A4- In the Dungeons of the Slave Lords – Old School AD&D Thoughts and a Review

NOTE: Way back in 2011 I reviewed the entire Slavers series on Dragonsfoot. As I now improve my blog, I'm moving all my content from around the web to here. This is the second review in the A Series for AD&D.

A4 - In the Dungeons of the Slave Lords
By Lawrence Schick
An adventure for characters levels 4-7

Closing out the A-series is A4- In the Dungeons of the Slave Lords, written by Lawrence Schick. Like its predecessor, it comes in at 28 pages and sports a fantastic cover by Erol Otis.

Like the previous three modules, A4 is written by yet another author. Looking through the credits for the entire series, you see many of the same names, but everyone seems to have traded roles from one module to the next. Coupled with the fact that these adventures all began life as tournament modules, it helps explain why the series sometimes feels less cohesive than it could have been. That is not to say I enjoy it any less, but I do think it accounts for some of the inconsistencies.

After harrying the Slave Lords' operations throughout A1, A2, and A3, the player characters finally reach the moment of truth. Or rather, that moment has already passed. Stripped of their equipment, deprived of most of their spells, and dumped into the Slave Lords' dungeon, they now have to survive with little more than their wits. Even today that is a memorable opening. At the time, it had to be one of the most original adventure hooks TSR had published. The only comparable shock opener that comes to mind is Vecna Lives!

So there you are. No weapons. No armor. No light. Nothing except a spell scroll that you cannot immediately use because you cannot even read it.

Schick does a good job explaining how to run this unusual situation and how the lack of equipment should affect the players. Mapping becomes almost impossible, which fortunately is not a major issue since the dungeon itself is fairly compact. Because the module predates the Survival Guides and nonweapon proficiencies, some of the mechanics require a bit of hand waving. Running it with later AD&D rules smooths over a few rough edges, but also makes parts of the escape a little easier than originally intended.

Fortunately, the dungeon is littered with odds and ends that resourceful players can turn into makeshift equipment. Rusty daggers, bone clubs, and other scraps are hardly impressive, but they are better than bare hands.

The darkness itself creates an interesting challenge for the Dungeon Master. Without being able to rely on the players seeing a map, the DM has to carefully describe every turn, intersection, and direction of travel. It demands more attention than a typical dungeon.

One part I have never bought, however, is the explanation regarding infravision. According to the text, every part of the dungeon and every inhabitant is effectively the same temperature.

Riiiiight....

The dungeon inhabitants are varied enough to keep things interesting. There is a struggling kobold tribe, an unusually weak will-o-wisp, giant crayfish, giant crabs, cave fishers, and a peaceful colony of myconids who seem content to sit around singing "Kumbayah" in their fungus forest.

The kobolds deserve special mention. They are not much of a threat, but they add something often missing from early TSR dungeons, namely a sense of ecology. They have clearly been driven deeper underground and are slowly dying out, making the dungeon feel like a living place rather than simply a collection of monsters waiting in rooms.

Exactly which route the party takes through the dungeon depends largely on how they solve a handful of obstacles.

Area 19 is probably the easiest escape route, although getting there requires crossing the infamous twenty-foot chasm in Area 18. Players can either attempt a dangerous climb two hundred feet down and back up again or, as my group did years ago, steal the bridge from Area 8 after dealing with the giant ants.

Area 21 is probably the next best option, though the cave fishers make escaping that way a nerve-racking proposition. Three cave fishers firing at lightly equipped characters is no joke.

Area 10 is probably the hardest route since it requires an underwater swim. If memory serves, the expanded map in A1-4: Scourge of the Slave Lords makes this section much easier to understand.

Regardless of which exit the players choose, they emerge onto the island about halfway between the volcano and the docks. The underwater route places them closest to the harbor if they follow the shoreline.

Once outside, most groups will naturally head for the docks.

If they escaped through Area 19, they will almost certainly encounter the looters marked as Area D on the island map. Those uniforms can prove surprisingly useful later, at least they certainly did when my group played through the adventure years ago.

Running into the giant goats could be entertaining. The fire lizard is considerably less so. As for the giant snapping turtle in Area B, I would rather admire it from a distance than experience its 3 to 18 point bite firsthand.

Notes

For my money, A4 has the best artwork in the entire series, with only A3 coming close. The combination of Erol Otis and Jim Roslof is pure old-school TSR gold.

Being a lifelong James Bond fan, I also cannot help thinking this entire setup violates the Evil Overlord List. If you really want to eliminate your enemies, there are much faster and more efficient ways than stripping them naked and tossing them into a dungeon full of monsters.

One oddity I noticed concerns the dungeon map. Two locations are marked "See Detail Map," but unless my secondhand copy is missing a page, those detail maps simply do not exist. It is hardly a major issue, but it is another small inconsistency. EDIT: I believe there is errata for it somewhere or it was fixed in the Super Module A1-4.

Strengths

The adventure's greatest strength is its premise. Taking everything away from the players forces them to rely on ingenuity rather than equipment. Even experienced groups suddenly become cautious because every rusty dagger suddenly matters.

Another overlooked strength is the Slave Lords themselves. Between A3 and A4, we are introduced to a full roster of memorable villains. More importantly, the series provides enough background material to use the Slave Lords as recurring campaign antagonists rather than one-shot villains.

Suderham also deserves another mention. Despite my criticisms of A3, I still think it has the potential to become an outstanding campaign city. In fact, I have seriously considered making it the centerpiece of a future Castles & Crusades campaign, albeit with a larger map.

Among the dungeon encounters, my favorites are Areas 17 and 21. Any module featuring a roper immediately earns points from me, and placing one at the junction of two tunnels creates an excellent choke point. The Cave of Bats is another standout encounter, helped considerably by the fantastic illustration on page one.

My favorite section of the module, however, comes after the dungeon.

Suderham in flames!

The real magic begins once the volcano erupts and the island descends into complete chaos. Lava, poison gas, magmen, terrified refugees, and panicked mobs all combine to create a wonderfully desperate atmosphere. The docks, in particular, capture the feeling perfectly. Looking over the illustrations while reading those pages gives a genuine sense that everything is collapsing around the players.

The Water Dragon is another excellent touch. The surviving Slave Lords are wounded, hurriedly preparing to flee, and trying to salvage what remains of their operation. It feels desperate, chaotic, and entirely believable.

One amusing thought always crosses my mind, though.

The players finally reclaim their equipment, defeat the Slave Lords, seize the galley, and celebrate their escape.

Then the Dungeon Master asks one simple question.

"So...uhhhh...who knows how to sail a galley?"

