One thing that struck me, though, was how effective my preparations were. In general, I think I prepared fairly well; I knew the system, and I had in idea of where things were going. There were areas where I think I over-prepared, and others where I feel I didn’t prepare enough.

The chief area where I was over-prepared was simply in the length of the adventure. We played for a good three and a half hours, and got through about half of the adventure. In a more traditional, longer-term play setting that might be fine, but in a one-shot playtest, it’s really better if you can get through the entire adventure in one sitting. I decided partway through that I was going to cut some of the fights out of the adventure because it simply didn’t need it, but we still weren’t able to finish (I had to get home and feed the dogs, after all). I think the reason that I prepared so much was simply because I’ve never run a FATE system game before, and I had no idea how long it would take to resolve a single conflict. Practice, I think, will solve this problem.

Bulldogs!, like any FATE game, is fairly easy to improvise with; it gives you a lot of tools with which to adjudicate player actions on the fly, and doesn’t require nearly as much preparation as, say, D&D does. In fact, the adventure that I prepped (the one that was too long) was only two pages long. I also had a set of cards with character stats and notes on them, though that stuff could have easily been included in the adventure document, and would likely only have increased its length by half a page or so.

It was pretty easy to run the adventure from this document, but I could definitely see areas where I could have prepared more. For example, simply putting stress boxes for the enemies on the document would have saved me a lot of time that I spent hand-drawing them before encounters. I also think that some of the fights that I planned were a little too hard for the party. This is partly due to inexperience, I think, and partly also due to the fact that it’s difficult to gauge how difficult an opponent should be for a particular set of PCs.

Despite these hitches, I do think that everyone had a lot of fun. I really enjoyed running the game (and I had a good, creative set of players), and I’d definitely run it again.

Overall, the game went really well. I tried a few things that I’ve mentioned on this blog. The first encounter included a variant of wild magic rules; unfortunately, I forgot to utilize them as often as they should have been, but when I did it was interesting. During that encounter, one I got a chance to make use of two house rules that I’ve posted on the site.

First, when Chance was dominated, he made use of grit. It worked pretty well. The dominated condition still affected him somewhat, and he deliberated over the choice for a little while before deciding to do it; he was only going to be dominated for a turn, after all, and damage equal to your healing surge value is a lot in the middle of a fight. I think that, if it had been a save ends effect, the decision might have been easier, but still not a foregone conclusion.

Then, when Kraygin was dropped to negatives, he made a last-ditch effort. This one I’m still not entirely sold on. I think it might have been more dramatically interesting if he had dropped in the middle of the fight rather than being effectively staggered, running over to the rest of the party, and getting some healing. I think that, if you’re going to get that extra turn to save your bacon, the urge to heal yourself (or even for others to heal you) is pretty strong. I might balance this by making any healing you get during a last-ditch effort temporary hit points instead of real ones, but I’m not entirely sure.

Finally, I ran a combat that was partially a series of skill challenges, used for pacing. This worked really well, prodding me to change the dragons’ tactics as the fight progressed, making for a more dynamic and interesting encounter. I don’t think I’ll use this technique a lot, but certainly it has some merit when you’re doing a solo encounter that might not otherwise be all that interesting.

There’s an encounter in the upcoming session that is, technically, a fight but is also, technically, a series of skill challenges. What I’ve done is I’ve built an encounter using actual monsters and terrain and everything, but I’ve used the framework of skill challenges to create a fight that takes place over a series of phases. The skill challenges are a pacing mechanic for the fight, and the fight creates tension within the skill challenges.

Now, if you think this sounds like a cool idea (and I’d totally agree with you if you did), I feel I should point out some things about using this technique.

First, you probably don’t want to use this in every fight. Most fights have a way of pacing themselves just fine, as they involve a number of monsters and a variety of different terrain effects, and a dynamic that changes as the PCs slowly (or quickly, as the case may be) gain the upper hand. I think that a mechanic like this works best in an encounter with fewer creatures and less automatic change throughout, such as a solo encounter or–as is the case with my encounter–an encounter with a pair of elites.

