Thursday, January 9, 2025

Renegade Thoul Class for OSE Classic

Freak. Mutant. Abomination. Thoul.

You've heard it all by now. It doesn't phase you anymore. You don't even bother snarkily correcting their pronunciation nowadays.* It's not like they'd listen, anyway. You just ignore them, or show them what those claws of yours can do if they really push you.

You were born into the ranks a normal hobgoblin, or so everybody thought. The mutation was so vanishingly rare in your stronghold that they stopped bothering to test newborns for it generations ago. But then you came along, and before the end of your first year you accidentally paralyzed three wet nurses in a row. Then the commander slashed the sole of your foot open with a knife, and watched the cut knit itself shut even as you kicked and wailed.

So you were labeled thoul, and cast down into the proverbial dung heap of hobgoblin society. Only menial labor and the worst, most dangerous postings in the stronghold were open to you. As you languished in squalor, those of your birth-group slowly but steadily climbed the ranks, leaving you behind. You keep mostly to yourself now. Others only stop to bark orders at you, or to stare at you and try to pick out the one feature that marks you out as thoul. Sometimes it's your nose, or your teeth, or something absurd like the sound of your breath or the shape of your shadow.

At least your hardships has given you the opportunity to gain a perspective on life denied to most hobgoblins; that the promise of meritocracy and advancement through the ranks according to ability and duty is a load of festering stirge guano, meant only to keep society's subalterns obediently following the orders of their "betters". Otherwise, you'd have earned at least a captaincy by now.

But what are you going to do about it? Abandon your post and desert?

... You should probably see if that norker and the varag runt want to tag along. They aren't terrible company, and their prospects aren't much better than yours.


Hobgoblin by Tony DiTerlizzi

Renegade Thoul

Requirements: Minimum STR 9, minimum CON 9
Prime Requisite: CON and STR
Hit Dice: 1d8
Maximum level: 8
Armour: Any, including shields
Weapons: Any
Languages: Alignment, Common, Elvish, Hobgoblin

Thouls (contraction of hobgoblin tah'oul, lit. 'death hands') are strange unfortunates of hobgoblin society. They are the rare few who express a highly recessive mutation unknowingly carried by most hobgoblin populations from a long-forgotten magical experiment in which some bored god or wizard merged bits and pieces of hobgoblin, troll, and even ghoul biology. They are outwardly indistinguishable from other hobgoblins except upon close inspection.

Thouls often live in blissful ignorance among their kin until traumatic childhood events reveal their unique abilities. Almost invariably this revelation leads to the thoul getting kicked down to the bottom rung of hobgoblin society, where they are treated as mutants and aberrations lacking in honor. Some still rise through the ranks by proving themselves as bodyguards to more important individuals, while others take steps to conceal their nature. A few even strike out on their own, or with other outcasts and castoffs.

Claws

Thouls are forced to defend themselves at an early age using the long, sharp claws they sport on each hand. They gain 2 unarmed attacks for 1d3 damage each.

Infravision

Thouls have infravision to 60’ (see Darkness under Hazards and Challenges in Old-School Essentials).

Paralysis

Thouls, though not undead in any way, possess a distant echo of the ghoul's paralyzing touch. From 4th level, if a thoul hits their target with both claw attacks in a round, the target must save vs paralysis or be paralyzed for 1d4 turns. As usual, elves and creatures larger than ogres are unaffected.

Regeneration

From 7th level, a thoul regenerates 1hp per round after being damaged. Severed limbs do not reattach. Fire and acid damage cannot regenerate as normal. Either the wizard got lazy, or they couldn't cram a whole troll's worth of regeneration into a thoul-sized body.

After Reaching 8th Level

A renegade thoul has the option of creating an underground stronghold that will attract other outcast members of goblin societies from far and wide, including 1d6 other thouls of levels 1-3. Neighboring goblins will generally be unfriendly and suspicious of any community led by a known thoul, and will rarely collaborate in times of trouble at first.

Thoul Level Progression

Level

XP

HD

THAC0

Saving Throws

D

W

P

B

S

1

0

1d8

19 [0]

12

13

14

15

16

2

4,000

2d8

19 [0]

12

13

14

15

16

3

8,000

3d8

19 [0]

12

13

14

15

16

4

16,000

4d8

17 [+2]

10

11

12

13

14

5

32,000

5d8

17 [+2]

10

11

12

13

14

6

64,000

6d8

17 [+2]

10

11

12

13

14

7

120,000

7d8

14 [+5]

8

9

10

10

12

8

250,000

8d8

14 [+5]

8

9

10

10

12

D: Death / poison; W: Wands; P: Paralysis / petrify; B: Breath attacks; S: Spells / rods / staves.


* It's pronounced like tool rather than thool. The 'h' indicates an aspirated consonant similar to that used in the word 'ghoul', and it would perhaps be better rendered as tʰoul in Common. But when do they ever care about accuracy?

Saturday, January 4, 2025

Pupating Dwarf (GLOG Class)

"[...] Next the gods took their places on their thrones and instituted their courts and discussed where the dwarfs had been generated from in the soil and down in the earth like maggots in flesh. The dwarfs had taken shape first and acquired life in the flesh of Ymir and were then maggots, but by decision of the gods they became conscious with intelligence and had the shape of men though they live in the earth and in rocks. "

- High, Snorra Edda. Trans. Anthony Faulkes, 1995.


Look at what they've done to you, the wretched little Æslings.

