spooky scary skeletons

Skeletons are my favorite D&D enemy. My players know this fact very well. It's become a running joke.

Plug: Matt Bailey does amazing illustrations of skeletons, naked ladies, and skeletons fucking naked ladies. He also did my tattoo! Follow him on Twitter, Instagram, and buy his merch!

Can you blame me though? Skeletons are a perfect monster. Consider:

• Orcs/goblins/humanoids have language, society, all that shit, and once your monsters have those things then you're at the whole "can an entire species be Inherently Evil and if I say yes does that make me like, a racist" dilemma (answer: usually, even if it's an accident).
• Big fucking snakes and owlbears and stuff are comparable to big animals: bestial, sure, but are they truly Monstrous? Anathema?
• Tentacle monsters and demons are cool, but I don't like using them all the time. I feel like it spoils their otherworldliness.

Skeletons have the best of all these worlds. They are obviously wrong. You see a skeleton walking around like it's no big deal, you know that's some fucked up shit. Smash.

At the same time, they are ubiquitous. Nearly every poor motherfucker who ever died in your campaign world left behind a skeleton (and if your campaign doesn't have a spell that animates skeletons inside of the still-living, so that they burst out of their hosts like a butterfly out of a cocoon, get on that ASAP).

They are humanoid, so they can wield human equipment. They are also a reflection of the human-ish characters and human players: the body, stripped of thought, desire, will, individuality; reduced to its... well, its skeleton.

Finally, the skeleton is fate. You can spend your life cracking skeletons into dust - a hundred, a thousand, a million - and in the end, all you will do is join their ranks. Awesome shit.

da share z0ne.

Here's a few simple types of skeletons from my game. Also check out this post by Skerples over at Coins & Scrolls. This post is certainly not me also experimenting with stat block formatting. Any alterations to the appearance of the tables below is illusory, I assure you.

Skeleton
HD: 1	MV: 3	SV: F1	MR: 12
AC: 10 or Armor, Immunity Arrows		Claw 1d4 or Weapon
LOOKS: Animate human skeleton, red pinpricks in eye sockets, jerky movement.
WANTS: To slaughter the living and smear themselves with blood.
# APPEARING: 2d6

After the Cataclysm which annihilated the capital and heartland of the Old Kingdom, horrors stirred from long sleeps. Forbidden arts were practiced once again; daring and desparate alike foolishly sought to harness the cruel powers of undeath. Wherever there is some foul labyrinth or forgotten tomb, there too is one certain to find the walking dead. While sleepless skeletons can only comprehend the simplest of commands, they know neither fatigue nor remorse, making them ideal spear-fodder. Wordlessly they stagger, but even a glimpse at the diabolic lights in their hollow eyesockets tells of their unperishing hatred for all that lives. Clearer still that hate becomes when they kill, for only then do they make utterance: at once rattle, scream, and laugh.

-- Anarion the Grim, Concerning Undead

Skeleton Warrior
HD: 1+1	MV: 3	SV: F1	MR: 12
ARCHER	AC 11, Imm Arrows; Longbow 1d10
SPEARMAN	AC 14, Imm Arrows; Spear 1d6
AXEMAN	AC 13, Imm Arrows; Battleaxe 1d8+1
SLINGER	AC 12, Imm Arrows; Sling 1d6 (AP)
LOOKS: Long dead warrior, bearing worn equipment.
WANTS: To slaughter the living and smear themselves with blood. Remember some of their military training.
# APPEARING: 1d6+1

"With that business done, we charged headlong into the lair of the Necromancers. Our blood was mighty-stirred, by the promise of silver and the insults of your Wizards. The zombies in the upper graveyard had fallen like rice to the sickle, and we thought ourselves unbeatable. But when we came to the chasm bridge, it was our turn to fall. The bonemen we fought were no peasants, newly animated by some fresh reject of your damn University. Even in sleepless death, they remembered the teachings of our iron mother. We were held there on the bridge by a hedge of spears, while archers from a high cliff rained arrows upon us. Our own shooters could do nothing against them. Slowly they pushed us back, as our ranks dwindled. My shield-sister Lenabora fell gurgling, an arrow in her throat. She had the most heaven-beautiful hair I shall ever see in this life. It was choked and matted with blood. I dragged her behind me as I fled, but in the end I pushed her off the bridge, for want of speed. She was not quite dead yet. As for your damn Wizards, I saw them both dead, arrows in their little backs -- that is what happened. I should have died there, pissing on them. Had I yet my strength, witch, I would piss on you."

