Tag Archives: RPGs

Carrion Crown Chapter 4, Wake of the Watcher, Session 5

Fifth Session (13 page pdf) – The black goat of the woods with a thousand young approaches!  Ia!  Ia!

shub-niggurath

Just out of pure coincidence, everyone decided to bring a huge helping of donuts or other baked goods for the group this session, so we went into the finale in a carb-fueled frenzy.

First we fight more mi-go, who have a lovely cold projector gun that I get and eventually learn how to use! They also have a large body-mulching machine, which we forgo learning how to use. Then there’s more tentacle-heads. We wipe them while singing the Billy and the Boingers song “Love Rhino.”

And then it’s go time!  We fight a Dark Young of Shub-Niggurath while the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young herself starts to enter Golarion!  It’s hard fought, details are in the session summary, but we persevere!

We escape the flooding base, go back to town, install the mayor’s brain as ruler pro tempore, and pull the heck out. We take the one sane person we met with us, Laurel Sills the innkeeper. We took such a liking to her that we agreed to stake her to a bar in Caliphas, the vampire town.  (Get it? Stake?  Ha ha ha haaaa!)

On the way there, we meet a Renfield with a wagon containing a vampiress! Somehow, we manage to parley instead of just go on a murder spree, even though I had to leave early…

Theater of the Mind

With D&D Next coming out soon, I’ve seen some questions from newer gamers who only have experience with 4e and maybe 3.5e about how to make combat work without using a tactical map or grid and miniatures, sometimes referred to as “Theater of the Mind” combat because all the description and positioning is happening in the participants’ imagination and not on a game board.  So I thought I’d take a moment to explain Theater of the Mind combat and how to make it a successful technique.

 I run theater of the mind combat preferentially. I can’t always get away with it in 3.5/Pathfinder, but in Basic and 2e days I did this exclusively, and most other RPGs assume it as the default and only option. We are even doing this more in Pathfinder nowadays as we grow increasingly bored with tactical tabletop combat and how long it takes. D&D Next/5e is fairly similar to 2e in metaphor so I believe most of these techniques will port well.

Theater of the mind provides quicker and, frankly, more interesting combat scenes – but the primary risk that comes with it is players feeling hosed, that too much of the power is in the GM’s hands, and that they keep getting told “No” arbitrarily when they want to reach someone in combat or whatever. This is why D&D had been moving more and more to minis and defined rules in the name of “player empowerment.” And of course with more feats and powers that have ranges on them, it’s unclear how to adjudicate flanking, range, etc. without a tactical map to rely on. Here’s how to do theater of the mind combat without reducing player agency.

Put information in your players’ hands.

Be clear with your descriptions. For this to work, you have to be clear and the players have to pay attention, or else you get a lot of “Well I wouldn’t have charged if I had heard there was a chasm between us and then…” Describe the most important elements (obstacles, opponents, how those opponents are armed) and don’t be afraid to reiterate it each round. Similarly, players should be detailed and repeat themselves – “And then I use my move action to move 30′ away from the rest of the group so that if they decide to area effect us I’m farther away, right, you heard me right GM?”

Even if not using a tactical map, putting a quickie room sketch on a whiteboard or whatever can help a lot – in our Pathfinder games nowadays, “mapping” is just the GM continuing to draw the map on the whiteboard, and rather than use a tactical map we just refer to that and say “I run over near that altar thing…” If pressed we add some X’s and O’s, football play board style, to show relative force dispositions.

In general, give the players the benefit of the doubt. Be generous in your interpretations; they are badass adventurers and you can fairly assume they’re making badass decisions. You’ll want to be fair and have a clear “take-back” policy for the table in case of mishearing – but it’s OK to not be too generous there, as it will encourage people to pay attention.

Put decisions in your players’ hands.

Firstly, let the players have some discretionary input into the narration. I learned my lesson on this playing Feng Shui, where I learned if the PCs are fighting in a pizza parlor and someone wants to pick up a pizza cutter and slash someone, getting out of the way of that as the GM and letting them declare there’s a pizza cutter nearby and use it without getting all up in their business has a lot of upsides – players who add to the environment are invested in the environment. After playing Feng Shui I was so much better as a D&D DM. Let them riff off the environment, only vetoing clear abuse.

