Showing posts with label Dungeons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dungeons. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 14, 2026

Review: Nightmare Over Ragged Hollow

Last year I ran Nightmare Over Ragged Hollow (also known in a different iteration as Ragged Hollow Nightmare). I will refer to it as NORH going forward. I previously discussed part of this adventure in my rats-in-the-basement post

This review is intended for DMs who might run the adventure. I would recommend readers skip this post if they think there’s any chance they’ll see this adventure from the player perspective, as the review will definitely spoil some aspects of the book. 

What It Is

NORH is an Old-School Essentials adventure for low-level characters. It exists in the same space as The Black Wyrm of Brandesford or Blackapple Burgh; a small rural region, compliant with D&D tropes, but with some classic fairy tale energy. A brief introduction explains some of the tenets of old-school play for the uninitiated. 

What Works

Fast start. The premise of the adventure is that a golden dome has mysteriously sealed much of the titular town’s populace in the local temple. The people who would typically deal with such problems are among those trapped inside. The adventurers are the most capable people left outside. This is your call to adventure. 

Grounded PCs. The PCs are locals who have returned from a local tradition akin to a rumspringa. They’re from Ragged Hollow, so they’re invested in what is happening, but they also have adventurer skills they presumably picked up on their travels. It strikes a good balance between believable PCs and player discretion in creating characters.

Good NPCs. The NPCs have nice little bits of detail, but are open-ended enough to run. Favorites of mine included the goblin Croaker, Beatrix, and Master Neven the satyr (fun to do with a Matt Berry-style voice). The NPC adventuring party has a lot of personality and was a hit with the players. They also attached themselves to Joanna, Keegan, and several other town NPCs, who are easy to personify based on the concise details provided. The goblins are particularly well-done as a troublemaking faction who can be fought or befriended, as the PCs see fit.

Complications and opportunities among the survivors. NPCs rescued from the temple present a range of opportunities and threats. Some are likely to get in the party’s way, while others could be good hirelings. You could imagine turning this adventure upside down, letting the players play the people trapped inside, and running it as a funnel.

Escalation. Things get worse as more time passes and the adventure’s McGuffin ratchets up the titular nightmare. The temple bell sounds each night at midnight, indicating the number of survivors trapped in the temple. This provides a nice player-facing clock, and provides that Strict Time Records energy without requiring the DM to explicitly signpost it. 

Presentation. The editing and language is clear and concise, with only a few minor formatting issues. I found one or two incorrect room references, but those appear to be the only content (versus formatting) mistakes in an otherwise very clean product.


The cover of Nightmare Over Ragged Hollow


What Needs Some DM Work

Every TTRPG product needs at least a little work to bring to table. The following is intended less as criticism per se, and more as guidance on where to best spend prep time tailoring the product to your table. It is longer than the above section not because there is more to "complain" about, but simply because explaining criticisms and areas of possible improvement is more word-intensive than praise.  

Too many “Huh, that was weird. Anyway…” moments. The adventure includes nightmarish events that manifest in the area due to the influence of the McGuffin at the heart of the adventure. I appreciate that these are not combat encounters, but most of them don’t “mean” anything, and vanish before the PCs can engage with them. “Thousands of white worms wriggle up through the dark soil. They hum a deep resonant chord, swaying in the starlight, before burrowing back down into the ground.” “A severed hand crawls toward the party and dissolves into red foam.”

This stuff is mostly non-interactive by design. Perhaps at some tables these work just as mobile bits of set dressing. But my players (and I suspect a lot of other players) engaged with the first few instances of these events by obsessively focusing on "what they meant.” By the fourth or fifth event, they (pragmatically and correctly) concluded that these are random, dissociated, spooky events with no inherent meaning, and just ignored them. In my game, I mostly replaced them with echoes and omens tied to interactive elements of the adventure.

The main dungeon is (kinda) linear, and presumes one method of ingress. I don’t dock points for NORH’s small regional dungeons; these are basically lairs, not true dungeons, so it is OK that the kobold caves have only one entrance and lack much exploratory complexity. The temple that is at the heart of the adventure only has one intended entrance: the belltower, the highest point of the temple, exposed after time passes and the golden dome begins to shrink. 

I don’t think this is bad, per se. It is a neat inversion of the standard bottom-to-top tower adventure. And the conceit of the adventure kinda requires it. But the game definitely presumes the PCs will quickly focus on “how to get up to the belltower” as their main goal, and the region around the adventure is geared toward facilitating that. For a number of reasons, my players did not immediately focus on the belltower, because the adventure premise and telegraphed course of action depends on several assumptions that the players may not make.

For example, it was not initially obvious to my players that the outside walls "block" the dome (i.e., that once inside one part of the building, they could move freely throughout, and that the dome would not continue to block access inside as it shrunk). I essentially had to have an NPC tell them this, so they wouldn’t completely base their plans around the presumption that the dome would continue to slow progress once they were inside.

The players also considered digging underground. Through some investigation they learned that the dome was really the upper part of a sphere (I improvised this detail), but they still considered the merits of digging. The adventure does not provide a clear indication of how far the basement levels of the temple are from the edges of the dome, so there is potentially a lot of work for the DM if a group goes in this direction. 

Eventually my group found one of the magical items that is intended to facilitate access to the tower, and did eventually get on the "right" course of action. But some support here would have been a nice addition, as it would in turn support the PCs engaging in some outside-the-box problem solving. 

The monsters attack! The adventure has a few too many encounters that only make sense as fights. There’s an overabundance of ambush attackers, some with an X-in-6 chance, others simply stating they “immediately attack.” Ambushers have their place, but too many of them train the PCs to expect every adversary to be a fight. This is especially relevant for a product that assumes at least some players will be new to old-school play, as this one clearly does, since it includes a brief primer for this purpose. I would recommend DMs running NORH spend some time developing goals and desires for some of the NPCs and monsters to facilitate more varied interaction.

The kobolds, for example, occupy one of the regional lairs, and possess one of the magical items that can be used to enter the temple. They have no named members, no connections with other creatures in the region, and no agenda. They’re just... mining. All the notes about their lair treat it as a trap-laden combat encounter. My players ultimately did decide to ambush the kobolds, and I couldn’t really blame them – the module wasn't really suggesting any other purpose for these creatures besides a fight. 

I liked the idea that the monsters in the region were affected by the titular nightmare, just like the townsfolk. I decided that the kobolds were mining crystals to trade to the bandits for stimulants, so they could avoid sleeping, and escape their nightmares. The bugbears were in turmoil because terrible dreams from the adventure's McGuffin drove their shaman to the brink of madness. I replaced the ogre with an ettin who was quite literally fighting with himself over which head would sleep next.

The temple itself is populated by monsters that are the products of nightmares. These make a bit more sense as combat encounters, since they are inherently hostile and have no instinct for self-preservation. And a few of them have neat hooks. When a nursery rhyme wolf emerged from a magical storybook, the PCs blockaded it behind a door, allowing me the unique DM pleasure of doing the whole “I’ll huff and I'll puff…” act in-game.

But several of the others are weird-for-the-sake-of-weird. Acknowledging it would swell the page count, tying particular nightmares to particular villagers would allow for some fun interactions. Rescue the appropriate villager, or understand their fears, and gain an edge over the monsters. If I were to run this a second time, I would probably embellish this aspect of the product, as the players generally liked interacting with the townsfolk, and would have appreciated some more Nightmare on Elm Street flavoring to the dangers.

All that said, I do want to again give credit to the monsters and NPCs that break the "they attack!" pattern. The goblins are the faction that shines the most in this respect, as many of them will show up in situations where they are helpless or in danger, which does a better job of opening the door to PC discretion in defining the interaction. 

This adventure could be a lot shorter than intended. My group explored two of the three regions outside the town, and we got about a dozen sessions total out of this book, which is a good return for the price and page count. But it could have been much shorter if the players made different choices! One of the three magic items that could facilitate entrance to the temple is located immediately outside of town. A group could grab that item and then wait until the temple is accessible. Sure, they would be underleveled, but that is not inherently an obstacle in OSR play. 

This isn't inherently bad. It is not a scripted adventure path, where the players are punished for not following the designer's intended path. But speedrunning this product would not be much fun, and would involve missing out on some of the best bits (like the goblins, satyr, and witch in the woods). 

Final Thoughts

We had an overall positive experience with this adventure, and I would recommend it. “Regional classic fantasy for low levels” is a very well-served niche, and there are other competing options that you may want to consider. But the inciting incident of the townsfolk trapped in the temple is a genuinely distinguishing selling point, and the organic clock it puts on events really brings the "time matters" energy to the proceedings. 

Ultimately, the adventure provides a lot of good stuff to work with, and the areas of potential improvement are a reasonable ask for the DM's tailoring and prep time. 

I give it four out of five spider-rats. Praise Halcyon!

You can buy NORH here.

Tuesday, March 31, 2026

Studying Noita to Build Deadly Dungeons

I have played 137 hours of Noita, because apparently I enjoy suffering. Noita is a roguelike videogame in which you explore randomly generated biomes, find customizable magic wands, and use them to kill enemies. Watch a few minutes of any video on YouTube and you’ll pretty quickly get a sense of the vibe. Like many videogames, it can be mined for TTRPG ideas.

