Play Report (AD&D 2e): In Search of the Unknown (Session 27)

We played the twenty-seventh session of our Dungeon Module B1: In Search of Unknown AD&D 2e game last night. You can read past play reports here.

The roster for this session was as follows:

• Llombaerth, CG elf thief 4 (Adam)
• Mirkle, N human fighter 3 (Maya)
• Egbert, human necromancer 1 (NPC)
• Brazile, halfling hound master, his dog, Ripper, and the party's two war dogs, Dewey, and Phooey (NPC)
• Bilodeau, man-at-arms (NPC)
• Graves, man-at-arms (NPC)
• Lendeborg, human porter (NPC)

Last we played, the party located Quasqueton's library at last. There they found: a collection of sage texts on dwarven art and culture, which they valued at about 1,000 gold pieces total;  a collection of ledgers which suggested that Zelligar had a laboratory somewhere that they had yet to discover, and that he kept at least one apprentice on the payroll, although it was not confirmed that this was Lambrecht; a collection of philosophical manifestos about the nature of life, death, and identity, suggesting that Zelligar was preoccupied with his mortality and legacy; and a collection of erotic poetry and lyrics with the common theme of lovers reuniting in another life.

After that, the party wandered the halls of Quasqueton and wound up back in the teleporting rooms. After figuring out how to navigate the rooms, they found Quasqueton's smithy, which contained a hole in the floor which led to the lower level. Ignoring that, they went back past the teleporting rooms and eventually wandered back to where they had begun the session.

We picked up there. The party decided to head back to the entrance corridor and take the passage that ran parallel to it on the right hand side (facing the dungeon entrance). This would take them back to the door beyond which was a three way intersection they hadn't yet explored (they found it when searching for the library two sessions ago and ignored it).

They easily navigate back to the door and the intersection beyond it. The left passage went 60' and turned right. Ahead, the passage continued for at least 60'. The right passage went 30' and turned left. 

They took the left passage. They followed it for 60' and turned right, then followed for 70' and turned right again.  Another 50' and another right turn. After the turn, there was a door 20' ahead on the right, and the passage continued for another 40' and turned right again. They went through the door. Beyond it, the passage went 10' to the right and turned left, and 30' to the left and turned right.

They turned left beyond the door and followed the passage as it turned right. The passage continued another 20', turned right, went another 10', and opened into a rough, unfinished room, about 20' x 20'. There was a 10' deep alcove in the bottom right corner of the room, adjacent to the hall from which they had just come. They detected a glint of light on the floor.

Checking the alcove carefully for traps, they determined it was safe, and moved closer to investigate. On the floor they found four red garnets, which Llombaerth determined were worth 100 gold pieces each. They pocketed the gemstones. 

In hindsight, I wish I had done more with this! Maybe there should have been a trap here. Maybe some adventurer suffered a wound and crawled in here to die, clutching their gemstones close to them. Maybe the gemstones could have been set into a rough mural of sorts that added some storytelling to the dungeon. Anything would have been more sensible than a handful of gemstones scattered on the floor in some dead end empty room at the end of a long, pointless, spiraling hallway.

With nowhere else to go, the party backtracked down the corridor and past the door they had come through. Past the door, the passage went 10', turned left, another 30', turned left again, another 50', turned left again, another 40', and turned left again, which brought them back to the other side of the door. They continued along the passage until they returned to the three way intersection. Exploring the whole spiraling corridor took about an hour!

Next, the party explored the long central passage. They saw that the entire passage was about 70' long, then opened into a chamber. They could smell wet earth and decay, and saw several bioluminescent spores floating in the air. As they approached with their lantern, they heard squeaking and the scurrying of tiny critters scrambling for cover. 

They saw that the chamber at the end of the passage was overgrown with rainbow-hued fungi and mold, with splotches, clumps, swirls, and patches in a nightmare of clashing colors. The largest mushrooms were as big as trees, with caps 8' in diameter. The room was shaped like a backwards L. The lower portion was 20' across and extended 50' to the left and 20' to the right. The upper portion was 30' across and extended at least 40' beyond where it met the lower portion. There appeared to be a pair of 10' x 20' sunken pits in the center of the upper portion.

The party wanted to know what sorts of creatures were in the room, so Llombaerth remained at the entrance while the rest of the group retreated with the light source. Remaining still for ten minutes or so while his eyes adjusted to the dark, Llombaerth eventually saw about half a dozen giant rats scurrying about on the floor, eating the various lichens and molds which grew on the soil.

The party decided to loose their dogs on the rats. Dewey and Phooey ran in, recklessly charging through the molds, kicking up spores. All but one of the rats fled before them. The remaining rat was seized by Phooey and torn apart. Spores clung to Phooey's coat, and he began to glow with a dim bioluminescence. Dewey chased down another rat, but came to a sudden halt and fell to the floor, seizing.

The party called back Phooey. They used cloth and crushed charcoal to fashion rough masks with filters, then Llombaerth went inside to extract Dewey. Mirkle stayed near the entrance to shoot any giant rats that came close. Llombaerth accidently stepped on a rat scurrying underfoot, which tried to bite him but failed to penetrate his boot's leather. Llombaerth picked up Dewey and carried him out.

Back at the entrance, Dewey had stopped seizing and slowly recovered. His eyes were glassy and he appeared to be in a daze. The party noticed a protuberance sticking out of his forehead between his two eyes. As it wriggled its way forth, the protuberance opened to reveal a third eye, alien in appearance, glossy and black like slate. They could feel Dewey's third eye reaching out to them, rich with eldritch knowledge eager to be shared.

Llombaerth focused on Dewey, leaned in close to him, and asked, "Dewey, are you a good boy?"

Llombaerth was overcome with a wave of psychic imagery. He saw the land as it was when the titans created it. He saw things crawl out of the sea and become wolves. He saw the coming of the dwarves and elves, the orcs, the humans, and the battles they fought. He saw humans first befriend the wolves, and the wolves dogs like Dewey. He saw the rise and fall of civilizations, the growth of Timbershore, dogs running through the streets. He saw a female dog give birth to a litter of pups. He saw the hound master raising the pups to be vicious dogs of war, and he saw the strongest of them, Dewey, leading the pack. And he knew that yes, Dewey was a good boy.

Llombaerth gave Dewey some salted herring and then asked, "Was Lambrecht Zelligar's apprentice?"

