Yet Another Half-orc Hero

Character sheet (screenshot from Baldur’s Gate Enhanced Edition)

Shortly after I blogged about My Big Dumb Ugly Half-orc Hero from the Neverwinter Nights video game I waxed nostalgic and decided to try playing Baldur’s Gate Enhanced Edition as a Half-orc Barbarian. In that short amount of time I’ve gotten pretty far in the game with this character, but I have to say it’s not all just him. Well, a lot of it is, and it’s not merely due to brute strength. But damn if I didn’t assemble a strong party as well.

His merry band of mercenaries currently consists of Viconia, the Drow Cleric, Kagain the Dwarven Fighter, Imoen the Human Thief, Garrick the Human Bard, and Neera the Half-elven Wild Mage. This is not my first time playing the enhanced version of this game, but I gotta say it’s the first time I could really appreciate the advanced AI. Sometimes when these guys encounter hostiles all I have to do is sit back and watch them go to work.


The Friendly Arm (screenshot from Baldur’s Gate Enhanced Edition)

****** SPOILERS AHEAD ******

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Since my Bhaalspawn is chaotic neutral, he didn’t spend too much time with Khalid and Jaheira. In fact, he left them at the Jovial Juggler in Beregost and went off to do his own thing. They wanted to get to Nashkel as soon as possible, but I preferred to hold off on that for a bit while I finished some side quests. Then, even when we did finally get to Nashkel, we went to the carnival first. After all, who cares about some silly old mines?

Anyway, by now I had the party I thought I might finish the game with, but there was one more thing I had to do before looking into the iron shortage and that was to help Minsc and Boo save Dynaheir. I love Minsc, and the only reason I would end up removing him from the party after helping him complete his quest was to make room for a tougher fighter, namely Kagain.

But for now I left the Dwarf in Nashkel and the rest of us journeyed to the Gnoll Stronghold. Then, in what I must say was a mission of near surgical precision, we rescued Dynaheir from the pit she was imprisoned in and said our farewells to both her and Minsc, leaving him only a two-handed sword and of course, his beloved miniature giant space hamster. This of course meant we were only five as we headed back, but I wasn’t worried.

It wasn’t even having done this quest before with a different party that made it so easy this time around, except for the fact that I now knew enough to skirt around the Xvart village (time enough for that quagmire later on). But this meant I was taking a different route; one I wasn’t familiar with. To be honest, the real reason I wasn’t worried was that for once I didn’t have Khalid as a party member. In my opinion he’s practically useless as a Fighter. He might’ve made a better Bard. Also, Viconia taking Jaheira’s place as the party’s healer turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in this game. With the Ankheg Plate Mail and Stupefier Mace she’s practically invincible, and she has a much wider range of spells, not to mention the Turn Undead ability which Jaheira lacks as a Fighter/Druid. The only thing I miss is the often witty banter the Half-elven couple brought to the party. But Viconia has a few of her own quirky interactions with some of the other NPCs, and Neera has personality enough for them all.

Once safely back in Nashkel I picked up Kagain where I’d left him by the barracks, and we all went to the inn. If you’ve gotten this far in the game (and honestly if you haven’t you shouldn’t be reading this), then you know what happens next. A hapless bounty hunter messed with the wrong mercenary group. We tore her apart in mere seconds. It was epic.

By now the party had a reputation of 9 (due to Viconia’s inclusion in the group), so after my Bhaalspawn’s first nightmare he woke up the following morning with the Larloch’s Minor Drain ability. I purposely avoided getting the rep up to 10 so that that would be the case, but now at last my reluctant hero could begin his long redemptive arc, starting with sorting out the mines and the rotting metal situation.

I was astonished at how quickly we blew through those underground passages which had proved so deadly to parties I’d gone into them with in the past. Before I knew it Mulahey was dead at my feet and we were off to collect our reward. Now that’s all sorted, Tranzig is dead as well, and we’re bandit hunting in the Peldvale. The party’s rep is back up to 10 again, and my Half-orc Hero has had his second nightmare and gained the Cure Light Wounds ability.

In conclusion I’d just like to also mention that the Enhanced Edition appears to have made Bards much more useful. In most encounters, Garrick just stands there singing, and yet I consider him one of the most valuable members of this mercenary group. He’s also cheerful and fun to have around, like Imoen and Neera, especially in contrast with the other three party members. Also, the voice I chose for my Bhaalspawn (MALE6) is perfect. It’s one of the newer ones, and I’m absolutely in love with it.


My Big Dumb Ugly Half-orc Hero

Neverwinter Nights by BioWare

I play Neverwinter Nights a lot, and sometimes I come up with player characters for that game that I end up really wanting to play in a tabletop session of D&D. I never thought one of them would be a stereotypical big dumb ugly half-orc, but there you go.