Cue the sound of crickets...

Weaknesses

The biggest weakness is also one inherited from A3.

For the adventure to function exactly as written, the entire party must be captured at the end of A3. I have never been particularly fond of the explanation that Mordrammo conveniently resurrects dead player characters simply so the adventure can continue. Personally, I would rather introduce replacement characters in the dungeon itself than rely on that amount of narrative hand waving.

Then there is the back cover.

What on earth is that vampire doing there?

I have read this module numerous times and still cannot connect that illustration to anything inside. Since it is by Bill Willingham, I am willing to forgive it, but it remains a mystery.

And while we are discussing the cover...

Pink?

Really?

The largest issue, however, is the inconsistency between A3 and A4 regarding the Slave Lords themselves.

In A3, we are presented with five Slave Lords while repeatedly being told Suderham is the City of the Nine.

Fast forward to A4, where we are informed that six Slave Lords survived the earthquake.

Unless my math has gotten considerably worse over the years, five plus six equals eleven.

So what happened?

Did the Slave Lords practice hot-bunking like sailors? Did some have to stand during meetings because there were only nine thrones? Were there emergency promotions after the events of A3?

More likely, it was simply an editing oversight.

It is hardly a deal breaker, but once you notice it, you cannot help smiling every time you reread the series.

Closing Thoughts

As written, A4 is an excellent adventure built around one of the most original premises TSR ever produced. By taking away the party's equipment, the module forces players to rely on their own ingenuity instead of simply reaching for another magic item.

Once they finally escape the dungeon, the adventure never really lets up. The race across an island collapsing into volcanic chaos provides a fitting conclusion to the series and keeps the pressure on right to the end.

My only real reservation lies in the transition from A3 into A4, which requires a fair amount of Dungeon Master intervention for the setup to work smoothly.

Even so, I highly recommend A4.

Run your players through it. If they are willing to embrace the challenge rather than complain about losing their equipment, they are likely to remember it for years.

I'd be interested to hear your thoughts on it.

NOTE: the original review on Dragonsfoot can be found here. 

A3- Aerie of the Slave Lords – Old School AD&D Thoughts and a Review

NOTE: Way back in 2011 I reviewed the entire Slavers series on Dragonsfoot. As I now improve my blog, I'm moving all my content from around the web to here. This is the second review in the A Series for AD&D.

A3- Aerie of the Slave Lords 

By Allen Hammack
An adventure for characters levels 4-7

Ahhhh, A3, the penultimate module of the A series and perhaps the most mixed bag of the lot...

Before I get into this one, people should be aware that none of this is to be taken personally. This is a review. I’d still play or DM A3, it’s just that as written it’s a bit weak and certainly the weakest of the four in the series, in this writer’s estimation.

At 28 pages, A3 is the same page length as A4. But in a lot of ways this one seems, to quote Bilbo Baggins, a bit "thin, like butter scraped across too much bread", sparse if you will. I think the nature of these being tournament modules that were later fleshed out, combined with the Spartan-like nature of this one, creates a bit of a conundrum.

Having assaulted the Slavers’ operations in A1 and one of their way points in A2, the PCs are now on their way to the abode of the Slave Lords themselves, the City of the Nine, Suderham. See my notes on this in my review of A4.

Having been suitably directed from A2, the PCs find themselves in the badlands of the Pomarj near a peak in the Drachengrab Hills. Before them are four narrow caves to enter, and from there they enter a maze?

To me, the cave map in A3 is the clearest indication that this is a tournament module. It’s not bad, it’s simply showing its roots. The explanation of Mad King Olarek using this maze for his political prisoners? Ok, I guess...

Anyway, diving in we get some gnolls, which is nice if for no other reason than a change of pace from orcs in the previous modules. After that it’s a piercer cavern, which at 4 to 24 points of damage is enough to ruin anyone’s day, especially in a tournament.

More gnolls and hyena-dons feasting follow...

Next up is the first real gotcha moment of the module: Room A5. Now the trap is not that devious per se and can be partially circumvented. It’s more a case that there is no way around it. Some would say, "Well duh." That’s not my point. My point is that if you use the NPCs from the tournament as a guide, no one is going to have a fly spell. So swim through they go, taking 1 to 4 points of damage from exertion? Ummm, ok.

The thing that makes the room cool is the quirky Sword of Lyons.

I’ll skip the Stroper, as there are plenty of other monsters to bag on in 1st Edition. These merely get a "meh" from me.

Last but not least, the big bad at the end of the maze is... Wimpell Frump?

You’d think that these ace Slave Lords would have someone more accomplished covering their secret escape route, or at least someone with a better name. Also, it’s apparent from the layout of the dungeon that the illusionist spends all of his time hanging out here, as he has no means for a kitchen, bedroom, or even a garterlobe. Perhaps some illusions to cover that one corner take care of that?

I’m sure some will start gushing because he’s an illusionist and illusionists are uber-cool, you see. Um, yeah, next.

From here we get to the next part, Part B, the City itself. This is accomplished via a long tunnel leading to Scum Slum, the outskirts of Suderham.

And being (stop me if you've heard me say this): it’s a tournament module, the rush is to get to Part C. This is a shame really, as I, like a lot of people, would want more meat on the bone regarding Suderham. The intro and flavor text paragraph is cool and evocative, bringing to mind the description of the Drow city in D3.

Right off the bat the train tracks become apparent. Some old geezer waddles up to the PCs and basically gives them their first clue without doing anything. Again, in a tournament setting this makes sense. It’s important information, a bit cryptic, but smart players will figure it out easily.

It’s also a bit too easy for my tastes unless you’re in a tournament setting. As a campaign, I’d be tempted to have the PCs explore the city and give them enough rope...

Given that the PCs arrive at night, large swathes of the city are closed up while the nightlife is bustling. This is again a construct of the tournament structure. The goal in the tournament was to make it through this section in three hours. Obviously, as a DM, this will require a lot of going it alone for a campaign.

As noted, the nightlife is hopping in Suderham, although why go out when you could be dude pimping it on page 14!

In any event, almost all searching is eventually going to funnel the PCs to B13 and finding the way in through there. A longer campaign might allow for B68.

The inns, bars, taverns, etc. are all filled, as are the Houses of Ill Repute. Imagine the snickering of my 8-year-old self at those when I first read them!

Most players are going to start trolling these for additional information. Another point is that with the city being in "night mode," some PCs might try for mischief right off the bat. Let them. It will bring their attention to the Slavers that much sooner, like if they poke their heads into the Assassins Guild at B18.