Another wave of images hit him. He saw the hill being hollowed out by orc slaves under orders from taskmasters themselves under orders from Rogahn and Zelligar. He saw Zelligar in his laboratory, experimenting with new magic and alchemical compounds, torturing captive barbarians. He saw Zelligar dictating to a number of different youngsters who diligently recorded his findings. He saw many of these assistants consumed by alchemical flames, turned into chickens, and struck by other mishaps. As far as he could tell only one survived - a young man who he did not recognize, who was banished from Quasqueton after some falling out with Zelligar.

Llombaerth and Mirkle decided to search the fungal garden. Affixing their masks to their faces, they went inside, careful not to disturb the fungi. As they went deeper inside the chamber, they saw shelf fungi along the walls, giant puffballs, coral fungi, and morels. The air was thick with spores and difficult to breathe, but they were not adversely affected.

The upper portion of the room extended 70' beyond the lower portion. With their lantern, the giant rats kept away. At the far end of the room, they found five lifelike wax statues of barbarian warriors - complete with painted eyes and what appeared to be real hair. 

Thinking the statues might contain treasure, Mirkle held the lantern close to one until it began to melt. The statue's eyes began to redden and water, as if it was crying. She caught a glimpse of movement in her peripheral vision, and suddenly the statues were coming to life!

Llombaerth and Mirkle decided to drop flaming oil in front of them and retreat. They did so, but the statues simply moved around the oil and pursued, moving much faster than Mirkle could in her armor. Four attacked and missed, but one managed to hit Mirkle with its sword for 6 damage. The chaos caused the surrounding fungi to spew their spores. The statues were unaffected, and the party's improvised masks seemed to protect them from the effects as well.

In the following round, Llombaerth dropped one of his bat guano bombs and retreated again. Mirkle fell back as well and flung a flask of oil at the bomb, scoring a direct hit. The flaming oil splashed the statues for 3 damage each, then the bomb exploded for a whopping 15 damage, obliterating the statues and several fungi, rattling the entire room and filling it with plumes of smoke and spores. The ground was littered with clumps of burning wax like so many candles.

The party searched the area once the dust settled, but didn't find anything of note. They returned again to the entrance. Dewey was still staring at them sagely with his third eye. Mirkle asked Dewey if any of the mushrooms in the room were dangerous.

Visions washed over Mirkle. She saw the construction of the room. She saw Zelligar consulting with an elf she did not recognize. She saw the importation of rare and exotic plants and molds and the careful cultivation and harvesting of each. Decades passed in seconds, and she saw the garden abandoned and overgrown. She saw adventurers, goblins, and orcs begin to enter the room, carelessly inhaling the spores. She saw some turn purple and die of poison, others fall into a comatose sleep, some flee the room in panic, others overcome with terrifying psychic visions, stumbling about the room clumsily, confused, rooted in place, sickened, or turned into toadstools themselves.

As the visions faded, Dewey's third eye began to weep. It melted into goo which ran down his forehead and muzzle and dripped into a noxious pile of slime on the floor, and Dewey was as he had been before. By that time, Phooey had also ceased to glow.

Deciding that they did not want any of those bad things to happen to them, the party left the room and returned to the intersection, choosing to explore the last remaining passage. 

The passage went 30' and turned left. Beyond the turn, it continued for 20', ending with a door on the left. On the other side, the party heard hushed voices nervously conversing in the goblin tongue. Llombaerth knocked on the door, letting the goblins know that it was them. The goblins told them to go away. They were rattled by the explosion in the adjoining room and didn't wish to be blown up. The party had gotten Grilk and all their friends killed. Now they were safe, and didn't want anything to do with the party. Besides, the party would probably just try to steal their treasure.

The party tried to explain that they were the goblins' friends, and that the goblins had gotten themselves killed while the party was away. They offered to trade with the goblins for their treasure, but the goblins insisted that the party had given Grilk a raw deal, and they didn't want to get cheated too. The party said that they were coming into the room. The goblins threatened to shoot them with arrows.

The door was stuck. Mirkle used Llombaerth's crowbar to force it. Inside, the room was 20' across and 70' long. There were fifteen long wooden benches in the room, and some had been used to barricade the door. A raised stone platform stood at the far end of the room. Pigmug and Tobb stood atop the platform with their bows at the ready, themselves barricaded behind more benches. The wall above them was hung with rotting cloth banners of red, green, blue, and yellow.

The goblins had their bows trained on the party. They threatened to shoot if the party tried to enter. There was no convincing them, and the party did not want to fight them. They wished the goblins good luck and retreated from the room.

Returning to the entrance corridor by way of the secret door, the party reviewed their options. They recalled there being a stuck door in the passage which ran along the top of the orcs' former territory, opposite the throne room. They hadn't explored it because they did not want to make any noise where the orcs might hear them. They backtracked to the door.

The stuck door was 10' beyond the door to the throne room, on the left. About 30' beyond it was the "dead end" which contained the secret door to Rogahn's bedchamber. Mirkle again used Llombaerth's crowbar to force the door open.

Beyond the door was a passage which went 20', turned right, 10', turned left, 20', turned right, 50', turned left, then 30', ending in another door. Beyond that door was a 30' passage to the left which ended in another door.

Beyond that door, the party detecting an overpowering, repulsive stench like rotting meat. They heard voices lazily conversing in a sharp, guttural, hissing tongue which they did not understand. They heard the sound of water splashing and a wet, cold slapping sound on bare stone. Llombaerth was able to determine that the language being spoken was that of troglodytes.

We ended the session there. I'm happy that that players finally found their way to the fungal garden, as it's one of Quasqueton's most iconic rooms. I was underwhelmed by it in the module as written, so I created a list of 20 weird magical effects for the different types of fungi. I was delighted that, of all things, the party's dog was affected by the spore which grants what is essential a commune with nature spell. That was lots of fun.

I'm excited to see what happens next session. The room beyond this door is another iconic one, and one which has also been overlooked to this point.

Limners, Linkboys, and Lackeys: Hirelings for Hiring in AD&D

There has been some discourse about hirelings. I felt this discussion leaned more towards "NPCs you recruit to fight alongside you" - i.e. men-at-arms (hirelings) or henchman (different than hirelings). I've already written about henchman in AD&D (and assassins and spies, kind of, cartographers, briefly, and sages - all of whom are "expert" hirelings), so I thought I'd write something about all the other hirelings one can hire in AD&D.

Hirelings are different than henchmen. Henchmen are "character-type" NPCs. They have a class and they can gain levels. They are somewhat rare and difficult to recruit. They will siphon off some of your XP and will expect a fair share of treasure as well. They are also considerably more loyal than your typical hireling. Since they gain levels, they grow in power, just as you do. You can play as them if your character dies. They protect you from "the machinations of rival player characters", which sometimes a problem, apparently. You can only have a certain number at a time, as determined by your Charisma score.

