New Ravenloft DM -- Help (3.5)

[High Priest Mikhal]

How many of you, in your games, have decided what the Dark Powers are?

In my games the Dark Powers are overgods--gods to the gods themselves if you will. Like Ao from FR. They've created Ravenloft as a sort of proverbial maze, seeing how sentient creatures manage the (moral) pitfalls they've put in place. As to why, that's the big secret. Nobody, not even Azalin, can even begin to understand their motives. Why they've cut off the gods, why evil is "rewarded" and good punished, why they draw in certain people but not others in the same circumstance, those questions are a key part of the horror I run. And what should happen if someone gets even a bare glimpse of the truth? As the saying goes, "ignorance is bliss." The cold light of knowledge is often worse than the darkness.

[InVinoVeritas]

I know we're talking specifics now, but I figured I'd share my thoughts on how to run Ravenloft that I posted on another board.

I'm a big Ravenloft fan, but I've definitely tweaked it my own way over time. I'll plug my Paridon campaign here as an example. Here's my take on Ravenloft:

1. It's all about the choices we make, every day.
Morality is key to success in a Ravenloft game. Ultimately, this turns the whole standard D&D trope of "gather power, make Epic Destiny" on its ear, because you can always choose to do the right thing. A first-level character is just as capable at fighting back the darkness as a 20th-level character--the real choice is how to fight it back. The end goal isn't beating the BBEG, but about understanding who you really are and coming to peace with whatever that happens to be.

2. Our choices define ourselves.
We are the end result of everything that happens to us and everything we do to ourselves and the world around us. The Dark Powers are just an allegory. They don't turn people into monsters--they merely portray the monsters that those people already are. I worry far less about power balance here as a result. Since you don't need to be powerful to make a difference, it's less important. A character isn't defined by the stats or the equipment, but how that equipment or stats or powers get used.

3. It's about personalities.
Stemming from the first two points, RP is vital in Ravenloft. It's about figuring out who you really are, what you're made of, how your mind bends, and how it breaks. I spend a lot of effort in conversations, sights, sounds, textures, fidgets, tics, everything that makes up everything. The depth of the detail is necessary.

4. The world is one of the most important personalities.
All of the beauty and terror you pour into a Ravenloft game should be apparent in the scenery. Here is a great place to allow for the differences between Domains. The neverending claustrophobic and byzantine urban character in Paridon is one example. I once ran another FTF campaign called "A Matter of Taste" that involved Stezen D'Polarno of Ghastria, and Ivana Boritsi and Ivan Dilisnya of Borca in a treacherous game of politics and trade with the PCs as their pawns. Everything D'Polarno was dull, grey, and bland. Everything Boritsi was juicy, sweet, like an overripe plum. Everything Dilisnya was caustic, acrid, and somehow unpalatable. The fun for the players was in trying to keep the balance.

5. There are no combats, only dangerous dances.
I keep minion combats to the minimum. There aren't random holes of goblins to raid, there are never just rats in the cellar. Instead, every battle is pitching personalities against personalities. The fun in combat is determining just how everyone moves with respect and through one another. Many times, I find PCs happily not fighting, but sparring and maneuvering, trying to gain an advantage wherever possible without ever having to pull out a sword. In Paridon, for example, one of the battles was more about avoiding getting run over by a carriage, and stopping it before it runs into a crowd.

6. Fear is in the unknown.
Keep the players guessing. If they meet a vampire, then break out the garlic and crucifixes, and fight. If they meet something that isn't a vampire... then what? Determining the nature of a horror is, in and of itself, a goal and reward. It makes the horror approachable, relatable. In Paridon, the villain Alek uses this to his benefit. The PCs (and players) know some things about him, but might not yet know everything--or even enough--about his strengths, powers, and weaknesses. And how can you combat that which you do not understand?

By the way, the Paridon campaign is here if you want to mine it for ideas.

[Thelas]

While trying to write something I came upon a problem that might also be awful to my Ravenloftness.

When I'm trying to write anything with evil NPCs that want to actually converse and not kill the PCs immediately, while still being evil and showing it, after about two or three good sentences, it seems to sound like a tea party.

Does anyone have advice for avoiding that?

[Isabella]

Is it an evil tea party?

More seriously, could you give us an example of the offending dialogue?

[Thelas]

I deleted the offending dialogue, but..
When two evil characters (it was a sorcerer and a freaking pit fiend [this wasn't Ravenloft]) get conversing, I can't really convey their attitudes, it ends up more like
"What specifically?"
"I'd like bla-de-bla-de-bla."
"That'd be one soul, please. Also, bla-de-bla-de-bla."
than something that actually sounds like something an evil sorcerer or a pit fiend would say.

[Isabella]

As a [semi, demi, sorta, kinda] DM, I try to think carefully on the attitudes, feelings, and opinions of an NPC, and do my best to make sure they're conveyed in the text [unless they're hiding them from the viewer. My success is arguable]. If the two evil characters are best buds who knew each other in high school and stuck up for each other that one time they blew up the alchemy lab, there's nothing wrong with an evil tea party.