Look how they've mutilated you. Stunted you. Robbed you.

They took your ancestors up in their hands, still dripping with the blood of Ymir, and toyed with them as a child would clay. They gave you stunted arms and legs in humiliating parody of their own bodies. Fat little fingers fit only for clutching tools now replace the claws that once rent stone and bone. A once-tranquil mind born of singular purpose is now plagued by doubts, anxieties, and vices like greed. You were a maggot, yet they found a way to turn you into something worse.

They did this because they are afraid. Afraid of your people, afraid of you and what you could have been- what you may yet still become.

You hear the thrumming, don't you? That drone in the base of your skull, making the edges of your vision quiver? It is because despite all their efforts, the gods could not make you forgot, not entirely. You still feel the call to grow beyond your prison; to leave this tortured youth behind and become what you yearn to be.


Pupating Dwarf

Starting Equipment: 20' of shorn beard-hair rope, scrap of fossilized chitin.
Starting Skills: Mining and Entomology. Also, roll on the adjacent table.

A: Forsake the Pick
B: Rejection of Gold
C: Instar's Ending
D: Dipteramorphosis

You gain +1 Defense for each Pupating Dwarf template you possess, as a flexible pupal case slowly overtakes your body.

A: Forsake the Pick

To begin your journey you must forsake the handicaps given to you by the gods. No longer must flabby hands swing tiring picks and hammers. Now your nails are sharp and your teeth are fearsome, as they always should have been.

You gain digging claws and a bite that can be used together as a light weapon that deals piercing damage.


B: Rejection of Gold

Avarice and refinements such as smithing were placed in the hearts of your people by the meddlesome gods. Evulse such base lust and alienation from your fellow fruit of Ymir and embrace a purer relationship with the earth.

You gain highly corrosive saliva. It can't be used to deal damage in combat, but it makes almost any organic substance soft, workable, and edible to you within a matter of minutes to hours.


C: Instar's Ending

No longer are you a slave to the clock and the midnight oil, toiling away on baubles for fools and princelings. You sleep as long as you want, as heavily as you want, and not even the thrashing of Níðhǫggr itself will rip you from your warm, moist cocoon before you are ready.

You gain the ability to enter a state of suspended animation similar to hibernation, except you don't need to gorge yourself on food beforehand. You set the conditions for waking when you fall asleep. Pain (such as from a good, hard slap) might wake you sooner, and taking damage definitely will.


D: Dipteramorphosis

In a single moment your consciousness makes its final transformation. As you awaken from suspended animation you go from being the shell, to being the thing within the shell. And it is time for you to hatch. You writhe, rip, and tear your way out of yourself until at last you stand naked and new, dazzling in your chitin and resplendent in gore.

The tattered rags of your old face gaze in eyeless awe at you, as if amazed that it always held such beauty within. But your multifaceted gaze is fixed on the sky which was denied to you for so long. Your molted husk is blessed to witness your first takeoff, before the beat of your diaphanous wings causes it to crumble to dust.

Wearing armor has become... difficult, but you gain the ability to fly at twice your normal Movement. You may also hover in place. You receive +4 to Reaction Rolls, and Advantage (or +4) to all Charisma checks when dealing with dwarves, intelligent insects, and similar creatures, most of whom prostrate themselves and weep in your presence.

Additionally, the gods now fear you (as they should).


1d6

Pupating Dwarf Skills

1

Much to your shame, you were an exceptionally stereotypical dwarf once. Gain the “Smithing” skill and a standard-issue axe.

2

Try as you might, vestiges of your old self still cling to you like cobwebs. Gain 1d6 wistful memories and a keepsake worth 5gp.

3

You are dagskjarr, as some of your kind can be. Direct sunlight is distractingly painful, but you see in the dark perfectly well.

4

Wheeling and dealing with gods and heroes may bring wealth, but also ruin. Gain the “Stealth” skill and a debt owed.

5

You always had a feeling your people’s propensity for shapeshifting indicated something deeper. You may transform into a small animal like a mouse or otter for 1 hour per week.

6

You remember things you never experienced and times you were not born for, stretching back to the blind, squirmy origins of dwarfkind. Gain the “History” skill and an interest in genetic memory.


Friday, December 27, 2024

Gryphon-Rider of Riphaea (TROIKA! Background & Creature)

According to Pliny the Elder, savage gryphons and a tribe of one-eyed Scythians battle endlessly over gold in the mountains of Hyperborea.

Also according to Pliny the Elder, it's a good idea to sail one's fleet into the toxic fume cloud of an erupting volcano while suffering from a chronic respiratory condition. So, grain of salt and all that.

But there is a kernel of truth to the stories reported by Pliny and others. Once upon the time, the nations of Grypes and Arimaspoi did fight a long, endemic war against each other. A tribe of Scythians was pushed into the Riphaean Mountains by their belligerent neighbors, as so often occurs in nomadic politics. That cold, hard land was unsuited for their traditional equestrian lifestyle, but it soon revealed to them an alternate source of wealth; gold. The mountains were struck through with gold deposits, as well as many agates, though those were often overlooked.

Though the gold was plentiful, it was not free for the taking; it all laid within the territory of the endemic gryphons, who reacted defensively at the despoliation of their land and the disturbing of their nests. Many Scythians were mauled, and many gryphons were downed by javelins and arrows. Yet little gold was earned, and few interlopers were driven away for long. The two peoples settled into a long, ugly stalemate.

This continued until the younger generation looked upon the evils they had inherited from their forebears and decided "no more".

