Stealthdozer
2009-05-10, 01:28 AM
Dungeon Mastering Nautical Games:
Learn the terminology.
I’m a deck-ape from the Coast of Maine. Many nautical terms are second nature to me. Likely that doesn’t help you? I’ve never manned a tall-ship however. I copied a sail plan from an encyclopedia indicating which sail was what, and kept it out of view. It enhanced the game for my players when I could locate a fore top gallant with ease. I recommend drawing and identifying as much as you can, and keeping these notes handy. Memorize a term or two, and incorporate each into your next game. Using the proper terms really adds to the quality of the gaming experience.
Run a tight ship at character creation.
Most of our group wanted to play a pirate game, seeking a bit of swashbuckling roguery. One player insisted on playing a Paladin. Another time, another player wanted to play a centaur – on a sailing ship! It’s your duty to secure poor character concepts – the earlier the better for all.
Avoid Nihilism.
It discourages players if you constantly take their toys. Never ruin your player’s confidence in their ship – it’s their sanctuary. Their ship shouldn’t be constantly sinking, constantly under attack, or constantly suffering from your ill-advised sense of drama. You’re not Shakespeare, learn to let them be.
You’re not Shakespeare.
Forget what you think is drama. If the player’s ship is faster than another ship, then make it so. They might outrun an enemy, or chase another ship down. Let them. Ships shouldn’t be suffering broken masts, torn sails, or catastrophic leaks just because you’re bored. Ships are resistant to damage of all types. Prior to the age of gunpowder, ships were not combustible. Boilers on early steam-ships did blow-up, but improvements in design made these reliable too. I normally apply half-damage from all energy types on wooden sailing vessels that lack gunpowder.
Simplify source materials.
There are many good source books for nautical campaigns. Not everyone has access to all these materials. To simplify things we use just Stormwrack, plus a few house rules. Write the house rules down, and e-mail or hand them out to your players. Avoid “secret” rules.
Cox the landlubber.
Every group I’ve run had one player who was easily sea-sick, couldn’t swim, or otherwise feared the sea. D&D is id on parade. Some players will project their fears into their characters. They’ll hold themselves and sometimes the rest of the crew back if you let them. Listen to their fears, boost their confidence, and help them separate themselves from their characters. Provide warm milk and a cookie if necessary. Dungeon Masters need to know when to be gentle too.
Know your crew.
We’ve a large crew (party). I claimed realism when I forbid siege weapons aboard ships (this went for Non-Player Character’s ships too). A catapult or ballista on a sailing vessel is impractical – even stupid. The unspoken cause behind this decision was the dynamics of the group. The player who wanted to play a Paladin on a pirate ship would likely have pea-cocked the siege engines. Forbidding them – a published house rule – provided all players something to do during fights with enemy ships – firing missile weapons and casting spells at a distance, or swarming aboard ships that drew close. By pea-cocking I mean playing as the center of attention.
Players earn rank.
Someone gets to wear the big hat and be Captain. Eventually this will be a Player. Ensure the player is the right one for the job. Bossy players don’t get to be Captain. One nautical campaign I was a player in I served as First Mate, and was helpful as I could be to both the crew and the young lady who wanted to wear the big hat. I was the most knowledgeable real-world sailor. These people are my friends. I’m not there to play at their expense.
Player’s decisions matter
One successful nautical campaign revolved around a crew of (mostly) Half-Elves manning a merchant caravel, sailing between several ports. In theory their adventure was to establish trade between Elf and Human communities. The real fun lay in letting the players make decisions. Important skills included Diplomacy, Gather Information, Profession - Merchant, and Profession - Sailor. Eventually there were pirate contacts in Freeport, a blood-feud with the Back Bay Thieves Guild, and a kraken lurking just past the Western Strait. The party didn’t know it, but the “world” was inspired by the Ancient Mediterranean. Anyway, my job was to provide enough details for the players to make decisions by – not make decisions for the players by limiting the details provided. Maybe your players are all bloodthirsty, and want nothing more than to play Grand Theft Auto on the high seas. Let them, and let them face the consequences too.