Hirelings, on the other hand, do not (usually) have a class. They do not (usually) gain levels. They're (usually) more common, and recruiting them is (usually) not a sizeable undertaking involving advertising by way of criers and bribing every barkeep in town. They don't take your XP, and they're paid a flat rate for time served. They're not especially loyal. They're not necessarily backup characters in case you perish (though they can probably serve that role in a pinch). You can have as many of them as you can afford.

The relevant section on hirelings in the PHB is as follows:

We start with a list of typical hirelings. Soon we will see that there are many more types of hirelings than these, and that there are two broad groups of hirelings - standard hirelings and expert hirelings. Some of the hirelings included on this list are standard hirelings, while others are expert hirelings. I do not know why both man-at-arms and crossbowman specifically are included in the list. Notably absent are the assassin, spy, and sage (which in my opinion make up the quintessential trifecta of expert hirelings in D&D), but overall it's a solid list.

This section also explains that the player character will have to make some effort to locate and negotiate with whatever hirelings they desire to recruit, which sounds similar to how recruitment of henchmen works, but we will soon see that nowhere near as much detail is devoted to this process.

It is also worth noting that player characters can nominally recruit hirelings for a period of not just days or months but hours or weeks, which we will see later is not necessarily supported by the text.

Again, note that Charisma is not a limiting factor on the number of hirelings that can be recruited, and that "hirelings differ considerably from henchmen." The rules for loyalty of henchmen apply to hirelings as well, although as noted in my post on the subject, henchmen are overall more loyal.

The section on henchman emphasizes the differences between them and hirelings:

Henchmen are devoted followers of the player characters, not gig economy goons working for the weekend. They expect support and lodging and a share of earnings. Their alignment should be compatible with the player character they serve. Recruiting them is difficult and expensive. They gain XP. You know, all that stuff I already said. This section continues, but I think you get it.

For more about hirelings, we must turn to the DMG:

Here is our list of standard hirelings. In addition to some familiar faces (bearers, linkboys, teamsters, and valets), we have carpenters, leather workers, limners, masons, pack handlers, and tailors. 

Note that expert hirelings (including men-at-arms/mercenaries) are assumed to be employed only once the player character has an established stronghold (although players will likely want men-at-arms much sooner than this to aid them in early-game dungeon exploration).

Also note that standard hirelings only have daily and monthly - not hourly or weekly - rates. I suppose you could divide the daily cost by 8 (assuming an 8-hour workday) or multiply it by 7 to arrive at the latter rates. Monthly rates require that the hireling be provided with quarters, so I'm imagining you're probably only hiring these people long-term if, again, you have an established stronghold (although I guess you could put them up in whatever inn you're staying at).

In my games, I tend to vastly simplify this: standard hirelings work for 2 s.p. per day and 2 g.p. per month (the actual average, if you must know, is 3.3 s.p. per day and 36 s.p. per month, so it might be more accurate to round it off to 3 s.p. per day and 3 g.p. per month). This specific price list has its charm, but doesn't do much for me personally.

What follows is a helpful little blurb about each type of standard hireling, in case you're not sure why you might want to hire one of these:

Bearers and porters carry stuff (like equipment and treasure). Carpenters do woodwork and leather workers do leatherwork. Limners paint signs and such. Linkboys carry light sources. Masons can build your stronghold and the mazelike dungeons thereunder. Pack handlers handle beasts of burden and their loads. Tailors make clothing and such. Teamsters handle animals and carts and wagons. Valets and lackeys are personal servants and messengers.

A few things stand out. I like that the carrying capacity of bearers and porters is made explicit (I've been assuming they have average Strength - this is slightly more generous, however). I like the implication that players will want to hire someone to draw a heraldic device for them. I love that linkboys "are often youngsters." I'm imagining 12-year-old peasant children being employed by sociopaths to hold the torch while they go into the hellhole to do extreme violence against the orc babies that live there. Also, more player characters should have lackeys.

Each of these standard hirelings "are common to most settlements of village-size and above", although not all villages will have all types:

"Towns and cities will have many available...in the appropriate section or quarter." So they are definitely more common than henchmen. It is probably easiest to say that you can find these hirelings in any village, town, or city (but not in hamlets or thorps).

This bit about only 1 in 6 accepting long term employment unless a bonus is offered is a bit of a headscratcher:

This seems to suggest that I'm supposed to know the exact number of linkboys available in any given settlement, but there's no way to determine this. You could use something like donjon's Medieval Demographics Calculator to determine the number of carpenters, leather workers, limners, masons, and tailors, but that's about it. While that information is kind of sort of useful, I'm okay with saying, "Don't worry about it." I can't imagine that the players are going to burn through the village's entire population of linkboys (though that would be hilarious).

Here's an aside about making bespoke cloaks for all your little guys, which is too cute to omit:

Moving on to expert hirelings:

This paragraph again draws the distinction between henchmen and hirelings. Hirelings are employees, while henchmen are followers. This paragraph also seems to suggest that the cost of "cooks, lackeys, stableboys, sweepers, and various servants" is folded into the cost of maintaining a stronghold, since they "are no concern of the player character." Instead, at this point in the game, we're mainly concerned with "Guards and special hirelings", which "must be located and enlisted by the PC or his or her NPC henchmen."

Unlike standard hirelings, expert hirelings are mainly found in towns and cities, and not usually in villages:

Expert hirelings can only be hired on a monthly basis, and the cost includes their salary, clothing, housing, food, and routine equipment - but not arms and armor for soldiers and mercenaries (we can assume that, like henchmen, men-at-arms are the pitiful, destitute wretches of the adventuring profession):

The table of monthly costs is lengthy, mostly because of the inclusion of many very specific varieties of mercenary soldier:

For what it's worth I typically have all men-at-arms charge 2 g.p. per day, rather than be paid by the month. I think this makes sense, as in my B1 campaign, men-at-arms are most often being recruited to go into the dungeon, which is more hazardous work than garrisoning a stronghold. The monthly rate makes sense if all that's expected of them is light guard and patrol duties. In case you're curious, the average wage for the different types is about 3 g.p. per month, so you may want to use that number instead.

I also don't typically distinguish between types - I assume that any given man-at-arms can use whatever armor, weapons, and mounts are provided to them, though your mileage may vary. 

As with standard hirelings, a blurb is provided for each of the expert hirelings. By their nature, these are a bit more involved. Let's take a look at them.