You also want to encourage players to explain both what they want to do and “why” – their intent and stakes. “I want to move 15 feet” tells no one anything. “I want to get into flanking around the orc leader with Jethro, and I’m willing to risk an AoO to get there,” for example. Similarly, you as the GM want to state options and stakes to them – “You can do that, but there’s a chance that you’ll fall in that pit.” Some quick negotiation and being very specific help here. “I want to swing on the chandelier, and I’m willing to risk a fall,” says the player, envisioning a max of 2d6 damage based on the room description they heard, but the GM is thinking 10d6… If you wait till after the slip and fall to have that discussion the player gets irate; if you set the stakes up front everyone’s on the same page.

Put outcomes in your players’ hands.

Put the outcome in the PC’s hands, ideally via a die roll from some attribute of their character. So if they want to know how many creatures they can catch in their Burning Hands spell, you could respond “Two, but you can roll Spellcraft (or Int, or whatever) to try to get three, with the downside that if you fumble you’ll burn one of your buddies in melee with them.” I use this in naval combat in our current Pathfinder game – when a PC fireballs the other ship, how the heck do I know where every one of the 30 enemy crewmen are? I say “Roll Spellcraft,” and based on the result is how many pirates got fried. We have generalized the assist mechanic to be “success at 10, and then +1 for every 5 above that,” and it’s easy to quickly map effects onto success margins in that manner.

Same thing with movement. I have all my players convert their movement into an actual “Move bonus”, +2 per 5′ of movement, so a 30′ move is a +12, for example. (Side rant, the conception of movement as fixed when everything else in the system is a variable is one of the greatest missed opportunities in D&D design and all the other games that blindly inherit their metaphor from it.) “I want to get around that orc and flank him with Billy!” “OK, roll Move. You’re not even inside the door yet and there’s a bunch of other orcs, so I’ll call that DC 20, fail means you get to melee but not in flank, fail by 5 means someone AoOs you on the way.”

I also used a house ruled Luck stat in 2e to help determine other elements like “Who’s standing on the trapdoor?” Because if a player is rolling for it and/or making risk/reward decisions, then they feel that the outcome is in their hands and not yours.

One last thought – make character options that a PC has paid for worth it. Some options are hard to quantify if not on a battlemat (like the Lunge feat from Pathfinder). As the GM, you basically want to keep stuff like that in mind and give them a benefit for it from time to time. If, for example, you’re telling people they can’t reach opponents a good bit in battle, and someone has the Lunge feat, turn it into “you reached them!” automatically once every combat when they plead “but… Lunge!” Basically whatever the option is allegedly for, let it do that.

Carrion Crown Chapter 4, Wake of the Watcher, Session 4

Fourth Session (13 page pdf) – We fight deep ones, mi-go, gugs, dimensional shamblers, and all the other alien inhabitants of your usual Arkham House short story collection.

Hey, where are the human women at?

Where the human women at?

Besides the fact that Chris and I had just watched Spring Breakers and were besotted with it, such that when we found evidence of ongoing fish-man on human forced breeding programs our main response was to sleazily mutter “Spring… Break…,” this was just hacking our way through the Lovecraft Bestiary 101.  We did appreciate finding all the brain jars and trying to talk to the Mayor’s brain, though.

Carrion Crown Chapter 4, Wake of the Watcher, Session 3

Third Session (14 page pdf) – We decide the local cult needs purifying, sword-style. Then we take a primitive bathysphere down into Deep One territory! Tentacles ensue.

We discuss a bit whether there’s any chance there’s any innocents in the cult-corrupted church or if it’s valid to just roll in and wipe everyone there. I got Chris to agree to provoking them instead of just ambushing them. Turns out they’re all evil.  We smack them easily but then they have a crabby critter with them that’s a lot tougher. It gives us quite a fit until I turn it into a tiny soft-shelled crab with baleful polymorph.  Then, because of the retarded polymorph rules, it continues to beat up on us with an even higher AC. I guess I’ll look elsewhere for my save-or-dies in the future.

After looting and returning the kidnapped baby to her parents, we head down to the lake floor in Horace Croon’s bathysphere. A demonic spellcasting devilfish decides to play “fish in the mason jar and I’m the octopus” with us. Luckily, Xurak turned the dead giant octopus from previous into a zombie, so we repel it with hot cephalopod on cephalopod action  (all the players but one are also repelled by that, except for Patrick who is strangely aroused).

We enter the complex via a gel-filled sphincter-portal that causes us to argue whether “Jim Carrey being birthed from the rhino in Ace Ventura” or “Danny DeVito emerging from the sofa in It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia” is the most apt analogy to its use, and then fight some dimensional shamblers.  More, next time!

