S is for Spell Selection

This is my 6th post in my Building a Better Villain thread that runs throughout April A to Z

Just a warning to non-gamers, this post is a bit crunchy (heavy on gamespeak and rules.)


Spell-casting in D&D is an odd beast. Up until 4th edition, the game used a system commonly known as Vancian magic* With 4th edition, the game scrambled it’s spellcasting, shifting to a more Magic the Gathering-style system of powers with set recharge rates, combined with ritual
(for magic-users, these were still called “spells”, but were no longer unique from the new powers given to fighters or other non-magic classes).

For this post, I would like to focus on managing spells in the older Vancian system. Vancian magic basically treats spells like ammo. You have a specific number of spells you can cast each day, and for wizards and clerics, they must be prepared in advance at the beginning of that day. This means that if you want to be able to cast 3 fireball spells, you need to memorize the spell 3 times. A friend of mine described it as fixing the magical patterns in the wizard’s brain. When the spell is cast, the pattern burns itself out in the process.

Most players try to select spells to cover a broad range of potential situations. Since they don’t  know what the GM has in store, this is a wise way to go about it. For a GM, however, taking this same approach might not be the best choice. Players spend a lot of time with their characters, they get to know the spells they have at hand, and become familiar with their mechanics. The GM, by contrast, may roleplay several NPC spellcasters during the course of a single game session, and several more the next game. Becoming familiar with diverse spell sets for each of these NPCs quickly becomes cumbersome for any busy GM who hasn’t had 20 years to memorize the Player’s Handbook by rote.

As such, I recommend taking a different approach with NPC spellcasters. Don’t try to optimize them to meet any possible challenge. Optimize them instead to a.) present a particular challenge or asset to the PCs (depending on their role as support or adversary) and b.) give the magic user a distinct style (e.g. pyromancer, summoner or mentalist), characterized by fewer spells with more of the same spell prepared. This gives you fewer spell descriptions to memorize and adds a distinct feel to the NPC. I would try to give them a couple protective spells, a couple attack spells and a few interesting effect spells they can throw into an encounter. In general, a caster will use more attack spells during combat than defensive spells, as the latter typically get spent while buffing up in the early rounds. Therefore, it is important to have at least 1 low-level attack that can be cast a bunch of times, while fewer self-defense spells might suffice.

Here’s an example:
A 10th level wizard will likely be able to cast at least 23 spells each day. Rather than giving them 23 different spells, do something like this:

10th level necromancer
0 level (4 spells) Detect magic x2, Touch of fatigue x21 level (5 spells) Ray of Enfeeblement x3 (low level debuff) Shield x2 (defense)2 level (5 spells) Melf’s Acid Arrow x5 (low level attack)3 level (4 spells) Vampiric Touch x4 (stronger debuff/healing)4 level (3 spells) Animate Dead x3 (summoning)5 level (2 spells) Cloudkill x2 (powerful area of effect)

With the above example, you only need to be familiar with 8 spells instead of 23. It still has a mix of direct damage attacks, area attacks, defense and other interesting effect spells, but should be much less cumbersome to run. The above necromancer also focuses on spells that either drain an enemy’s life force, or summon undead to assist the character. You could also throw in a couple extra spells that have simple mechanics or that you are already familiar with if certain types of spells are missing (e.g. mage armor to further beef up defense)

*named for its similarity with the system found in Jack Vance’s Dying Earth series.

M is for Masses of Minions

This is the 5th post of my Building a Better Villain thread that runs throughout the April A to Z Challenge.

Let’s talk about minions, that wonderful staple of archvillainy. Most exemplars of evil strive to command hordes of lesser baddies to do their dirty work for them. Minions act as an arch-villain’s eyes and ears, his/her mischievous hands and, when necessary, a living shield to cover a quick getaway.

My favorite minion scene ever. (Yes, I know they are technically, "henchmen".)

The mechanic behind minions in D&D 4e is one of the things I like about that particular edition. Minions are basically 1-hit bad guys that are only really encountered in the company of other, tougher antagonists. While they can dish out some damage to the heroes, they can also be mowed down like wheat, allowing the good guys to feel like a bunch of real badasses. The disposable minion mechanic helps mitigate the problems associated with mass combats in D&D. However, it can be taken further.

