On Adventure Design

Back in December of 2011, I did a review of a module penned by Matt Finch called Demonspore. In it I stated that is the best module produced by the OSR. In the most critical way, I still maintain this position: Demonspore remains one of the very few modules written in the last ten years I have actually used at the table and would do again in a heartbeat.

The reason is quite simple. Whereas there have been some amazing ideas out there that form the foundation of some great material (many of which blow Demonspore out of the water), very few adventures go out of their way to be as flexible as Finch’s Demonspore. In Matt’s own words:

The module is extremely flexible in terms of how to fit it into an ongoing campaign; there are four possible approaches to the Halls of the Toad-King, two of which are underground passages that can be linked to one of your own dungeons or might simply lead to the surface. There are also two river entrances, one of which is guarded, allowing a frontal assault or a negotiation type of adventure, and the other of which is more difficult to enter, but is not guarded. This second river entrance might be used if the adventure is to be more of an infiltration.

In other words, I could drop this module into my existing megadungeon without a hitch and had several sessions of great adventuring that ultimately led to the story behind why stirge meat is a delicacy in Headwaters in my Lost Colonies campaign.

At the time, I challenged other adventure designers to follow suit. Indeed, I hoped enough folks would produce similarly designed material that could be pieced together seamlessly as an ever growing community designed megadungeon that could be dropped into any campaign. Alas, Demonspore remains one of the more obscure adventures in Matt Finch’s library and no one (to my knowledge) heeded my call.

In thinking about how to do my own version of ToEE, it occurred to me that I had an opportunity to head my own advice. I will release the various pieces and parts of my version of ToEE as individual adventure modules under the moniker of Adventure Tools. Like Demonspore before them, they can be dropped into any campaign, stand on their own, be an add-on to a extant dungeon or collected together and run as the semi-megadungeon that I am in process of putting together. At some point, I’ll do an omnibus edition where all of them are stitched together as the module I originally had in mind, but I really want to highlight this idea of flexibility and usability in an adventure module.

Hopefully, someone besides me will see the value in this simple design concept.

Prepping a Sandbox Campaign: Part 8

Step 8: Villains

I have to be honest, I don’t normally do villains when I prepare any kind of campaign, especially a sandbox. The best villains are those that players love to hate and I am almost always surprised by what players end up hating. In my experience, it almost never is the person I want them to. Therefore, my job isn’t to provide them with my villain, but rather offer enough opportunities for the players to find out who they really want to have as their villain.

The first time I learned this lesson was a Champions campaign back when I was in high school. The initial sessions took place in a prison for supers where all the PCs were interred. They didn’t remember how they got there or why. Eventually, the prison was attacked by aliens, which offered the PCs an opportunity to escape. The big reveal was that the prison was actually in orbit and was just an initial phase of the alien invasion.

Thus, I had two big villains that I was planning to use: the guys who funded the prison and the leader of the aliens. Who did the players end up hating? Some throw-away fellow inmate who successfully fought off the PCs in order to get to a life boat, which the PCs were trying to hold onto for themselves. I realized that I had to make a major concession to the players by making this throw away NPC into a major villain when I heard my friends making plans on how they were going to track this guy down. Alien invasions and a group imprisoning supers in space had to wait. The campaign turned out to be a blast because they had a villain they chose.

Even if players do end up loving to hate one of the villains I want them to, they usually end up finding a way to legitimately get rid of them long before I want them to.

Having said that, I do have an idea brewing about the Old One that has too much goodness not to include in my Blackmarsh campaign thought experiment.

I was leafing through Matt Finch’s Tome of Adventure Design when I came upon an entry in his section for inspiring Undead monsters. One of the ways he suggests an intelligent undead creature became undead was by placing living body parts into a corpse to keep it “alive.” Couple this with the idea that said undead creature had a contagious form of undeath and my creative juices starting mulling over a way to have the Old One an active villain in the campaign.

The form of undeath the Old One concocted for himself involved a further refinement of the magic found in the Subterranean Lake of Watery Simulacrums. His goal was to create multiples of himself, all while sharing a kind of hive mind. He found a way to infect his own flesh so that if he injects a corpse with his blood (or any other part of his flesh) that corpse will animate as an extention of his awareness and mind.