2sbjj

 

 

The Time For Experience Points Has Come And Gone

The WotC designers have just presented some polls about how XP progression should work in D&D Next and there’s a lively discussion on ENWorld about it.  I have mentioned in passing that none of our group’s Pathfinder campaigns use XP any more, but I thought this was a good time to unpack that a little and discuss why XP are an outmoded solution to a problem that doesn’t really exist.

Accounting Work

Some of the drawbacks of XP are obvious. It adds a significant amount of non-fun accounting to the game. Most of that burden is on the GM, who has to look up charts and add numbers like it’s tax time for the last 15 minutes of the session, and then all the players get to do some too. This is Dungeons & Dragons, not Accountants & Ledgers. The justification is usually that it’s a “necessary evil” as the only sound way to conduct character advancement; we’ll examine the falseness of this claim below.

It Makes Adventures Suck More

I was just listening to a Know Direction podcast where Amber Scott was talking about the process of working on an Adventure Path chapter lately, and discussed that some of the challenge was the changing/padding required to generate the ‘right XP budget’ and that the actual theme/story of the adventure had to be compromised somewhat to make that work. That sucks, and it illustrates how any published adventure has to make a lot of Hobson’s choices just to get the ‘correct amount’ of XP generated. I had a discussion with James Jacobs about a number of questionable, from the story and GM standpoint, decisions in the Dragon’s Demand module – it was giving out “story awards” to the tune of 200 XP for climbing a DC10 mount of rubble to enter the dungeon. He justified it by saying “Yes but we need people to get from first to sixth level over the course of this one module to fight our end dragon so we padded the shit out of it” (I’m paraphrasing :-).

RPGA/Organized Play adventures, from my experience there, suffer horribly from this problem.  I was a Living Greyhawk Triad and most attempts to innovate in adventures were squashed by the ever-dominant need to have “N encounters that generate X XP for levels Y-Z in H hours.” Of course the other layers of homogeneity required of OP on top of that make the problem even worse, but that’s a big part of it. And in the end, if there is a “correct amount” of XP to give, then why are you spending the effort to micromanage it?

So basically the adventures we play are not as good as they could be from other perspectives because of this unnecessary constraint.

It Makes Players Suck More

Here’s the deal – I like open-ended, in character roleplay, and the ability for PCs to innovate to reach their goals (often referred to as Combat As War in online discussions). XP for monsters (I’m not sure adding “for gp” really helps that) drives a playstyle where you confront everything head-on, grinding like it’s WoW.  If the goal is “save the princess from a castle full of bad guys,” you can’t just do that, because the ugly head of metagaming rises up and says “If you just scry and teleport in and grab her you won’t get as many XP as if you do a room-to-room fight with every orc…” Therefore you start making decisions based on metagame concerns instead of in-game factors. Of course as the GM you can try to give compensating story awards for solving it with different approaches – but then why are you tracking XP again, if there’s a “right number” to give?

I was in a team that took Silver in the D&D Open at Gen Con back in… Uh, the 1990s sometime. We didn’t get Gold, we were told, because we bypassed the penultimate encounter (a nuisance encounter of some humanoids) by flying over it to beard the BBEG directly. So even though our judge said we rocked the adventure and did it better/faster/cheaper (no character loss)  than everyone else, you know, we didn’t harvest enough souls. Lesson learned, we’ll shout our battle cry of “No Witnesses!” in the future.

The Theory

Obviously, the theory behind XP is that they are a needed reward system. Pavlov, Gygax, and Ayn Rand have worked together to come up with the ultimate system of motivating PCs to go out there and adventure, and it is both that and a semi-realistic way to reflect people getting better at what they do.

The problem is, these motivations are a thin lie to begin with, and don’t accomplish their desired ends in practice either.

First alleged reason to have XP, motivation.  Without XP  you don’t incentivize desired behavior in the game. I’m pretty sure we all play D&D to have fun, and adventuring is fun. If there weren’t XP, would our characters not go out and defeat the invading orc hordes? What degree of player and GM sucking must be required for such a low rung on Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs to kick in?

Second alleged reason to have XP, realism.  It models the growth of your character by getting better through experience and shepherds them through their Campbellian arc. OK, so the more goblins I murder, I get better at playing my lute? Ridiculous.  You could make this claim for a system like BRP where you “tick” skills you use and those skills advance, but the dull blade of XP as implemented in D&D and its derivatives can make no such virtuous claim to simulation.