Alchemists aid in concocting potions:

They are only found in cities (since my B1 sandbox only has a town, presumably there are no alchemists). They require a signing bonus, a year's employment, and a laboratory.

Turning to the relevant section on the fabrication of potions, we find that an alchemist enables a magic-user of 7th level or higher to concoct potions, while reducing the cost (in time and money) of such endeavors by 50% if the magic-user is 11th level or higher:

Naturally, establishing the laboratory and its equipment itself requires a chunk of change and the work of masons, potters, glass blowers, and the like

Armorers, of course, make armor, but only in their spare time, as they primarily maintain the stronghold's garrison's armor (one armorer per 40 soldiers), and each armorer has a randomly determined skill level:

This also requires a workroom and forge, which will probably also involve the employment of standard hirelings in its creation.

Each type of armor requires a certain amount of time (which must be adjusted to account for time spent maintaining the garrison's armor), and may also involve the work of leatherworkers, tailors, woodworkers and blacksmiths:

Let's say your garrison includes 35 soldiers. Your armorer can only spend 12.5% of their time making armor, so any such project takes 8 times as long! If I want my armorer to make a suit of ring mail, it will take 160 days. That's almost half a year! Clearly you want at least one armorer doing nothing but making armor, if armor is what you want.

You can also get dwarvish, gnomish, and elvish armorers, who are more expensive, but more efficient:

Dwarven armorers won't serve for more than a year, but are more skilled. Elvish armorers only make "normal chain mail...of the highest quality." Meaning what? Is this proper elven chain? No, it says right there it is normal. Weird.

Blacksmiths, like armorers, maintain the garrison and also turn out a set quantity of weaponry each month (unlike armorers, it seems, their efforts are not divided between maintenance and crafting), and there are dwarven and gnomish varieties as well:

Weird that they can't make, like...swords, but there's a different hireling for that for some reason (which we will get to later). Also not sure why one blacksmith is needed for the first 40 men or horses while the second blacksmith can maintain the arms of 160 more.

Next is the trifecta of engineers - architects, artillerists, and sappers/miners:

Architects supervise the construction of above-ground structures. Artillerists supervise the construction and use of siege engines. Sappers/miners supervise the construction of tunnels and subterranean works (dungeons, of course). Love the 75% chance that a structure built on a site not approved by an architect collapses in 1d100 months. Specialty dwarven miners are of course a possibility as well.

The jeweler-gemcutter can fashion jewelry from precious metals and increase the value of rough or poorly cut gemstones or pieces of jewelry (presumably by adding stones to the items):

The most obvious use case for a jeweler-gemcutter is to bring them all your jeweled items and gemstones so that they can (maybe) increase their value (which presumably grants you additional XP). Even the worst jeweler has a 90% chance to increase an item's value by 10%, while the best has a 60% chance to increase the value by 40%, but always increases it by at least 20%. Gemcutters, however, always have at least a 5% chance of ruining your gemstones completely, and the worst of them has a 25% chance of doing so! "Note that [they] cannot be held responsible for damage."

More interesting is the role of the jeweler-gemcutter in adding "splendor to the player character's personage by the display." Sorry, I don't care if your fighter has a stronghold and a small army to their name - if you don't have a bejeweled sword, you're still poor in my eyes!

"Players should never know the skill levels of jeweler-gemcutters." Dwarven and gnomish jeweler-gemcutters are available as well, the former adding 20% to both skill determination rolls, and the latter adding 30% to gemcutter skill only:

Next are mercenary soldiers, and it's a lot:

When the player characters go searching for mercenary soldiers, you're meant to roll on this table to determine what kind and how many are encountered (apparently, mercenary companies in AD&D have no concept of mixed arms). This is kind of weird because, again, we're given no indication as to how much it costs in time or money to locate these people or how many might be found in any given place, so it seems to me you can just keep looking until you find whatever it is you want.

There will always be a serjeant if more than five mercenaries are found, or one serjeant per ten mercenaries. Each troop type requires a captain to command it. Lieutenants will sometimes be found with groups of more than ten, and captains with groups of more than 20.

I think this makes a lot more sense if we assume the player characters are searching for soldiers to garrison their stronghold specifically. If they just want a handful of men-at-arms to bolster their party for a dungeon expedition, I would forego this entirely. 

Note that men-at-arms have 4-7 (1d4+3) hit points, which is very useful information to have.

There is a short blurb for each type of soldier. These suggest standard arms and armor for each type, but the player character is expected to provide all equipment, so the blurbs are mainly concerned with what arms and armor each type is or isn't allowed to use. 

Longbow archers can also fight as infantry, but shortbow archers will only do so in extremis. Artillerists operate large missile weapons:

Crossbowman expect to be accompanied by a light infantryman to act as a shield bearer:

Heavy footman fight in formation, while light footman are more useful in rough terrain. Hobilars ride horses but dismount to fight, while horsemen fight from horseback. Horse archers are prone to looting:

Sappers/miners are required for use of siege machinery, towers, trenches, and mines:

Slingers use slings and small shields, wear lighter armor, and fight as light infantry:

While there's obviously a lot going on here, I do wish that the specificity of information was a bit more consistent. I'd like it to just come out and say "This type uses this armor and these weapons." Instead, since the player character has to provide all weapons and armor, you end up with this weird sort of dress up game. I don't hate that, and think it can be quite fun on a small scale, but when you have hundreds of soldiers in your garrison, keeping track of who has precisely which weapons and armor seems like tedious bookkeeping.

Compare that to this bit earlier in the DMG about what kind of followers a fighter with a stronghold will attract:

This is so much easier to use! Each type of soldier has this armor and these weapons. Simple!

See also this bit from Appendix C:

This section pertains specifically to parties of rival adventurers encountered in dungeons. Men-at-arms accompanying such groups are assumed to have studded leather, crossbow, and dagger, or sometimes scale mail, shield, spear, and long sword. So if you want to forego the whole buying equipment for men-at-arms thing, you could simply assume that a standard man-at-arms has studded leather, crossbow, and dagger, with maybe 1 in 3 having better equipment, and player characters can supplement their equipment as they see fit.

See also this bit from earlier in the same section:

Again, this is in regards to parties of rival adventurers encountered in the dungeon, but I think we can generalize it to: men-at-arms will only accompany the party on the 1st, 2nd, or 3rd level of the dungeon. Beyond that, it's too dangerous to be worth it to them. This fits neatly into the "basic" tier of D&D play, and prevents wealthy player characters from absolutely abusing your deeper dungeons with armies of mercenary expendables. Beyond the 3rd level, the players will need to rely on their own wiles or play the cost-benefit game of recruiting henchmen to fill out their ranks.