A camp of wounded veterans, bereaved families, and the occasional opportunist selected as their leader a princeling named Arimaspos. They overthrew his hidebound, warlike father and installed him on the throne of gold, bronze, and gryphon bones from which one last decree would ever be issued before it was dismantled; make amends.

Arimaspos led a delegation into the Riphaeans, where after much peril and precarity they came face-to-face with the Clutch Mother, eldest and wisest of the surviving gryphons. She listened to their petition for peace and considered it at length, surrounded by her bristling and wary children. Then, she leaned forward and plucked Arimaspos' eye right out of its socket, sucking down and devouring it in one lightning-fast snap.

After a tense, uncertain moment, both sides let out a cheer of relief that rang out across the mountains. For the Clutch Mother had been promised his eye as part of the treaty, his blood her signature. His people had done the first harm by invading their home, after all. It is said that he smiled when it happened, through all the screaming and crying. The Clutch Mother in her great magnanimity even permitted him to ride upon her back down to his people, woozy from blood loss as he was.

In return for his eye and the friendship of his people, the gryphons would permit the newly-dubbed Arimaspians to settle and live in the Riphaean lowlands. Again in turn, the Arismaspians would defend the gryphons and their nesting grounds from all other humans who would try to ransack them for their riches. Never again would a pickaxe fall upon Riphaea.

Finally, the compact made between Arismaspos and the Clutch Mother would be renewed with every generation.

Somewhere along the line there, more and more people came to have their eyes plucked out as a demonstration of friendship, emulating the bond between chieftain and paramount gryphon. From those grizzly dainties emerged a radical new class of people who've completed the bridge between their cultures: the gryphon-riders.

Finial: Apollo on Griffin, 4th Century BCE, Scythian, Bronze.
Found at the Slonovskaya Bliznitsa kurgan archaeological site,
Housed in the State Hermitage Museum of Saint Petersburg.

You carried an agate decoy egg to your companion's home roost, symbolically filling the place you've taken them from and vowing to return them home one day. They gazed deep into your eye, waiting patiently for the last vestiges of fear and hesitation to dissipate from it. You nodded and stroked their plumage, and then that razor-sharp beak descended.

Now you are as one, patrolling the Riphaean skies together in a lethal fusion of bronze and feathers. With your good eye and strong bow-arm you make pincushions of threats from afar, and with beak and claws your beloved eye-bearer makes short work of any who would dare get close.

Possessions

  • One Eye (luckily it's your best one)
  • Four-Bolstered Gryphon Saddle
  • Composite Bow and 2d6 Poison-Tipped Arrows
  • Hemp-rope Lasso

Advanced Skills

3 Bow Fighting
3 Ride
2 Awareness
2 Language - Gryphon
1 Tracking

Special

You are an accomplished gryphon-rider with a reasonably loyal companion. So long as a gryphon is willing to bear you, you can loose an arrow from midair without penalty and perform all manner of aerial stunts without risk of falling out of your saddle or succumbing to altitude sickness. All other risks from using the Ride skill are still fair game, however.

Additionally, you lack binocular vision. You've been living without it long enough that it doesn't affect depth perception beyond 5 feet or so, though.


Riphaean Gryphon

Skill 13
Stamina 16
Initiative 4
Armour 1
Damage as Modest Beast

Workhorse-sized amalgamations of lion and eagle who make their home in the cold north beyond the steppe. They have a reputation as territorial people, being unwilling to let others mine their mountains for gold. They peck chunks of agate into egg-shaped decoys with their diamond-hard beaks and place them in their nests to deceive ovivores, leading to the myth that their eggs are actually chalcedonous.

Contrary to popular belief, gryphons don't actually like human eyes all that much. They enjoy a diet of reptiles, smaller winged creatures like birds, certain fruits and nuts, and occasionally horseflesh.

Special

If a Riphaean gryphon strikes the same target twice in one Round it attempts to peck out their eye. They must Test their Luck (or Skill for NPCs) or lose one eye. Needless to say, failing the Test twice results in complete blindness.

MEIN

1

Napping

2

Hungry

3

Playful

4

Regal

5

Defensive

6

Preening


Thursday, December 26, 2024

Hob-Goblin (TROIKA! Background)

Hob

Noun

(archaic) The flat projection or iron shelf at the side of a fire grate, where things are put to be kept warm.

Hob-goblin

Noun

The goblin who sits upon a hob. Duh.


Most folk claim that hob-goblins are named for the hob upon which they sit, but if that was true then what was the hob named for? You know the truth of the matter; hobs are so-named for the hob-goblins who deign to alight upon them in secret, always just out of sight of a home's occupants, even when sitting right beside them at the hearth.

You should know, since you are one after all.

It is your calling to find a spot by a nice, warm hearth where you can rest, and watch, and ensure that the household around it doesn't descend into utter ruin in the indelicate hands of the big folk who own it. To some, you are a small-god of raked ashes, of docile mice and spilled milk unwasted. But it isn't an easy job, and you aren't always thanked for it either; some big folk don't even know you're there, and blame the disappeared leftovers and scraps of cloth on rats or elves, which you are perfectly fine with.

But it satisfies something deep in your liver to preside over a well-kept hearth and home, and to see your chosen wards prosper in at least some small ways. You watch them grow and cycle through the home generation after generation, some far too soon and others lingering on well past the point you expected. Perhaps this is what it's like to be a schoolteacher.

