Old Grumpy: A Modular Encounter for Small Settlements, and a Brief Overview of Fishing in OSR Games.

Art by me

Old Grumpy is a catfish. A really big catfish of near-cryptid reputation. Nobody knows how he got in that pond at the edge of town (or a well, or a luxury pool, or the sewers, or a latrine for all I care). Nobody knows how long he has been there. Nobody, except for perhaps a few of the old folks, have even really seen him. But everyone in town agrees that he is there, and, as far as generational memory is concerned, he has always been there. 

Like the Sun rising in the East and the ground beneath your feet: Old Grumpy is an inevitable certainty.

Make sure you have some rumors ready for Old Grumpy. You can make a table for them, or put them on a pre-existing rumor table from the town you are placing him in. I personally did the latter (a potter in town believes her father's most precious sculpture is hidden in the murk of Old Grumpy's Pond).

He is big and fat (details on this are up to you, I personally went with 15 ft.), and he is rich as a sultan. Lots of baubles have been lost in the murk. Lots of coins have been tossed into the water for wishes. Artists have flung their precious creations into the pond in fits of rage, and secretive sorcerers have submerged cursed items and potions in the muddy depths, in hopes that nobody would find them.

But somebody did. Old Grumpy. He added it to his stash, in his murky cave (or maybe he just ate them).

To replicate this stash, find some random tables. Even better, create a random table that tells you what random table to roll on. Something along the lines of:

[1d20, roll 1d12 times]

1: Old Grumpy's Cave leads to a Dungeon (if you get this result more than once, reroll)

2-5: Result x100 GP.

6: Some old, waterlogged (yet legendary) piece of furniture (find a random table for this)

7: A potion.

8: A scroll (somehow preserved)

9-10: A silvered weapon (covered in moss, but never rust).

11: A corpse (roll for loot/what it's carrying)

12: Roll a work of art.

13: A Plot Hook!

14: Roll random starting equipment from the Knave! character creation guide.

15: The skull of a never-before-seen cryptid.

16: A deed in a bottle.

17: A Gem (Roll on the Tome of Adventure Design's Gem Table).

18: A Giant Catfish Egg

19: A Magical Trinket.

20: Roll 5 More Times.

Keep in mind, some of these items may be in Old Grumpy's stomach.

As far as mechanics are concerned, do whatever you want with him. B/X seems to place giant catfish at HD 8 + 3 (39 HP according to Old-School Essentials). 5e has no official rules for a Giant Catfish, as far as I have found, but I did find a homebrew one (keep in kind, its whiskers are not dangerous, but Old Grumpy's certainly should be). This electric giant catfish is from the Tome of Horrors Complete, and you can use it in 3.5 or Pathfinder.

Furthermore, there should be some rules in place for finding Old Grumpy. Keep in mind, he prefers to go out at night, and (at least in my town), he seems to enjoy the water in the Summer and Winter the most, less so in the transitional seasons.

Mine look a little like this:

[%sighting Old Grumpy's shadow in Dawn (DN), Day (D), Twilight (T), and Night (N)]

Spring: DN0% D0% T0% N6%

Summer: DN2% D1% T4% N5%

Fall: DN1% D0% T2% N3%

Winter: DN3% D2% T3% N4%

They don't make too much sense, not to us at least. That is intentional. I want them to replicate Old Grumpy's genius, abyssal mind.

Next: Fishing. I took some inspiration from Pokémon's GBA fishing system here. If players are trying to fish for Old Grumpy, use the following rules:

[%Catching Big Grumpy each turn (10 minutes) is spent fishing]

Using Regular Bait (stale bread, worms, lures): %sighting x 0.5

Using a Magic Item: %sighting x 2

Using a Work of Art: %sighting x 1-10 (depending on how beautiful it is)

Using a Tied Up Person: %sighting x 5

Playing a sad song increases the probability by +2%

Playing a forgotten and depressing sea shanty from decades ago increases the probability to 100%

So, for example, if the fisherman is trying to catch old grumpy by using a worm at night in the winter, he has a 2% chance each turn of having Old Grumpy bite. If his friend is playing a sad song on a lute, then the probability becomes 4%. If they are playing the forgotten sea shanty (you can put the sheet music for this song in a dungeon, or in the tavern, or wherever), then there is a 100% chance of Old Grumpy biting.