-- account of Miraglaza Ill-Wife, Report to the Archproctor of the Fate of Intendants Uinen and Thalion, Repentant Order of the Crimson Glade
 

Bloody One
HD: 2+2	MV: 5	SV: F2	MR: 12
AC: 12, Immunity Arrows		2x Claw 1d6
LOOKS: A skeleton, stained dark red with blood, sometimes wreathed in bits of entrails or flesh. Terrifyingly fast, jerky movements.
WANTS: To rend flesh and snap bone. Murder for murder's sake.
# APPEARING: 1d4

After the subject ripped out the slave's heart, it then knelt before the slaughtered boy, pulling open its chest cavity that it might dip its bones within and soak them thoroughly in the gore. Once it had completely bathed itself in the defiled corpse, I observed a most curious change in temperament (if that is, indeed, the correct term). The creature became far faster and more aggressive -- aware of my presence above it, it tried in vain to crawl up the sides of the pit. When I threw the mother to it, the thing gutted her in an instant, tearing her limb from limb and scattering the parts like a tornado does houses. ... Upon my return I noticed that, in abscence of any potential victim, the creature had rent the flesh from the bones of the two slaves and arranged these around itself in bizarre patterns.

-- diary of Ecthelion, merchant of Mithlond
 

Consigned Pyrurge
HD: 3	MV: 3	SV: W3	MR: 12
AC: 10 Imm Arrows, Heat		Burning Hands 2d6, 20', Sv Spells 1/2 Heat Aura 2
LOOKS: A skeleton engulfed in flame, black with soot and ash.
WANTS: To set shit on fire, especially buildings, and especially especially people.
# APPEARING: 1d3

The bulk of the ancient pseudoscience of the Pyrurges was totally eradicated -- even ere the time of the Great Kings -- by the scions of our Eight Correct Disciplines. Even so, the viable teachings of that erroneous school were not forgotten. The most cogent found a place within our own curricula, though the choking smoke of incorrect thought was cleared in the light of true wisdom. Nine Initiations of the Pyrurge were well-known, though in the dark years since the Cataclysm several have been lost. There was a Tenth, however, to be performed after death. In this final Initiation, the spirit of the deceased was to at last be joined with the Eternal Flame -- and the corpse turned to more practical ends than slow decay and sleep...

-- Archmagus Borcirion of the Radiant Order of the Dozen Rings, Concerning Unorthodox Thought

Relentless
HD: 1+3	MV: 4 Fly	SV: F1	MR: 12
AC: 13 Immunity Arrows		Javelin 1d6+Poison: If slain in 24 hrs, rise in 1 hr.
LOOKS: A floating skeletal upper body, carved with runes which emit purplish smoke. Sometimes have pelvises and femurs dangling below them.
WANTS: To float around, throwing stupid fucking javelins at you until you die and become a zombie. Like seriously, these guys are no joke.
# APPEARING: 1d6

So no shit, there I was, at the point of the van, hewing down foul undead left and right. Many of our own lads fell, but few did I see weep, and our wall held firm. It was manhood on that field, manhood the like I have not seen since we threw back the southrons at Sunspear -- ah, that was a good king! Then they came, by the Wolves, like a dark cloud over the crest of the hill. Our spears were already long bent, and our shields more gouge than plank. When they hurled those darts, day became as night, such was their number. Foul, smoldering poison coated those battle-barbs -- no pain it causes, but a terrible tiredness, an empty feeling, like after you've fucked. Yet even cut apart and dying under that rain, those boys held firm. So fresh they were, pulled from their little farms and the arms of their first loves. Aye, as the skalds sing, war is hell and there we dwell, so drink and love ere you sleep.