Let's jump ahead to this bit about daily employment of expert hirelings (but specifically men-at-arms):

First, you can hire men-at-arms for daily duties, but they charge the same rate per day as per month due to assumed hazardous conditions. Since captains, lieutenants, and serjeants can't be hired this way, and it is assumed that a serjeant is present in a body of 6-10 soldiers, it stands to reason that you can have at most five men-at-arms to accompany you into the dungeon. That seems pretty reasonable.

"The supply of such men-at-arms willing to work day-to-day is strictly limited", though no limit is actually suggested. We could maybe say that 10% of a settlement's population are available to hire as men-at-arms, and we can invert the previous limitation on standard hirelings willing to work on a monthly basis and say that 1 in 6 men-at-arms are willing to accept daily employment, or 3 in 6 if a hefty bonus is offered. 

A standard town of 4,000 people (remember that expert hirelings are not usually found in settlements smaller than towns) would have 400 men-at-arms overall, with about 67 willing to accept daily employment (or 200 with bonuses). Doesn't really seem like there's any risk of running out, so perhaps that's too many, but it's all I really have to go on. I doubt that it's actually worth it to keep track of this sort of thing.

Here are the entries pertaining to captains, lieutenants, and serjeants:

There's not much to say about this, except that each of these types is an NPC with fighter levels who cannot advance in level, and you need a certain number of each to command your soldiers. Assuming I'm reading this correctly, if you have an 8th level captain, they can command 160 soldiers themselves, plus eight lieutenants (let's say they are all 2nd level), each of which can command 20 soldiers ("A lieutenant serving under a captain extends the number of troops of the captain can effectively command and control") and an additional two serjeants, each of which can command another 10 soldiers (340 soldiers total, including 34 total serjeants). This would cost 3,400 g.p. per month (assuming an average rate of 3 g.p. per month per soldier and 30 g.p. per month per serjeant).

Non-human soldiers are also an option, but are tricky to handle:

"The less intelligent non-humans" are cheaper, but "will certainly expect to loot, pillage, and [REDACTED] freely at every chance, and kill (and probably eat) captives." The less said about [REDACTED] is probably the better, but the rest is kind of fun. Monstrous humanoids are complicated bedfellows.

Dwarves and elves are more expensive or will serve for a cause or against hated foes, while gnomes and halflings will only serve in the latter case.

A lengthy section on sages follows, but thankfully I've already written about them at length. 

Scribes can record normal things (and cartographers can make maps, which I've also written about), and specialist scribes can use codes and ciphers or read and write in other languages, but are rarer and cost ten times as much:

You will of course need a crew to man a vessel, which can be sailors, oarsmen, or marines under the command of one or several mates:

Not sure what to make of the assumption that all sailors and oarsmen are also soldiers. I'm guessing this is intended for like, naval combat as part of domain play, and would disregard it if the players simply wished to book passage aboard a vessel to carry them to and fro (as in my B1 campaign).

A ship should have a master and lieutenant in addition to the mates and crew:

A ship's crew is "entitled to a share of any prize or treasure taken at sea or on land in their presence." In my campaign, I let the players get around this by outright buying off the entire ship and crew, meaning that they would also be responsible for its routine maintenance and any needed repairs, which felt fair. The section of the DMG on WATERBORNE ADVENTURES details the different sorts of ships and what size crew they must have.

The spy follows after this, but I have already discussed them at length, so onto stewards and castellans, who manage your stronghold for you if you are away for a long time or if you are not a fighter or cleric, and command troops as a captain would, albeit with double capacity and at twice the monthly cost:

I like that stewards/castellans do not serve in the field, and are offended at the mere suggestion. I also like the note that the player character will want to ensure the loyalty of this individual (presumably above all others), or else!

Lastly, we have weapon makers, which are apparently meaningfully different from blacksmiths:

It sounds as if you need both a blacksmith and a weapon maker in your stronghold (blacksmiths doing all the non-weapon making stuff as well like making horseshoes and nails). Weapon makers, compared to blacksmiths, are crazy productive, so it's well worth having one if you're intending to arm an entire stronghold, and this is also presumably why they are meant to be difficult to locate (again, how difficult is not made explicit at all).

And that's every kind of hireling in AD&D I think! Of course, it's well worth it to give these people some sort of personality and interiority. Have them chip in occasionally with what they think the party should do. You can generate entire personalities for them or just roll up their alignment if you like. A Chaotic Evil linkboy is funny. A Lawful Good man-at-arms who goes above and beyond the call of duty is interesting.

This doesn't scale well, so when and if you get to domain play, don't try to assign identities to every single soldier garrisoning the player character's stronghold. Like with a town or city or a war band of 300 orcs, focus on the important people - the steward/castellan, the captains, the alchemist, the sage, the spy, the blacksmith, the gemcutter, or whatever. The captain of the ship and their lieutenant and mates are interesting, not necessarily the individual crew members.

Remember that hirelings are a force multiplier. A bearer/porter lets the party carry more equipment and retrieve more treasure. A linkboy lets them use their hands for things besides light sources. A pack handler or teamster frees them from the need to manage their mounts and vehicles. A valet saves them valuable time running errands in a settlement. Alchemists let them make potions earlier and more quickly. Sages and spies gather information. A big damn army allows them to project power.

All of that should come with a cost, and not just time and money spent recruiting them. Remember, always, that dealing with NPCs should be expensive and irritating. The more the party relies on hired help, the more they have to deal with underlings who shirk their responsibilities and push back against requests, ask for more money, expect gifts, question their actions, disobey, steal from them, flee in life or death situations, betray them to their enemies, or whatever. 

Be careful not to overdo it, but remember to think about potential complications once in a while. The following section on henchmen is relevant to this approach:

And the corresponding section on hirelings:

Hirelings and henchmen are an important resource for the player characters at all levels of the game. If they are "superior" players, they will want to make good use of them. How do you balance things out when the characters bring a full company of men-at-arms into the dungeon? How do you make recovering treasure challenging when the characters have a train of wagons and mules supported by pack handlers, porters, and teamsters who handle all that for them?

I don't know about you, but I am not a devoted follower. I'm a hireling. I'm blogging on the clock right now. I'll figure out how long I can put something off and will send that email when I'm good and ready, thank you very much, and I will expect the exact same salary as I'm entitled to every pay period regardless of how much work I did.

Think about your job. Maybe you do it because you like it, and maybe you do it for the money. Probably, it is some combination of both, but the money is usually the main thing. Do you like being asked to do more than is technically required of you? Do you always put your best effort forward? Do you always take initiative without being asked? Do you always like or agree with your boss? 