Once Old Grumpy bites, this is what you do (taking inspiration from Veins of the Earth's climbing system):

Roll a D20. Compare it to all of the fisherman's stats (you are trying to roll lower). Do this in descending order, from Constitution to Charisma. For the Strength/Wisdom and Dexterity/Intelligence, use whichever is highest.

Fail Constitution: All subsequent fails are cumulative (meaning that if this roll succeeds, then ignore any other failed rolls after the first failure).

Fail Strength/Wisdom: Fisherman is dragged into water. Possibly in danger (see Charisma fail).

Fail Dexterity/Intelligence: Old Grumpy makes away with the bait. He either eats it, or adds it to his stash (50/50).

Fail Charisma: If the fisherman failed the Strength/Wisdom roll, then Old Grumpy will try to eat him. If not, Old Grumpy will simply disappear and not make himself seen for another 1d6 days.

And there you have it. A small example of a legendary fish to put in any village or town you create, as well as a set of rudimentary rules for fishing in a Fantasy TTRPG. Hope you enjoyed! Happy travels.

 

Chasing Unicorns: In Praise of Random Tables.

Art by me

Ok, so here's a super cold take: I am not a huge fan of actual plays.

I tried with the Adventure Zone and Critical Role. I really have. I admire the production value, the skill, and the labor that goes into these projects, but I've always felt like, from a strictly media-studies point of view, aside from the weird (borderline-creepy) parasocial relationships offered by these works, they are just not that interesting. It comes off as second-hand gaming and second-hand story-telling, rather than a complete experience of either.

Now, don't get me wrong, I really want to like these products. I REALLY DO! Tabletop RPG gaming is magical, it is wonderful, it is one of the most engaging, creative, and fun ways to spend your time (I'm sure you agree, or else why are you even reading this blog?), and I would love nothing more than to have a readily-available medium through which to absorb all the roleplaying in the world, especially now, in the year 2021, when actually playing has become difficult, but actual plays are ever on the rise.

And, before I get to far into this, you may be thinking: let's be real, my issues with the most popular actual plays could be caused by my own feelings towards the most recent edition of the world's most popular roleplaying game. Sure, the endless low-stakes battles and the crunchy rules definitely contribute to my apathy towards some of these actual plays, but that's not the whole story. I have looked into other systems, even some that I really appreciate, and still I find myself cursed by thin veil of dissatisfaction with the genre of actual plays.

I learned that my issues with these products go far deeper than the mere flaws of systems and editions.

The core problem, for me, is the art of storytelling itself, and the way we hobbyists sometimes approach it. 

This is the story of how a guy who does not have much love for actual plays discovered why he loves this hobby so damn much by watching an actual play.

The artifact in question is Part 4 of Stream of Blood's OSE Actual Play (Thac0 Tuesdays). I have been relegated to my bedroom recently. I finished watching Malcolm in the Middle, I finished reading some books, so I've been listening to this series in the background, and I like it as much as I can ever like one of these streams (which means that I mildly appreciate it). 

But then, I watched episode 4.

Please watch this if you have not yet done so. Especially if you are as jaded as me. I think you might enjoy it. And, if you do not choose to watch it, yet you read on, do be warned that there will be spoilers ahead. 

As said above, THAC0 Tuesdays uses Old-School Essentials. They are currently running Gygax's Keep on the Borderlands. They are not always 100% faithful to the rules, for you purists out there. Frankly, I appreciate that about them. What they do maintain, however, is the Old-School's obsession with rolling on random tables: miscellaneous tables found in the OSR community, rumor tables, loot, and (most importantly) WILDERNESS ENCOUNTERS. 

Now, early on in my consumption of this series, I did notice that I really enjoyed the random element offered by these tables. There was something about the chaos of it all that appealed to me, much like it appeals to me in real sessions with my own playgroups. It felt interesting, fun, and exciting, but I did not think about it too much.

It was not until the Unicorn appeared that I finally put my finger on it. 