Second, it’s probably best to use multiple, low-complexity skill challenges rather than one big one. You could conceivably build a complexity five skill challenge that simulates multiple distinct phases, granting access to different skills or new ways to use the same skills as the challenge progresses. I think, though, that using a bunch of complexity one, two, and even three skill challenges gives much clearer delineations between encounter phases, besides which it’s just plain easier to do.

Now, one key difference between using a single skill challenge and using more than one is that failure is more gradual. In a complexity five skill challenge, you’re still going to fail when you hit that third failure. If you’ve got five complexity one skill challenges, you need fifteen total failures to totally botch the job. This does not, however, mean that your encounter is a pushover. What it does mean is that you can award partial credit easily. What it also means is that you can do what I did: give earlier challenges consequences that carry over into later challenges. If the PCs fail the first skill challenge, all is not lost; the next one, will, however, be a little bit harder. Similarly, if they succeed on that first one, you can give them a little edge in the next one.

But it doesn’t stop there. Because you’re running these skill challenges alongside a combat, succeeding in that first skill challenge might carry benefits in the fight (as would failure, with drawbacks). The combat, too, could carry over into the skill challenges. Granting the PCs successes when they bloody a monster, or even when they just hit it, in some cases, is an idea I’ve toyed with. Similarly, if a PC gets bloodied or dropped to zero, that could cause the party to incur a failure in the current challenge.

Now, I want to be completely upfront about this: this is likely going to be a very complex encounter for me to run. In my case, I’ve got five distinct phases to the combat, each represented by a skill challenge (the complexities of which vary). In addition, I’ve got to fairly robust elites to worry about, not to mention some other fiddly rules that I won’t get into (no major spoilers here; sorry). If I can pull it off, though, I think it’ll be a cool and memorable encounter. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Knowledge checks are any check made to determine something that the character may already know. Do I know what a beholder is? Do I recognize the runes on the floor? Am I aware of the history of this place? These kinds of checks require minimal effort during combat, because the character either already knows the answer, or doesn’t. As such, they’re free actions.

Information gathering checks are basically one step up from knowledge checks, and don’t actually always involve a check. Insight and Perception are the common ones here, but cases can be made for skills like Religion, Arcana, or History, too. Can I try to decipher the magic circle, to determine its purpose? Arcana check. Can I try to suss out my opponent, and see if I can spot a weakness? Insight, or possibly an appropriate knowledge skill, like Nature for a natural beast. These are almost always minor actions, costing the player very little, and possibly giving the player critical information or an edge over the opponent. I like to encourage the use of these kinds of checks, as they spice up combat, drive the story forward, and so forth.

Action checks are checks that you make to actually do something. The type of action varies, from minor to standard, depending on what the player is trying to do. Swing on a chandelier? Acrobatics check, move action. Want to try to say a litany to weaken the demon? Religion check, standard action. My rule of thumb is this: if it’s alternate movement, it’s a move action. If it’s an attack on another creature, it’s standard, unless the effect you’re going for is fairly small (such as a -1 or -2 penalty). If it creates a terrain effect, such as difficult terrain or damaging terrain, it could be any type of action, depending on its scope and power. Difficult terrain over one square would be a minor action, while a blast 3 of difficult terrain would probably be a move action and a blast 5 would be a standard action.

A special note on unusual attacks: I try to reward these whenever they occur, and encourage their use. If someone is going to forgo using one of his powers to try something he’s not sure of, I’m damn sure going to make sure that, if he pulls it off, he’s glad he did. By way of example, in a previous session, my players were fighting off some snaketongue cultists on the roof of the lightning rail, and two of them were archers riding atop wyverns. At one point, the fighter (who has a thing for collecting the teeth of his enemies), wanted to try and rip one of the wyverns’ teeth out while it was still alive, since last one that had died had fallen behind the train (thus making its teeth inaccessible). He was unsure, though, and had almost decided to use one of his at-wills instead, because it was the safe and certain thing to do. I told him: “Do it. I’ll make it worth your while.”

So he did. I handled it as a standard action, Strength attack against the wyvern’s Fortitude. I allowed the hit to deal his normal amount of damage (1d10+Str), and told him that the wyvern was dazed until the end of his next turn from the pain, and that it would be marked by him for the rest of the encounter, and that no mark would be able to supersede his mark. Because he gambled on an uncertain attack, I made sure that a successful attack with an improvised (but very cool and thematically appropriate) technique was better than the at-will he would have used instead, probably more on par with an encounter power. And you know what? It was a great moment.