Assuming they finally figure things out, there are two ways into the Catacombs in Part C: one by following the clues at B13, and one by chance at B68. It doesn’t really matter, as they both spill into area C1 below.

From there they encounter a Flesh Golem with some extra umph. Assuming they get through him, next up is a mimic, some traps, a Minotaur, obviously a transplant from the maze in Part A, a Gelatinous Cube, Shambling Mound, snakes, and then the Slavers themselves.

Putting that 18/56 strength to use!

Notes

Errr, the Jeff Dee art! Interestingly, I do like the Dee cover.

I mentioned in my A4 review that A3 has the second-best art overall. That’s because there is more Erol Otus and Bill Willingham stuff in it, which me likes. "Ogre" punching Feetla’s shield is kick ass!

I like the location of the city to a degree: on a large lake, on an island, with a volcano. Cool. Can’t imagine what’s going to go wrong with an extinct volcano in the not-too-distant future, however.

If you are into old-school sparseness, it doesn’t get much more sparse than this, maybe except for a Marine barber shop on Paris Island.

The city is numbered with only the barest of descriptions and the like. Want proof? The city is covered in seven pages of text. That has to be some kind of record.

These are assigned A1 to A4, but why? Shouldn’t they have C designations?

Strengths

Our first real look at high-level NPC baddies is the best part of module A3. The five presented are rather iconic and make for great recurring villains.

Suderham, if expanded on, makes for a great city in the scummy sort of way. Who wants cities of shining white and paladins? Not me. Give me gritty and sleazy any day of the week. There is much more to do and explore.

By and large the art is good and fits the piece well. Of particular note is Bill Willingham’s Stroper and the Arabian-attired dude with the harem girls. Otus’ weird-looking gate guards are way cool as well and depict the vertical nature of the walls looming before the PCs.

A one-of-a-kind weapon: in our heart of hearts, us geeks love the basic snippets of stuff in modules like the "legendary" Sword of Lyons. Why is it legendary? That’s for an individual DM to decide.

Weaknesses

The maze at the start.

I noted some points above, but let’s just say it works for a tournament module but not much else. The map is a one-way maze and all that entails. As a player it would most likely annoy. As a DM it could possibly bore you. Your mileage may vary.

The whole island, city, and slums are cramped. Some might like it, but we are talking about city walls that enclose an area of 400 by 400 feet. If I were running this, I’d redraw the map, at least in terms of scale, to make it, as Hannibal Lecter would say, "roomier."

The general layout of the island I have no problem with, nor the crater lake. I simply think the distances are too small. But where am I getting this from, I hear you ask?

Look at the scale on the map on page 28, then compare it to the inside cover map and its scale for the city: 600 feet by 600 feet. In any event, it’s too small for my taste, and the scale seems out of whack. At 600 by 600 yards it’s a bit better, but still not perfect.

Another thing that bothers me is the inconsistency with the city itself. Since the focus is not on the city and it merely serves as a vehicle to gather clues to get to Part C, why are they going into detail about some buildings?

By this I mean consider B16, the Assassins Guild. Is it important to know the membership fees for the guild? In a tournament, no. In a campaign, yes.

This could be a construct of trying to make the modules more user-friendly for a campaign. It’s just that I have a hard time believing these details were in the tournament module, mainly because they would serve no purpose there.

The nature of just who knows what in the city is another issue. Take the bartender at the Sign of the White Knight. Again, we get cryptic responses and no straight answers. I get it supposed to be mysterious but even for the time it falls flat.

Or the Maps and Charts library: "Where those that bear us reside." Ok, first thought, couldn’t that mean females since they bear children? Of course horse makes sense, but this could be confusing, to say the least.

That damned Flesh Golem at C1. You’d think an outfit swimming in loot from all the slave dealings would have more than a measly Flesh Golem with pimped-out iron add-ons. C’mon, Stone Golem here at least!

I’m not buying the pseudo-Iron Golem shtick as a player. Because if it were true, I’d either run if I could or say to hell with it, as I probably don’t have anything that could dent it.

Going hand in hand with this is the ecology of the dungeon, either one. Part A is better, mind you, but Part C? Ugh.

S4 is the poster child for this, but I might be tempted to rank A3 right up there with it. There are a bunch of critters who have to eat, but the straightforward, no-deviation-allowed dungeon design makes it rather implausible.

I know it sounds like a broken record, but once again tournament design is rearing its head.

As with the other modules in the A series, the rewards are few and far between. This is truly the case here, as both "dungeons" have some tough foes for the levels of the party, but little to show for it.

This can be hand-waved by saying why would the Slavers leave such things around? You’d be right in saying that, and I’d agree with that point. The problem is the players might not be happy with the rewards considering the risk.

Closing

In closing, I think A3 has the most problems out of all of them and is the most apparent as a tournament module. In order for it to be more workable, a lot of it has to be redone.

Likewise, people have been arguing over its ending probably since it came out as a published module. As a result, we are not going to end the debate here, that’s for sure.

The capture of PCs intact and not dead is one of the most difficult tasks ever without it being seen as contrived. A far better solution is that if a few PCs die, allow new ones in the dungeons of A4. It’s rather easy to do. Just roll them up and don’t worry about gear.

You’ll note that the strengths section is a bit lacking. That’s not to say that I don’t like this module, far from it. Rather, it’s a case of what I noted several times: sparse.

Seven pages, nearly one quarter taken up by the city, which if used as written the PCs breeze through. That is going to impact the quality, and it does.

The first dungeon is lackluster, and the later one is a bit improbable.

Obviously, I’d use A3 as a starting point and flesh it out from there. There are enough pieces here, in conjunction with A4, for high-level baddies for years to come.

After all, the Slaver operations aren’t just one temple in Highport and one Stockade on the way to Suderham. In fact, you could treat them like trying to grasp Jell-O. The harder you squeeze, the more mess ends up on the floor and the less you have in your fingers.

The Slavers should be used as a great source of material rather than just monsters. That is, at least, my take on it.

Despite its flaws have you played A3?

A2- Secret of the Slaves Stockade – Old School AD&D Thoughts and a Review

NOTE: Way back in 2011 I reviewed the entire Slavers series on Dragonsfoot. As I now improve my blog, I'm moving all my content from around the web to here. This is the second review in the A Series for AD&D.

A2 Secret of the Slavers Stockade
By Harold Johnson with Tom Moldvay
An adventure for characters levels 4-7

A2 is part of the much-loved A-series and is written by Harold Johnson with Tom Moldvay. The last page notes “Special thanks to Tom Moldvay, without whom this module would not have been finished.” One wonders what production headaches led to that line. My guess? It ran into serious issues before it went to print aka deadline crunch.