Imagine that one of your player characters is your boss. They've sent you to deliver a message to a wizard with a reputation for polymorphing peasants into chickens. They've tasked you with carrying a giant chest of ancient gold coins out of a dark hole in the ground, all of which they will keep for themselves. They've goaded you into sipping from an unlabeled container of magical liquid. They're ordering you to move forward with your torch because the slavering owlbear is just beyond the radius of its light. You are paid two silver pieces per day.

What do you do?

Play Report (AD&D 2e): In Search of the Unknown (Session 26)

We played the twenty-sixth session of our Dungeon Module B1: In Search of Unknown AD&D 2e game last night. You can read past play reports here.

The roster for this session was as follows:

• Llombaerth, CG elf thief 4 (Adam)
• Mirkle, N human fighter 3 (Maya)
• Rhonodel, NG elf cleric 1 (Jack)
• Egbert, human necromancer 1 (NPC)
• Brazile, halfling hound master, his dog, Ripper, and the party's three war dogs, Huey, Dewey, and Phooey (NPC)
• Bilodeau, man-at-arms (NPC)
• Graves, man-at-arms (NPC)
• Lendeborg, human porter (NPC)

Last we played, the party resolved to try to relocate Quasqueton's library. They wanted to find out if it had any record of Zelligar's past apprentices, so that they could fact check Lambrecht's claim to being Zelligar's heir. Unfortunately, there were some giant weasels in the way.

The party did battle with the weasels, killing two of them as a third one fled deeper into the dungeon, but not before one of the weasels killed one of their dogs, Huey. They claimed the weasels' pelts to sell back in town, then continued their search for the library.

They found an opened secret room where some giant centipedes were chowing down on a dead ogre. They killed the centipedes and harvested their venom. There were a bunch of construction materials in the room. The party claimed an empty sack and a length of rope.

The party continued down a series of winding corridors going left, left, right, right, left, and left again. They were confident that they were not heading towards the library at all, but back towards the dungeon entrance. Through a door on the left, they found a three way intersection, but decided to disregard it. They continued past the door and eventually ended up on the other side of the second secret door connecting to the entrance hall. 

We picked up there. Continuing their search for the library, the party returned to the former goblins' territory and went back down the hall where they had fought the weasels, ending up back at the three way intersection with the 135 degree slanting passage on the left and two parallel passages on the right.

They went down the nearer of the two parallel passages, which turned right after 40 feet, with a 10' alcove beyond it. Peeking around the corner, they a side passage on the right, 60 feet ahead. The passage continued beyond it. They were confident - based on one of their maps - that if they were close to the library, they would see a passage that curved to the left. Thus, they decided not to explore this route. Suspicious of the 10' alcove, they searched for secret doors, but found none.

Backtracking to the passage entrance, they went down the second of the parallel passages. This one went 30 feet and turned left. Peeking around the corner, they saw the passage went 40 feet ahead and curved left. Aha!

They followed the passage, which curved gently to the left for about 80 feet, forming a U shape, before straightening out again. It continued another 40 feet beyond that, with a door on the right and a passage on the left. They proceeded to the door and looked down the passage, which went 60 feet and ended in a dead end. There was a pair of ornately carved oaken doors on the left, halfway down the hall.

The party threw open the doors and found themselves back in the library at last. The room was dimly illuminated by the reddish glow of fire beetles, kept in terrariums set into the far wall. The floor was dusty red granite with white granite blocks in the floor forming "R&Z". There were three bookshelves, a scroll rack, and furniture scattered about the room.

Llombaerth and Rhonodel went to work searching through the various books and scrolls while Mirkle searched for secret doors. The first time the party had come here, I had told the players that there was nothing but mundane books in here. This felt like a missed opportunity, so since the players were making it a point to come back here, I decided to retcon it and flesh out the contents a bit more (this is why I posted about Hack & Slash Compendium II's tables for determining the contents of libraries over on Bluesky a while ago).

The first shelf contained twenty scholarly volumes discussing traditional Dwarven sculpture, metalwork, architecture, musical instruments, and composition. Some were reference works; others were critical commentaries on particular artists and musical traditions. Llombaerth, being skilled at appraising, determined that these would have value to a sage interested in demihuman-kind, specifically their arts and culture. The whole collection weighed about 100 pounds and was worth 1,000 gold pieces (determined by referring to AD&D's robust rules regarding sages).

The second shelf contained ninety scrolls of common accounting instruction and practice: ledgers, bookkeeping methods, inventories, commercial arithmetic, and sample business accounts. Most were practical instructional texts, but a few were written in a familiar hand and bore a recognizable sigil - a black, bisected eye. 

The handwriting and sigil were comparable to those found in several books recovered from what the party believed to be Zelligar's chambers. The party recalled that they were still in possession of a diary presumably belonging to Zelligar, written in a magical cypher which they had yet to decode. Egbert would be able to decipher it with magic, but did not have the spells prepared at the time.

Scrutinizing the ledgers, the party found more in Zelligar's hand - records of payments for stone, iron, glassware, inks, and laboratory materials, which suggested the presence of a laboratory somewhere in the stronghold which the party had yet to discover. The ledgers also recorded payments made to an unnamed apprentice. Whether this was Zelligar's apprentice (and if that was in fact Lambrecht) or an apprentice to a blacksmith or other craftsman was unclear.

The third shelf contained forty scrolls containing philosophical manifestos, discourses, and rants. Their subjects were varied, and the collection included contradictory positions rather than a single coherent school of thought. Some works were measured arguments; others polemical attacks on rival philosophers, established customs, or the nature of society itself. 

A common theme was the nature of life, death, rebirth, and identity - a rant about death as an arbitrary moral boundary, a debate about whether a person remains who they were after every part of their body has been replaced, an argument that identity survives through the continued use of one's name, and the like. Several scrolls were heavily annotated in Zelligar's hand. In the marginalia, Zelligar repeatedly challenged the claim that a copy, successor, or remembered version of a person is necessarily inferior to the original.

Strange. The party began to question whether Lambrecht was Zelligar's clone. Preposterous! ...Right?

Finally, the scroll rack contained fifty scrolls of erotic poetry and lyrics, ranging from sentimental love songs to bawdy verses and elaborate celebrations of physical desire. Some appeared intended to be sung or performed, with occasional musical notation. A common theme was lovers promising to recognize one another in every future life, regardless of what forms they take or how many centuries pass. This resonated with Rhonodel, whose pantheon is itself concerned with some of these themes, so he pocketed a few scrolls.