Mass melee with minions
When the heroes finally wind their way through an archvillain’s tangled, trap-filled lair, chances are, the boss baddie isn’t going to face them on his own. He’s gonna want backup in the form of as many minions as he can muster. If the heroes caught their arch alone, chances are, he would drop a smoke grenade, or a bag of bees and get out of Dodge, lickety split. Unfortunately, working sufficient backup into a battle is problematic.

First off, the baddie will ideally want to outnumber the heroes. In a typical D&D situation, this means at least 6 bad guys to a group of 5 heroes. The arch will likely want to tilt the scales even further, perhaps an order of 2 to 1 pushing things into the realm of a dozen bad guys staring down the heroes. By a strict reading of the D&D mechanics, such a situation will likely turn into an hours-long slog at the gaming table and-despite the exciting premise of a massive battle- will end up being no fun for anyone.

The biggest challenge to mass combat encounters, especially boss+minions is the sheer amount of dice rolling that has to take place. If a DM makes every individual roll for a big brawl between a party of 5 adventurers and a dozen bad guys, things get really boring reeeally fast! First, the GM will be rolling about twice as much as the players, and second, even if each character’s turn (declare an action, roll and move) is resolved in a minute or less, a round of combat (representing 6 seconds in game time) can take 15 minutes or more. That minute per turn mark becomes nearly impossible to hit when you factor in additional rolls like saving throws made in response to attacks, hunting for individual minion’s stats, etc.

Well, I have a couple tricks that I use to speed up these big brawls and keep the focus on the players.

1. Do hitpoints by the fives: I calculate minion hitpoints with tally marks, each representing 5hp. When one of my players lands an attack, I round to the nearest five and make the corresponding mark. This really speeds up my mental math when trying to calculate damage to a minion.

2. Forget the dice: Though I roll dice for unique actions taken by minions, if I am calculating saves for a whole posse caught in the PC pyromancer’s ubiquitous fireball, I instead rely on a pregenerated sheet of random D20 rolls. I use the WOTC online dice roller to generate a single roll of 1000 d20 and then copy and paste the breakdown into a Word doc. 12 minions caught in a blast? I simply calculate the minimum roll needed to save and then tick off the next 12 entries on the list. I do the same when a dozen minis go after the PCs with swords. tick off the attack rolls down the line. Speeds things up like you wouldn’t believe.

3. There is no I in Team: Have the minions work together as a group. Combine attacks into single actions like a unified volley of arrows. Turn avoidance into a single reflex save with the minion’s attack roll as the number to beat.

4. Minions + Minions cancel each other out: Sometimes, the PCs also bring friends to a fight, swelling the combat numbers to truly unwieldy proportions. In these circumstances, I simply narrate the flow of minion on minion violence. The groups of support characters become a sort of dynamic element to the setting, rather than fully realized participants. The focus is thrown to the players and their nemises while the battle swirls around them.

My particular game is full of massive minion encounters, and these shortcuts allow me to keep things exciting for the players while maintaining a feel of a full, frenetic fight.

I is for Introductions

This is the fourth post in my Building a Better Villain series.

Darth Vader shows up even before Luke, and boy is he a jerk!

You never get a second chance to make a first impression, or so says the ubiquitous “They”. An effective introduction of a villain can help make the difference between a riotous adventure driven by rivalry and a crystal clear objective, and a long, slogging campaign full of uncertain choices and confusion.



Here are a couple of recommendations for making that first appearance of your big baddie count for all it’s worth.



1. Introduce the villain early. Fantasy novels and video games often bring out the bad guy right at the beginning. Many books have the luxury of presenting things from multiple points of view. Authors like R.A. Salvatore take advantage of this to introduce the main antagonist as early as the prologue--often before they’ve even introduced the hero. This helps set the tone for the entire work, because everyone knows that something is rotten in the state of Denmark... or wherever.



2. Make the villain overpowering. ROFL Initiative reader, Matt made an excellent suggestion in the comments on G is for Getaways. Making the villain far more powerful (and obviously so) than your heroes upon introduction does a couple of valuable things for your story. First, it helps ensure that your heroes don’t immediately try to obliterate your main antagonist. If they do try, a hero lost early on will be less likely to cause grief than one that has absorbed a lot of TLC. Second, making the villain a force to be reckoned with gives the players something to strive for in their character growth. “Become skilled enough to defeat the overwhelming powerhouse” is the distilled essence of almost every sports movie ever made. It also worked for Inigo Montoya.