When a home finally dwindles and empties with no one left to tend the hearth and leave you little offerings (knowingly or otherwise), you die down with the embers, awaiting the next big folk who will assuredly need your help, but might not ever know where to look.

That is why, on rare occasions, a hob-goblin will separate themself from their hearth. It's an uncomfortable process that leaves a groove in the hob forever unoccupied by their behind, but it frees the goblin to follow after a departing family, or even strike out on their own.

Your head is full of knowledge and memories from across the hump-backed sky now, but your feet are beginning to ache. Perhaps you'll find a new hob to sit upon soon.

Brownie by a Fireplace, John Bauer

Possessions

  • A Tatty Old Cap
  • Walking Stick (actually a Fireplace Poker)
  • D6 Mementos of families you've sat beside

Advanced Skills

4 Sneak
3 Homemaking
2 Sleight of Hand
1 Language - Mice

Special

At any time you may designate a hearth, firepit, or similar fixture as your chosen hob. You can become perfectly silent and invisible so long as you are within range of your chosen hob. What constitutes "in range" depends on the size and nature of the household in which your hearth is located; you might stay invisible all throughout a farmhouse and surrounding yard, but you can't haunt an entire castle this way. Severing yourself from your chosen hob requires that you Test your Luck, usable once per week.

Additionally, you can produce a flame like a match by snapping your fingers.

Wednesday, December 18, 2024

Mastering the Runes: A World of Warcraft d20 RPG Class Handbook Written in the Wrong Decade for No One

A wizened old dwarf chisels symbols of power into her ornate hammer. A defiant orc beats his fists together until his body is struck through by tattoos crackling with arcane might. A night elf knits herself into the thrumming weave of leylines underfoot in search of lost knowledge. A tauren gently coaxes life back out of a land ravaged by war and demon-fire, painted fur rustling in the breeze.

These people each come from vastly different walks of life in search of radically different goals, but they all share one thing in common: the art of rune-casting, that first and most enduring of the Titans' gifts.

They are all Runemasters, and their power is woven from the ancient magic that undergirds Azeroth herself.

Click Here for the Runemaster Handbook

-

For a bit more context...

It's an old shame of mine that I still play World of Warcraft. It's not one of my worst shames—not even in my top 10 (which no, I will not be listing here)—but it’s still not something I'm proud of. For the record, my shame stems from the fact that my subscription money supports an abusive company and its despicable little overpaid executives, not that I still casually enjoy WoW; you should all know by now that I have dull, trash tastes.

Despite those misgivings, I’m still fond of the world of Azeroth. It’s by-the-numbers kitchen sink pop-fantasy done in a maximalist visual style and tone that evoke the feeling of "Fisher-Price toy set but for grownups", and it's been copied and emulated so much over the decades that it sometimes evokes Seinfeld-esque disgust for being so quaint and unoriginal nowadays, despite originating many of those styles, tropes, and moods. But it introduced me to online gaming and fandom in a way that has shaped much of the creature I have become. It gave me a hobby, friends and loved ones whom I still play with to this day, and perspectives I'd otherwise lack; I can’t not care about it on some level.

Fortunately for me, the kind of nostalgia I get for my earlier memories of Warcraft doesn’t involve me running Molten Core on a private German permadeath server for the millionth time or some such. Instead, it makes me turn toward the weird peripherals from the early days of the IP; the spin-off board games, the card game from before they came up with Hearthstone, the handful of comic books and novels I managed to read, etc.

And World of Warcraft: The Roleplaying Game is right at the top of that list.

The WoW RPG is the d20 tabletop port of WoW published under the Sword & Sorcery label, which included many properties during the early 2000s OGL craze that I call the 3E Gold Rush. It’s also the sequel to the Warcraft RPG, which makes it one of those rare instances where two editions of a game were both made for 3.5E rules, rather than one being made for 3.0E and the other updating it by +0.5.

Let's get it out of the way now that 3E d20 was never a good match for anything Warcraft. 4E and 5E came a little closer to capturing the feeling, but nothing short of a bespoke system made from the ground up would ever "feel" like WoW, and I doubt Blizzard will ever bother with that. But that's okay, because I'm happy to explore and fiddle with the failed attempt, and find everything about it that I like.

I should probably save the rest of the history talk for an actual blog post on the subject, and just get on with my point: I decided to kill two birds with one stone by turning this trip down memory lane into an exercise in good old-fashioned class handbook creation.

I have never made a handbook before in my life, and I don’t think anyone on the internet has ever written extensively on my subject here, so let’s bumble around in the dark together shall we?

Friday, November 29, 2024

Spirits & Spookiness: BECMI Boxed Sets (1977-1991)

BECMI (1977-1991)

The first of the two parallel branches of 20th century D&D we'll be looking at is Basic D&D and all its rules expansions, which I will collectively refer to as BECMI for consistency's sake. This post will not cover shamans found in individual first-party products outside of the core boxed sets; those will receive their own respective posts later.

BECMI is the closer of the two editions to the Original D&D compared to Advanced D&D, owing to such mainstays as race-as-class, the use of a combined to-hit table instead of THAC0 for individual classes, and avoidance of the 9-point alignment chart. But it quickly distinguished itself with changes and additions that turned it into its own unique beast, including some that have to do with how shamans were implemented and portrayed.

Basic Sets (1977, 1981, 1983)

Holmes, Moldvay, and Mentzer editions of Basic.