At 40 pages this one is a bit bigger than the rest of the series, and it just might be my favorite of the lot. Along with A1, A2 represents some of my first forays into AD&D — and it’s personal. I still have the character I adventured with back then: a ranger named Leif Garwind. (We were studying Vikings in school at the time, so sue me.)

Let’s start with the outside: Roslof cover art? Check. That gold-ish tone instead of A4’s unfortunate pink? Check. Erol Otus cloaker on the back cover that actually makes sense? Check. With the presentation and the maps inside, we’re off to a strong start.

The PCs arrive outside the fortress thanks to the hook from A1 - Slave Pits of the Undercity. Getting in is no easy matter. There’s essentially one main entrance staring you in the face (barring the obscure Area 39 route). The gate guards are nothing special, but the anhkheg at Area 5 combined with guards on the walls and flaming oil from Area 6 is a recipe for a very quick TPK aka ("Total Party Kill). As a Dungeon Master I love anhkhegs for item saving throws and general chaos, but this opening gauntlet is brutal.

Assuming your party survives the meat grinder (or sneaks in another way), the rest of the compound opens up, though it’s rarely easy. Area 13 can mean instant capture if you’re not careful. Area 19 has that classic old-school wackiness (supernatural events that are actually ruses), which I enjoy in principle but felt a bit forced here. The cloaker at Area 25 is legitimately cool and can absolutely ruin a party’s day.

The half-orcs, hobgoblins, and slave-taking flavor build a nasty little ecosystem. Then you hit the real bosses: the Executioner (Area 32), Icar the blind fire-loving swordsman (Area 5), and especially Markessa in her laboratory (Area 22). Markessa is properly unhinged — chaotic evil experiments on slaves to create the “perfect” servant. The fight there, with its owl bears and body horror, still stands out.

Below ground the slave pens and caves add another layer. The varied prisoners (including potential future allies) give the module real campaign depth. The whole place just feels lived-in and nasty in a way that rewards multiple reads.

Notes

• Less Jeff Dee is generally better, though I do like his Icar piece. His stuff works for other games, less so for fantasy in my opinion.
• Otus and the other interior art  (minimal as it is) still carries the module.
• The maps are some of the best fortress layouts in early AD&D. They are clean and clear and are believable for the environment.

Strengths 

One of the greatest strengths of A2 is the detail of the maps. If you’re like me, A2 represented one of the best early examples of a fully realized castle/fortress in published AD&D. It was fascinating to my eight-year-old self; back when my friends and I were figuring the game out with no one teaching us. The map is dense, with lots of ground to cover and a believable, lived-in feel. The crumbling, partially repaired construction of the fort adds atmosphere, and little touches like the madman playing mind games with the hobgoblins (climbing around in areas 16a-f) give the place real personality. 

This is the module that feels the most like a real, functioning evil outpost. The NPC leaders have personality (especially crazy Markessa and fireproof Icar). The mix of monsters, traps, and role-play opportunities is strong. It oozes atmosphere and has that slight Warhammer-adjacent grimness I loved even back then.

An overlooked part of A2 in my opinion is that it introduces a number of iconic AD&D monsters: boogle (obviously an homage to Gollum), cloakers, phantoms, and haunts. This wasn't suprising for early TSR modules: new monsters and magic items were par for the course.

Weaknesses A frontal assault is borderline suicidal for a typical 4-7th level party. The defenders are well-positioned, and reinforcements or alarms can snowball fast. Some of the traps and set pieces (the swinging chandelier, for example) feel a bit contrived. Loot is better than A1- Slave Pits of the Undercity, but still modest for the risk unless you’re running the whole series.

Closing A2 isn’t perfect, but it’s the strongest of the A-series for me. It has the best mix of atmosphere, memorable villains, and that lived-in slaver-fortress vibe. If your party is smart (or lucky), it becomes a nasty, rewarding crawl. If they’re not…well, bring spare characters.

The original review can be found here on Dragonsfoot.

Have you run or played A2? Did the fortress assault go as badly as I suspect it often did? Let me know in the comments.

When We Were Wizards- The Story of D&D, An Oral History of Dungeons and Dragons

 

I went into When We Were Wizards expecting the usual: a polished nostalgia piece about the “good old days,” a bit of myth-making, and the same recycled narrative about how it all came together like lightning in a bottle.

That’s not what this is.

This is very well done.

Production-wise, it’s tight. Clean narration, strong pacing, and it actually respects the listener’s time. No rambling, no filler. It moves. More importantly, it builds. Each episode adds weight instead of just circling the same talking points you’ve heard a hundred times before.

But where it really stands out?

It’s willing to get uncomfortable.

The story of TSR, and the people behind it, especially Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson isn’t told like a campfire legend. It’s messy. It’s human. It’s full of ego, missteps, clashes, and decisions that don’t always age well.

And here’s the part that’s going to ruffle feathers:

If even half of what’s presented here is true, then the online narrative that paints Gygax as some flawless architect of the hobby is complete nonsense.

Absolute nonsense.

This doesn’t diminish what he accomplished. Not even close. Co-creating D&D is still one of the most important moments in gaming history. That doesn’t change.

But this podcast does something a lot of people don’t want to do: it separates achievement from myth.

Gygax comes across as brilliant, driven…and flawed. Very flawed. Same goes for Arneson. Same goes for just about everyone involved. Which, frankly, makes the whole story more compelling, not less.

Because now it actually feels real.

What you get here isn’t a sanitized origin story. It’s a collision of personalities at the exact moment this hobby was being born. Deals, disagreements, credit disputes, business decisions; some smart, some questionable, some outright disastrous.

That’s the story.

And it’s a better one than the polished version.

Now, is everything in this podcast gospel? Probably not. No historical retelling ever is. There’s always framing, always perspective. But that’s not really the point.

The point is that it challenges the comfortable version of events.

And honestly? That alone makes it worth your time.

So where do I land?

This is one of the better pieces of RPG history content I’ve come across. Not because it tells you what you want to hear...but because it doesn’t. If you’re looking for hero worship, this isn’t it.

If you want something closer to the truth; even if that truth is a little inconvenient? Then yeah, this is absolutely worth a listen.

And to close? I have immense respect for Gary and Dave. That also does not blind me to totality of the story. 

The "Diceimation" of my d20s

"The prisoner ready for execution..."

Wikipedia defines Decimation as follows: "a form of Roman military discipline in which every tenth man in a group was executed by his cohorts." It was used to discipline large groups in the Roman Army for failures like cowardice, desertion or disobedience.

In my case the charge against my d20s was unmistakable: disobedience. Punishment was needed.