-- Bardroc the Braggart, account of action during the Battle of Lake Mallen

Finally, this last one isn't really that interesting in and of itself, but it allows me to show off the first bit of in-universe fiction I ever wrote, way back in the summer of 2015, to get people psyched for my campaign. Everything really does come down to skeletons!

Risen Legionnaire
HD: 1+3	MV: 2	SV: F1	MR: 12
AC: 22		Claw 1d4 or Weapon
LOOKS: A skeleton in the beautiful and cursed plate armor of the Old Kingdom.
WANTS: Death, for Death guides its Hand.
# APPEARING: 1d6

...Lalaith saw tarnished plates of sun-golden metal, shaped into a beautiful suit whose like she had only heard of in the oldest stories. A tall conical helm held still held the scraps of what once had to have been a majestic blue plume. Beneath the battered brim, a white skull stared at her. Its sockets yawned like caves, and she could feel herself falling into them as she stared back. She thought she could almost see a tiny pinprick of red light in each socket.

There was a rusted axe in its bony hand.

Her eyes slowly turned back to Aradan. He was frozen on the spot. She could feel the cold sweat on the back of his neck, for it ran down her own as well.

“Ar… Aradan,” she whispered, voice wavering. 

The thing turned its head slightly toward her friend, and lurched forward. Lalaith stumbled backwards, as Aradan moved in a start, his hand darting down to the sword. It slid free of the old scabbard, glinting in the little light that was left. Aradan roared as best he could as he brandished the blade, trying to scare the thing off. His voice cracked.

It did not hesitate for a second, and Aradan yelled a second time as he took a swing at it. Blade met plate with a loud metallic crack, before the blade slid off. He shrieked again, fear gushing from his lungs, as it closed on him.

Lalaith watched as the thing thrust forward at Aradan’s face with its empty hand, fingers outstretched like ivory spikes. The high shriek turned into a gurgle, as she saw three narrow bones burst out the back of her friend’s skull.

She screamed her friend's name, but it was lost in the sound the thing made: a roaring cackle, filled with hate and pain and joy. Blood ran out between the thing’s fingers, staining Aradan's sandy brown hair. She leaned back against a tree trunk and stared as he toppled backward, limbs twitching. His handsome face was a red mangle of flesh and blood and bone. The air smelled thickly of piss. She wasn’t sure if it was hers or his or both.

It came toward her, as she leaned, frozen, against the cold trunk of the tree.

“Areg… no…” Her sobs came hard and fast, feet digging against the dead leaves and soil, pushing her back so hard into the rough bark she could feel her skin scratching open.

It was before her. She heard the plates clink softly, and saw its arm rise. Fingers like ice closed slowly around her neck, lifted her off the ground, pinned her against the wood. The wood felt so warm now, against her back. 

For the second time that night, she felt her throat freeze. 

She's in the Monster Manual XI, $59.99.

- kill your dungeon master -

fate points

This is the only good idea I've ever come up with on my own. Someone else definitely had this idea first. On the plus side, this one's actually playtested.

wtf, i died in the first fifteen minutes? this game sucks!

Thank you for coming to my D&D game! There's cookies and punch by the door. Now that we're all settled in and pretending to be elves, let's talk about ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ.

I am every single one of these people simultaneously somehow.

So, based on my extremely thorough and scientific perusal of several threads about character death on r/rpg (which are really the same thread which just appears every month or so), I think that a majority of people who play tabletops these days are not accustomed to the idea of character death which is both easily had and difficult or impossible to reverse. Yet one of the few things which seems to hold together the otherwise diverse/disparate OSR movement is the expectation that death has both of these properties.

If you read these same threads, you will see that this is a source of friction between people who like old-school games and people who have other aesthetics of play.

For me personally, a game is only exciting if there is some kind of failure state, some possibility that I will not obtain the outcome I desire. As I define/understand it, the existence of a failure state is what separates the concept of the game from that of the toy; toys can be thought of as submitting or being acted upon, while games push back and act upon the player.

Losing is fun! Dwarf Fortress.