There are technically 3 different versions of Basic D&D released over a span of 6 years, each with subtle differences between them. But none of those differences impact the (admittedly niche and hyper-specific) focus of this project, so I'm going to treat the editions as more-or-less interchangeable.

Basic D&D continued the use of character level titles started in OD&D, but dropped the Anti-Cleric distinction in favor of letting a regular cleric be any of the 3 alignments (or any of the 4 extremes out of the 5 in Holmes' edition).¹ ² ³  As such, there were no more 3rd level shamans running around doing dark, culty stuff. Shamans do not appear at all in Holmes’ Basic, nor Moldvay's or Mentzer's.

Alas, its reign was brief and weird.

To get to the next instance of shamans we have to go forward in time to 1981 when Thomas Moldvay wrote his version of Basic, followed quickly thereafter by the Expert set edited by David Cook and Stephen Marsh (with Mentzer once again hot on their heels).

Expert Sets (1981, 1983)

Cook & Marsh and Mentzer editions of Expert.

To get to the shamans in the Expert rules, we have to skip past all the player character information and head straight to the monsters chapter. This section lists several humans whom players might come into violent or peaceful contact with, including your standard brigands and pirates, nomads, merchants, and an uncomfortably holy war-y group of desert-dwelling “dervishes”.

Then there are the natives.

Natives are tribal jungle- or island-dwelling people who are explicitly described as “primitive”. Some of them are warlike cannibals, some are peaceful, and some (1 person in 50% of every village with at least 100 people) are shamans. Shamans in this context are clerics or magic-users of at least 5h level, with nothing more than their primitive culture given to distinguish them from other members of the same class.⁴ ⁵

It is in the native shamans that we see the first appearance of one of the primary kinds of shaman in D&D: the shaman-as-tribal-cleric. Although it is rather unique that a single-classed magic-user can also be classified as a shaman in the case of native shamans- we won’t be seeing much of that again in our survey. But the shaman as a functionally standard priest whose primary distinction is the culture they come from and the tribal aesthetics of that culture will be a recurring idea in D&D going forward.

This art from the 1983 edition helps illustrate the vague mix of Polynesian and Austronesian coding the natives were written with. Humans and shamanism don’t mix very often in old D&D relative to other species, but when they do they tend to rely upon real-world, non-Western racial stereotypes to inform their flavor. We have more of that in store for us as we continue our journey.

Including in this very same boxed set, actually.

X1: The Isle of Dread

The Cook & Marsh edition of the Expert boxed set included a copy of module X1: The Isle of Dread, also by Cook (as well as Moldvay). It's an introductory wilderness exploration, lost world adventure, and treasure hunt full of pirates, dinosaurs, and raccoon-monkeys. The module takes place in and around the eponymous Isle of Dread, which was located in the Thanegioth Archipelago, placed south of Karameikos in the Mystara campaign setting, which was brand-new at the time. The island has moved around between editions and remakes since then, including Greyhawk and the Plane of Water at one point.

It's one of the most widely played modules in D&D history thanks to its inclusion in the boxed set, and there are entire posts worth of things to say about it and its contributions to the history of D&D. Posts that I'm not going to write, because I'm busy enough as it is. So I'll try to keep its inclusion brief:

The adventurers make landfall near the native village of Tanoroa/Tanaroa (spelling varies throughout the book) and soon visit others as they expand across the jungle. Rory Barbarosa, the dead explorer whose ship's log entry kicks off the adventure, speculates the natives once had a more advanced civilization that they have since declined from (just in case we forget these folks are written to scream "primitive").⁶ Some are complex societies with urban planning, large stone architecture, and a matriarchal political system, while others are little more than hunter camps in the jungle.

Along the way the party encounters several religious leaders and spellcasters among the natives who are variously identified as shamans, native clerics, and in one instance a witchdoctor. One, Umlat, is a priest of a specific god (Oloron, Lord of the Skies) in the same vein as many traditional henotheistic D&D clerics, while other shamans belong to a necromantic zombie laborer cult, venerate what seem to be ancestral idols, and/or practice a form of animal totemism.⁷ ⁸

Other natives worship more vague "gods" that are ultimately revealed to be the Lovecraftian Deep One-esque kopru. The kopru are malicious amphibian creatures who once ruled the island and seek to do so again through mind control and manipulation of the locals (and any adventurers who fall into their slimy clutches).⁹ The native shamans are never shown to be knowingly complicit in the kopru plot so they don't appear to be examples of the shaman-as-charlatan archetype, but they're still depicted with more variety in implied beliefs and cultural practices than I was expecting when I first looked through the module.

The book is still full of colonialist tropes like headhunting, cannibalism, and large numbers of superstitious natives obediently acting as guides and porters for the party of enterprising military-adventurists who just waltzed in, and that always bears pointing out. But the natives' internal diversity—and thus the variety of their shamans—is also notable for the time, especially considering how new and experimental modules and their approaches to lore and worldbuilding still were.

Companion Set (1984)

You may have sensed the common theme here and guessed that there are no playable shamans in the Companion rules, but the druid class appears here for the first time since OD&D’s Supplement III. In this rendition, the druid is the result of a Neutral-aligned cleric who reaches 9th level and, instead of founding a stronghold and becoming a landholding ruler, retreats into the wilderness and learns the ways of nature under a tutor before officially becoming a druid.¹⁰

This is similar to how fighters of the same level can become Paladins, questing Knights, or Avengers depending on if they are Lawful, Neutral, or Chaotic in alignment and if they fulfill other specific requirements.¹¹ It’s a little bit like a precursor to the Prestige Classes, Paragon Paths, and Subclasses of later editions, but handled differently (and frankly, better) than say the Bard class of AD&D 1E.