Deciding that they could not currently carry the sage texts, but confident that they could find the library again once they returned with their mules, the party left the library and returned to the door at the end of the hall. Beyond it, the passage extended for 40 feet and went both left and right. At the intersection, to the left was a passage that continued at least 60 feet, and to the right was a door 10 feet ahead. The passage continued to the right of the door. That passage went 30 feet and turned left. 

The party opened the door and found the room with the crystal formation in the far corner. The crystal had a chunk removed from the last time they had been here. Llombaerth decided to take another chunk while the rest of the party waited outside. As they stood around waiting, they noticed that behind them there was now a 10' deep alcove where once there had been a passage, and the passage to the library was gone. They took some chunks of crystal and drew an A on the floor in chalk.

They exited the room and reentered, hoping to be teleported again, but it didn't work. There was still a passage to the right of the door, so they followed it. It went 30 feet and turned left. 10 feet beyond the turn was a side passage to the right. 20 feet beyond that, the passage turned left. They took the left. Beyond the turn, the passage continued 50 feet and turned left again. Beyond the turn, a side passage 10 feet ahead on the right led to a 10' dead end alcove, which the party concluded was just on the other side of teleportation room A. 

Beyond the side passage with the dead end, the passage continued 20 feet to a T intersection. At the intersection was a 10' alcove to the left. To the right was a 30' passage that turned right. They followed the passage to the right and saw a door 30 feet ahead on the right and a passage on the left. Opening the door, they found another room with a crystal formation, but no A on the floor. The crystal had one chunk removed, rather than two. 

The party concluded that this was the room they had initially entered, which had teleported them to the other room. They check down the hall and through another door and saw the library doors again. Reoriented, they decided to explore down the long passage opposite the door to the teleportation room. 

The passage went 90 feet straight ahead from the passage leading to the library, then turned left, went 20 feet, and turned right. 30 feet beyond that was a door, and the passage continued to the right. Proceeding to the door, they saw that the passage to the right went 20 feet and turned left, and that there was a door on the right 10 feet ahead.

They entered the first door and found a smithy, about 30' x 20' with a 20' x 20' annex behind them and to the left. In the annex was another door in the bottom right hand corner. There was a faint whistling sound in the room, which seemed to originate from a ventilation system in the ceiling. 

Beyond the door in the annex was a 20' x 20' room with a pile of logs stacked to the left of the door. There was a 3' diameter hole in the floor in the far left corner. A rope was secured to an iron ring affixed to the wall, dangling down the hole. There was another door straight across from the one they had just entered through.

The party concluded that this was where the gnomes had climbed down to the lower level. They went through the far door. Beyond it, a passage went right for 40 feet and turned right. They followed it and found themselves back at the door to the smithy, with an unexplored door ahead of them. Opening it, they found a 20' x 20' room full of soot and dust. There was a pile of wood stacked against the far wall and a door to the left.

The door was stuck, but with the help of Llombaerth's crowbar, Rhonodel forced it open, finding only a bricked up wall on the other side. Annoying! There being nowhere else to explore, the party backtracked all the way to the teleportation rooms and the side passage just outside room A, which they had not explored.

The passage went 20 feet and turned right. Beyond the turn, it continued 100 feet and turned right again. Beyond that, they saw a side passage 10 feet ahead on the left, and another 20 feet beyond that on the right. The main passage continued beyond the light of their lantern.

The side passage on the left went left at a 45 degree angle, then right at a 45 degree angle and off into the darkness. The party was confident that this led to the corridor with the trio of empty bedchambers and the maze where they had found Rogahn's gym and battled the giant tick. They did not want to go that way.

The side passage on the right went at least 60 feet. 40 feet beyond it, they saw another side passage on the left, and the main passage seemed to continue. At this point, the party was pretty confident that if they followed the main passage, they would end up back at the intersection with the 135 degree diagonal passage and the two parallel passages. They continued.

60 feet beyond the further side passage on the left was a T intersection. At the intersection, there was a 10' alcove on the left. To the right, the passage went 40 feet and opened up into a larger intersection. At the far side of the intersection was a passage which went 45 degrees to the left. Sure enough, they had ended up back where they started.

We concluded the session there. The highlight of this session was definitely the library. It was awesome to see the players consulting their maps and comparing notes to orient themselves and experimenting with the teleportation rooms. They found the smithy area, which was unexplored to this point. It was super satisfying to see them figure out where they were and how to get around, which passages to ignore, and finally navigate back to more familiar territory.

We talked a bit about what they might get up to next. They are nearly done with Quasqueton, but there are a few iconic areas of the dungeon which they've yet to find. They have some ideas about which areas they still need to explore. 

Beyond that, dealing with Lambrecht is first and foremost on their minds. He is presumably a powerful wizard, and getting to him won't be easy, but once they're in the room with him, it could be as simple as stabbing him with some centipede venom and getting a lucky roll. There's also Blanchefleur and all the horned demon/devil stuff to untangle. They discussed installing Albertyna as the town's ruler and claiming Quasqueton as their own seat of power.

Likely, those ambitions will have to wait. There's more of the sandbox to explore yet - wilderness monster lairs, town adventures, and the like. We discussed the possibility of a TPK if they get in over their heads too quickly, which at this point would be disastrous, as Quasqueton has been plundered, so new characters would have little treasure to extract to level up. We will see how it unfolds!

Successful Adventures, or How to Win in AD&D

This post is part of Prismatic Wasteland's blog bandwagon on the topic of player advice.

At the end of the AD&D PHB, just before the Appendices on psionics, bards, alignment, the planes, and suggested divisions of treasure, is a section titled SUCCESSFUL ADVENTURES, though it would perhaps be more aptly titled PLAYER ADVICE:

While this advice pertains to AD&D play specifically and will illuminate what exactly Gygax felt made someone a "good" player, perhaps some of the advice will be germane to TTRPGs more generally.

This section mostly focuses on dungeon adventures, as this is "The most common form of ADVANCED DUNGEONS & DRAGONS play", though outdoor and city adventures are discussed briefly towards the end:

The first bit of tangible advice Gygax provides is to prepare for the game before the game. This ensures that you will not waste "precious adventuring minutes" (i.e., playing time) with "mundane preparations" which you might be able to take care outside of your scheduled session. That's right, players - you too can think about and play the game between sessions! How does one do this?

To start, communicate with your fellow players (or at least "the better players") and set an objective for your adventure. The objective can be any number of things, but don't be inflexible or stubborn once the adventure is underway. Objectives can always change!