A power imbalance can also give the heroes some breathing room to start growing their own power immediately after their introduction. The villain might write them off as but a nuisance, ignoring their early efforts, but as the heroes’ power grows, more of the villain’s attention begins to focus on what is becoming a credible threat to his/her/its plans.



3. The villain’s villainy doesn’t necessarily need to be obvious to everyone. Perhaps the heroes catch a glimpse of the villain’s dastardly intentions, but lack the crystal proof to bring down someone who is otherwise an upstanding pillar of society. Finding the proof and getting the clearance to openly go after a villain can be part of the heroes’ arc.



4. Nor does the villain necessarily need to be there in person. Refugees telling outlandish tales of a barbarian tyrant on the march can be enough to establish a sense of antagonism, as can malicious minions sent by their master. If done well, such introductions by proxy can establish a clear villain, while retaining some mystery and keeping the big bad out of immediate harm.


I would suggest erring on the side of telling too much in this situation. In my game, for instance, the heroes began to encounter a mysterious creeping blight, but it took them over a year (in real time) to figure out where it was coming from, much less what was causing it. In hindsight, this seems the wrong way to go about such things as it periodically caused my players to become frustrated in a “What now!? When will this blight quest ever end!?” sort of way. Believe me, if you reveal the answers to these questions early, but stick to some of the other recommendations, your quest will feel plenty epic.

Hopefully this will provide some inspiration you can use towards making your games or stories rollicking, edge of your seat thrill-rides, full of sex, death and explosions... not necessarily in that order.

G is for Getaways

This is the third post in my Building a Better Villain thread, which runs throughout my April A to Z efforts.

The smart villain knows when she is outmatched!

In order to convert a villain from a mere Big Bad End Guy into a true archenemy, you have to keep him/her/it alive through more than one encounter. Any chump can fight a group of heroes once, but it takes something special to survive the first encounter in order to harass and/or return to seek vengeance at a later date. Surviving run-ins with the forces of good can be tricky, especially in a medium like D&D, which has a very high villain mortality rate.

In fiction, authors can use any number of devices to ensure their villains are long-running antagonists and foils to their heroes. The author has complete control to ensure their clashes end however they wishe. In D&D and other tabletop RPGs, there is a strong element of uncertainty created by the dice and the inclusion of the players as creative forces in the story. In over three years of running my game on a bi-weekly basis, my players have had a total of 5 major antagonists survive their first encounter. Only three of those antagonists remain active, the others having been destroyed after their second run-in with the forces of righteousness... and one of the active ones was only seen standing on a distant hill (see "Lead from the Rear" below)

So, what techniques can a GM employ to ensure that his/her big baddies get away to fight again another day?

First and foremost, play your top villains smart. Intelligence was one of my must-have qualities for an archenemy. A smart villain will likely err on the side of caution. They will be tactically cautious upfront to help ensure their advantage before willingly engaging their foe. They will always have an escape plan in case something goes wrong, and, if possible, they will not wait until they are on the verge of death to use said escape plan. Here are some specific examples of smart villain tactics:

Lead from the rear: A wise antagonist, will likely send in his troops before wading into battle himself. Allowing others to throw themselves against the PCs can not only soften the heroes up a bit, but it can also let the big bad leader analyze and assess their capabilities from relative safety.

Git while the gettin's good: If you were losing a fight you didn't need to be in, how long would you stand and slug it out? Unless something major is keeping them there, I would have most smart villains head for the exit, or at least attempt to disengage and heal once they were drained to about half-strength. Really tenacious bad guys like barbarians might be a little more cavalier, but I'd still have them consider their options by about 25% health.

Decoys and quick escapes: D&D offers several magical options for getting out of a tight spot fast. From invisibility, to teleport spells, a villain has numerous panic-button options to chose from. Heck, even a wall of bees might do the trick in a pinch. (That's not really a spell, though it should be!) The inherent quick escape abilities of creatures like mindflayers, vampires or liches makes these monsters excellent options for recurring villains. Vampires and liches can only be permanently destroyed if respectively found in their coffin or phylactery (horcrux for you Harry Potter fans). Smart undead would set up decoy versions and keep the real thing well hidden. For more mundane villain sorts, like human warlords or the like, a spring-loaded portcullis or sudden rush of minions might do the trick, though it is far from guaranteed.