With this definition my thoughts turned to the lackluster results of my d20s in far too many gaming sessions over the last decade. It was during last night’s gaming session that it came to a head. My underwhelming dice continued their pathetic "performances" and would not turn over a result higher than six over the course of several hours. I finally had enough. I had enough of their mocking, their failures, their sneering at me as if they were saying: "Oh yeah? What are YOU going to do about it?" They were about to learn what I would do about it...

My gaming friends and I then side-barred in the game and remarked about how truly crappy my dice rolls have been for at least a decade. This included the fact that I once went six years between rolling a 20 in game. I then remarked I should "punish them." But how? Placing them with my 3rd Edition books "to teach them a lesson" (I do not have any 4th edition ones — but that might violate "Cruel and Unusual punishment"), time spent in the "Pit of Doom"?, making them sit in a corner and other milder methods?

I knew that I had to get the attention of my dice and the method would need to be one that conveyed how deadly serious I was. I have suffered for their poor performances across gaming systems for far, far too long; from poor rolls in Star Wars, D&D to AD&D. Tread lightly now. No more. It was time to make an example of one of them. It was time for them to know fear.

As luck would have it there were twenty d20s in my bag, a perfect number for a decimation. I rolled — the lowest rolling die would be the one to suffer the punishment. It would be they that would decide their fate, not me, just like the Roman Legions of old. None were spared from the selection process, not even the ancient dice from my Basic and Expert D&D sets from Christmas 1982, not my (in)famous smoke d20 known for rolling 19s quite often (though not for the last 10 years) from my Junior High and High School years. I rolled the twenty dice and the unlucky die was selected... the blue d20 with the chipped numbers it was.

Off to the workbench in the garage. I contemplated hammers, but realized the die would skip off into the environs of the garage somewhere in a pathetic attempt to avoid its fate... So I decided to crush it with my workbench vice. I lined up other d20s to witness the "dice-cimation" in order to teach them a lesson. There would be no averting their gaze. They trembled in fear, a few sneered not believing that I really would do this. Little did they know how serious I was.

With the victim in the vice... it got one last laugh before its fate was sealed. Turns out dice are incredibly solid! The vice would not crush it. No matter how much pressure I applied the die did not even dent! Its execution temporarily staved off it was as if it was mocking me one last time.

Undeterred I moved onto a MAP gas torch. The torch has been very handy for the restoration of my 1967 John Deere tractor, it was time for it to pull double duty. Once heated up I secured the die in the vice and used my sledge hammer... the offending die then shattered and as expected a few pieces shot out across the garage. I gathered up the d20 and displayed its now broken remains to its fellows.

The rest of my d20s looked in horror and a few shot daggers at me, hating me for the deed that was just done. Prior, they had not believed that I would do such a thing, to resort to such brutal methods, smugly secure that they could continue their under-performing ways.

I coldly looked at the cohort of dice and warned them if they continued to fail me one of the survivors would be next... And if it still continued, another after that. I paused and glared at all of the assemblage and repeated my threat a third time. My words sunk in.

It was at that moment — and not the remains of their shattered friend before them — that it finally dawned on them how much I meant business. Once the execution was over they were paraded past the shattered remains of their fallen comrade. Not a word was uttered as if they could see themselves as the next one.

The message was received and they silently went into the dice bag wondering which one of them would be next. Fear now gripped them where there had once been arrogance or casual indifference. No more. As I reflected on the lesson my dice had just learned it occurred to me: the die that broke the streak of no 20s for six years? It was the very blue d20 pictured above that was "dice-imated." Karma is funny like that.

The price of failure...

 The disciplining of the troops is now over. We will see in a couple of weeks if the rest of the d20s got the message.

Ravenloft I6: One Brutal Night in Barovia – Personal Memories of Gravetones on the DM Screen

As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, high school was a golden era of gaming for our group—and few sessions were as brutal or memorable as our run through I6: Ravenloft. This isn’t a formal review of the module. Instead, it’s a blood-soaked recollection of how one sadistic DM tossed us headlong into the Barovian meat grinder, and gleefully hung gravestones for every fallen PC.

The players were mostly the same usual suspects: Dave, Jim, Daryl, Tom, Mike, and myself. Jeff, of course, was behind the screen. We'd just wrapped THE CAMPAIGN and dabbled in some Warhammer Fantasy Role-play and Twilight 2000 before returning to AD&D for this deadly one-shot.

Jeff gave us some leeway with character creation, including a starting XP allotment and a short list of magic items (subject to DM approval). I rolled up a 6th-level human cavalier named Sir Alexander Silverglade, an absurdly noble name for an early high schooler to dream up, though apparently I went all-in: Alexander William Christian Edward Kenneth Silverglade. Upper-Upper Class via a crazy roll in the Unearthed Arcana social class charts. Tenth in line to something or other. Clearly royalty, and clearly doomed. Naturally, Sir Alex for short.

I still have the character sheet. He wore full plate, carried a shield +2, and wielded a Rod of Lordly Might! Jeff most have forgotten the functions of the item (thankfully for me). My attempt to sneak in a +1 Flame Tongue sword was denied and replaced with a vanilla +2. But with high stats (17s/18s in STR, DEX, and CON), full armor, and a preposterously low AC of -6, he was built like a tank. Cavalier perks from Unearthed Arcana gave him damage absorption (from his armor in 1st edition), fear immunity, and mind control resistance.

Did it help? Only just, perhaps not even.

We were allowed three magic items. I picked strategically, borderline exploitative, really; but it didn’t save us. The adventure began in classic Ravenloft fashion: dropped into Barovia at dusk, wolves howling, villagers fearful, and death already sniffing around the edges.

We made a brief stop at the “Blood on the Vine” Tavern, then poked around Bildrath’s Mercantile and scraped together what we could. It wasn’t much. With night fast approaching, we barricaded ourselves inside an abandoned house to wait for dawn before approaching Castle Ravenloft.

Big mistake.

If you’ve read I6, you know the nighttime random encounters are no joke. Every three turns, 1–2 on a d6? With encounters like wolves, zombies, wraiths, ghosts—and oh yeah, Strahd himself, with his bat and wolf entourage? We got the full buffet:

• Strahd showed up with wolves and bats.
• Zombies broke through.
• Wraiths seeped in.
• A ghost floated through the walls.
• At least one PC was level-drained.
• My character was aged 40 years by the ghost.

I argued (rules lawyer alert) that my cavalier’s immunity to fear should also cover the ghost’s aging effect. Jeff didn’t buy it. Sir Alexander aged from 22 to 62 in an instant. The following week, Jeff reduced it to 10 years, maybe out of mercy, maybe not. Either way, I claimed a moral victory. (Decades later I still think I'm right on that one.)