At the same time, I realize my preferences are not the same as everyone else's. Many people enjoy the sense of progression that comes with increasing their character's power, which in a challenge-based game (to borrow the narrative/challenge dichotomy of Zak from Playing D&D with Pornstars) is really a measure of the latitude given to the player by the collective to meaningfully alter the shared imagined space. (Compare, say, Dungeon World where many of the moves give players a great degree of agency over the shared space from the get-go, and I could honestly write a whole series of posts on why I think this distinction is so important to me.)

It's easy to understand how it can feel frustrating to lose a poweful character, even if that loss is in some sense "deserved." Worse still, not only have you lost the hero you have grown attached to, now you have to start again at the very beginning! Losing a lot of low-level characters can also be quite disheartening, especially if other players can still rely on their powerhouses (though I have been working on smoothing out the power curve so that the difference between low and high-levels is not so night and day).

Axiom: RPGs are not really about the characters, but the players.

Corollary: Whatever happens to the characters, the players should feel like they are making progress if they have earned it by overcoming challenges.

I like to try to accomodate lots of people at my table. For some of my players, having a badass story to tell is all the progress they need. Others want more concrete acknowledgement that they put in the time and effort and laughed and cried and bled.

fate points

Fate points (also called actions points, etc.) in RPGs usually take the form of an abstract resource which can be expended to e.g. reroll a save, get an extra attack, or famously in Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, to simply Not Die. Many people have written about the pitfalls of such fate points: it's inherently a dissociated mechanic; if they can be used to avoid death rational players will only ever use them for that purpose; and so forth.

Needless to say, I'm not a fan.

Pictured: Fate points in most RPGs. Margus Holland.

Fate points in my game are not associated with characters, but with players. They are gained by either dying or retiring, and can be traded in at character generation to gain mechanical advantages, like extra ability score rerolls, extra starting money, or starting at 2nd level (at the high end).

I feel like the system guides players towards certain metagame behaviors and understandings that I want to encourage. It's another signpost that death is a common/inevitable occurence, helping players who are perhaps unaccustomed to that to mentally prepare themselves. At the same time, it enables players who had powerful characters to more quickly get back to making grand changes to the shared world. The chargen boosts "for sale" are the sorts of things which feel good without totally negating the riskiness of the game - getting 18 Strength because you saved up for 4d6 drop lowest is cool, but it's not going to carry you. While the system is dissociated (i.e. it doesn't really represent anything within the fiction) character generation itself is a fairly dissociated process to begin with. Finally it encourages players to think beyond their current character, which I feel is an important mindset to have if you want to establish one of those long 20+ year campaigns like I do.

I haven't had any players try to game the system by essentially churning characters for fate points yet. Not only do people tend to get attached to their characters, it seems most people recognize that the rewards really are just there to soften the blow; not at all worth grinding for.

the actual boring rules part

(These are pulled from an old version of my house rules. They haven't been reviewed in awhile, so feel free to criticize/suggest additions! My rules for character generation are: 3d6 in order, reroll one ability score or starting hp, swap two ability scores not rerolled, if the sum of ability mods is less than -1 character may be mulliganed.)

Fate points are a resource which allow you to counteract some of the randomness of character generation. They are awarded to you either upon the death or successful retirement of a character. Once fate points have been given for a particular character, that character may never be played again.

One fate point is awarded per level of the character. An additional point is awarded if that character was the first time you played a particular class. Two additional points are given if the character established and controlled a stronghold at the time of death or retirement.

Fate points may be expended to gain mechanical benefits during the character generation process, at the following costs:

COST	EFFECT
1	One extra ability score swap.
1	One extra ability score reroll.
2	Freely assign ability scores.
3	Reroll one ability score 4d6 drop lowest.
3	Start with a loyal 0-level retainer.
4	Start with maximum 1st level HP.
5	Double starting money or start with 100 sp, whichever is higher.
5	Start with half of the experience required for next level.
7	Roll all ability scores 4d6 drop lowest, in order.
10	Reroll one ability score 5d6 drop lowest.
12	Start at second level.

- kill your dungeon master -