One you have an objective, evaluate your resources:

The examples are fairly specific to old school play. If you're playing a different game or a newer editions of D&D, you're probably not too concerned with party balance, and you're probably not hiring men-at-arms. Characters in D&D 5e, for example, are capable of filling multiple rolls at once and can often function as entirely independent units. They are often powerful enough to have no need for men-at-arms. Depending on your preferred playstyle, this might be to your liking.

The advice is still relevant if we read into it more generally. Determine whether your party has the means to accomplish its objective. Spend time before the session figuring out what you will need and how to go about getting it.

"Survival at lower levels is usually dependent upon group action and team spirit":

In other words, cooperate with one another. This sounds fairly obvious, but there are plenty of RPG horror stories to demonstrate that this is far from always the case. As I mentioned above, certain games like newer editions of D&D feature powerful characters which can operate more independently than in the past, and I think this can foster a sort of antisocial playstyle where players focus less on cooperation with one another and more on just doing whatever it is they want their character to do. 

Again, you might enjoy this liberating sort of supreme agency in your games, but I like to remind people as often as possible that D&D is intended to be a team sport. Don't worry so much about how much damage your character can put out in a single turn - think about what the group as a whole is capable of achieving!

Cooperation includes preparation for the adventure, execution of the objective(s), and resolution (meaning the division of spoils and fair treatment of any player characters that have been cursed, diseased, maimed, or killed).

Gygax goes a bit further, explaining that players should collaborate to ensure the party as whole has a broad spectrum of equipment and spells, and that especially important magic items are accounted for:

The important thing, as Gygax once again states at the end, is that all this is done before play begins, ensuring that game time can be spent not on logistics but on adventuring (although in my experience the logistics are part of the game as well - and, often, a fun part of it - which occasionally can't be avoided during the scheduled playing time).

What follows is a brief description of individual preparations that can be made before adventuring begins:

This is a bit of an archaic one and probably won't apply to non-old school playstyles, but I include it here for completion's sake: have your affairs in order. Ensure your henchman and treasure are secured, and leave a will with a trusted person, with instructions should you fail to return.

I love this. It's so tasty! The implication is that the party's enemies might try to harm their allies or pilfer their goods while they're away on an adventure. The image of adventurers, about to embark for the dungeon, running around town getting their last will and testaments together before departing is very rich.

The next section describes how the players should decide on default formations (or marching orders) for dungeon exploration:

I love this too. Short characters in the front (presumably so those in back can see over the tops of their heads and fire missile weapons past them), elves and dwarves on the flanks (presumably so that they can detect secret doors and shifting passages in the walls), and a "sturdy fighter" to cover the party's rear in case they're attacked from behind. The leader (likely the party "caller") should be near the front so as to survey the situation, make decisions, and give directions. The leader should keep a map sketch or "trailing map" (not sure what this means), while someone else should keep a more detailed map.

Not only should the players decide on a marching order ahead of time - they should draw it out! And make copies for the DM! Wild stuff, but not bad advice. I admit to often having to hit pause on my sessions so the players can remind me what the party's formation is. Having a set of default marching orders to refer to in different situations would definitely let the game run more smoothly.

The next bit is about mapping the dungeon and some agreed upon dungeon best practices:

I covered this very thoroughly in my post about the importance of the player-drawn dungeon map, so see that for more analysis of this point.

Again, the benefit of all this is to get to the adventuring faster:

A well-formulated plan, along with an accurate dungeon map which indicates where exactly the party needs to go to continue exploration (and which allows them to travel through the dungeon five times as fast), greatly expedites the adventuring process.

During the adventure, it is important to avoid unnecessary encounters and avoid getting sidetracked:

Focus on the agreed-upon objective. It is rarely worth it to get involved with wandering monsters. They are rarely helpful, even less likely to have anything of value, and mostly serve to whittle away at the party's resources. D&D is a game of attrition.

Likewise, be wary of spending too much time on diversions. As I describe in the aforementioned post on mapping, mappers should record these roads not traveled, and they can in turn become the objectives of future delves. 

Sometimes, despite your best efforts, you will have to abandon the objective:

If you get lost, run low on equipment or spells, become unexpectedly wounded, or even lose a party member, you should prioritize finding a way to escape the dungeon (with a good map, this should be doable, although there are plenty of tricks and traps which will confound your careful mapping).

If, however, you achieve your objective and are still strong, you might establish a new objective to pursue:

"It is of utmost importance...to always carry slain members of the expedition with the party if at all possible." Oh, why is that?

Again, cooperation is key:

You need to be able to have trust and confidence in your fellow players, and part of that is leaving no one behind. This is D&D, after all, so resurrection is on the table. If the party itself is not capable of returning the dead to life, they will have to outsource this, which will surely be expensive. You should be "ready and willing to part with any goods, money, and magic items in order to save lives." If push comes to shove, you "should be willing to fight to the death to assure the survival and success of the party." It's about team building!

Okay, but what if you're playing an evil character? A "selfish neutral"? What if you're just an asshole?

Well, don't be an asshole, for one:

It is okay to be selfish. You can even be evil, but you should find a way to integrate yourself into the party so that you're all still aiming to achieve the same ends. That being said, the other players may still be less than eager to adventure with you, so consider that when playing a character such as this.

If a player is simply uncooperative or has a bad attitude, it's okay to tell them they can't adventure with you unless they change their ways, perhaps expelling them entirely. This is a bit harsh (how about a reasonable conversation first?), but it is perfectly fine to kick someone out of the group if they're being particularly annoying or disruptive.

The brief advice on outdoor and city adventures is very similar to that on dungeon adventures:

For more about the totally unexamined assertion that "City adventures are the toughest of all", see my post on the implied setting of AD&D towns and cities.

Gygax concludes with a summary:

Playing the game well makes the game more enjoyable. By preparing ahead of time, you get more time to play, and are more likely to succeed. Your success (and the accumulation of power and resources) forces the DM to respond by upping the ante with tougher problems to solve, which you will in turn get more enjoyment from solving. 

Your character will live longer. You'll tell stories about your character. You'll feel proud of them. "You will find that such characters become like old friends; they become almost real." This is such a simple, tender truth that I feel very deeply in my heart. I'm almost embarrassed that Gygax of all people is making me feel sentimental. This is what it's all about!

Likewise, the DM will tell stories of your successful characters, and the unsuccessful ones, too. Wouldn't you rather be in the former group? 

Gygax ends with "playing well is a reward unto itself...If you believe that [the game is] worth playing, you will certainly find it doubly so if you play well."