But the real gut punch came when Jeff unveiled a house rule (and a flair for the dramatic): whenever a character died, he’d hang a printed gray tombstone on his DM screen with the fallen’s name written in Sharpie. The first casualty? My squire, William, mauled by wolves in a side room. Jeff hung his gravestone like a trophy, grinning as the rest of us sat in stunned silence.

By the end, the screen was covered in tombstones.

We eventually made it into Castle Ravenloft...barely. Through random encounter rolls and pure chance, we ended up starting on the upper levels, near the “Rooms of Weeping.” I was the party mapper, so I still recall the progression ending abruptly near rooms K36–K46. We didn’t get much farther. Supposedly the hilt I carried was the Sun Sword, and the blade was in K41. Not that it mattered.

The final battle was a bloodbath. I remember Strahd attacking with a pack of specters and wraiths. Our cleric died almost instantly. I think I was the only fighter type left standing. Thanks to my AC and cavalier resistances, I tanked most of the assault while the rest of the group got drained or shredded. It was a "bloodbath", he really "sank his teeth into us" (OK I'll stop now). I was eventually dropped to 4th level by two wraith hits, but I lived. Barely.

Sir Alexander was the sole survivor.

The game ended there.

Jeff ruled that the mists of Ravenloft wouldn’t let him escape, so in my head-canon he found refuge at the chapel in Barovia, helping Donavich defend it nightly. Still aging, still armored, still bitter. I always thought that if I ever ran I6 myself, I’d reintroduce him as a weary old knight clinging to his code in a world long since lost to darkness.

We never played Ravenloft again. Our group wasn’t that into gothic horror, and while I later picked up the module (still in pristine condition), I’ve always felt the random encounters were more dangerous than the rest of the dungeon. Still, it was a hell of a session, especially the gravestones. That image of Jeff’s DM screen, covered in the names of fallen PCs, has stuck with me for decades.

How about your own "horror stories" (see what I did there) in Ravenloft?

Dragon Magazine Retrospective: My Favorite Issues and Why They Still Matter

 

Everyone has their “Golden Age” when it comes to Dragon magazine, and in reality it’s no different than say White Dwarf. A lot of one’s views will be dependent on just where you entered gaming. As I’ve discussed on this blog and on sites like Dragonsfoot before, I was a latecomer to 1st Edition AD&D in terms of its product run. I started gaming in 1982, but for years my friends and I really mixed and matched stuff together as we explored the game. In other words, like a lot of kids I suspect we freely mixed and matched 1st Edition and Basic and never thought twice about doing so.

So with that in mind, I really didn’t start reading Dragon on a consistent basis until well after many 1st Edition gamers would consider it to be on the decline. To me this is puzzling because around #105 things started to get really good, again from my perspective.

The run from about issue #80 till around #170 fits my style of gaming perfectly: detailing out first edition stuff (albeit late 1st) that I can easily insert into my 2nd Edition games with little or no fuss. To me there is little I have to change — it fits like a glove. 

In a no particular order here are my top ten all time favorite Dragon magazine issues with their overall themes.
 

1. #134- Dragons - This issue is the be-all, end-all when it comes to dragons and anything dragon-related. It’s a great reference for amping up 1st Edition dragons and good dragon tactics in general. The cover is pretty cool too, a bit weird now, but still cool.

 

2. #125- Chivalry - Back in the day I played quite a number of cavaliers and played them a lot, not for any power-gaming reasons, but more for stomping foes into the dust in the name of king and country! Being the first book I bought with my own cash

aka (Unearthed Arcana) probably had something to do with it). In terms of iconic images, there aren’t many more powerful than a knight on horseback, lance leveled. I think I wore out my copy back in the day reading and rereading this thing. Even the other articles not dealing with knights are damn cool.

As far as the cover, look at that! A historical-based Arthur, how cool is that? Couple this issue with #118 (see below), the Arthurian characters from the Deities and Demigods (Legends and Lore) from 1st Edition, and you’re well on your way to an Arthurian-themed campaign. 

3. #127- Call to Arms - This is just as good as #125 in my book. There is so much meat in this you need a fork and knife. Single-class fighters are probably my second favorite class after fighter/mage. When you look at the options and idea starters this gives the DM and players, you can couple this with #125 and #119 for everything one would need for a strong feudal-style campaign akin to the

Again, the cover on this is epic. I think I drew that cover multiple times as an early teen. There is so much going on. I especially love the one orc saying basically “Ok, let’s go at this one last time!”

 
4. #136- Urban Adventures - Damn, this cover rocks too — see a pattern here? Urban adventures are a very underutilized part of the game in my opinion and often an area where newer players simply see as a “store” to exchange stuff for stuff they want from “shop-keepers.” What #136 does is give the DM a great host of options, and the article “50 Ways to Foil Your Players” is a gem in my opinion.

If that were not enough, there is a great golem article, a very good Star Frontiers one, and a host of others. In short, you can’t go wrong with the options this issue gives you.

5. #138 Dreadful Tidings - This one gets special mention for two reasons: a wide selection of alternative undead types which I’ve used for years (Hungry Dead, anyone?) and the article on the plague. The rest of it is a bit skimpy, but the two articles more than make up for it. The cover isn’t bad and has a good deal going on, but for some reason it doesn’t register with me. 

 

6. #160- The City Never Sleeps - Tie this in with #136 and you’ve got everything you need for down-and-dirty city creation and defenses in a magical world. Thieves guild articles and others fill out the special section nicely. I especially like the maps of the Inn of the Last Call.

For issue #160 the cover is okay, not my favorite, but okay. The real meat in this one is the articles.

7. #123- Arcane Arts - This cover sets the tone and is a great tool to use for the magically inclined characters of the campaign world. The special section has three outstanding articles and the Arcane Lore section with fire-related spells is fantastic. Of special note is the idea of the “Arcane College,” a great tool for DMs to use when PC mages get to higher levels.

Legends and Lore has Oriental heroes and the Marvel-Phile section has some of the heralds of Galactus.

 8. #118- Competitions and Tournaments - Tie this into #125 and Arthurian Britain (legendary, not quasi-historical) and away we go. Ever wonder about how to stage a tourney? Wonder no more — follow the pointers in this section and you’re well on the way to a good framework for a fair, festival, or what have you. Also consider the article “The Fairest of the Fairs” (#137) in conjunction with this issue for further idea kick-starters.