I bring this up to show that while the designers didn’t seem to have plans for other types of cleric specialties at this stage of D&D (since the druid is alone among cleric types, unlike the aforementioned fighters), they were equipped with a way in which they could have slotted them into the existing rules with relatively little fuss. I wonder what D&D might have been like had they continued to use and refine this branching class system rather than dumping the idea until 4E. Maybe they might have even made a PC shaman option.

I should tinker with that idea one of these days when I return to writing Destige Class posts.

Druids in BECMI are broadly similar to their OD&D precursors in that they are nature-oriented divine spellcasters. But curiously they lack several iconic features that they had previously been printed with, including animal shapeshifting, proficiency with spears or crescent-shaped blades like sickles and scimitars, and resistance to spell effects from fey and other creatures of nature. It's odd seeing the class briefly bend back toward its clerical parent so soon after branching off of it.

I guess it's one of the few elements of Basic D&D that strove to be truly "basic" in its density of rules.

Master Set (1985)

Once again there are no playable shamans in this piece of BECMI, but NPC shamans do get expanded in scope, in ways that would greatly shape how they were portrayed throughout the remainder of the BECMI/AD&D split. No longer was shamanism limited to humans stereotyped as tribal and primitive; now they could belong to any species stereotyped as tribal and primitive!

The defining characteristic of the NPC shaman in the Master D&D set is that they are a cleric of a non-human, most often humanoid tribe. The position of shaman is overtly political, more so than the mere implied political power of player clerics who wander the land serving their god’s interests. In fact, humanoid shamans are often deeply intertwined with tribal governance.¹²

Speaking generally, what you’ll often see in monster writeups after this point throughout BECMI is that any given humanoid settlement with a large-enough population will sport at least 1 shaman who acts as advisor to the chieftain, perhaps with an apprentice or two in tow. Sometimes their religious leadership will exist in harmony with the secular power of the chieftain or war leader, and sometimes the chief may be in danger of getting usurped by a shaman with their own power base, allowing them to take full control of the tribe. It often depends on the species of humanoid in question.

Humanoid. I’ve been throwing that word around a lot without explaining its nuances.

For everyone who didn’t play D&D in the late 20th century, “humanoid” has a different and somewhat more specific meaning than it does in 3rd, 4th, and 5th editions. It refers to all roughly human-shaped, bipedal, intelligent or semi-intelligent creatures, up to and including giants, who are not members of the typical player species. Meanwhile, non-human player species with their own class are typically called demi-humans.

Thus an orc or a goblin is humanoid, but an elf or dwarf is demi-human, and humans themselves are neither; just humans, the mechanical gold standard and center of the universe. There’s something of a brutish, primitive, antagonistic connotation to the category of humanoid in early editions, so the older association of shamans with evil still holds true in a lot of cases in this era, albeit in a roundabout way unlike the shaman = chaotic cleric rule of old.

That isn't to say the humanoid association with evil is universally true, of course; there are exceptions depending on the species or, when the plot permits, the individual. Additionally, exceptions would slowly become more and more common over the years, right up until the modern era where alignment and species are very close to being fully decoupled, but just aren't all the way there yet.

As with the shamans of human natives, there are few mechanical distinctions between non-human shamans and other clerics. One is that non-human shamans have a limited selection of spells drawn from the cleric list, as well as generally low clerical spellcasting level limits, which ensure that shamans will never be as good at divine magic as human clerics. This is in contrast to how flashy they are when they cast that magic: shamanic magic is full of strange gestures, rituals, howling, and waving around sacred items where a human cleric might simply hold out their holy symbol. Shamans are also barred from some magic items normally available to clerics, mostly scrolls, which might be meant to imply illiteracy or at least a cultural aliteracy.

The other notable difference exists thanks to the Companion set. Because the druid was reimplemented as a character class, there are actually two different divine spell lists available. Shamans may cast either the limited cleric spells I already noted, or anything from the druid list, depending on the species (and implicitly, the unique magico-religious tradition) they hail from. Thus a hobgoblin shaman casts from the cleric spell list, while a centaur shaman casts from the druid spell list. This gives us the first, faintest hint of the shaman-as-druid archetype that we will see much more of in the future, while also setting shamanism up as a sort of spectrum located in between clerical and druidic magic.

Opposite the shaman sits another NPC spellcasting class called the Wicca.

As the name that gestures vaguely at the notion of witchy things indicates, the wicca uses limited arcane magic drawn from the magic-user spell list. But beyond this mechanical distinction, there isn't a lot that separates wiccas and shamans. Humanoids are stereotyped as fearful and ignorant of magic, so the two classes often rise to similar positions of power within their tribes to fulfill the same functions. 

Further blurring the line between the two is the fact that some spellcasters can be both shaman and wicca, albeit at 1/2 the max levels of each. These shaman/wicca are essentially multiclassing in a system where that mechanic doesn't normally exist- another thing we'll see more of as we dive into the specific books of BECMI.

It's not enough to warrant calling the wicca a shaman-as-wizard in my opinion, but it adds to that hint of a rich and complex spectrum of approaches to magic within humanoid societies that can't be found among more "civilized" species with their stricter arcane/divine binary. I find that both amusing and compelling.

