the forces of Hell? Put on the Armor of God! It only takes four minutes and two helpers to don.

Again, though, using this tactic isn’t going out of bounds. There’s a plethora of defensive spells in the Core Rules, from alarm to dimensional lock, so that attackers can’t get the drop on the PCs. If they don’t use them – or any other basic tactics, such as posting a guard on duty or taking Endurance to sleep in medium armor (and then buying some mithral heavy armor) – then they’re once again asking for script immunity to anything unpleasant happening. If the PCs think that the whole “scry/buff/teleport” combo takes the fun out of things, then let them be on the receiving end for a change.

As a bonus, here’s a new rule for characters who are concerned about staying safe when roughing it on their adventures.

New Rule: Sleeping in Trees

A character may wish to sleep in a tree in hope of remaining out of reach should enemies find him while he’s asleep. A character that settles down to sleep must make a Reflex save (DC 10), with success meaning that he stays in place all night. On a failure, the character falls out of the tree at some point during the night, taking appropriate falling damage.

And Finally…

None of the situations that we’ve talked about here are inherently unfair, or beyond the spirit of the game. Some of them do place the PCs at a disadvantage, and may even result in some character deaths, but that’s part and parcel of playing Pathfinder, as it is with almost any other RPG. Using themselves, using these rules doesn’t constitute a dick move.

What does constitute that is if you, the GM, are using them to punish the players. Not the PCs, but the players. The characters may not know why something’s happening, but if the players can understand the reason why bad things are happening to their players – even if it’s something like “yeah, that archmage really hates you” to “bad luck” – then it’s nothing personal, it’s just how the game goes. But if you’re using these to try and steer the players in a certain direction, or let them know that they’re not gaming “the right way,” then they’re going to get pissed, and rightly so.

In short, using the rules is never a dick move if you’re not a dick.