Some folks will not like this issue as it contains the infamous article heralding the coming of 2nd Edition by Zeb Cook — who makes the cut in terms of classes and who doesn’t… I’ll leave it at that to cut down on the rancor. Personally, I think Zeb did a great job given the circumstances.

This cover is awesome and the last of the great chess series that ran for years by the artist Denis Beauvais.

9. #116- Maritime Adventures - 

Long before “Of Ships and the Sea,” I used this issue to great effect as it covers everything needed for ships and sailing in a fantasy setting. As I got older I still liked the idea behind it, but I’ve never liked the idea of Ships of the Line akin to HMS Victory in a world of high medieval tech. To me a cog or at most a caravel represents the levels of seaborne tech for most worlds. And for me a caravel would be on the high side of maritime technology.

The cover is what it is: a picture of a red dragon mini with some smoke effects added. Nice, but not great.

The whole issue is great by my estimation and there really isn’t a bad article in it.

10. #106 - This was tough as I’m tempted to pick the likes of #115, #145, #148, #167 or #178. I give the nod to #106 solely based on the strength of the article “A Plethora of Paladins.” The Illrigger alone is so cool you can’t go wrong with it, and the class has featured in my 2nd Edition games.

In fact, it was the Illrigger that made me reevaluate kits and dump them emtirely much from my 2nd Edition games. I find most of the NPC classes work just fine in 2nd Edition and you can easily use them with the likes of “Sages and Specialists,” which are more akin to NPC classes in presentation anyway.

The cover…while not a "chain mail bikini" it’s starting to get close.

Honorable mention / runner-up status goes to the likes of #99 (for the expanded sword system and troop tables), #102 (Anti-Ranger), #119 (Druids), and #124 (Airborne Adventuring). The cover of #119 is especially awesome! #126 is another favorite of mine, especially for the cover.

These issues for me were the “sweet spot” of gaming articles and heavily influenced my gaming and my perception of the game. It probably also explains why, to some degree, 2nd Edition became such a non-issue to me. My group and I were already mix-and-matching the various gaming systems for years. When 2nd Edition came out we continued to do so.

Gygax & Arneson vs. Jobs & Raskin: The Unsung Co-Creators Behind Big Revolutions

Who and Who?

Most people in the gaming world know the name Gary Gygax, but fewer recognize Dave Arneson. Likewise, in the tech world, Steve Jobs is a household name—Jef Raskin, not so much.

But the parallels between these two pairs are worth considering.

If you’re curious about the early days of personal computing, Andy Hertzfeld’s site is an incredible resource. He was one of the original eight creators of the Macintosh, and his behind-the-scenes stories offer a glimpse into how the Mac came to be. You can even find the iconic 1983–84 photo of the team there.

Jef Raskin was the one who originally envisioned the Macintosh project—until Jobs took it over and radically changed its direction. Sound familiar?

In the early days of D&D, Arneson showed Gygax some of his early ideas. Gygax ran with them and expanded the concept into something bigger. The tricky part is: we’ll never really know how much of what became D&D was Gary’s and how much was Dave’s. My gut says it was a mix—each pulling from different sources, shaping the foundation together.

In both cases, one figure became the face of a revolution, while the other became a footnote—despite having sparked the original idea. And in both cases, the full story is messy. In Arneson’s case, legal disputes kept parts of it sealed. In Raskin’s case, his original vision for the Mac can only be glimpsed through later projects like the Canon Cat, a fascinating what-could-have-been.

None of this is to discount Gygax or Jobs. Gygax’s genius was in pulling together disparate influences into something greater. Jobs had a vision that changed the world. But both men stood on the shoulders of others—collaborators, visionaries, and unsung pioneers.

So here’s some food for thought: How do we measure creative credit? How do we honor the sparks and the flames?

I encourage you to read more about Dave Arneson and Jef Raskin. Let me know what you think. Am I way off, or closer than I realize?

Who and who, you may ask?

Most people in the gaming world know the name Gary Gygax, but fewer recognize Dave Arneson. Likewise, in the tech world, Steve Jobs is a household name—Jef Raskin, not so much.

But the parallels between these two pairs are worth considering.

Dave Arneson, co-creator of D&D

If you’re curious about the early days of personal computing, Andy Hertzfeld’s site folklore.org is an incredible resource. He was one of the original eight creators of the Macintosh, and his behind-the-scenes stories offer a fascinating glimpse into how the Mac came to be. You can even find the iconic 1983–84 team photo there, along with updates on where the team was as of 2012.

Jef Raskin was the one who originally envisioned the Macintosh project — until Steve Jobs took it over and radically changed its direction.

Sound familiar?

In the early days of D&D, Arneson showed Gygax some of his early ideas. Gygax ran with them and expanded the concept into something much bigger. The tricky part is: we’ll never really know how much of what became D&D was Gary’s and how much was Dave’s. My gut says it was a true mix
— each pulling from different sources, shaping the foundation together.

In both cases, one figure became the face of a revolution, while the other became a footnote — despite having sparked the original idea. And in both cases, the full story is messy. In Arneson’s case, legal disputes kept parts of it sealed. In Raskin’s case, his original vision for the Mac can only be glimpsed through later projects like the Canon Cat — an interesting “what might have been.”

None of this is to discount Gygax or Jobs. Gygax’s genius was in pulling together disparate influences into something greater. Jobs had a vision that changed the world. But both men stood on the shoulders of others: collaborators, visionaries, and unsung pioneers.

So here’s some food for thought: How do we measure creative credit? How do we honor the sparks and the flames?

In 1985, both Steve and Gary lost control of the companies they helped create. Perhaps a blog post for another time.

I encourage you to read more about Dave Arneson and Jef Raskin. Let me know what you think. Am I way off, or closer than I realize?

THAC0: The Great Divide? What the Hell?

F (ExTSR) is Frank, as in Frank Mentzer, longtime cohort of Gary Gygax, writer of the Red Box (1983) of D&D Basic and one of the few active folks from the advent of TSR and the role-playing age on Dragonsfoot (which is now no longer the case).

There are people who think of THAC0 solely as a 2nd Edition AD&D creation when in fact according to Frank it predates 1st Edition and may even have been in common parlance around the time of the Lake Geneva Campaign. And again for those that don't know the Lake Geneva Campaign was THE grand-daddy of them all in terms of RPGs campaigns; it was the one that Gary DM'ed and well, pretty much wrote AD&D as we know it.

Now on to THAC0 itself: THAC0 stands for "To Hit Armor Class (Zero)."