Normally I would never create a PC with an Intelligence lower than 10, but this time on a whim I played through the first chapter of the NWN Original Campaign as a Half-Orc Barbarian named Gulash with an intelligence of 8. It was hilarious! I’ll explain why in a moment, but first, a little more about the character.

While I know that good-looking intelligent, articulate half-orcs are all the rage now (here’s looking at you, Fjord), Neverwinter Nights already has a supporting character who’s an articulate half-orc barbarian, the NPC Daelan, whom you can hire as a henchman, so keeping that in mind you might understand why I preferred to go the other way with this character.

But don’t get me wrong. Gulash is in no way a mindless, unthinking brute. In fact, he has a kind heart and he’s also pretty savvy with a wisdom score of 12. That’s actually one of the things that make me think he’d be great as a PC that I could develop more freely in a real D&D roleplaying scenario. I think a lot of his enemies would underestimate him, calculating only his strength in their assessment of the threat he could potentially pose to them. He’d also be fun to roleplay.

Anyway, for Gulash’s voice I chose from the included voice sets one called Dumb Hero which has some funny lines such as “I’m gonna rip your head off and make it my puppet!” Then, after reading the warning during character creation that lets you know an intelligence lower than 9 means your character can’t speak properly, I proceeded to play, only to be pleasantly surprised when I discovered just what that meant.

As I said, I’d played the game many times before with all sorts of different characters, so I was familiar with nearly all of the dialogue interactions, but now instead of saying, for example “I need to speak to you,” my character would say something like “Me want talk at you”. But funniest of all were the reactions from many of the NPCs when my character spoke to them. They might say something like, “Oh, I see you are a bit slow, friend.” I love that the game’s creators took the time to do this. Unfortunately, this is not true of all modules, including Shadows of Undrentide. It’s understandable though, having to write two versions of all the dialogue in the game would no doubt add considerably to the overhead.

Another thing that made game play a bit different for me this time around was Gulash’s low charisma score. In NWN, half-orcs take a -1 penalty to charisma and I was unwilling to spend any extra points to mitigate that because I wanted him to be a tank. So any extra points I had went into strength, constitution, and dexterity (and the aforementioned wisdom score, of course, to help protect him from mind-affecting spells).

A charisma score of only 9 has some pretty significant consequences in NWN, as I was soon to learn.

Take Persuasion, for example. This skill is charisma-based and very important to game play, particularly insofar as it can be used to open up side quests that would normally be closed to all but a very few specific types of character (such as those belonging to a particular class; though most of the time it appears to have more to do with the PC’s alignment). Less side quests mean less experience points, so it makes sense that you’d want to take on odd jobs, especially if they paid well.

***** SPOILERS AHEAD *****

One such side quest is offered by Judge Oleff in the Halls of Justice. If you’re a lawful good cleric you probably don’t need a high charisma or persuade skill to get the quest, which involves finding the lost tombs of Halueth Never and his adventuring companions. And while it certainly makes a lot of sense that stuffy old Oleff wouldn’t entrust such a sacred task to a chaotic, brutish half-orc barbarian who can’t even speak properly, it’s a great side quest featuring some pretty powerful undead and I really wanted to see how Gulash fared in it. So I gave persuasion a shot, and naturally failed.

In NWN once you fail a persuasion check with a particular character you can’t succeed with them if you try again until you’ve increased your persuasion skill, which, barring the use of a magical item, means after you’ve leveled up again. But when your character is a dumbass barbarian, you don’t get many skill points to waste on things like persuasion, especially when 1 point in persuasion would cost you 2 skill points. Makes sense in terms of roleplaying though. Barbarians tend to persuade with their fists. Still, a few levels later I did finally add an extra point in persuasion, and with a nymph cloak I bought at the auction in the Seedy Tavern, I was finally able to convince Judge Oleff I was the right man–er, half-orc for the job.

Another consequence I wasn’t expecting from having such a low charisma score was actually kind of more sad than funny. After successfully retrieving his first Waterdhavian creature, Gulash decided to celebrate at the Moonstone Mask. After getting a writ from Oleff that declared him plague-free, and buying his Pass Coin to get upstairs, he chose a pretty halfling lass as his companion for the night. But all he could get out of her was a quest… she refused to even consider bedding him because he was so damned ugly.