Danger from Above

Like D&D, Noita is (mostly) a game about going down, down, down into the depths of what is essentially a dungeon. Many (but not all) enemies attack more effectively downward than they do upward. You can clear them as you descend, but both enemy behavior and level architecture become more complex and challenging. Many deaths begin when an enemy attacks laterally or unexpectedly from above, or when multiple enemies apply pressure from different directions. 

And it is not just the enemies. Noita is also famous for simulating liquids pixel by pixel. A lot of this liquid is pretty dangerous. That looks like this.

A gif from the videogame Noita, depicting the protagonist shooting the edge of a container filled with deadly liquid, so it floods out on enemies below


A stray shot, trap, or an enemy-induced explosion can send liquid pouring down on your character. And enemies who have the high ground will often knock your character into toxic, acidic, or flammable substances. Many Noita runs end not exclusively through enemy attacks, but through some combination of enemy action, environmental hazard, and player error. 

So ask yourself, what materials or substances are abundant in the dungeon, and how could they be exploited by the dungeon denizens (and, in turn, the PCs)? Baking this question into the dungeon’s design means that players are rewarded for understanding and anticipating what the dungeon is about.

Danger from Below

Again as in D&D, Noita monsters get stronger and hazards grow more dangerous with each level you descend. But the deeper you go, the better the loot you find.

Dropping an explosive on an enemy's head can be a relatively safe way to defeat it. But if that enemy is near some fragile treasure, like a potion, you might easily destroy it (and flood the area with the potion's potentially dangerous contents). And good luck getting the gold the enemy dropped if you also set fire to their surroundings.

Some monsters will fight other types of monsters, and it’s pretty typical to hear combat well below your character, out of sight. Listening carefully will alert you to the presence of something that can kill you on sight.

An attentive DM will often telegraph noises from another room on the dungeon level. But how often do you telegraph sounds from another floor? When can you give PCs a clue (or warning) about what is going on under their feet?

Danger from Yourself

Noita’s customizable wand system makes it quite easy to build wands that are as dangerous to the player as to the enemies, and you won’t have to play the game for long before ending a run with “Minä” listed as the cause of death; which is to say, you accidentally took yourself out.


An animated gif from the game Noita, picturing a player moving quickly through the game's environment, then accidentally polymorphing themself into an enemy and being killed by their own enemy-seeking projectile


I find this to be a particularly rich vein to tap for magic items in roleplaying games. Some of my favorite items of all time have been things that my players were too scared (too wise?) to actually use them as much as I would like. I can't exactly blame them. They can’t respawn and start a new run as easily as I can in Noita. But taking the safeties off the magical items really sells the danger and opportunity of the game's world.

Tuesday, February 10, 2026

The 5E Megadungeon: Death, Magic, and Cats

Last week: Running a Megadungeon Campaign in D&D 5E

Last week we covered darkvision and laid out the factors that make 5E insufficiently lethal for typical megadungeon play. Now lets discuss some solutions.




Tailor monsters to make them punch harder, but also die faster. Tweaking monster stats is categorically easier than getting PCs to buy into house rules that lower their own character’s powers. In addressing a common complaint with 5E that combat tends to drag on, I’ve found it helps a lot to make monsters hit harder, but be less tough. With some relatively modest adjustments, it is easy to cut an eight-round slogfest down to a tight three-round nailbiter. Monsters leave a bigger dent in PC HP totals, but PCs also have the satisfaction of taking them down before the battle gets boring. 

Cap leveling up somewhere between levels 8 and 12. D&D 5E is tuned around the first two to three tiers of play. The second tier ends at level 8 and the third ends at level 12. The game is fun in the fourth and fifth tiers, but parts of it break down, and it is certainly not suited to megadungeon play. I ran several hundred sessions of 5E in a game that went from level 1 to beyond level 20, and while that campaign worked for location-based play at low levels (including quite a bit of time in the Caverns of Thracia), it was essentially obligated to transition to scene-based play at high levels.

A megadungeon campaign really needs to stay location-focused for its duration, and the easiest way to make that happen is to agree at the outset to cap the PCs’ level. You can choose where you want to cap the level based on which dungeon-bypassing powers you really want to limit. A series of posts from the early days of my blog attempts to catalog which 5E powers bypass dungeon obstacles at various tiers.

This will take some buy-in from the PCs, but make the case that it is required to run a cool megadungeon in 5E. Capping progress doesn’t even require an explicitly old-school perspective. The idea of “E6” D&D (which caps progression at level 6) came out of the crunchy 3.5 D&D world all on its own. And maxed out PCs can become powerful figures in the local area, engaging in domain-level play. If the players still aren’t convinced, a megadungeon campaign isn’t right for them anyway.

Limit where the PCs can rest. The average modern-style party will gravitate toward a simple gameplan: Fully unload on any antagonists they encounter, then pass out on the spot for eight hours. There's some variance based on group composition – a minority of classes in 2014 5E are optimized around short rests – but most 5E groups will have a majority of long-rest-oriented PCs like wizards and paladins who want a solid eight hours of sleep so they can once again go supernova on the next monster that looks at them funny.

You are going to have to disabuse them of the idea that it is OK to rest in the dungeon. For a lot of players, it’s going to take some convincing.

Out of character, tell the players that resting in the dungeon or the surrounding wilderness is highly dangerous. Have NPCs reiterate this in-character. Ultimately, the PCs will attempt it anyway, and you should adjudicate consequences firmly, demonstrating how hard it is to get a good long rest in the dungeon. Of course, if the players take clever precautions to secure a long rest in the dungeon, reward them.

Finally, if you don’t think this will be enough to motivate your players, discuss a house rule at session zero that long rests are simply impossible inside the dungeon. I’m trying to be conservative with the house rules here, but this one may be worth it. 

Leverage time and antagonists against long rests. If resting in the dungeon isn’t practical, most PCs versed in modern-style play will pragmatically come up with an obvious fallback solution; retreat quickly to safety after every combat encounter. This is not really a bad thing; smart OSR PCs will keep avenues of retreat open as well. 

But retreating after every fight will slow the game to a crawl. Fortunately, both old school games (strict time records and faction play) and story games (clocks and fronts) offer some tools to incentivize modern and trad players to play differently. 

Establish antagonist NPCs and factions early, and then telegraph to the players how they are advancing their agendas every time the PCs take a long rest. It may help to present the PCs with antagonists right from session zero. A good example is the conceit used in Electric Bastionland and other games; have the party start with a shared debt they have to pay off. It could be one of the powerful factions in the town, or in the dungeon itself. The important thing is that the debt-holding faction both has a reason to be  antagonistic toward the PCs and methods for creating time pressure. 

Magic is ridiculously abundant to the point where you solve most of the normal OSR challenges with cantrips that half the party have.

I agree with this in a general sense. Cantrips are one of my least favorite parts of 5E, and they trivialize many parts of the game that old-school play emphasizes. 

But the problem is really limited to a small subset of cantrips. The biggest use-case of cantrips is essentially providing a DPS floor for full spellcasters in combat. I don’t enjoy this design decision, but it fits with how modern play handles combat, and we don’t need to change combat much to empower the megadungeon experience.

The genuinely concerning cantrips are the ones that trivialize challenges outside of combat. If I was running a megadungeon in 5E, I would modify or rule out a few cantrips:

  • Light and Dancing Lights would be the obvious ones to ban or nerf by “promoting” them to first level, per the discussion of visibility and darkvision in the previous post.
  • Mage Hand should probably receive the same treatment, given how useful it is for manipulating traps and doors without risking oneself. It may still be worth the spell slot even if “nerfed” to first level. If a player is interested in the Arcane Trickster archtype (a rogue subclass), you may need to negotiate with them how to interpret this adjustment, as Mage Hand is baked into that archetype’s core powers.
  • Guidance is not causing a problem for a megadungeon specifically, but it is bad game design, so I would probably ban it if I was cutting other spells anyway. 
  • Minor Illusion is a consideration, although strictly adjudicating it can denude it of its worst applications. 

The rest of the cantrips in the 5E.2014 PHB are not really disruptive to megadungeon play. Non-cantrip spells are a resource expenditure question, and are essentially covered by the time pressure tools discussed above. Sure, having access to Fly or Dimension Door can subvert some dungeon challenges; but these are precious spell slots if we cap the PC's level somewhere between 8 and 12. 

So yeah, a 5E group is going to move through the megadungeon more quickly and suffer fewer casualties than an equivalent old-school group. But they're not going to trivialize a well-run megadungeon. 

Cat People???

An animated gif of the catperson adventurer Izutsumi from the TV show Dungeon Meshi (AKA Delicious in Dungeon)


Tuesday, February 3, 2026

Running a Megadungeon Campaign in D&D 5E

A post on the 3d6 Down the Line Discord expressed skepticism that the Arden Vul megadungeon could be run in D&D 5E. 




And I get it. D&D 5E would not be my first choice for a megadungeon either. 

But I have run a lot of 5E with an OSR mindset, and I believe I could run a megadungeon in 5E with (relatively) modest house rules and campaign assumptions, if for some reason I decided to do so.