Let’s look at XP in practice.  First, let’s assume you are running a story-oriented game, or using an Adventure Path or series of modules (that’s not a new idea, ahem, T1-4, A-14, GDQ1-7). To not have that go badly awry, you need the PCs to be at a certain level at certain times. So unless they successfully tread the primrose path on the adventure you’ve set up for them, you as the GM end up needing to accommodate that.  Throw in some random encounters, some story awards, role-playing awards, some side adventures, because you know you can’t send them to the Demonweb unless they’re at least approaching the right level.

But if you are trying to generate a ‘correct amount’ of XP then having XP is of no value, as it loses its lovely alleged Randian properties. It can’t motivate behavior if you’re trying to get them to the right number by any means necessary. You could argue that it provides the illusion of player agency, if your players are dumb, but in the end you have a predetermined outcome and are forcing yourself and your players to jump through more and more  hoops to realize it. Boo.

But XP also hurts sandbox gaming.  Why? It’s the Gygax Way, right, he wouldn’t have written it if it wasn’t the right thing to do? Don’t tell me about “OSR” like I’m a noob; I’ve been playing D&D since the original Red Box.

D&D is still a game full of murderous cretins, and the XP system is a lot of the reason for that. I find it hard to say that the behaviors XP drive are actually the desired ones. Even the D&D Next article I link discusses XP in terms of “how many goblins you need to kill to level.” As discussed above, actual innovative goal-achievement, one of the pillars of the OSR, is quite specifically countermanded by XP (unless, again, you adopt the “give them anyway” rubric, and get to do extra math to justify a predetermined outcome). A decent GM should be able to reward desired behavior in the game.  Do you get nothing for saving the princess or completing a quest besides XP, really? And if you get loot, isn’t that its own reward?

The Alternatives

Well, what we do is “level when the GM says.” Pretty simple.  Sure, this might be a problem in those first spazzy 12-year-old games we all had, where the  GM’s trying to screw the players and all – but how many pages of rules have been written trying to fix that lowest-common-denominator problem, and has it actually succeeded?  No, those who are playing “level 30 silver dragons!” or “being killed by cats!” type games continue to do so. This approach requires zero math and is very easy for the GM – pulling out a level 7 adventure you want to run?  You don’t have to throw weeks of grind at the PCs, just tell them “you level!” In my Reavers campaign, the PCs are like 7th level after four years of play, because I have plenty of piratey adventures appropriate for those levels to bring them!

Or… Now, this is super hippy-dippy, and I know that before I say it, but you could even just level by consensus, in a more sandbox game. If the GM cares about what level they’re prepping for, then the GM should level.  If the GM is just “whatever, I’m a judge OD&D style, hexcrawl yourselves into a coma” then maybe players should spend more time at the levels they enjoy.  I personally would usually vote not to level, as I enjoy the low/mid-levels best and over about 12 starts to suck.

Or, you could level by IRL time.  This is interesting because it allows you to set a goal as to how long a campaign should take, and since levels will vary it will vary the speed at which the PCs progress to naturally keep them on track.  Let’s say our gaming group says “OK, Paul is going to run Wrath of the Righteous next, and we want it to last a year and then go on to something else.” Then you set out a schedule – to finish out, PCs have to be level 16, so they need to get more than a level per month, say one every 3 weeks, to make that happen. So then level on schedule. This is kinda brilliant, because as you level up, earlier parts of the adventure get easier, and you accelerate – more encounters/day, more adventure/IRL week. If you get ahead, it’s harder, and you are slowed down accordingly.

You can somewhat mitigate the cost vs benefit equation here by using a simpler rubric, like “you level after X adventures/sessions/whatever”, where X = character level or a constant. This loses some GM control (especially if it’s “sessions”) but it’s a good compromise for, say, Organized Play setups where you need a way to track character leveling outside the bounds of a traditional campaign.

A very simulation-minded GM could derive their own way of character advancement – in-game time, whatever – easily on top of this framework.

XP As An Option?

Sure, but so, in D&D Next or whatever, can’t we just have XP as an option and “GM levels whenever” as an option?

As described above, XP forces compromise from both the adventure author and GM in terms of adventure design and the players in terms of in-character play. Having “the option” not to XP doesn’t help that all that much – we already have that option, but our adventures and players are still tainted by the XP-oriented mindset. So even those deciding not to use XP will get compromise adventures that had to be designed with that stricture in mind. Kill it with fire.