Call in Miracle Max: If worse comes to worse, a villain with loyal followers and a little cash could always rely on them to resurrect his/her arrow-riddled corpse. Even a relatively low level arch might have access to a spell like reincarnation... In fact, it might be really amusing to have some vain and villainous duke brought back in the body of a kobold or something.

These guys know what I'm talkin' about!

E is for Evil

Welcome to the second post in my Building a Better Villain series. Today, we discuss the topic of evil, or, more properly pronounced, “eeeeeeeeeeeeevil”

It is not difficult to guess that a great deal of time playing D&D is devoted to the struggle of Good vs. Evil in all their capitalized meaning. Indeed, much, if not most of action-oriented fiction and media addresses this most elemental of struggles.

This is not the first time I have posted on the nature of evil in D&D. In fact, I recommend you check out my post V is for Verisimilitude from last year’s A to Z challenge.

Today, I would like to focus on how villains come to be perceived as evil, and how that may differ from the way they perceive themselves.

As a child of the 80s, I was brought up in a media environment saturated with super-simplified heroes and villains. The bad guys in my childood cartoons were generally motivated by one thing. They wanted to be bad. moustache twirling, fist-shaking, cacklingly bad. Villains like Cobra Commander, Skeletor and Megatron reveled in their own nastiness. Heck, Skeletor even had a sultry sidekick named “Evil-Lyn!” What were her parents thinking!? Did Mr. and Mrs. Lyn expect her to become a veterinarian!?

This simplified form of evil for evil’s sake works fine for kid’s shows, but I prefer a deeper, more nuanced approach to my villainy. Unfortunately, the D&D rules seem geared to perpetuate the ultra-simplified worldview that one who commits evil acts is evil to the core. Characters, creatures and even entire races are given an alignment that includes criss-crossing axes of good-neutral-evil and lawful-neutral-chaotic. By a strict reading of the 3.5 edition rules, anyone/thing of evil alignment radiates an aura of badness that anyone with the right spell can detect... like paladins... judgmental pricks.

My problem with this is that real evil... the absolute worst kind of people do not believe they are evil when they commit evil acts. Let’s start at the top. Hitler, who is arguably the paramount example of evil in the 20th Century (or at least the most well known) was not motivated by a desire to kill millions of innocent people. He was motivated by a desire to restore his country to glory--taken by itself, not such a bad goal. When the means to achieve that glory involve the genocide of 6 million people, that goal becomes just about the most evil thing anyone’s ever done.

The more believable and more sinister form of evil boils down to evil means to attain an otherwise good or at least understandable end. This adds an element of discomfort for the heroes attempting to take down that villain. Maybe some part of them understands the baddie’s perspective. A villain seeking to attain an otherwise noble goal is also much more likely to draw followers to his/her cause. “Hey, how about joining me for some good ol’ evil” just doesn’t have the power to sway most people. Now, the “goodness” of the goal does not have to be completely altruistic. A villain might be motivated by an elevated sense of self preservation--a seemingly reasonable, if selfish goal. The important thing is that they believe their actions are justified.

So, when creating a truly dastardly villain for a book or game, think about their motivation. Why do they want what they want, and why are they willing to commit such horrendous acts to get it? A vampire tearing a rift between the material realm and the plane of shadows to protect his family from possible annihilation by sunlight is a stronger villain than one who just wants to scare the crap out of people and make them sad/dead.

Here are some other examples of villains with strong motivation:

• Frank Hummel (Ed Harris’ character from the Rock) - To draw attention to the injustice done to his men. <-- One of my all time favorite villains... and he's from a Michael Bay movie!?

• Eric Lensherr (Magneto) - To prevent a second holocaust committed against mutants

• Hans Gruber (Alan Rickman in Die Hard) - Personal Comfort / monetary gain

• The Six Fingered Man from the Princess Bride - Intellectual Curiosity

• Joan Crawford as depicted in Mommie Dearest - Maintain order and control (actually, in popular media, this seems to be a very common motivation for female villains of the overbearing mother-figure variety.)

I could go on and on, but I think you get the point.