These magics did not work entirely as planned, however. The more corpses the Old One occupies, the less powerful each possessed corpse is. At the moment, I am thinking that each additional corpse would approximately half his HD and spell casting abilities. Thus, if the Old One were understood to be a 14HD monster, for example, he could have two corpses in his hive mind at 7HD each or up to twenty-eight corpses at 1/2 HD.

This would make him a villain that not only would be really difficult to kill off, but one that could engage the party at several different power levels. To boot, he will probably know a lot more about the PCs than they ever expect him to. The thing that I find really attractive about this particular set-up, though, is that I have the option of making whoever it is that the players end up making their villain one of the corpses the Old One has added to his hive mind.

Prepping a Sandbox Campaign: Part 4

Step 4: Fill in Dungeon Details

It is now time to name each level of the centerpiece dungeon and place landmarks throughout. The goal here is to have each area of the dungeon have a specific function and feel that differentiates it from everything else.

The reason to do this is to not only make the dungeon itself better, but to start to knit together a background story that will serve the campaign.

By the way, do yourself a favor and check out Matt Finch’s Tome of Adventure Design. It is filled with random table goodness for coming up with dungeon level landmarks and names. It is one of the single best RPG purchases I have ever made.

Here is my version of Fedor’s Pass with level names and landmarks:

Dwimmermount, 3x5 Geomorphs, The Tome of Adventure Design & Boring Adventure Design

There has been a confluence of events and ideas lately that are all peripherally related and I wanted to chew on them all in hopes of putting them all together in a way that will give every one a means of meditating upon the megadungeon/dungeon adventure if not a tool with which to make one.

Let me first break my silence about the Dwimmermount project by Mr. Maliszewski. There has been a great deal of disappointment when it comes to this project, not the least of which is the dead lock the project is in due to personal circumstances. I have four things to say:

1. In my line of work, I deal with disease and death on a regular, if not daily, basis. It can be emotionally debilitating and (especially in a culture that does its best to avoid the issue at almost all cost) the grieving process is a long and difficult road. And I am not even talking about what happens to the people I council and help through this process. When it happens to one of your own (as it has with me on more than one occasion) it is devastating. As such I am more than willing to give James as much room as he needs to get through this time of his life. Speculating about if and when the project will be done is not helpful and may very well make the process of grieving that much more difficult.
2. I am a backer of the project. I took a capital risk in order to get a glimpse into a world and campaign that I have been following for years. Even if the rest of the project never sees the light of day, I have gotten my money’s worth with what has been released to backers. It is easily one of the most comprehensive and well crafted megadungeons ever to be shared with this community and I am very much looking forward to playing it one day. The material I have in hand is, frankly, exactly what I was expecting and what I paid for.
3. I consider Dwimmermount, even in its current state, to be a major success. As an experiment with OD&D as written with the basic assumption that it is not wrong, we have all had to seriously wrestle with the concept of the dungeon and the megadungeon. One meme that is making the rounds is that the first levels are “boring.” The most insightful of these meditations is by Roger of Roles, Rules & Rolls. 
4. Patience is a virtue everyone desperately needs to reacquaint themselves with.

Personally, I have only recently started to read all the material available to Dwimmermount backers, and in context of what is available I do not see the first level boring at all, but (again) I got what I was looking for. However, I do appreciate the conundrum, especially since my own attempts at a megadungeon in my Lost Colonies campaign met with mixed results.