*****END SPOILERS*****

Overall it’s been a fun (and often funny) experience playing Gulash. It was sort of refreshing to not be squishy, to hack and slash my way through the Neverwinter Nights Original Campaign instead of relying on stealth and magic. I think the only thing I’ll do differently if I play this character in a tabletop D&D game is to make my big dumb ugly half-orc hero a female. Hulking musclebound brutish female half-orc barbarians are apparently in short supply these days. Everyone wants to be sexy, I guess. But this one will rip your head off and make it her puppet, and that’s sexy enough for me.

How I Got into Dungeons and Dragons

The dragon Smaug from The Hobbit animated film by Rankin/Bass Productions (fair use)

Since J. R. R. Tolkien’s 127th birthday was this past Thursday I thought I’d date myself by telling you all the ancient tale of how I first got into D&D. It started with Tolkien, though not because I’d read the books. When I was a kid, back when we had idiot boxes instead of smart TVs, I saw the televised Rankin/Bass animated films The Hobbit and The Return of the King, and also Bakshi’s The Lord of the Rings, and immediately became immersed in the Professor’s strange yet endearing world of high fantasy. Oddly enough, I wouldn’t end up reading Tolkien’s works until I was sixteen, but that’s a tale for another time.

In those days I was a short, scrawny, quiet kid with glasses and buck teeth, painfully shy, nerdy, and anxiety-prone. School was a special kind of hell for me. I got bullied and picked on a lot. I was very much an introvert; far more so than I am now. I lived mostly in my head, and from the time I could pick up a crayon I’d been drawing worlds and characters to inhabit them, telling myself stories about them–and later writing those stories. So once I’d been introduced to Tolkien’s Middle-earth through those films, my inner world became fiercely populated by hobbits, elves, dwarves, goblins, trolls, and the like.

Seeing how much I liked to draw, one day my mother bought me a sketchbook and a pack of magic markers in an array of colours. It was a step up from crayons, and I was in world-building heaven. I’d sit for hours on the floor of our living room mapping out underground tunnels teeming with goblins. The goblins were represented by dots not much bigger than a pinhead, but they were colour-coded. One shade of green indicated a foot-soldier, another a guard, another a warg-rider, and so on. I never tired of this.

In school my favourite subject became geography, but only due to my fascination with maps. The first day of class one year I sat next to a girl who would become my best friend in the sixth grade. We bonded over our fondness for all the multi-coloured maps in our geography book, which we were made to share due to a shortage of textbooks in our over-crowded classroom. It started with a made-up game in which we were rulers of the world. As in the board game Risk, the joys of which I had yet to discover, we chose which regions of the world would be our territories and then started marking things like military bases on the maps–yes, we desecrated a defenseless textbook. But it wasn’t long before we began drawing our own maps of worlds that had never existed until then.

Then there was this boy in our class who was the class clown, but also the biggest nerd. I eventually became friends with him as well, and would hang out with him at his house from time to time. We’d play Zork on his personal computer, and I would map our journey. But my first experience with anything D&D official was through the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons video game we’d play on his Intellivision. Like most kids back then I loved video games, but this one was different. As you explored that world, you could only see so far ahead; a bit of realism which I would learn many years later from playing Baldur’s Gate was known as the fog of war.

My second encounter with D&D wouldn’t come until the following year, when I attended middle school. My mother, who was on the PTA, got me into a nerdy school with only around two hundred students. But I was still too shy to make new friends and I was feeling pretty lonely, until one day after class as the lunch period began I noticed a group of other kids had stayed behind and started pushing desks together and arranging chairs around it, accompanied by an older kid I’d never seen before. So out of sheer curiosity I lingered, sitting in the back of the classroom, drawing in my sketchbook. And that was how I witnessed my first real D&D game.

I can still recall one of the Dungeon Master’s exchanges with his very green twelve-year-old players, who all had first level characters, after they had comically blundered through one of his dungeons without a light source (they kept falling down slopes and taking damage even before they’d encountered any monsters). Having come to a small room lit by torchlight, they spied a chest in one corner.

Player 1 (to the DM): What’s in the chest?

DM: Do you try and open it?

Player 1: Um…

Player 2 (to Player 1): Don’t, it might be trapped.

Player 1 (to the DM): Well… what might such a chest contain?

DM: You don’t know. You have no idea. It could be anything. It could be treasure or a pile of orc shit. You won’t know until you open it.

We all laughed, and as the game continued I felt emboldened enough to sit a little closer, where I was able to look on with fascination at all these strangely shaped many-sided dice, rulebooks, character sheets, and crudely drawn maps on graph paper. And then to my utter surprise and eternal delight, as everyone was leaving after the session was over, the Dungeon Master–an eighth grader and thus infinitely cooler than I was–kindly asked me if I would like to join next session. Of course I said yes! And so began a glorious lifelong adventure, and one I’m happy to say I’m still on to this day.