All points below are in the context of the 2014 5E rules. I do not own the new 5E books, but understand they do not deviate far from the 2014 rules, so I expect this approach would broadly work there as well. I also anticipate that most of the same ideas would apply to the 5E-compatible systems that have come out since 5E was released into the Creative Commons.

Below are the four issues that the post identified, addressed in turn.

Everybody Has Darkvision

I agree that darkvision is over-prescribed in 5E, and that darkvision can undermine old-school exploration by removing the question of visibility. But a serious part of the problem is that a lot of players and DMs don’t even follow 5E’s rules as written, and assume that darkvision is a more potent ability than it actually is.

D&D 5E’s rules allow creatures with darkvision to see in darkness as if it were dim light. That means disadvantage on Wisdom (perception) checks and an inability to see colors. Darkvision is better than nothing, but it is no substitute for a proper light source, particularly when checking for traps or keeping an eye out for secrets and treasure. I also remind players that whenever they are within the area of a source of light – whether from an ally, the environment, or an NPC or monster – that light prevents the use of their darkvision until they move out of the light. When I explain all of this to 5E players, they often choose to use light, even if they don’t “need” to, treating darkvision as more of a plan B, or an option for stealthing apart from the group.

Monsters face the same limitation. Whether an intelligent monster decides to rely on darkvision or use light typically reflects its level of confidence in its place in the dungeon hierarchy. Those confident in their control of the space use light. Those fearful of discovery favor the darkness.

Of course, an intelligent monster with 120’ darkvision will rely on the darkness more often than a creature possessing typical 60' darkvision, because it expects that it will have an edge. Creatures with tremorsense, blindsight, and similar abilities actually can functionally “see” in darkness as well as they can in light, so they do work in the way that many players think darkvision works. Creatures with those senses actually will completely skip light, for the most part. This makes them significantly scarier opponents in their native environment than creatures with mere darkvision.

If I was going to go further in houseruling this issue, I would take darkvision away from elves, and leave it to just the gnomes, dwarves, and tieflings. But even without altering the ancestry rules, darkvision can be brought into check simply by following the rules as written strictly.

It’s Impossible to Die in 5E

Let’s start with two easy caveats. First, simply removing 5E’s playculture presumption of level-appropriate encounters solves part of this problem. Even the most optimally constructed low-level 5E characters are not going to last long if they arrive at Arden Vul and beeline for the lair of Craastonistorex, the old and powerful green dragon. Once the players realize that difficulty is dictated by where they go and what they do – not what is appropriate for their current level – they will act more prudently.

Second, at very low levels, the problem isn’t really that pronounced anyway. Low-level PCs in 5E are much tougher than B/X or OSE characters, but they can still go down after just a few hits. The death saves system usually gives them a few chances to survive, but a deadly dungeon can kill many PCs outright through massive damage from falls and traps. In combat, monsters can also opportunistically focus on downed characters and quickly finish them off. Remember that any source of damage to a character on death's door equals a failed death save. Lowly goblins or kobolds become much scarier when they drag a downed PC away into the darkness, rather than “fighting fair” and engaging the PCs who are still standing.

But beyond those two caveats, I acknowledge the issue OP raises. At about level 5, 5E PCs get a lot stronger, and they don’t slow down from there. PCs in 5E at middle to high levels create a series of interrelated issues for DMs who want to run a megadungeon game that cares about exploration, time, and resources. I believe there are at least four interrelated issues that cause problems here:

  • 5E PCs have massive amounts of HP
  • 5E PCs have a lot of resources to replenish HP
  • Both play culture and player powers make it unlikely that PCs will get lost, captured, or otherwise separated from safe locations where they can rest and recover 
  • Modern play culture presumes little or no time pressure, so choosing to rest does not come with an inherent cost

A few different adjudication techniques and house rules can solve a lot of these problems. We'll cover those next week.

Next week: Death, Magic, and Cats

Tuesday, January 13, 2026

Using Boring Meetings to Design Dungeons

The modern world is filled with a certain number of boring, pointless meetings. Maybe the meeting itself is pointless. Or maybe you are simply an ancillary attendee who should have been left off the invitation. For whatever reason, you are stuck here until the meeting ends. With nothing else to keep it busy, your mind wanders back to the dungeon. 

Every time a new participant in the boring meeting talks, try to write down the first remotely interesting word you hear them say that is either a noun, an adjective, or a verb. If they’re talking fast, you might only catch one or two of those words. That’s OK. These are loose guidelines, not strict rules. Keep writing down words until you have at least one verb, one noun, and one adjective. Cluster these in groups until you have a handful of them.

Nouns Are Rooms

Each noun defines the purpose or status of a room in the dungeon that you are creating. Sometimes this will be very literal, like the word “store” suggesting a storehouse. Other times the room you create will only have the vaguest trace of the origin word. Some words will not work at all, but try doing some free association before you give up on a noun that doesn’t have any dungeon energy. You may find it takes you to some unexpected places.

Adjectives Are Contents

Adjectives elaborate on what is in the room. This can take many forms, but the following are good places to start.

Aesthetics: What does the room look like? Smell like? Sound like? 

Purpose: The noun may imply what the room is for, but an adjective that pushes back against that implication may suggest a change in purpose. Integral to many classic dungeons is the idea that a room’s purpose has changed over time.

Occupants: Adjectives can strongly suggest who or what uses a room or has been there recently.

Verbs Are Current Events 

Verbs can suggest monsters, NPCs, and other dungeon activity. They can also suggest hazards, environmental effects, and weather. The random encounters table is a good place to start thinking about verbs. What is happening right now? What happened recently? What will happen soon? If the room is not an empty room, the verb may be the best clue toward what a monster is doing, how a trap threatens interlopers, or how a trick or special feature presents itself to the explorer.


A screenshot from the 1994 film The Hudsucker Proxy. Old men sit on both ends of a long meeting table, looking away from the camera and toward a man standing on the table, poised to begin moving.


An Example: The Questioning Device

I listened and wrote down the noun "question," the adjective "technological," and the verb "counting."

“Question” could mean many things, from a scrying pool to a riddle. I will make our “question” room an interrogation room. This is a pretty literal interpretation and gives us a grounded place to start.

“Technological” could go in a few directions. The torture machine from The Princess Bride, for example. Perhaps there is a techno-magical machine in this space. Whatever its original purpose, the current dungeon occupants use it to interrogate prisoners.

“Counting” is a great verb because it suggests both subject and object – someone is counting and someone or something is being counted. Perhaps one of a number of prisoners has escaped? A headcount is happening, or has just happened, and the captors have discovered that someone ins missing. They are now using the Questioning Device to try to force the remaining prisoners to tell them where the escapee went.

And so we have a fully formed room. 

Pay Attention, Class

Am I suggesting you be lazy? Rude? Disrespectful to the organizer of your boring meeting? Well, yes and no.

Yes, it is true that I am suggesting you slack off a bit. But I did preface it by saying I was talking about meetings that were unimportant, unnecessary, or overly broad in terms of invitees.

And for what it’s worth, I think this game is a way of genuinely paying attention. The worst sort of inattention is the full-on daydream, where you are thinking about a dungeon that has nothing to do with the meeting. At least in this model, you are paying a minimum level of attention in order to catch those prompt words. Your brain may subconsciously catch more detail than you expect, just because you have given it an ulterior (and more interesting) reason to care.

Tuesday, December 16, 2025

Dungeon Rooms are Nouns, Dungeon Corridors are Verbs

I sometimes think about dungeon design like this: Rooms are for nouns, corridors are for verbs. 

Explaining what is going on there requires some background.

Why are corridors important at all? Many modern dungeons eschew them. I think part of the challenge is that writers publishing dungeons often want to fit an entire map floor on a single page of a book or PDF. Many otherwise very good dungeons feature cramped, close-together rooms because of product design, not dungeon design. 

But those corridors serve important purposes, many of which are covered well here. So dungeons should have more corridors. How should we design them differently from rooms? 

Dungeon Rooms Are Nouns

The room is defined first and foremost by its contents. The classic dungeon stocking options of “empty/monster/treasure/trap/special” are essentially noun-focused. Something may be happening in the room, but any action is derived from the contents. If you are GMing a minimally keyed dungeon, and the PCs approach a room that simply says “guard post: barricade, 3 goblins” you are going to intuit the action downstream of those nouns. Are the goblins alertly watching out for intruders? Or arguing with each other? Asleep? You may infer the answer, you may roll for it, but it is downstream of the contents. Rooms are noun-forward.

Dungeon Corridors Are Verbs

Corridors are typically not defined by their contents. I’m excluding a “great hall” or “foyer” here. We are talking about corridors that are exclusively transitional spaces between rooms. They are not defined by their contents but instead by action, by what is going on within them.

Wandering monster or random event tables are the classic way of adding verbs to corridors. I strongly agree with Fae Errant's linked post above that there’s typically no need to roll for wandering monsters in rooms; those rolls are doing the most work in corridors. Corridors ensure that there is always a cost to exploring. 

