21 May 2025

Convention Quandary

I attended my first gaming convention in 1982 or 1983 and my last in about 2002. I have attempted to attend a few conventions in the years since, but circumstances have always thwarted me. There are many hurdles for someone like me to overcome to be able to attend a gaming convention, especially if I want to run any events. I am better equipped now for many of those hurdles—there is always something new to learn in life—and I would very much like to meet fellow hobbyists in person and introduce new people to the games I enjoy, but I have not yet learned how to overcome the greatest hurdle for me: wanting to run a game, but being required to provide details for the event and prepare for the convention a year in advance. Finances are an issue. My schedule is an issue. My variable capacity to socialize in public or deal with excessive sensory stimuli is a very large issue. I do not have the ability to predict the state of any of those things a year in advance.

When I was a teenager, there used to be local gaming conventions where one could sign up to play games on the spot or spontaneously set up games at open gaming tables and invite attendees to play without having to sign up or get event tickets. It was casual. It was friendly. It was stress-free. From what I've read, the experience is very different now. Gamers complain that events are filled seconds after sales go online even at the medium-sized conventions. Hotels for miles around are booked solid in an instant. To get any kind of deal as a GM, some conventions require so many hours of event-running that there is little to no time to participate as a player or shopper. Do convention organizers even permit open gaming tables these days?

As I mentioned, I haven't attended a gaming convention in over 20 years. I may not even recognize today's convention environment. What I would like to propose, though, is a new kind of convention, a sort of pop-up convention. It would be a smaller convention with an emphasis on the activity of gaming itself, with ample room for both open gaming and scheduled events. GMs would get a credit towards admission fees equal to the number of events (or hours of GMing) they contribute (instead of a minimum of x number of events or hours to qualify for any savings). Furthermore, GMs could submit events from a few months ahead of the convention date to the convention date itself. Surely I am not the only person who would have an easier time with such arrangements.

Can anyone else relate? Do conventions like this already exist somewhere? Please feel free to comment.

12 May 2025

Monster Alignment and Intelligence

There are two things that have always sort of bothered me about manuals of monsters, folios of fiends, and other fantasy bestiaries—both of which, in my opinion, are at the root of why some find them objectionable (or object to certain representations within them). Those two things are included in every monster's statblock: alignment and intelligence. Neither of these are necessary to describe an entire population of a type of monster.

Longtime readers of Applied Phantasticality are aware of my opinions on alignment in role-playing games. In general, alignment rules tend to constrain believable character development, impede player agency, and impose a view that entire species and cultures share a monolithic worldview. Any one of these is enough to justify disposing of alignment (as the majority of role-playing games have done since Tunnels & Trolls shed that burden in 1975). And, as I have stated here in previous articles, the only time alignment needs to be embedded in the rules is when they are overtly embedded in the fiction on which the game is based, such as Stormbringer (and even then, alignment is not inherent to all beings, but is an allegiance chosen by some individuals). My younger brother, when he was very young, blacked out the alignments of evil creatures in the original Monster Manual and replaced them with "Good." Although the defacement of a book ordinarily causes me considerable discomfort bordering on horror, it was his book, and I had to admit he had a valid point. He loved monsters, and the summary labelling of an entire species as irredeemable struck him as, well, evil. To my mind, actions speak louder than alignment. If I am running a game where alignment matters at all as a concept in the setting, characters will begin with no alignment. Over the course of their adventures, their actions will determine what their alignments actually are. To be honest, though, treating alignment as anything other than faction loyalty is a waste of time. Just jot down what faction the character or creature is aligned with and let that be the guideline, not the restraint.

Why do monsters have alignment in their entries in the first place? We know from the earliest edition of Dungeons & Dragons from 1974 that creatures were separated into three basic alignments for the purpose of determining who can target whom in combat, who might be an ally, and who might be lured to either side or refuse to get involved. Eventually, things became more complicated, especially with the publication of Advanced Dungeons & Dragons with its nine alignments. For player characters, alignment became a more detailed description of their ethics. For monsters, however, it became a statement of the moral nature of an entire species (and, to some, the justification for sparing creatures or murdering them on sight). One could easily leave out alignment and just include a brief description of the monster's behavioral tendencies and perhaps a bit of history. Just because most of a species behaves one way doesn't mean they all do (unless they are part of a hivemind). People of good conscience have a reason to be offended by labelling an entire culture or species as "evil." And yes, I know someone will say, "But what about demons?" Demons are obviously representations for Evil, so why does anyone need the statblock to tell them so? And if demons are intelligent, then there is the possibility that a demon might choose not to be evil. Alignment rules are unnecessary. Just play your characters (player and non-player alike) with believable motivations, behaviors, and personalities.