Here's the short version of what happened (warning, this is actually not that short):

Around halfway through episode 4, the party (an Elf, a Dwarf, and a Cleric, all level 1) is in the forest. The Referee at this point rolls the random forest encounter in the OSE Rulebook. Lo and behold: a Unicorn! 

The players, enchanted by the creature's beauty, yet concerned by the possible threat it poses (those things can mess you up), come up with a plan. The Cleric, a virginal young man, pure of soul and intent, approaches the mythical beast. The Unicorn (after a roll) accepts this Cleric, and lets him give it some pats on the head. A fairy-tale moment, which probably never would have happened had it not been for the random table that happened to be in the OSE Rulebook (it is unlikely that a more modern DM would intentionally have a Unicorn pop out of nowhere). It made the world feel so goddamn magical. Three foolish adventurers, on a stroll in the woods, can run into a Unicorn! There is no foreshadowing. There is no epic quest to find the creature. There is no three-act structure or hint to the beast's appearance. 

No.

The Unicorn appeared. It was there. That encounter HAPPENED.

But that's not all!

Eventually the scene ends, and the Unicorn strolls back into the woods leaving glitter in its wake. The Cleric, who is completely awestruck, is given a blessing (he can basically force any die to be rerolled). The Elf sketched the moment in his spellbook. The players move on, into the spooky woods, with the newfound knowledge that crazy wondrous things can indeed happen in this crazy wondrous world. 

So they eventually find a crazy evil hermit and capture him. Then they get lost. Night falls. The crazy evil hermit laughs at the fools, making a lot of noise and attracting possible danger. The Elf, thinking quickly, slit's the man's throat, for he won't shut up, but not before one encounter is rolled in response to all the ruckus.

One encounter. That's all it takes.

As the Elf lurks in the moonlight, his hands glittering with his victim's blood. 

The die tumbles. 

And... the FREAKING UNICORN returns. At this point, you can see the Referee's gears spinning in his head as he tries to calculate how to run the encounter. What he does is masterful.

The Unicorn, this being of true light and purity, looks upon the gruesome scene with horror. It is enraged by the heinous act, and quickly annihilates the elf with its hooves. The Cleric and the Dwarf kneel, praying for mercy. The Unicorn deems them innocent, and disappears once more. 

Then, as the two find their way back home, another encounter is rolled. A Wyvern. It slithers up from the darkness beyond their torches and, in a single gulp, it devours the Cleric.

That's it. He dies, on the same day he met the Unicorn, and received its blessing.

He just dies.

The Dwarf, sole survivor, makes it back to the Keep, and (after a few shenanigans) is thrown into prison.

That just... HAPPENED.

One of the breathtaking tapestries from the Met's collection.

That was not storytelling in the traditional sense. The Referee did not stay up the whole night before planning any of that. There were none of those typical DM schemes people are always talking about on Reddit. The players didn't "ruin your goals for the story" with their playstyle or strategy (what a boring complaint that is!). There was no rationale to it, non intrinsically. Nobody wrote that into the story (unless you credit the creator of the Random Table, which I am tempted to do).

IT JUST HAPPENED!

And thus, a world was born. In that moment, the game was no longer a mere exercise in storytelling. It was worldbuilding, in its purest form. It was improvisation. It was MAGIC! The magic of RPGs. The Unicorn had always lurked somewhere in that forest, but nobody knew about it. Not the players. Not the DM. Not even Gary Gygax himself. That's how alive the world was on that night. It was alive and outside of anyone's control.

And once the Unicorn had come and gone, that was it. There were no plans on the DM's part to have it come back. The DM did not know what it was up to, the damn creature just left. 

UNTIL IT CAME BACK! OF ITS OWN ACCORD, AT THE PERFECT MOMENT, TO MURDER THE ELF!

Jung talks about Synchronicity, and this is proof. That can't be written. That is something that just happens.

That is not a story being told, it is a world being explored at a table.

And what a beautiful, T.H. White-ish metaphor, isn't it?

Chasing a Unicorn. Rolling the tables. It is not always going to be magical. Sometimes, it is going to be weird or anti-climactic. Sometimes, it will be goblins. Sometimes, it will be boring old boars or foxes or birds.

But sometimes, and only sometimes, it will be Unicorns.

And that is the reason we play, isn't it? We are all just chasing Unicorns.