Corridors ask: 

  • What are the players doing? Searching, sneaking, pursuing, fleeing? Consider the party's pace.
  • What are the monsters doing? Consider using the nested table style of Hot Springs Island, or the supplemental tables in The Monster Overhaul.
  • What is the dungeon doing? Depending on the degree of motive agency we assign to the space itself, hazards and obstacles can be thought of as verbs the dungeon itself apples to corridors.
  • Has time passed? Have torches guttered out? Spells expired? Corridors ask these questions.
  • What has already happened during the delve? Is anything recurring? Is it time for any consequences of prior action to make themselves known?
  • What has changed since the PCs last traversed a corridor? What is changing right now?

An animated gif of Garak from the television show Star Trek Deep Space 9 saying "Now if you'll excuse me. My dungeon awaits."

Touch Grass

The same ideas can apply outside the dungeon. For example, I usually use pointcrawls for outdoor exploration. Each location is very noun-heavy, but the paths between points are the places for verbs. 

Dungeon Thresholds Are Adjectives

This is less essential than the noun/verb distinction, but if you want to take it a step further, consider adjectives as thresholds. Adjectives are relayed to the PCs when they first enter a room, then give way to the nouns as the room is explored in earnest. The adjectives serve to mark the transitional space. How is this room distinct from the corridor you are exiting? The adjectives are often most prominent when the PCs are still deciding whether or not to enter a space.

Adjectives can answer questions like the following: 

  • What hidden thing in the room should the PCs be looking for?
  • What was the room recently used for? 
  • What was the room’s original purpose? 
  • What is most immediately noticeable sight, sound, and scent?

Tuesday, December 2, 2025

The World's Largest Rewrite: Grey Horse, Devil Swine, and Normal Humans

Last time: The World's Largest Rewrite: Floating Heads, Mother Fungus, Cellipedes

#60: Horse. OK, yes, I jumped into this exercise without really thinking about how to handle the various mundane “monsters” in the OSE bestiary. I don’t want to overlap with mules and camels, so I’m going to dive deeper into the Monster Overhaul, my manual of choice, to populate this one.

The book includes an entry for a “grey horse,” a strange constructed thing in the shape of a horse that challenges travelers to make clever rhymes, eating their rations as punishment if they fail. The grey horse seems too benign to be a prisoner, and too capricious to be one of the jailers. I’ll treat it as an invasive species, but without explaining how it got here (the grey horse just shows up in places where it is not wanted).

#84: Normal Human. Ah yes, the most dangerous monster of all; the Normal Human. OSE defines them as “Non-adventuring humans without a character class. Artists, beggars, children, craftspeople, farmers, fishermen, housewives, scholars, slaves.” But they are also implicitly not bandits, or pirates, or nobles, or any of the other “monster” types in the OSE bestiary that are obviously humans, but have their own entry. Essentially this is what the modern game would call a commoner.

I think we have some Normal Humans here who are guilty of Abnormal Crimes. They’re probably not individually dangerous to adventurers; even the typical serial killer is more of an opportunistic-but-ordinary person, rather than someone with high levels as an assassin or something. These Normal Humans are like the prisoners in Con Air or the mooks in the Batman Arkham games. They are weak, but numerous. And they likely have some powerful leaders among them as prison bosses; maybe NPCs with classes, maybe actual monsters.

#106: Shark. Shark!! The shark brings us back to the submerged section of our dungeon. We want to distinguish a bit from the other monsters that have flooded (literally and figuratively) into the prison. Picking randomly among OSE’s three sharks, we get the bull shark, which can ram and stun prey for three rounds. This is a nice twist that you don’t really see from beasts in modern D&D. I like the idea of the bull sharks ramming prey as they pass through a transitory space like a submerged hallway. The hallways are navigable for the sharks but too narrow for the sea serpent, who is the alpha predator in the seawater sector. Stunned swimmers sink deeper into the depths, so attempting to rescue them presents further risk for their allies. The crabs clean up what the bull sharks don't eat, at the bottom of the halls, amongst the bones of failed prison escapees.

#70: Lycanthrope. I usually choose a subtype randomly, but in this case I am going to simply pick the devil swine, because (a. they’re much more evocative than the other, more standard lycanthropes, and (b. they’re evil, so they’re the easiest to explain as prisoners of celestials. OSE describes them as follows: “Corpulent humans who can change into huge swine. Love to eat human flesh. Lurk in isolated human settlements close to forests or marshes.”

A devil swine has 9 HD (!) and a charm ability. So these guys are not minor brutes, but instead dangerous bosses, and with their charm ability, probably a powerful faction in their own right. I imagine they’ve been strategically charming other prisoners to take over the prison and eventually try to escape. Relative to some of the other very archetypal monsters we have featured so far, “shapeshifting mind-control pigs” could really surprise players.

Another nice detail on lycanthropes is as follows: “Horses and some other animals can smell lycanthropes and will become afraid.” The grey horse and the mules are both aware of the devil swine and could help the players avoid them, or at least anticipate their presence.

#22: Chimera. Another folklore classic. OSE doesn’t provide any suggestions beyond a visual description. The Overhaul gives us more to work with, including a roll table that produces a chimera with a goat for the left head and hindquarters, a leopard for the center head and forequarters, and a newt for the right head and tail. It breathes poison gas and has no wings. Created by a wizard who is also probably interred here.

An animated gif of a green cyclops idling, then walking forward, then smashing the ground with both fists


#26: Cyclops. It’s interesting to compare the OSE cyclops to one from a more modern-style monster manual. The OSE version hews close to the Odyssey; it raises sheep, is slow-witted, and possesses the ability to curse people. All straight out of the Greek lore.

The 2014 5E monster manual, by comparison, shunts this information into the flavor text, abstracting it away from the source myths. Consequently, aside from its poor depth perception, the 5E cyclops has almost nothing to distinguish it from the statistically similar hill giant, which is a shame, particularly because 5E has an abundance of interchangeable brutes like this taking up space in the book.

The Overhaul parsimoniously groups the cyclops with the giants, so we’ll roll there to get some more of an idea of what to do with this dude. The “Why fight these giants?” table produces “They keep growing larger. Soon it won’t be possible to harm them.” So this cyclops was getting bigger and bigger with no end in sight, and the magic of the prison keeps that magical growth in check. The cyclops may even be a willing prisoner here, worried that the prison’s weakening structural integrity will reboot their uncontrollable embiggening.

#7: Beetle, Giant. The fire beetle (a fantasy firefly) and the oil beetle (a fantasy bombardier beetle) are the famous ones here, but rolling randomly tilts me toward the Tiger Beetle (a fantasy… uh, tiger beetle). OSE tiger beetles “hunt robber flies, but sometimes eat humans.” The bit about robber flies is useful, as we haven’t placed those guys yet.

The real-life tiger beetle has a number of gameable features we can steal, including antlion-like larvae that burrow into the sand to trap prey; an ability to charge very quickly toward prey, but with the need to stop and visually reorient; and the ability to mimic the sounds of toxic moths so that bats won’t eat them. We can tie these guys to both the robber flies and the bats when we get those results. 

#100: Rock Baboon. Once again I’m charmed by old-school D&D’s “animal, but slightly weird” approach, contra modern D&D’s harder division between mundane animals (lumped together in the back of the manual) and fantastic monsters. The rock baboon is a pretty straightforward monster per the OSE entry, but I do enjoy that they “communicate with screams.” Same, rock baboon, same. How far can we take that? 

Perhaps relative to other creatures in the dungeon, the rock baboons are particularly good at communicating important information over relatively far distances. The primary danger when encountering a single baboon or a small group is that they will alert the rest of their troop, even if they are far away. The baboons could even be useful allies if befriended, facilitating long-distance communication (filtered through baboon-speak, of course).

#134: Wolf. The most interesting bit about wolves in the OSE entry is that they can be trained, and that goblins ride dire wolves. So we have two possible routes here; wolves trained by the wardens to police the prison, and wolves ridden by the goblins we haven’t seen yet. The next entry better serves the prior option, so I’m going to go with the latter and assume these are goblin-affiliated wolves. We’ll put the wolves near the hobgoblins and leave the door open for a greater goblin zone in the prison.

#10: Blink Dog. Apparently we’re in the dog block. In addition to their signature teleport ability, blink dogs are lawful and hate warp beasts. I think it makes sense to consider them servants of the jailers. Their blink ability would make them well-suited to capture, corral, or pursue prisoners without the prison’s physical barriers limiting their movement. Perhaps they’ve been left to their own devices since the prison has gone to rot. A first encounter with the blink dogs will probably involve them shadowing PCs or observing them from afar to take their measure. They could be powerful allies for PCs who earn their trust by containing monsters or stopping escapes.

Tuesday, October 21, 2025

The World's Largest Rewrite: Floating Heads, Mother Fungus, Cellipedes

Last time: The World's Largest Rewrite: Dungeon Is Wet, Tortoise Foreshadowing, and 30-50 Feral Hogs

 #51: Green Slime. This could again be interpreted as a connection to the dragon, but I don’t want to make an entire section of the dungeon oops-all-slimes. I’m instead going to put the green slime(s) below the pixies – in both senses of the word. We haven’t been very specific about verticality yet, besides some broad strokes, but I’m thinking that the upper left corner (where the fresh water comes in from the "roof") is near the top of the dungeon, while the lower right corner (where seawater comes in from the ocean) is near the bottom. I like the idea that the green slimes are forming on the ceiling on the level below where the dragon is, as runoff from its breath attack, and moving laterally through some point of connectivity that could potentially be exploited by explorers. 