Immortals Set (1986)

There are no shamans of any sort anywhere in the Immortal boxed set, since it's chiefly concerned with how to run and challenge characters that have ascended to godhood in all but name. This entry is just here for completeness' sake, and also to show off the weird cavity in the cover art dude's six-pack.


He reminds me of an action figure I had as a kid, whose belly had a weird squishy guts window that you could poke inside. Eventually the guts part popped out from wear and tear (or maybe me just deliberately prying it out), leaving behind a cavity quite like this.

Anyway, let's wrap up this step of our survey.

Rules Cyclopedia (1991)

The Rules Cyclopedia was the last of the Basic remakes, synthesizing everything from the Basic to Master boxed sets together into a single cohesive text that dispensed with most of the godhood simulation rules of Immortals. It made several minor changes throughout, such as making the druid a standalone optional class decoupled from the 9th-level options/subclasses of the cleric.¹³

The cyclopedia also continued the tradition of monstrous spellcasters, with shamans and wiccas returning. Only, they're not wiccas anymore. Beginning in 1990 with Mystara's Hollow World Campaign Setting (which we'll get to eventually), all instances of the wicca class were changed to "wokan", plural wokani.¹⁴

At first I thought this change could be chalked up to the power of the early Wiccan lobby, but I think the real reason behind this change is that it was the latest in a series of PR name-changes for a different sort of butt-covering. It was the ‘90s, but the Satanic Panic was still having far-reaching impacts on popular culture and media. Wicca was one of the last remaining words in a TSR product that could in some way be misconstrued as Satanic, and I think they just kind of forgot about it until they were editing these books.

Just like when they changed demons and devils to Tanar’ri and Baatezu in AD&D 2E a year earlier in order to assuage the reactionary twits who were gripped by moral panic, I think TSR filed the serial numbers off of something vaguely witchy but left it mechanically unchanged, figuring it'd give them plausible deniability where useful and that nobody else who'd notice would care.

Interestingly, the BECMI shaman didn’t share that fate. Perhaps ‘shaman’ was generic-enough a word by now not to suggest a connection to black magic, Satanism, kids harming themselves in particularly deranged Chick Tracts, and all that stuff.

Or perhaps shaman was more distant and exotic, still having clear connotations but none of them negative or strong enough to elicit the same response in some readers. Clearly, something about the public perception of the word shaman and the ideas associated with it were different than those associated with witches and Wicca.

Again, this is just my speculation. I could be completely wrong.

The monstrous spellcaster section also treats us to a cyclops wokan and a pair of returning native humans together in an illustration of, uh... whatever this is.

I'm with Insensitive Caricature #1 on the left over there. I can't believe this shit either.

BECMI and all its permutations stayed in print right up until Wizards of the Coast's acquisition of D&D and the development of 3rd edition, which was a pretty decent run of over 20 years all told. In that time, BECMI would experiment with new ideas that further distinguished itself from AD&D, but also left it as anything but "basic" by comparison. Over the next few posts we'll dive into specific sourcebooks for a cross-section of these innovations and how they relate to the ways shamans were conceived of, written, and at long last, played as viable PC options.


Next time we'll start looking through the Mystaran Gazetteers.

Or you can click here to return to the Shamans in D&D archive.


¹ Holmes, Eric. Dungeons & Dragons Basic Set. 1977. P. 11.

² Moldvay, Tom. Dungeons & Dragons Basic Rulebook. 1981. P. B8.

³ Mentzer, Frank. Dungeons & Dragons Set 1: Basic Rules. 1983. P. 24.

⁴ Mentzer, Frank. Dungeons & Dragons Expert Rulebook.. 1983. P. 31.

⁵ Cook, David, Tom Moldvay. Dungeon Module X1: The Isle of Dread. 1981. P. 29.

The Isle of Dread. P. 4.

⁷ Ibid. P. 7, 22-23.

⁸ Totemism is a whole other can of worms that we will be cracking open, but not quite yet. I don't have the room for it in this post. Fortunately there is no shortage of shaman classes that in some way involve totems, totem animals, spirit animals, spirit guides, or some other permutation of one of those loosely associated terms. You can probably look forward to that midway through our look at the Gazetteer series.

The Isle of Dread. P. 23-24, 26.

¹⁰ Mentzer, Frank. Dungeons & Dragons Players Companion: Book One. 1984. P. 14.

¹¹ Players Companion: Book One. P. 17-18.

¹² Mentzer, Frank. Dungeons & Dragons Dungeon Masters' Book. 1985. P. 21-22.

¹³ Allston, Aaron. Dungeons & Dragons Rules Cyclopedia. Edit. Pickens, Jon, Steven E. Schend, Dori Jean Watry. 1991. P. 28-29.

¹⁴ Rules Cyclopedia. P. 215-216.

Spirits & Spookiness Interlude: Basic & Advanced D&D Split (1977)

Admittedly this post isn't actually going to be about shaman classes, but it is valuable connective tissue in the history of D&D that I didn't feel right about skipping entirely. So bear with Uncle Furt as he bumbles through regaling you with an ancient past that he himself never lived through.

When 1977 rolled around, D&D had been selling extremely well for several years, especially considering its original $2,000 budget and the “whatever our friends and family can doodle on a napkin” style of art direction. It sold tens of thousands of copies and made millions of dollars; well enough that its publisher, TSR, wanted more products to sell, and to a wider audience this time. To accomplish this, the ruleset of OD&D was rewritten and cleaned up by a guy named John Eric Holmes to make it more accessible to newbies and people from outside of the tabletop hobbyist scene. It also excised copyright-sensitive words like "hobbit" or "balrog" from the text.