Also, a note on terrain powers. It’s great to include terrain powers in your encounter, but if your players don’t know they’re there, they’re not going to use them. Initially, you’re probably going to have to hit them over the head with your terrain powers, to some extent. What I do is I print up cards for the terrain powers that I’m including, and I include them in the monsters’ stat blocks where it makes sense. That way, the players see the monsters using them, so they start looking for terrain powers to use against the monsters. Once they discover them, I give them the cards so they know exactly what the power will do. I find that players are more likely to use the environment when it’s more of a known quantity.

I’ve heard about people encouraging the use of terrain powers by making them all minor actions, even the attacks. That works for some people, and that’s great; it just doesn’t sit well with me, for some reason. Instead, I make sure that the terrain powers that are standard actions are potent enough that they’re worth using, and I make sure the players know that. What I’ve found, and what you may find if you do the same thing, is that players start coming up with their own terrain powers and alternate actions. And really, that’s the goal.

1. Your post must be on topic.

2. The first person in the list of bloggers who are participating who replies to each post will be responsible for writing the next piece. (Don’t reply if you are not ready to write it with in the next 24 hours.)

3. You must add a link to all of the previous authors carnival posts at the end of your post.

4. No name calling.

The question seems to be: do you include encounters in your game that are designed to be more powerful than the PCs can handle.

The answer is: it’s funny you should mention that.

To any of my players reading this post: stop it. Unless you want some spoilers.

In an upcoming session, I have some encounters planned that are, in fact, designed to be too difficult for the players to take head-on. That is, even if the PCs succeed in what they’re supposed to be succeeding at, the bad guys aren’t going to get beaten, and it’ll probably feel a bit like a loss. Specific story spoilers ahead. You’ve been warned, guys.

My players have an airship. Soon, they’re going to be flying that airship into a land that is rough, unforgiving, and very much a frontier territory. There’s lots of nasty monsters in this area, and they’re going to get a first-hand look at this. First, the airship is going to get attacked by a mated pair of young blue dragons, intent on taking the airship and all valuables from the PCs. My PCs are level 8, and while these dragons are only level 6, there’s two of them, and they’re both solos. It’s a hard encounter, made harder by the fact that the dragons are going to be trying to throw people off the ship and, eventually, damage the ship out of spite when they decide that the PCs are more trouble than they’re worth. I’m pretty sure that the PCs won’t kill even one of these dragons, and at best they’re going to fend them off before the airship is completely torn to pieces.

Once they crash land, they’ll get a little bit of a breather before an enraged dire bullette attacks the group. As I’ve said, these are level 8 PCs, and this bullette is level 15, way above their pay grade. It’s got an AC around 35, which is pretty high for players of that level. This is not a fight they’re supposed to win. Instead, they’re supposed to draw the bullette’s attention away from the wreck and their less powerful allies so that their allies can escape, get to town, get medical attention, and get supplies to come back and fix the ship. Once they have the bullette’s attention, they’re going to have to lead it away from the ship and lose it.

So, yes, I guess I do have fights that cannot be won through combat alone. But that doesn’t mean I’m setting my players up for failure. I have a secret, you see: these fights, while they have real monsters with real statistics making real attacks and with real hit points and defenses, aren’t really fights. Both of these ‘combats’ are structured as skill challenges, and neither has the goal of the enemy’s defeat. In the fight against the dragons, the goal is simply to drive them away and survive their attacks. With the bullette, they have to get its attention, then lose its attention.

This is an idea I’ve started experimenting with: fights that aren’t really fights. I think that this is probably a really good way to handle fights that are too difficult for the PCs. It gives the PCs something to do besides whiffing against defenses that are too high and taking massive amounts of damage. It gives the PCs a definite goal. Best of all, even though the PCs may not feel like they’re ‘winning’ the fights, they’ll likely still feel a sense of accomplishment at the end, even if they just barely got away by the skin of their teeth.

So, how do you handle fights like this? Do you even include them?

Other posts in this blog carnival:
never fear! sandbox vs. safety rails.
Phelanar’s Den
The Daily Encounter
Dkarr
Adam Dray
Sarah Darkmagic