#116: Stirge. I’ve got a bit of an order of operations going for responding to these random rolls. Some of these immediately suggest a fit based on what we’ve already established about the dungeon. Others become clear once I check the OSE entry and notice some evocative bit of flavor, or an ability I didn't know about.

If I need more beyond those two steps, I’m going back to the Monster Overhaul once again. The stirge (“skeeter” in Overhaul terminology) has a table for reskins that are mechanically identical, but very different in aesthetics. I rolled and got “Rotting floating head. Lank hair, no eyes.” This immediately sparked some ideas. Perhaps some number of the prisoners in this prison were executed by beheading, and now those severed heads are mindless blood drinkers, wandering the halls. I’m going to place them near the wights, on the assumption that the execution chamber would be near those undead wardens.

#137 Yellow Mould. No entry in the Overhaul, possibly because yellow mould is more of a dungeon hazard than a “creature” per se. It is also possible that its functionality is captured by the lavish two-page spread for myconids. OSE doesn’t appear to have myconids, so we can liberally use the Overhaul tables to figure out what is up with this yellow mould.

Rolling on the “spore attack” table, we get “fungal curse,” which means that a creature failing the save will eventually sprout a “mother fungus,” forming a new colony. I like the idea that this fate befell a prisoner who was interred here, and a new colony formed in the dungeon.

Riffing off this idea further, I imagine these fungi are somewhat like the mycorrhizal fungi that allow trees to communicate in some forests. Rather than a purely parasitic dungeon hazard, I like the idea that the fungi are symbiotic, and are probably a major source of food, exchanging (non-toxic) edible mushroom growth with other dungeon denizens for things they want (especially water and fertilizer). Because tiny fungal filaments connect many parts of the dungeon, they can provide information or facilitate communication. We’ll place the mother fungus near the fresh water, but assume that their filaments have spread to many parts of the dungeon where there is at least some moisture and not too much heat.

#21: Centipede, Giant. A classic, flexible dungeon monster that can go anywhere. OSE notes they favor damp areas, but we need to narrow it down further than that (remember, dungeon is wet). The Monster Overhaul includes both a monstrous vermin category, and another section for ancient anthropods. Going with the latter because it has an intriguing “why fight these ancient anthropods” table, we roll a prompt that “one of them ate the key to this chest.”

I’m going to tweak that and combine it with the other tables in the entry that generate weird head-shapes for these bugs. These “cellipedes,” known colloquially as the prisoner’s best friend, have evolved key-like protuberances on their heads. They are drawn to places like prisons; the more locked doors, the better it is as a breeding habitat for these sickos. They can be used to open some doors, and particularly rare specimens have a skeleton key ability, and are able to open many locked doors. 

#99: Roc. I love that OSE has giant roc, large roc, and small roc. Given that the roc’s brand is “very large bird,” I'm kinda skeptical that three categories were required. We don’t have manual entries for “tall halfling” or “non-animated skeleton.” 

OSE notes that rocs are lawful creatures who react negatively to non-lawful creatures, and can also be trained as mounts. So let’s associate them with the prison builders. We haven’t yet decided pinned down the builders’ whole deal, but for the prison to make sense as an adventuring site, it helps to presume that their authority and control has partially or completely lapsed. 

To put a twist on the roc here, let’s make it a big egg. Not every monster has to appear in its fully grown adult form. And finding an egg is a classic sort of unusual “treasure” for PCs; a player in one game I ran took a deep interest in the unhatched egg of a giant carnivorous parrot, which became a focus of downtime work for many sessions afterward. We’ll drop it near the wights, on the assumption it has or had something to do with the builders/jailers.



#78: Mule. Another mundane animal. My first thought was to make them a population descended from working animals when the prison was built, like the wild burros of the southwestern United States, who descended from domesticated donkeys brought to the area by prospectors. Then I remembered that mules are, uh, by definition not the type of animals you’re going to find breeding in the wild.

So we’ll go with a more ordinary explanation, and say that mules are survivors of adventuring parties that have entered the dungeon. Some of them have gathered here to dwell among their own kind. I like the idea that mules regularly appear on the dungeon's random encounter table as well, with each mule encountered giving hints as to the status (or final fate) of the adventurers who brought that mule into the dungeon. Mules also have a few useful sundry items on them ("found a mule" is local dungeon slang for a stroke of good fortune; more dungeons should have custom slang). An amusing recurring motif is mule-as-evidence of a TPK. Somehow the lowly pack animal always survives.

#65: Kobold. Our first humanoid! OSE uses the old-school characterization of kobolds, noting they are “canine,” while the Monster Overhaul goes with a modern take, describing them as "reptilian" and dropping them in the “dragon” section of the book. I’m sympathetic to Skerples on this taxonomic decision, given how much more prevalent that portrayal is these days, and I'll go the same route since I'm sticking to OSE where I can. But I cannot continue without mentioning that the very good boy Kuro makes a strong case for the canine kobold. I love the Dungeon Meshi portrayal, especially because “dogfolk” never really clicked in D&D the way tabaxi did. It’s a minor gripe, but I always thought the dogfolk in Thracia were the least interesting of the beastmen faction members.

…What were we talking about? Oh yeah, the World’s Largest Dungeon. Kobolds, regardless of aesthetics, are known for being numerous and individually weak, so I don’t think they make much sense as prisoners. Instead, let’s imagine they have entered the dungeon while delving underground. Did they get here intentionally or accidentally? Rolling on the Overhaul tables for prompts, we get “geckotian” kobolds (“sticky pads, marbled eyes”) with a current activity of “prodding a corpse” and “bucolic mushroom farms” as a current scheme. I think this is already more interesting than just making them dragon servants and calling it a day. 

Let’s say they entered the dungeon seeking the yellow mould mother fungus. Prodding a corpse suggests they are corpse retrievers (and possibly even grave robbers) because they’re gathering fertilizer to bring to the fungus. There may be some tension with the mother fungus; the kobolds ideally would like to domesticate it, while the mother fungus wants to infect them. So they want different things and are in tension, which is a good scenario for the PCs to crash into.

#59: Hobgoblin. The humanoid hits continue. Modern D&D treats hobgoblins as martial warriors, something like how orcs were originally portrayed. OSE reverts hobgoblins back to their earlier presentation, but that doesn’t give us much to work with, as they are just “bigger goblins,” a trait they share with bugbears. At least bugbears have the element of surprise. The Monster Overhaul (correctly) just folds hobgoblins into the orc category, which we’ll save for when orcs come up in this dungeon. So that’s no help. Hobgoblins, hobgoblins, what do you do with those hobgoblins?

It’s a thin sliver of lore, but the OSE hobgoblin entry does note that thouls sometimes serve as bodyguards to hobgoblin kings. If you’re not familiar, thouls are an infamous monster from early D&D that combines aspects of hobgoblin, ghoul, and troll, and probably originated as a typesetting mistake.

Perhaps we can make our hobgoblins more interesting by playing up the connection to goblins, ghouls, and trolls. Let’s say that hobgoblins are themselves goblins who are particularly susceptible to mutation, something already implied in other treatments of goblins. Mutation has made them bigger, for starters, but some of them have also been able to mutate into traits from other creatures. We’ll hold further specifics of their mutative powers for a future monster that hasn’t been placed yet. I’m also not sure whether they are prisoners, tresspassers, or something else. We’ll revisit that later.

#32: Driver Ant. Part of the fun of this exercise is looking at the stripped-down presentation of creatures in OSE. There’s a less-is-more vibe to these monsters. At first glance, driver ants are giant bugs with a standard bite attack and not much else to distinguish them. But on second glance…

  • Omnivorous and rapacious: “Consume everything in their path, when hungry” – I feel seen.
  • Morale: “Attack relentlessly, once they are engaged in melee (morale 12). Will even pursue through flames.”
  • Gold: “30% chance of 1d10 × 1,000gp worth of gold nuggets, mined by the ants.”

So there are a couple of adventure vectors here. The ants are driven by hunger and can eat a lot of different things. We can imagine them chewing through barriers made from organic material, invading and connecting different regions of the dungeon.

The morale aspect is compelling for games that use morale rigorously. One of my biggest complaints with modern-style play is the strong presumption that every fight only ends when all the monsters are dead. When I run games, I stress how advantageous it is to compel monsters to flee or surrender, rather than slaughtering all of them because of video game logic.

Contrasted with our expectation of how morale may quickly end a fight against hobgoblins or kobolds or mules (please, do not fight the mules), a monster that goes into a 12-morale frenzy when you melee with it is a big problem. PCs who study their behavior could distract them with food, pelt them with arrows from a distance, or trick other monsters into fighting them. But also… the ants may have gold in their lairs. So there’s also a strong incentive to risk engaging with them further.

#135: Wraith. This is our first incorporeal undead. OSE notes that they “Dwell in deserted regions or in the homes of former victims.” I think this suggests that they are prisoners, perhaps murders or other capital criminals who persist after death, but are trapped in the "deserted region" of the prison. 

We had previously decided that our wights could be guards. Perhaps part of their role is to guard the wraith prisoners? The OSE SRD description of energy drain doesn’t specifically state that it wouldn’t work on undead, but it follows logically from the flavor of the power to say that wights would be immune. 