Learn the terminology.
I’m a deck-ape from the Coast of Maine. Many nautical terms are second nature to me. Likely that doesn’t help you? I’ve never manned a tall-ship however. I copied a sail plan from an encyclopedia indicating which sail was what, and kept it out of view. It enhanced the game for my players when I could locate a fore top gallant with ease. I recommend drawing and identifying as much as you can, and keeping these notes handy. Memorize a term or two, and incorporate each into your next game. Using the proper terms really adds to the quality of the gaming experience.
Run a tight ship at character creation.
Most of our group wanted to play a pirate game, seeking a bit of swashbuckling roguery. One player insisted on playing a Paladin. Another time, another player wanted to play a centaur – on a sailing ship! It’s your duty to secure poor character concepts – the earlier the better for all.
Avoid Nihilism.
It discourages players if you constantly take their toys. Never ruin your player’s confidence in their ship – it’s their sanctuary. Their ship shouldn’t be constantly sinking, constantly under attack, or constantly suffering from your ill-advised sense of drama. You’re not Shakespeare, learn to let them be.
You’re not Shakespeare.
Forget what you think is drama. If the player’s ship is faster than another ship, then make it so. They might outrun an enemy, or chase another ship down. Let them. Ships shouldn’t be suffering broken masts, torn sails, or catastrophic leaks just because you’re bored. Ships are resistant to damage of all types. Prior to the age of gunpowder, ships were not combustible. Boilers on early steam-ships did blow-up, but improvements in design made these reliable too. I normally apply half-damage from all energy types on wooden sailing vessels that lack gunpowder.
Simplify source materials.
There are many good source books for nautical campaigns. Not everyone has access to all these materials. To simplify things we use just Stormwrack, plus a few house rules. Write the house rules down, and e-mail or hand them out to your players. Avoid “secret” rules.
Cox the landlubber.
Every group I’ve run had one player who was easily sea-sick, couldn’t swim, or otherwise feared the sea. D&D is id on parade. Some players will project their fears into their characters. They’ll hold themselves and sometimes the rest of the crew back if you let them. Listen to their fears, boost their confidence, and help them separate themselves from their characters. Provide warm milk and a cookie if necessary. Dungeon Masters need to know when to be gentle too.
Know your crew.
We’ve a large crew (party). I claimed realism when I forbid siege weapons aboard ships (this went for Non-Player Character’s ships too). A catapult or ballista on a sailing vessel is impractical – even stupid. The unspoken cause behind this decision was the dynamics of the group. The player who wanted to play a Paladin on a pirate ship would likely have pea-cocked the siege engines. Forbidding them – a published house rule – provided all players something to do during fights with enemy ships – firing missile weapons and casting spells at a distance, or swarming aboard ships that drew close. By pea-cocking I mean playing as the center of attention.
Players earn rank.
Someone gets to wear the big hat and be Captain. Eventually this will be a Player. Ensure the player is the right one for the job. Bossy players don’t get to be Captain. One nautical campaign I was a player in I served as First Mate, and was helpful as I could be to both the crew and the young lady who wanted to wear the big hat. I was the most knowledgeable real-world sailor. These people are my friends. I’m not there to play at their expense.
Player’s decisions matter
One successful nautical campaign revolved around a crew of (mostly) Half-Elves manning a merchant caravel, sailing between several ports. In theory their adventure was to establish trade between Elf and Human communities. The real fun lay in letting the players make decisions. Important skills included Diplomacy, Gather Information, Profession - Merchant, and Profession - Sailor. Eventually there were pirate contacts in Freeport, a blood-feud with the Back Bay Thieves Guild, and a kraken lurking just past the Western Strait. The party didn’t know it, but the “world” was inspired by the Ancient Mediterranean. Anyway, my job was to provide enough details for the players to make decisions by – not make decisions for the players by limiting the details provided. Maybe your players are all bloodthirsty, and want nothing more than to play Grand Theft Auto on the high seas. Let them, and let them face the consequences too.