Update: On my morning drive I heard a radio piece about the musicals of Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice. In a discussion about their rock opera, Jesus Christ, Super Star, they mentioned something that really illustrates what today's post is about.

Rice says what eventually made it a yes was a brainstorm: the idea of telling the story from Judas Iscariot's point of view.

"It's logical that he might've been worried about the man that he admired, and had joined, [that he] was kind of getting out of control," Rice says. "In the Bible, there is absolutely no motivation for Judas, other than that he is sort of a 100 percent figure of evil. And it seemed to me that that was probably not the case."

A is for Archenemy

And so, it begins.

Throughout this month, I will dedicate a series of posts to “Building a Better Villain”. These posts will look at ways to push a game’s Big Bad End Guy (BBEG) into the realm of an archenemy. This first post looks at the qualities that set an archenemy apart from the daily villainous grind.

What's the matter Colonel Sanders? Chicken!?

The Archenemy is a staple of heroic fiction and many, though not all, heroes have them. Batman has the Joker, Harry Potter has Voldemort, Peter Pan has Captain Hook and Zim has Dib. An archenemy can be a powerful tool for an author or game master (GM). They act as a foil for the heroes, add depth to their motivation, and help drive the story forward. For GMs, however, implementing an arch can be tricky. The reoccurring aspect of the archenemy trope is difficult to execute in a game like D&D where the heroes’ may exercise a strong motivation to “kill all the things!”

So, what is it, exactly, that makes an enemy an ARCH enemy? The term "Archenemy" derives from the Greek arkhos, meaning "most important". However, the nuances of the archenemy as a trope of heroic fiction expand upon that sense of importance. Archenemies are also typically:

Recurring: “So, we meet again, for the first time, for the last time.” – Dark Helmet 

The hero can’t quite ever quit the arch. They are a constant thorn in his or her side. This is likely the most difficult aspect of the archenemy trope to implement at the game table. In literature and movies, authors often have the arch slip away just as the heroes are about to strike the final blow. At the very least, they implement a “mysterious” death in which no body is found. At the game table, however, a great deal of a villain’s recurrence depends on the dice and the GM’s ability to extract them from tight situations. We'll go into this in more detail in future posts.

Antithetical: “Evil will always triumph, because Good is dumb!” –Dark Helmet

An arch’s actions, if not necessarily his/her motivations oppose those held by the hero. Voldemort wants to establish an evil magic master race, while Harry wants everyone to be friends. Artemis Entreri kills indiscriminately for profit, while Drizzt only does so in defense of his friends. Often boiled down to good vs. evil, the struggle between a hero and his/her arch can become a complex interplay of similarities and differences.

Similar: “We are not so different you and I” – Dr. Evil

Many heroes and arches have much more in common than the hero might like to believe. They may once have been friends (Professor X and Magneto) severed by a difference of fundamental outlook. They may have shared a pivotal life-changing event (Potter and Voldemort). Or they may simply share some common trait that seems to intertwine their destinies (both mutants, shared magical prowess, both societal outcasts or pillars of society). The similarities between a hero and arch can foster a sort of understanding between them, instigate self-reflection on their part and deepen their conflict beyond the physical into a psychological and philosophical struggle. For GMs, a player character’s backstory can be rich fodder for developing these similarities in an arch.

Intelligent: “You can't escape by teleporter, little Gaz. I cut the power! Your pitiful attempt to escape is nothing but a PITIFUL FAILURE! Stupid, stinking humans!” -Zim

Arches tend to be smartypants. The term “mastermind” is often used in conversation about them. An arch’s mental prowess elevates him/her above the thuggish rabble the hero battles on a daily basis. An arch’s intelligence factors in to many of the other arch characteristics. A smart villain will have planned traps contingencies, decoys and escape routes to prevent the hero from reaching him/her, and to get away quickly in the event of a direct confrontation. A smart arch will also make use of commonalities and differences to make the hero’s life more difficult. On some level, the villain understands how the hero thinks and will use this to his or/her advantage wherever possible.

For authors or GMs hoping to craft an archenemy, keep these qualities in mind. I hope to touch a bit more on the antithetical/similar relationships of heroes to their archvillains in tomorrow’s post, B is for Backstory. There will be more villainous ideas forthcoming as April A to Z progresses.