Next time: The World's Largest Rewrite: Grey Horse, Devil Swine, and Normal Humans

Tuesday, September 23, 2025

Places of Power

Magic is not the same everywhere you go. It is not a fixed, internal thing within a spellcaster, that they can call on whenever they want. It is instead something the magic-user always must channel and mediate through the circumstances of their environment.

Magic does not work in civilization. Buildings and infrastructure disrupt ley lines or interplanar convergences. This presumption supports one of the key concepts of the West Marches, where the town is intended to be inherently uninteresting and not a location for adventure. PCs also have a stronger incentive to fly straight while in town and not mess with the locals, because magic, their biggest edge against ordinary folk, doesn’t work there.

Magic does work for clerics in civilization… within the confines of their temple. A single temple in a small settlement dedicated to a particular god is extremely powerful within that region. Anyone who wants clerical aid is going to need to be on good terms with that faith. In this framing, a PC building a temple goes from a nice bit of flair to an essential extension of the cleric’s power.

Magic works in the wilderness. Generally. It may depend on the time of day, the season, or the weather. Perhaps healing magic won’t work until the break of dawn; or will only work in a diminished form. Necromantic magic is the opposite. Players will be all over those meaningful and strict time records if we attach rules like this to spellcasting.




Some magic works better or worse or not at all in the wrong environment. Druidic magic could work well in the wilderness but not at all in a castle. Necromantic magic could depend on the amount of deceased matter and ambient death present. At the extremes, the schools of magic could hold sway over particular regions, jealously preventing rival schools of magic from functioning on those grounds.

Magic is stronger or different in the dungeon. Some spells work better or worse or not at all on certain floors. “Unlocking” magic on a given floor might involve any number of extrinsic goals that characters could pursue. Take it to an extreme and say that magic spells can only be cast on a dungeon level equal to the spell level or greater. 

Sometimes no one knows why magic works or doesn’t work in a place. Spells like Hallow, Protection from Evil, Mordenkain’s Private Sanctum, and Forbiddance may have been cast with permanent durations in ancient times. The origin and purposes of those castings may be unclear to modern people. Indeed, in many cases, even the underlying physical structures that those spells once protected have been worn away by the passage of time, leaving white noise zones where magic doesn’t seem to work the way it should. 

Some of these ideas can be dropped into a game quite easily. Others need to be baked into the cosmology from the first session. But the underlying idea is to make magic less like a handy, ordinary, convenient tool, and more like something strange and difficult and dangerous and unpredictable. You know, something magical. 

Tuesday, August 26, 2025

Should Party Pace Be a Player-Facing Mechanic In More Games?

Should PCs in party-based roleplaying games – particularly fantasy dungeoncrawls – more explicitly choose their pace of exploration?

The following is implicit in how I adjudicate situations on the GM side, but it isn’t something that players historically see in a plainly stated way. I infer their pace from the actions they choose, and then rule accordingly. But I’ve been thinking about what it would look like if party pace was a formal, player-facing mechanic. 

I’ll mention advantage/disadvantage here as a shorthand, but equivalent benefits and penalties could easily be substituted for games that don’t use that mechanic. 

I’m certain this isn’t a brand-new idea. I’m sure there’s are systems and play styles that handles party pace in a similar manner. Pointers appreciated if what I'm describing is very close to something that is already out there.


Methodical. The party is moving very slowly, basically a crawl. 

Assuming ample light and no direct obfuscation, hidden information is typically found without any special action by the party. They have advantage on rolls to find secret information. The party is assumed to be moving stealthily, within reason, and may gain advantage on related rolls.

When moving methodically, the maximum amount of time passes – this is as slow as they can go. A random event is essentially guaranteed, although the party may gain advantage on a surprise roll, or some similar benefit. If there is a clock for antagonist action, or any other time pressure beyond random encounters/events, it will almost certainly advance.


Cautious. The party moves at a slow, steady walking pace.

The party can choose to focus on searching or stealthing, but not both. If the former, as long as they have decent light, they have advantage on rolls to find hidden information. It’s possible to find secret information, but will require pointed inquiry. Stealthing foregoes both the hidden and secret information, but is otherwise practical at this pace.

If some PCs want to search and others want to stealth, they can, but they must split up. Note that stealthing ahead of searchers and searching ahead of stealthers both present complications and dangers for the party. The traditional stealthy-character-scouts-ahead role is, by definition, limited to the Methodical pace.


Balanced. The party moves at a brisk walk.

This is the default party pace. Hidden information can be found with careful questions, but won’t be exposed by default. Secrets are almost never found at this pace. Stealth is difficult or impossible (usually requiring at least disadvantage on an applicable roll).


Fast. The party moves at a hurried pace, like a steady jog, or quick dashes from point to point.

Hidden information and secrets will not be found, but the PCs will still see landmarks. Mapping or orienteering is very difficult (roll with disadvantage, if it is possible at all). Less time passes, but random encounters/events will happen at about the same frequency as the Balanced pace, because the party is more conspicuous. There’s an increased chance for lights to be extinguished and for similar complications. No stealth. If characters moving at a Fast pace run into an encounter that could turn hostile, they probably have a good opportunity to run away. If they give chase to someone who flees from them, they have a good shot at keeping pace with them.


Reckless. The party charges forward, headless of the danger.

Random encounters/events trigger automatically, although there’s at least a good chance the PCs can outrun some of them. Organized non-local antagonist action doesn't really happen because there just isn't much time passing. Players may need to either stow or drop held objects. The party is only dimly aware of their surroundings as they move. No mapping or orienteering. Not only will they miss all hidden and secret information, but they may need to roll just to spot landmarks.

When moving Recklessly, the party can usually escape typical combat encounters (either without a roll, or rolling with advantage), but are likely to be separated or lost when doing so. They have advantage on rolls to escape a pursuer or catch quarry.



Moving at a reckless pace AKA me when I win at Bang! as the Renegade with a Mustang and no other gear AKA I will use any excuse to add Golden Kamuy to a post 


After Them!

We usually don’t care about the pace of monsters or NPCs, but in a chase scenario, it becomes important. PCs or monsters moving a category faster than their pursuer/quarry have advantage on rolls to escape/catch them. PCs or monsters moving two categories faster will escape/catch up as a matter of when, not if. Think about a monster’s abilities when adjudicating this question; some will only use one or two of the movement conditions above. Fleeing from an air elemental should feel dramatically different than fleeing from a giant slug.

Switching Gears

Moving to a faster or slower pace is always possible when conditions are normal and the PCs are in no direct danger. If they are in danger, they can only move down the list, toward the faster paces. Assume they can move by one category per combat round or equivalent unit of time. If a party is moving Methodically and suddenly is drawn into combat, they probably can’t immediately pivot to Fast or Reckless retreat; they need to change pace one stage at a time.

Certain circumstances may almost force them to change their pace. This kind of procedure can add a lot of spice to something like fear effects; frightened characters can only move down in the pace list, toward the faster categories, even if they're not in direct danger (and they may perhaps be compelled to do so, even if other characters do not do the same).

Splitting Time

If the party is moving at different paces, assume that a faster group can take twice as many actions for every step separating them. But they should also get more limited information during that process, in accordance with the landmark/hidden/secret distinctions above.

Player-Facing or Player-Unknown?

I’m always fascinated by which procedures and mechanics are player-facing in a game, and which are not. I don’t think any of the above needs to be player facing. In the old-school context, I endeavor to adjudicate the dungeon’s reaction to the players accordingly, and the players trust me as a fair referee to present the dungeon’s response to their presence in a measured and plausible way. 

But making this mechanism player-facing has a certain appeal for teaching the playstyle to modern players. Divorced from the Strict Time Records of yore, modern/OC/5E-style players will choose to do almost everything Methodically. And why wouldn’t they? What is the incentive to go faster if there are no clocks, no wandering monsters, no proactive enemy responses to their presence? I believe the above procedure, or something like it, can help them grok the pros and cons quite well.

Tuesday, August 19, 2025

The World's Largest Rewrite: Dungeon Is Wet, Tortoise Foreshadowing, and 30-50 Feral Hogs

Last time: The World’s Largest Rewrite: Salvaging the Core Idea From a Megadungeon Disaster

#104: Sea Serpent (Lesser). Why “lesser”? There is no “greater” sea serpent in the OSE bestiary. Regardless, it is a chance to carve out a water area separate from the giant catfish's pond. One of the big problems with the original WLD, relative to megadungeons like Arden Vul or Thracia, is its flatness; most good megadungeons are three-dimensional, and defined as much by their depth as their breadth. 

We won't worry too much about specifics just yet -- the diagram I posted at the end of the last post is for abstracted, relative positions. But lets assume the lower parts of this dungeon are flooded with seawater, and this was an Alcatraz-style island prison before it became an adventuring site. I like the idea that this part of the dungeon is a possible escape route, but made dangerous by sea creatures that have made their lairs here. The serpent is tough enough to dissuade most of the nearby prisoners from sneaking out this way. The black dragon could probably kill the serpent, but it is too big to fit through the underwater tunnels (and the seawater dilutes the acid too much for it to corrode its way out).