Intelligence has also been used by some as a justification for devaluing the lives of others whether by mockery or physical violence. If the intelligence of an entire species is declared "Low," one can imagine the ease with which some can excuse the mistreatment of any member of that species. Intelligence, as with alignment, varies within any species. Just look at how much it varies within humankind. Any attempt to define intelligence itself as a single overall characteristic is fraught with inaccuracy and gross exaggeration, but to apply a rating within that definition to an entire species or culture is, frankly, grotesque. I imagine the excuse for rating the intelligence of monsters is to provide guidance in role-playing them, but even within a single creature there are multiple kinds of intelligence. A creature might be cunning, but not philosophical. A creature might be resourceful, but not creative. A creature might be empathetic, but not eloquent. And this doesn't even touch on the variety of specific subjects about which an individual may know much, little, or nothing. It is neither reasonable nor necessary to rate the intelligence of a whole species.

If we were to drop alignment and intelligence from all the entries in the Monster Manual, would anything be lost? Would we suddenly be unable to include these monsters as either friends or foes in the adventures we create? Would we be unable to discern ally from adversary—even when we have our senses and minds—without their alignment declared in a bubble floating over their heads? What is lost if we have to make judgements based on our experience and observation instead of reading virtual nametags that say, "Hi, I'm a goblin. Intelligence: Low. Alignment: Lawful Evil."? I think the world should be more interesting than that.

08 May 2025

The Price of Loot

Sometimes, when I am reading a published adventure, my eyes fall upon entries of things the player characters might loot—and the value in gold pieces of those things—and I can feel the subtle prodding of a headache behind my orbs. One jade bracelet worth 150 gold pieces. Two silver candlesticks worth 25 g.p. each. One sapphire worth 328 g.p. You see, there are two schools of thought on how a player character might discover the value of loot, and neither of them appeal to me. One school of thought insists that a player character cannot know the monetary value of an item until that item is appraised by a professional who works with that particular material, such as a jeweller, goldsmith, or other craftsman. In the absence of such expertise, the player character must take a chance in the marketplace with merchants of questionable honesty. This is all well and good for those gaming groups who enjoy the art of haggling and have time for it, but even so, the referee still has to record the true value of each item found by each player and devise a way to reference that information in the event the player character a) remembers having the item, and b) decides to sell it or have it evaluated. This might be a job for spreadsheets, and that never inspires me.

Another school of thought is happy to rattle off the value of loot as soon as it comes into the player characters' possession. Somehow, every adventurer has an immediate, almost supernatural awareness of the true value of every item found, as if they were characters in a video game instantly gaining points for every item and power-up they touch.

I admit it: I have been guilty of following both schools, but I have never approved of either. Somewhere, there must be sane middleground wherein realism and playability can meet amicably. Here is my proposal...

  • Characters who are thieves, rogues, traders, or merchants instantly know the estimated value of common nonmagical loot.
  • Characters who are dwarves, goblins, or members of other mining cultures instantly know the estimated value of gems, jewelry, and metal objects, both magical and nonmagical.
  • Characters who are elves, faeries, or other sorts of fairy folk instantly know the value of art, scholarly works, and ancient artifacts.
  • All characters know the estimated value of items related to their class/profession/occupation. (For example, warriors know the value of weapons, armor, and steeds; clerics know the value of religous relics and accoutrements; wizards know the value of occult books and alchemical ingredients, etc.)
  • Outside of the above, characters who need items appraised must seek a specialist or try haggling.

By "estimated value" I mean the actual listed value. What you can get for an item varies depending on the skill of the seller, the desire of the buyer, the scarcity of the item in the region where it is being sold, and other factors.

As usual, results may vary. This rule awaits playtesting.