However, I get the feeling that's not what you want, so instead, I'd think on what the sorcerer and pit fiend are feeling during this little exchange. Are they hostile to each other? Strictly business? Old accomplices? Is the sorcerer intimidated by fears of the devil double-crossing him? Does he make up for this by doing his best to show off his superiority? Or perhaps he's excruciatingly clear and technical about exactly what he desires, knowing the devil's tendencies of sticking to a word of an agreement and not the spirit. Does he hate that smug arrogant fiend? Or perhaps he's more quietly cautious. Or maybe the sorcerer isn't worried at all, letting the fiend disparage him while nodding and smiling, content in his own superiority. Or perhaps he shows off that he has the upper hand, taunting the fiend while content that it's powerless to actually hinder him.

The same goes for the fiend. Don't be afraid to portray how and why they're acting a certain way slightly more exaggerated than how a real person would - in my experience, if they're too understated, people just take them at face value.

[InVinoVeritas]

Here's an example (from Paridon):

"Ah, Gis, please! Do come in, sit and enjoy!"

Gis enters the great hall at D'Marosso Manor, set with a large table. The table is covered with food and drink, sights and smells from faraway lands.

At the head of the table sits a very large man. His doublet stretches at the seams to contain his girth, his cheeks are full and round, and his bejewelled rings appear to threaten to pop off his sausage-like fingers. The portly Lord Gustav D'Marosso grabs a snail shell and sucks out the animal inside with a flick of his tongue.

Gingerly, Gis approaches. He feels small at the display, far more used to his simple military fare.

"Haha, no, no worries, you're most welcome! Put some meat on those bones, have an eel!"

"Your honor, thank you for seeing me at this--"

"No, no, don't 'your honor' me! We're all good friends here, now, aren't we? Please, come." The judge's voice grows stern. "I said, sit."

Gis sits. Gustav sticks a pair of tongs into a steaming tureen, and pulls out some bizarre crustacean. It snaps back and writhes in his grasp, but he simply holds it firmly and pulls off a leg.

Crunching away, Gustav continues, "So, Gis, you must tell me, how is the Rose Company?"

"They have had a very harrowing time. Perrin has put in for a transfer again, and this time it looks permanent."

"Ah, well, he always had a yellow streak. Pity about Torhan, too, but I suppose he was too compassionate for his own good."

"Indeed. There is still some question about Calahan. His instability is giving the others pause, but they still defend him."

"Give it time. He or they will come aorund. He's more stable than even he realizes, unfortunately. How about Fr. Berman? He's who I'm most interested in." Gustav wrenches a claw off his captive, and drizzles the wriggling blood over a plate of tentacles.

Gis winces. "He remains quiet, but he performs admirably. He does not flinch from his task, and was not for an instant distracted by the gnome women."

"Good, good! That dedication to Paridonese ways will serve him very well. Very well indeed!" He stabs his victim's carapace with a knife to end its writhing. He combines the claw meat with a spear from an oddly shaped fruit.

"Darian, though... does he still fancy that gnome?"

"Possibly, I'm not sure. She hasn't been charged, she's still in custody."

"Heh, best place for her. He's making progress, we'll see what happens. He has pluck. And Ru? Does he still pine for his old ways?"

"No, thankfully. He remains resolute and in control, though he doubts his successes in this past mission." Gis pauses a moment before continuing. "I've increased the team, as you recommended. They should be formidable against their next challenge..."

Gustav takes a gargantuan bite. Gis, having not touched a single thing, clears his throat. "Sir, I am certain that Paridonese cuisine, as the height of culture, could certainly sate your appetite..."

Gustav grins, speaking through bits of mashed arthropod and citrus, "Indeed, I've tried it all. Yet not a single dish would show the height of Paridonese culture."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Don't think I haven't noticed your fast. The food here, it is unfamiliar, not your style. Disgusting. Listen, this food is the height of Paridonese culture. We are the undisputed paragons of good society in all the land. Our craftsman make the most effective weaponry. Our people show the greatest devotion. Our sages are the most learned, and our leaders are the most inspiring. How do we know? Because we can prove it by force. We can overwhelm the swamps of Souragne, the bitter cold of Vorostokov. Why, the gnomes and dwarves have flocked under our protection. But why the conquering? Of what use is all this? Resources. We are superior because we are able to take what we want from the inferior. By claiming their gold, they know we are in control. By enjoying their wives, they know we are their masters. In short, if we cannot eat their food, how can we call ourselves better?"

Gis sits, stunned and chastised. "...Please pass the tentacles."

"Very good. Now, down to business!"

You can also check out what Alek has to say in the campaign. Overall, evil is indicated by attitudes and subtleties that don't always involve scene-chewing. I just recently say The Illusionist, and Prince Leopold is a prime example of evil that you can sit down and speak with. Try that.

[Thelas]

Thinking of making a change to rules for paladins, clerics, druids, etc:
They can't fall or lose powers unless they become actually aware that their alignment has shifted out of acceptability. Of course, this is harder with lack of detect evil.

Thoughts?