#24: Crab, Giant. Conveniently showing up right after Sea Serpent, we’ll build out our ocean depths a bit more here. We’ll put the crabs a little closer to the core. They scavenge what the sea serpent doesn't eat itself, and are also occasionally consumed by it.

#18: Cat, Great. Rolling randomly for the sub-types once again we get… sabre-toothed tiger. Hell yeah. “Normally only found in Lost World regions.” OK. Maybe part of the purpose of this prison isn’t just to house criminals but also to preserve lost wildlife that no longer exists out in the world. I’m going to put the tiger near the nobles and the catfish – he’s been drawn to the fresh water and stalks the area nearby. There may be a supernatural zoo sub-theme we can explore with other entries.

#81: Nixie. Yeah, nixies are going to require some more dungeon infrastructure and background to explain. I’m beginning to think that entire prison is not just an island, but also overgrown and covered in natural growth on the top, including a large body of fresh water. The nixies were washed in here when the water eroded through the dungeon's ceiling and flooded several regions. The lake where the giant catfish lives is a terminus, but the nixies control the river flowing into it. They’d like to claim control of the lake, but the giant catfish is too big for them to deal with directly. They’ve probably charmed other humanoids, including a few of the noble’s retinue, and perhaps some others we haven’t placed yet.

#62: Insect Swarm. This could go anywhere, couldn’t it? We don’t need to explain why an insect swarm is in the prison, because insects just like to show up in places where they’re not supposed to be. I like how the OSE bestiary has such extensive procedures for encountering them. I’ll draw inspiration from one of those – the rules for escaping the swarm by “diving into water.” Putting them near the water gives the PCs an “out of the frying pan, into the fire” option that might send some of them into the arms of the nixies. I don’t want more bees, so we’re going to go with beetles instead. I think they’re actually plant-eaters and just want to consume the PCs clothes and other textiles, but adventurers won't know that, and their bites through the clothes still hurt!


Bugs of various types from the video game Hollow Knight


#133: Wight. It’s interesting that OSE says these are “Corpses of humans or demihumans, possessed by malevolent spirits.” The 2014 5E Manual suggests they are more conventional undead, i.e., the evil spirit is animating the same body it occupied before death. The Monster Overhaul, my current go-to bestiary, emphasizes that “A Wight’s un-life is tied to an oath, a strong emotion, or the simple will to endure.” It has a nice random table of wight types. I rolled on it and got “Avenger.” Perhaps these are enforcers who swore an oath to the prison builders to hunt those who escaped their cells. The oath extends into un-life (oops) and they’re now doing this forever. I think the builders of this prison may be jerks. Per OSE, wights that drain someone of all levels create more wights, so these wights may be “recruiting” more hunters.

I don’t want a whole undead zone where they’re all clustered together, so I’m going to separate these guys from the mummy-zombie zone. We’ll place them in as-yet unexplored territory south of the ochre jelly zone. Mundane acid doesn’t harm them, so they’re safe from the jellies. Presumably they roam around looking for escapees, but their barracks are down there. 

#92: Pixie. OSE treats pixies and sprites as separate things, and while the latter has a bit of a hook to it, pixies are quite boring. The Monster Overhaul lumps them together, but does include some extra flavor we can tap. They are often invisible and have a mercurial, forgetful nature. I like the idea that these invisible troublemakers were accidentally captured when some larger, more important prisoner was detained. That could place them almost anywhere, but the bigger the monster, the more plausible there presence here. I believe they are kind of Tinkerbelling or Jiminycricketing the dragon. The dragon probably finds them annoying, but hasn’t dissolved them yet, because their polymorph ability might come in handy at some point.

#36: Elemental. Picking randomly, we get fire elemental. OSE emphasizes they are summoned servants. Of the prison builder perhaps? I need more detail, so checking the Monster Overhaul, we get some excellent flavor and tables. The “who summoned this elemental?” table suggests tortoise tsar, a Monster Overhaul original, who has some fire-based powers, so fire elemental fits. The tortoise tsar isn’t part of my original conceit of using the OSE bestiary, but I can merge him with the dragon turtle entry. We’ll plan to revisit this situation when we roll up dragon turtle / tortoise tsar and figure out what is going on here.

#15: Caecilia. It’s OK, I had to look it up too. It’s an amphibian that looks like a snake or worm, although OSE’s are 30’ long. To take stock here, all of our monsters so far fit into one of the following categories:

  • Prisoners or "zoo" animals
  • Invasive species or other intruders
  • Guardians or servants of the prison builders
  • Creations of other creatures in the dungeon

I want to avoid putting all the monstrous animals in the second category. The prison should still feel prison-like, and not be completely overrun by creatures from outside. I think we’ll say these are prisoners, like our sabre-toothed tiger. Like the big cat, they’re extinct in the outside world (probably for the best – 30’ long, yikes!) but they live on here in the prison. 

#11: Boar. As I said, there’s a lot of beasts in this bestiary. I’m going to tap the Monster Overhaul for inspiration again. It has a table for “local boar crimes,” which is too good to pass up. I rolled “ransacked a granary.” And I note that the Overhaul suggests boars are “as smart as most people.” I like the idea that the prison builders decided these 30-50 feral hogs were smart enough to stand trial for their crimes, just like people would. So they’re prisoners here, recently escaped from their cells, but still trapped within the larger prison. This could go in a sort of Silent Titans direction.




Next time: The World's Largest Rewrite: Floating Heads, Mother Fungus, Cellipedes

Tuesday, August 12, 2025

The World’s Largest Rewrite: Salvaging the Core Idea From a Megadungeon Disaster

I recently read an exhaustive review from 2013 by oriongates of the World’s Largest Dungeon (WLD for short, hereforth), a megadungeon released for D&D in 2004, at the height of the d20 OGL publishing era.

The product’s gimmick was that it was bigger (and more expensive) than any other dungeon of the time, and that it included every type of monster in the game. This is good advertising and bad design. Reading oriongates’ exhaustive review, it is clear that much of the size is wasted on repetitive, purposeless rooms, and that many of the monsters are shoehorned in to meet the product’s central conceit, rather than appearing because they present interesting challenges and opportunities to tell the story of the place and give the PCs compelling choices for exploration. Compare this to something like Arden Vul (more modern in publication date, more old-school in approach) where the size, shape, and populace of the dungeon is very deliberately communicating something, rather than trying to hit an external, artificial objective.

The WLD would be a mess in any system, but it is particularly ill-suited to D&D 3.5E, where monsters and magic have particularly detailed and complex abilities and mechanics. At least a B/X game could reduce this kind of enterprise to minimalist keys, in the style of Palace of the Vampire Queen. Anything in the D&D-3.5E world has to deal with huge stat blocks and include contingencies for super-powered characters.

Trying to fix this abomination is a fool’s errand. In their review, oriongates mentions trying to do so, but later giving up, and I think that’s the right call. If neither the map nor the lore nor the factions nor the NPCs are really anything to write home about, why would anyone think it was worthwhile to fix? 

I mean, these people somehow delude themselves into thinking it might, but ... But it might work for us.

Update (June 2025): I started writing this post (and subsequent posts about the WLD) in early 2025, and it was mostly done by the spring. It turned out to be a topical exercise, as I later learned that a crowdfunded overhaul of the the WLD is in the works, and as of writing this update, has clocked nearly $700,000. The Backerkit page is extensive, and features lavish production design and a mountain of extras. It also features a long list of contributors with extensive RPG credits. 

While the product certainly looks nice, I am suspicious of language like "Massive in Every Way That Matters." The marketing still sounds very "woooah, Guinness Book of World Records!!" rather than "here's how and why this would be a compelling roleplaying experience." Sheer page count and taxonomic exhaustiveness cannot make up for what really defines a great megadungeon: a specific, gameable concept for an intriguing adventure scenario underpinned by an evocative milieu. 

That said, perhaps the team behind this effort decided that such nuances of dungeon design were simply not right for what is basically get-hype marketing copy, and they will quietly fix the original WLD's many flaws behind the scenes. It will be interesting to monitor the reviews when this beast comes out and see how it does. End of Update.

So, if we were going to try to make our own WLD, we could make life easier by first starting with a smaller monster list. D&D’s bestiary in the 3.5E days was huge, and featured some really weird, niche monsters that could not logically be packed into a megadungeon. Go back to something more fundamental. Start with a classic and basic bestiary, like the OSE monster bestiary. There are 138 monsters here. That is pretty manageable. 

Here’s a list of all those monsters. Look at 'em go!