In 2nd edition AD&D in melee combat, one rolls a d20 and compares it against their THAC0 score. For example if your THAC0 score is a 18 and you roll a 14 you would hit Armor Class 4. In other words, straight up on the die with no modifiers THAC0 represents the roll you need to hit AC 0 on a d20. In a nutshell that's all there is to it. So why is it that people look like this when you bring up the subject of THAC0 in gaming circles?

"Is it THACO or THAC0? I don't see the difference...

Seriously, simple math is that hard folks? The only argument that I can see possibly being made is for a unified mechanical rule of later editions which THAC0 is not. But, then again 1st and 2nd Edition has lots of wonky bits to it anyways. 3rd edition and later did tidy up stuff, but abandoned this one when it wasn't broken. Plus I'm not a fan of a single mechanic simply for its own sake, but can see the utility in some systems.

Maybe its the seemingly "weird" subtractions say for speed factor where lower is better. Sure AD&D (both 1st and 2nd) are not consistent whether high or low rolls are good or bad.

But the next time somebody starts squawking about the "difficulty" of simple math and unified mechanics being superior just point out they can, you know...do math. For the older grognard crowd point out that THAC0 appears in their "Ye Olde Holy Book" aka the 1st edition Dungeon Master's Guide written by Gary Gygax. For those who want to save vs disbelieve its right there on pages 196-214.

Be prepared to save vs. long winded diatribe regarding about how Gary didn't really like it. Dudes... shut the Hell up, it's in the freaking book, your book no less.

And if you are having issues? Here is a great breakdown of how THAC0 works.

The Shortest Print Run in D&D History – And Why I’m Not Golf-Clapping at 4e’s Funeral

So long 4th edition, we hardly knew ya!

To be quite honest, I really don’t care what edition (or game) someone wants to play. 3rd edition D&D? Castles and Crusades? Lamentations of the Flame Princess, or anything in between? It’s not my cup of tea to rain on someone else’s parade. Now if we are talking FATAL then yeah, that goes out the window.

Enter the anti-2e crowd.

Suffice it to say my opinion of them is about as high as a kobold in good standing, which is to say, not much. And now that leaves the abuse that’s sure to come your way. My best defense against these clowns is a good offense.

With that said, I feel a strange kinship with 4th edition D&D fans right now. A four-year print run for the “current edition” of D&D is shockingly short. Wow, the shortest of them all actually. 4th edition has officially taken the mantle of whipping boy.

I’m not going to golf-clap at the funeral in classic grognard style, though. Your game might not have been my game, but I have a good deal of sympathy for you. My best advice: go on the offensive. When grognards tell you your edition sucks, point out the very real flaws of 1st edition AD&D (there are plenty). Don’t let them fool you. Initiative, horrible organization, psionics, and more, there’s plenty of fodder there. And this is from someone who likes 1st Edition very much.

Am I promoting edition wars? Some might see it that way. But I like to point out that most of us 2e folks were generally “live and let live”… until we got online and ran into the rabid neck beards (see definition #6). Then we learned real quick. Want proof? There are people online who actually believe Terrible Trouble at Tragidore is somehow representative of 2nd edition module quality.

Meanwhile, they’ve never laid eyes on the run of Dungeon magazine from issues #18–81, which rank among some of the best modules of all time. Modules like The Iron Orb of the Duergar, The Mud Sorcerer’s Tomb, and Kingdom of the Ghouls are insanely great to name but a few.

If you stay the course for your favored edition, then by all means do so, and don’t let anyone tell you different. Your game is not my game, but I can’t help but feel a kinship. Your edition is now going to be the least supported of them all:

• 0e, Basic, 1st, and 2nd are more or less interchangeable despite what anyone may think.
• 3rd had a mountain of material, and Pathfinder can easily fill the gap.
• That leaves 4th on its own island…

I say this because it looks like 5th edition is (allegedly) going back to its roots. Time will tell there.

In closing its going to be a lonely road, but if it's your course steer it: "Second star to the right... and straight on until morning."

(Yes I know it's from Peter and Wendy.)

Stoneskin: The Most Abused Spell in 2nd Edition AD&D?

Ahhh Stoneskin... I've thought I had this spell down pat over the years then looked at others' interpretations of it and thought they were right and then went back to the source and wondered if there is no clear-cut definition on perhaps the most abused spell in 2nd edition AD&D.

I must admit I've played 2nd Edition Advanced Dungeons and Dragons for years and thought I knew this spell inside and out. But much like a quirky politicians language in a law it's a bit puzzling in its phrasing. There is one pertinent part that is unclear or at least hinges on how it's interpreted. By this I mean consider the following:

Stoneskin
4th level Mage spell (page 163 in the 2nd Edition Players Handbook)
Range: Touch
Components: V, S M
Duration: Special
Casting Time: 1
Area of Effect: 1 creature
Saving Throw: None

When this spell is cast, the affected creature gains virtual immunity to any attack by cut, blow, projectile or the like. even a sword of sharpness cannot affect a creature protected by stoneskin, nor can a rock hurled by a giant, a snake's strike, etc. However, magical attacks from such spells as fireball. magic missile, lightning bolt, and so forth have their normal effects. The spell blocks 1d4 attacks, plus one attack per two levels of of experience of the caster has achieved. This limit apples regardless of attack rolls and regardless of whether the attack was physical or magical. For example, a stoneskin  spell cast by a 9th-level wizard would protect against five and eight attacks. An attacking griffon would reduce the protection by three each round; four magic missiles would count as four attacks in addition to inflicting their normal damage.

The material components of the spell are granite and diamond dust sprinkled on the recipient's skin.

Now I'm no rules lawyer, but the section that says "This limit applies regardless of attack rolls and regardless of whether the attack was physical or magical."

Now you can interpret it to say: Attack rolls whether the hit or not remove one "skin" from the spell.

Or you could say it doesn't, much...

So what did Sage Advice have to say about it?

Stoneskin:

"This spell is subject to considerable abuse by player characters. Multiple stoneskins placed on a single creature are not cumulative. If two or more stoneskin spells are cast on the same creature, roll normally for the number of attacks each spell protects against. If a new spell protects against more attacks than the present spell does, the recipient gets the benefit of the increased protection; otherwise there is no effect. The caster does not necessarily know how many attacks the spell can shield him from.

Stoneskin protects only against blows, cuts, pokes, and slashes directed at the recipient. It does not protect against falls, magical attacks, touch-delivered special attacks (such as touch-delivered spells, energy draining, green slime, etc.), or non-magical attacks that do not involve blows (such as flaming oil, ingested or inhaled poisons, acid, constriction, and suffocation). Stoneskin lasts for 24 hours or until the spell has absorbed its allotment of attacks."

Well...this helps, but only a little.