XP Should Be Buried Now

I know that it’s so “traditional” that it’s hard to accept, but after 30 years of gaming and some careful analysis I really can’t say that the many man-hours spent calculating XP (or worse, gerrymandering it as a GM) have had anywhere near a positive return on investment in terms of game quality or fun.

Happy 40th, D&D!

Turns out this week is D&D’s 40th birthday!  I’m slightly older than it is, and have been playing for somewhere around 30 of those years.

My first D&D game was in a car on the way to a Boy Scout camp.  It was diceless and mostly rule-less.  I joined in progress; one guy had Blackrazor, one had Whelm, and one had a crossbow. Encounters usually ended with us all trying to kill each other as well.  Good times. (I find it interesting that nowadays people contend you can’t play D&D diceless, or can’t play it PvP…  Kids nowadays.)

I was always more of a SF guy so I played Star Frontiers, but got frustrated with buying Dragon Magazines for the Ares section and not being able to use or understand the rest (What’s a “hit die?”) so got the original Red Box, and then it was off to the races!

So thanks to D&D for many years of fun.  I still play it (even though it’s called Pathfinder now)!

Link

Noob the Loser D&D Comic

If you haven’t seen this yet, you deserve to treat yourself to a NSFW, hilarious D&D comic from “Noob the Loser”!

RPG Kickstarters – Crossplatform Is For Chumps

I was just looking at the Kickstarter for Fall of Man, which looks interesting, till I saw them making the same error I’ve seen a lot of RPG Kickstarters make.

“It’s for Pathfinder!  And for stretch goals, we’ll convert to FATE and C&C and 13th Age!”

Here’s why this is a great way to make your Kickstarter fail, either up front or long term.

First, who is your Kickstarter for?  If it’s for a Pathfinder player, they couldn’t give much of a crap whether your product supports other systems, and they’d really prefer your stretch goals to be something that would benefit them.  You’re basically saying “No stretch goals for you!”

And if you’re a e.g. 13th Age player – are you really going to pledge “in case” it gets to the stretch goal? Maybe – and if it doesn’t get close to that level, you’ll pull out, collapsing your funding. Fun!

But that’s not the worst part.  The worst part is that unless you are just porting it to highly similar systems (e.g. Pathfinder and 3.5e, or some OSR clones) – you’re going to do a shit job.

These games are very different.  Pathfinder and FATE come at storytelling from different perspectives.  Your port is either going to be a) shitty and cursory, or b) you’re going to have to pay someone to basically develop native to that system for scratch – and you’re not getting enough money for that to be net positive for you.

Frog God has managed to do a couple Swords & Wizardry ports of things like Razor Coast… But unless you’re that big and professional, you’re not going to make it work, certainly not with multiple systems.

Instead, it’s going to become an albatross around your neck.  Something not really wanted, that doesn’t add a lot to the value of your product, and that once you’ve delivered your main product just hangs there sapping energy and money and credibility.  Stop it.

Carrion Crown Chapter 4, Wake of the Watcher, Session 2

Second Session (13 page pdf) – We fight mutant giants, fish-men, Hounds of Tindalos, and The Colour Out Of Space in a run-down old mansion an in unholy mashup of half of Lovecraft’s short stories.  Next week – the other half!

The fights took a lot of time this session.  The marsh giant was hefty though not much of a danger to us due to positioning.  The Hounds of Tindalos, with their damage-gaze, did a lot of damage to us. And the skum happily charged down a tunnel at us and Xurak and I lightning bolted them out of this universe easily.

The Color out of Space part is creepy, it had husked out a bunch of women and kids and we couldn’t really fight it, it drained stats like there’s no tomorrow.  By messing around we let it go, hopefully to another world or plane of existence. We get a crazy lady to add to the baby in terms of helpless noncombatants we have to worry about.

We finish up by deciding to go kill the heck out of a church full of Dagon cultists!

Carrion Crown Chapter 4, Wake of the Watcher, Session 1

First Session (17 page pdf) – Slugs and babynapping cultists abound in the otherwise-shitty town of Illmarsh. But we obtain the ultimate weapon – a controlled spectre!

We continue to peel back the layers of decrepitude in the town, where it’s pretty clear they’re pimping out babies to Deep Ones. I like Jayleen the local barkeep though, she’s fun. A giant octopus goes after a local, we kill it, as we are wont to do.

voltiaroThen it’s out to Undiomede House, an old ruined mansion, since everything about its appearance in local lore cries out “conveniently close to town dungeon location.” Turns out the trip there is more unhealthy than a Perfect Bacon Bowl, as leeches overtake us – and not just normal leeches, burrow-to-your-brain in three rounds leeches. They are a “hazard” not monsters so of course we butt up against the game rules as we try to get them off us.  I manage it but Nigel, Oswald, and Zurax all get brain parasites for their trouble!