  1. Acolyte 
  2. Ape, White 
  3. Bandit
  4. Basilisk
  5. Bat
  6. Bear
  7. Beetle, Giant
  8. Berserker
  9. Black Pudding
  10. Blink Dog
  11. Boar
  12. Brigand
  13. Buccaneer
  14. Bugbear
  15. Caecilia
  16. Camel
  17. Carcass Crawler
  18. Cat, Great
  19. Cave Locust
  20. Centaur
  21. Centipede, Giant
  22. Chimera
  23. Cockatrice
  24. Crab, Giant
  25. Crocodile
  26. Cyclops
  27. Dervish
  28. Djinni (Lesser)
  29. Doppelgänger
  30. Dragon
  31. Dragon Turtle
  32. Driver Ant
  33. Dryad
  34. Dwarf (Monster)|Dwarf
  35. Efreeti (Lesser)
  36. Elemental
  37. Elephant
  38. Elf (Monster)|Elf
  39. Ferret, Giant
  40. Fish, Giant
  41. Gargoyle
  42. Gelatinous Cube
  43. Ghoul
  44. Giant
  45. Gnoll
  46. Gnome
  47. Goblin
  48. Golem
  49. Gorgon
  50. Grey Ooze
  51. Green Slime
  52. Griffon
  53. Halfling (Monster)|Halfling
  54. Harpy
  55. Hawk
  56. Hellhound
  57. Herd Animal
  58. Hippogriff
  59. Hobgoblin
  60. Horse
  61. Hydra
  62. Insect Swarm
  63. Invisible Stalker (Monster)|Invisible Stalker
  64. Killer Bee
  65. Kobold
  66. Leech, Giant
  67. Living Statue
  68. Lizard, Giant
  69. Lizard Man
  70. Lycanthrope
  71. Manticore
  72. Mastodon
  73. Medium
  74. Medusa
  75. Merchant
  76. Merman
  77. Minotaur
  78. Mule
  79. Mummy
  80. Neanderthal (Caveman)
  81. Nixie
  82. Noble
  83. Nomad
  84. Normal Human
  85. Ochre Jelly
  86. Octopus, Giant
  87. Ogre
  88. Orc
  89. Owl Bear
  90. Pegasus
  91. Pirate
  92. Pixie
  93. Pterosaur
  94. Purple Worm
  95. Rat
  96. Rhagodessa
  97. Rhinoceros
  98. Robber Fly
  99. Roc
  100. Rock Baboon
  101. Rust Monster
  102. Salamander
  103. Scorpion, Giant
  104. Sea Serpent (Lesser)
  105. Shadow
  106. Shark
  107. Shrew, Giant
  108. Shrieker
  109. Skeleton
  110. Snake
  111. Spectre
  112. Spider, Giant
  113. Sprite
  114. Squid, Giant
  115. Stegosaurus
  116. Stirge
  117. Thoul
  118. Titanothere
  119. Toad, Giant
  120. Trader
  121. Treant
  122. Triceratops
  123. Troglodyte
  124. Troll
  125. Tyrannosaurus Rex
  126. Unicorn
  127. Vampire
  128. Veteran
  129. Warp Beast
  130. Water Termite
  131. Weasel, Giant
  132. Whale
  133. Wight
  134. Wolf
  135. Wraith
  136. Wyvern
  137. Yellow Mould
  138. Zombie

I’m going to randomly pick from this list and put it together as I go. There’s no reason to do this randomly. Randomizing it just makes this exercise more interesting. I mean I certainly don’t want to do this in alphabetical order. No “A is for ape, white as the snow; B is for bandit, after your dough…” No, no, no, absolutely not. Random it is.


Pixel art depicting a big bee


#64: Killer bee. Let’s keep as much of the WLD conceit as possible and assume that this place is (or at some point in the past was) a prison. The OSE killer bees “build hives underground” (interesting) so something about this place attracted them when they were seeking a nesting site. We’ll decide what that was later. But we can definitely imagine a structure of beeswax and propolis that has repurposed and displaced parts of the original dungeon structure. This will give us a good opportunity to add some texture to the dungeon, right from the start; from oriongates’ review, it’s clear that too much of the WLD was plain gray stone.

#29: Doppelganger. The doppelgangers might be prisoners. Thracia has a good encounter with doppelgangers who have been imprisoned behind a sealed-up wall for centuries, which I suppose implied that doppelgangers are immortal and can't starve to death. Perhaps doppelgangers go into a hibernation state when no other sapient bipeds are nearby. Their cells have been covered in hive structure, but they may wake up if PCs or other people get close enough.  

#82: Noble. “Powerful humans with noble titles (e.g. Count, Duke, Knight, etc.)... Squire and retainers: Accompanied by a 2nd level fighter (a squire) and up to ten 1st level fighters (retainers).” OK, I like the idea that this guy and his followers are all prisoners together. Let’s suppose our noble is a Qin Shi Huang type who has done some pretty terrible stuff. The PCs can talk to him, and he will argue that his methods were necessary to unite a kingdom that will last long after his death. 

I like the idea that rather than this being a prison of unambiguously evil creatures like demons and liches, it is more like a real prison, with degrees of culpability, moral gray areas, and judgment calls on the part of the celestial jailers. The PCs will probably not find this noble to be particularly sympathetic… but they might! Or at least they may see him as someone worthy of a temporary alliance or truce. 

He’s here with a cadre of true believers who volunteered to go with him into captivity. Since I already established that the doppelgangers were not near other humanoids, I’m going to put this noble and his retinue on the other side of the bees. The noble and his retinue have been stealing honey to supplement whatever sustenance is otherwise available (we’ll decide later how creatures are getting enough food  to survive here). The killer bee hive provides a nice risk/reward opportunity for NPCs and players alike, since the honey can heal wounds… but the bees also, uh, kill, so it is a dangerous place as well.

#30: Dragon. We’re not messing around. Let's go right to the big guns. I agree with the WLD’s decision not to include every variety within a category of monster, so when we get these monster entries with multiple sub-types, we'll just choose one. I’ll pick randomly and get a black dragon. 

This particularly rapacious dragon has been using its acid breath to slowly burrow out of its cell. The prison was designed to resist this kind of escape attempt, but its structural integrity depended in part on maintenance and monitoring from the jailers, which has since lapsed. The dragon is patient, and it has linked up a number of cells around its primary domain. Like the bees, the dragon provides a reason for the dungeon’s structure to deviate from the sensible, dull, repetitive layout one would expect of a prison. The dragon limits the killer bees’ expansion in this direction, as its scales protect it from their stings, and its acid can easily destroy their hiveworks.

#138: Zombie. There is no real reason to imprison zombies. Another complaint from oriongates' review is that there are too many monsters – particularly the undead – that celestials would just destroy, not imprison. 

So we'll say the zombies were created by something else that is imprisoned here; something more dangerous. Some or perhaps all of them are former members of the noble’s nearby entourage who were killed and then zombified. We’ll figure out later who or what caused that to happen. For now, we'll place our zombies just to the east of the killer bees. They’re indifferent to the stinging insects, so they make a good buffer. 

#16: Camel. From dragons and zombies to… camels. Not all the entries are going to be easy. The camels are not prisoners, and they’re also unlikely to have migrated here intentionally, like the bees did. Let’s say they were brought here by some group of prisoners – possibly our noble and his retinue. We’ll put them adjacent to the dragon’s territory. The dragon has been herding them to supplement whatever food it is getting elsewhere. Humans find them to be irascible, but they freeze like deer in the headlights when the dragon approaches.

#40: Fish, Giant. One of the oddities of old-school D&D is the extensive “unusual animal” entries. I hadn’t realized the OSE bestiary included five different types of giant fish. We’ll pick randomly again for our sub-type, and land on giant catfish. One of the issues with the WLD is that several areas of the dungeon are transparently excuses to cram in monsters who need a custom biome, and the WLD’s “water level” is one of the most conspicuous. We’ll instead presume a number of separate watery areas, several of which may also be connections between different parts of the dungeon, as good megadungeon design necessitates. Water can also help explain the breakdown of separations between dungeon areas. 

We’ll say that this fish was once an ordinary catfish that was sucked into the dungeon as part of a flooding event, and later grew to its abnormal size as a result of the powerful mana suffusing the water within the dungeon. Because it is submerged except when hunting, it is safe from the killer bees, so we’ll put it next to them to form another buffer area. The noble and his entourage probably come here for water; they know to avoid the catfish.

#85: Ochre Jelly. A classic dungeon denizen that can be placed just about anywhere. Since the jelly is acid-themed, we’ll place it near the black dragon’s lair. Perhaps the jellies even originated with the dragon, gradually gaining mobility through latent dungeon magic?

#79: Mummy. We’ll put the mummy near the zombies, and posit that the mummy (whether intentionally or ambiently through its aura of uneath) is what roused them. Obviously this is another prisoner – perhaps the magic that allows it to respawn is particularly pernicious, and the celestials decided to imprison it after failing to find the canopic jar that powered its resurrection cycle. We’ll learn more about the mummy after we place a few more monsters nearby.

#74: Medusa. Gorgons are a favorite of mine. It would be easy enough to just assume this one is a prisoner, but I want to subvert expectations here. Perhaps they were contracted by the builders to help build the dungeon; after all, turning living matter into stone is a good way to supplement whatever stone you’re quarrying. This gorgon was either betrayed by the builders, or trapped here by accident. The gorgon is immortal and at least as willing to negotiate as the noble, if not more so. They can’t turn off their gaze, so they’re a dangerous ally even when attempting to work with diplomatic PCs.




Next time: The World's Largest Rewrite: Dungeon Is Wet, Tortoise Foreshadowing, and Feral Hogs on Trial


Review: Nightmare Over Ragged Hollow

Last year I ran Nightmare Over Ragged Hollow (also known in a different iteration as Ragged Hollow Nightmare). I will refer to it as NORH g...