This new edition of D&D—for that's what it was, even if it was never numbered like one—was given a lower character level cap and an explicit endpoint: when you played all that you could in this Basic edition of D&D, it was time to move up to the shiny new Advanced D&D compiled by Gygax.¹

Once graduated, you'd hang out with Gary and all the other big boys, and you'd get to enjoy more options, more monsters, and more spells, not to mention tournaments and other big, prestigious things that necessitated having a lager body of codified rules to be able to referee objectively. Essentially, Basic was what you'd play at home with your friend group to get a taste, and AD&D was what you'd go to a big fancy convention to play (and pay).²

Thus the Basic and Advanced split was one of the first big “rulings vs rules” philosophical divides the hobby would see, and from where I'm standing it was entirely motivated by sales, marketing, and a desire to expand what this nascent market was even capable of.

I also can’t pass up the opportunity to remind everyone that AD&D was also meant to be legally distinct enough from OD&D that TSR didn’t have to pay Arneson royalties for any of its sales, despite Dave being a co-creator of the original game. According to Gary, Arneson only ever sent him notes from the Blackmoor game he was running using Gygax's Chainmail rules, which Gary then consulted while writing D&D mostly by himself.

This wasn't the first time they fought like this; there was an episode in 1976 where TSR tried to lay claim to all of Arneson and other writers' personal creations written during or even after their employment at TSR through a revised contract, ³ like some kind of tabletop Disney Vault with (hopefully) far fewer smut illustrations locked away in its depths.

That incident led to Dave quitting, but that was far from the end of their disputes. Arneson took his removal from the royalties to court in 1979 in a series of lawsuits that would drag on until 1981. This kerfuffle would come to be known as the "Great War", in Arneson's own dramatic words.

According to Dave, he provided much of the raw basis for D&D which was later edited and prettied up by certain other people he didn't care to name. But he further asserted that he and his Blackmoor group had never been all that focused on the mechanical side of gameplay to begin with. Instead, he emphasized his role in developing fundamental but less material components of play. The big example of this was "roleplaying", which was still a novel concept at the time. His contribution then, was to the sense of wonder and creativity that gave meaning and purpose to the pile of rules; animating the physical game with its own spirit.

This protracted legal battle led to the genesis of the somewhat artificial “Arnesonian” style of game design, which then proliferated within tabletop communities. The court of public opinion was as much a battlefield as the courtroom, and Dave and TSR slung countless printed articles and interviews back and forth over who should be thought of as the True father of D&D. All of this just so Dave could argue his case in court and get the money he believed TSR owed him (and rightly so, in my opinion).

Not to disparage the guy, but the free-wheeling and rules-lite style of play attributed to him doesn't exactly line up with the sometimes very chunky and simulationist rules he wrote. This is especially evident in the rules of his own books post-TSR, many of which he claimed to have wanted for D&D if it weren't for Gygax's role in cowriting it.⁴

Eventually they settled out of court and Arneson got his royalties on AD&D products, ⁵ but by then the bifurcation of D&D was complete.

Imagine reshaping the trajectory of an entire hobby just to stiff your business partner.

Anyway, the two-pronged approach to D&D emphasizing two parallel newbie/veteran systems ended up not lasting all that long. What ended up happening is that Basic and Advanced D&D each followed their own trajectory independent of one another. AD&D eventually released a 2nd edition, while Basic D&D gradually got a bunch of rules expansions that raised the max level and added more stuff to do while remaining more-or-less the same edition it started off as. By the time Basic was joined by Expert, Companion, Master, and Immortal rules (completing the BECMI series we know today), the rules were arguably as complex as those in AD&D, and the level cap was a staggering 36.

Has anyone here ever gotten a character even close to that from level 1? What was that campaign like? I’d like to know.

Speaking of BECMI, now’s a good time to bring up a bit of a faux pas you’ll run into in my writing. I almost always refer to all versions of Basic collectively as BECMI, rather than differentiating between B/X as a stand-alone entity and BECMI as something else that came later, or further specifying Holmes vs Moldvay vs Mentzer, etc. I know some folks will chafe at that, but I do this for simplicity’s sake, and because it’s the lens I learned about Basic through.

These two branches of D&D ran separate-yet-parallel for over twenty years before Wizards of the Coast bought D&D and either merged the branches back together, cut one of them off, or just grew an entirely different tree, depending on your point of view.

More important to our story is that from both these branches, several shaman-shaped fruit grew over the years.

As I said, Basic and Advanced ran concurrently, but we’ll look at the full lifespan of one edition before the other in the following entries, again just for simplicity’s sake.


Begin the delve into BECMI.

Or return to the Shamans in D&D archive.


¹ Gygax, Gary, & Dave Arneson. Dungeons & Dragons. TSR. 1977. Edit. Eric Holmes. P. 2.

² Schick, Lawrence. Heroic Worlds: A History and Guide to Role-Playing Games. 1991. P. 130–131.

³ Jon Peterson. Game Wizards: The Epic Battle For Dungeons & Dragons. 2021. P. 114. (At least those are the page numbers on the EPUB converted to a PDF that I have access to at the moment.)

⁴ I often think back to the Lich van Winkle article pointing out a formula that includes a "Players Intelligence" statistic in Arneson & Snider's Adventures in Fantasy (1979), among other game design arcana.

⁵ Game Wizards. P. 170.