We save a baby from some ridiculously-dressed cultists, which puts an abrupt end to the dungeoning! We head back and try to get someone that won’t eat/trade the kid so we can go back. And we kill another even more ridiculously dressed cultist!  Fade to black.

Reavers on the Seas of Fate – Season Three, Seventh Session

Seventh Session (12 page pdf) – “The Sun Temple Colony” – The crew finds the lost Andoran colony built atop an Azlanti ruin.  They fall in with religious extremists as an Azlanti artifact nearly burns their ship to the waterline! Then they start poking around the island.

lost_citiesI liked doing the Sun Temple Colony after I did From Shore To Sea, because they were used to the WoW-like architecture of the Azlanti, and even knew to talk to the will-o-wisp streetlights in Aklo… But first they get lit up by the main attribute of the Sun Temple Colony, its big ol’ sun-focusing floating lens.

The Sun Temple Colony is from the Lost Cities of Golarion supplement. The intent here is that there’s parts of it about 10 CRs above the party’s level, so they have to keep it a bit on the down-low and play the locals against each other. They meet the “free” colonists and learn about the cult, the God-touched and breeder varieties. And they get a mascot, the impressionable 15-year-old Lefty.

Sindawe gets to exercise his captaining skills, which is generally “issue orders and then beat the nearest crewman unconscious since he’s clearly not moving fast enough.” They do get loot shares; this is probably the best place to give the pirate crewmen treasure because they are a thousand miles from anywhere they can spend it.

Then, it’s off to hexcrawl and explore the island!

 

 

Carrion Crown Chapter 3, Broken Moon, Session 5

auren_vroodFifth Session (18 page pdf) – Done with the local vermin, we move on to assault a keep full of necromancers!  And someone dies.  Many someones. Then it’s off to get some Lovecraft, but instead we get some McLovin!

We planned our assault of the necromancer keep in Feldgrau. We get to the top and the “skeletons” there are uber buff skeletons to our chagrin. We pop a fog cloud to stop the arrows, except for the PCs that like going and standing out of the fog cloud so they’ll get shot.

We expected a bit more of a dungeon, but halfway through the skeleton guards fight Orrin (Auren?) Vrood shows up and lays into us with the Circle of Death. This starts an entire sequence of “but wait…” as we figure out all the complex effects.  He pops a Circle of Death which kills four party members – but I use the group Harrow card to give us SR20, which saves two people, then I use my personal Harrow card to give Oswald a save bonus, which saves him. (Using them is a meta-thing that doesn’t really use an action.)  Zurax Darkfire, we hardly knew ye.

Then we kept forgetting stuff.  He used eyebite on me and I ran, forgetting the SR, and then he used it on Oswald, who almost ran before I blurted out “Wait, SR!” The SR didn’t save him, but since I wasn’t really feared my Fortune hex was still up so that saved him.  I got tired of that and used my new anti-necromancer ray, Lightning Bolt.

We go all the way to Carrion Hill to get Zurax raised, then go all the way back to Feldgrau, where everyone but a local ghost has skedaddled. Boring.  And then we head to the big neon signs saying Thrushmoore.

On the way we had a great encounter – Nigel sneaks off and comes across two nymphs bathing in the lake. He spies on them, making both Fort saves against blindness.  He reveals himself with a “Hey laydees!” and then makes both Fort saves against stun! They say “Ooo you have to catch us!” and he promptly rolls a natural 20 and the fleeing nymph rolls a natural 1. “Whoops, I have fallen over this log and my dress has come off!” He comes out of it with a goofy grin and a nymph-hair token that makes him super hell on wheels as a bard (+4 on Will saves, Craft, Perform, and 7 bonus rounds of bardic performance a day!!!).

Then we come across a marsh giant who demands tribute; Zurax animates a zombie from a Kellid werewolf corpse he’s keeping, Nigel tramps it up, and we send it to its fate.

Finally we end up in Thrushmoore, aka Innsmouth, and get the obligatory Lovecraftian town setup.  It’s just a little too much on the nose, how each adventure is “this thing themed!!!” But, what the heck, we’re level 8 now.