Category Archives: DnD

More Disruptive Character Names

Total Badass

It’s been too long, but more horrible character names have come to my attention, so I must pass them along. Today’s list is aiming for “ridiculously masculine” in some way or another.

  • Manpower von Thunderjunk
  • Diego Brando
  • Baron Praxus
  • Longrod Von Hugendong
  • Ezra “Thunderbolt” McClintock
  • Heironymous Imperiol
  • Max Steel
  • Inigo Montoya
  • Butch Deadlift
  • Thick McRunfast
  • Rex Gatling
  • Blast Hardcheese
  • Axeface McBeardfist
  • Woodcock van Treeslayer
  • Dr. Grimbeard Ironcock, Ph.D
  • Barrel Locstoc
  • Brick Hardmeat
  • Fighter McWarrior
  • Lance Manthrob
  • Chad McSexxington
  • Corporal Studly
  • Max Fightmaster
  • Rockhard Morningwood
  • Chuck Steak
  • Trent Asunder

As always, additional suggestions are always welcome. Clearly, I just can’t wait for my kid to be in grade-school.

Intra-party strife

A roleplaying game is, at its heart, a collaborative storytelling mechanism. Some games lend themselves towards a lot of hacking, slashing, shooting, and blasting tactical simulations. Some games lend themselves towards a lot of player-generated narrative and creativity. Most games contain several elements of both. Something that is present in the introduction chapter of most RPGs, but is frequently glossed over and not spoken of again, is that it is not only collaborative but cooperative. When five people sit down in somebody’s mom’s basement with some books, clipboards, and dice bags and start spinning yarns about elves and dragons and spaceships and giant robots, everybody has a pretty solid idea of who is going to win. Everybody and nobody.

Most games have a game master — certainly the most popular ones do — whose role is to control and present the world to the other players. The other players control and present a far more limited set of characters and objects and actions, typically limited to those of a single fictional character in the game master’s world. The players, through their characters, collude to overcome the challenges set forth by the game master. Everybody, including the game master, is pulling for the ultimate victory of the players. This is the norm, but not always the case.

Sometimes the players’ characters just at odds with each other. One wants to go slay the dragon. One wants to go unseat the evil king. Another wants to stop the dread necromancer’s horrible scheme. When one or more of these can wait, and the players are willing to be reasonable, this is not a problem. When two or more just cannot wait, you’ve got a problem. When two or more will necessarily preclude each other, you’re not talking about cooperative play any more; if the players cannot figure out a way for both their characters to get along, cooperation becomes competition.

There is something basically dishonest about entering into a roleplaying game intent upon meddling with and confounding the goals of the other players without being quite up-front about it. When you play Chess with somebody, it is understood that you will take your opponent’s king. If the game you’re starting up revolves around political maneuvering and conflicting interests, everybody needs to know this heading in; you’re setting up a situation where some of the players will win at the others’ expense, and that’s a different sort of game entirely.

The very stones themselves are burning

Inkedwork, Dwarven Fortress

Why the hell aren’t you playing Dwarf Fortress? Seriously. What the hell?

“But there’s a learning curve!” you complain. Use the wiki.

“But what’s with the ASCII art?” you whine. Well, when I was a kid we didn’t have fancy bump-mapping and realistic lighting techniques. Take your ASCII art and like it, or if you just don’t have the stones, try one of the tile sets.

“What the heck is this all about?” you bleat. It’s about mining. And booze. And craftng. And fighting. And beards. And murderous elephants. Good stout-hearted Dwarf stuff.

Dwarf Fortress. What can I say about this wonderful, horrible game? Well, it’s free. That’s an important point.

It’s an economics / strategy simulation game. People have called it a RPG, but that’s because there are Dwarves and the occasional goblin siege, not because there’s any actual role-playing going on. It’s also an adventure game, but I find the fun to lie with building and managing a settlement.

It’s also ugly. Very ugly. That horrible picture atop this post is a screenshot of the first floor of my current project. I understand that some of the weaker-stomached folk out there don’t remember Rogue and NetHack and the eyestrain-inducing splendor of staying up all night playing video games on a green monochrome monitor. Such people are weak. Beneath my consideration, unworthy of even my disdain.

It’s also tremendously deep. Not deep as in “the Dwarves delved too deep and worked the accursed adamantine veins” — though that happens too — but deep as in many-layered, characterized by nuance and complexity. Dwarf Fortress is a wondrous sandbox for you to play in, unconstrained by a set scoring system or victory condition. There’s no wrong way to play Dwarf Fortress, and no right way. You can build your settlement above ground or dig deep into a mountainside. You can erect self-aggrandizing monuments to your own genius or establish a humble community of poor dirt-farmers. You can erect stout defenses and staff them with expertly-trained axedwarves and marksdwarves, or you can take a more pacifistic route. The pacifistic route can result in genocide by goblins, but that doesn’t mean it’s the wrong approach. Just because there’s no right way to play doesn’t mean the game won’t exert some pressure on your bustling little community.

If you can bear with the learning curve for, say, an hour, and you can suspend your desire for 21st-century computer graphics for the duration, Dwarf Fortress is a tremendously rewarding game. Go get it; it’s not even six megabytes, and runs on Windows and Macintosh.