To that end, let me call attention to a number of my older posts and bring them into the context of the long shadow of Dwimmermount:

• I did a review of Matt Finch’s Demonspore. I highly praised its modularity — it was specifically designed to be placed into an extant dungeon and not a complete dungeon in and of itself. This modularity made it possible for it to be utilized as part of my megadungeon and ended up being a highly entertaining episode in my long-running campaign. My challenge to adventure writers and publishers to duplicate this modularity has thus far fell on deaf ears.
• In my own forays into improving my craft as an adventure designer and maker of megadungeons, I came up with the idea of the 3x5 geomorph. As a concept, it duplicated the modularity found in Demonspore on a smaller scale. Each 3x5 card has more room and flexibility than a normal geomorph and each can contain its own function and backstory. The dungeon maps that I made for The Slave Pits of Abhoth used this method. I challenged folks to start working on 3x5 geomorphs, but that, too, has thus far fallen on deaf ears.
• I recently purchased another of Matt Finch’s publications, The Tome of Adventure Design. In it, with the use of dozens of tables and a lot of sound advice, Matt lays out a formalized way to utilize the very modularity that I found in his adventure Demonspore and I tried to create with my 3x5 geomorphs. You can roll on a series of tables to determine the characteristics and size of a particular section of a dungeon, including what it looks like, how many rooms, what size those rooms are and how they are arranged. There are also tables for coming up with various kinds of landmarks that differentiate this particular section of dungeon from every other part of a dungeon. In essence, the results of each of these series of die rolls is something that could theoretically fit on a 3x5 geomorph. String a bunch of these together in various patterns and one can come up with several fantastic-looking dungeons that have a suggested history and use because of all the various landmarks that dot each section of the map. Not only is it a gratifying way to build a dungeon, I believe that the end result is much better than some of the more traditional ways of putting together a dungeon.

This brings me to my current project, my re-imagined version of The Caves of Chaos from B2: The Keep on the Borderland. I used The Tome of Adventure Design heavily as I constructed my vision of the caves and the result was a series of small dungeon sections which I pieced together to come up with what I feel is and rather exciting 1st level adventure with the potential to become a megadungeon should anyone want to take it that far. No boring here.

A huge reason that I feel this way about the dungeon is the fact that simply looking at a section of the map, with a title taken from a landmark derived from a random table is truly evocative. I could run this adventure on the fly simply from looking at these maps. For example:

This map is just brimming with possibilities and could be used in all kinds of different contexts. Indeed, it is specifically designed to do exactly that.

Thus, I challenge everyone, instead of whinging about how your latest Kickstarter is behind schedule get out a pack of 3x5’s, draw some maps, label them with evocative landmarks and titles, put them out there for people to use and let us see the fruit of this re-examination of the megadungeon that Dwimmermount has so successfully and beautifully done. I pray this challenge does not fall on deaf ears.

Finally, I need to acknowledge that both James and Matt have made me a better player and a better dungeon designer. I’d like to take the time to thank them both.

DMG vs. The Tome of Adventure Design

Recently, I had the opportunity to purchase either the WotC re-release of the AD&D DMG or a hardcover edition of Matt Finch’s Tome of Adventure Design (I didn’t have the budget to do both). After thinking about it, I realized that the only reason that I wanted the DMG was to support WotC for actually bothering to re-release some of their older stuff and that I’ll have other opportunities this coming year to do so. In contrast, I wanted the Tome because I actually wanted to use it.

And use it I have. I have to admit that I let my work on The Chateau des Faussesflammes go fallow because I was stuck. Despite the fact that I had some really great ideas including dungeon features, NPCs, villains and even a couple of decent maps there wasn’t that one thing that strung everything together and answer that elusive question Why? A notebook, a pair of dice and a about a half an hour with the Tome helped me answer that question — which is why I have been furiously making maps this week.

Of course, one of the fruits born of this endeavor was my daughter’s dungeon. So inspired was she by seeing her dungeon get the computer treatment by dad that she wanted to do more. So, she and I sat down with the Tome, rolled some dice and began brainstorming. The results were actually pretty stunning:

The adventure itself is called The Ethereal Maze of the Feathered Priesthood. It refers to a training facility used by an avian race (possibly alien) to weed out unworthy acolytes from the aforementioned Feathered Priesthood. About a decade ago, the Villain got a hold of a map which was supposed to lead him to an artifact called the Head of Disunity. Interested in breaking apart the Kingdom so as to take advantage of the chaos to take over he set out on a quest to retrieve the evil artifact.

In process, he made a mistake and misread the map. As a result, he ended up at the Ethereal Maze. Therein is a glowing tree which produces a black, effervescent syrup-like liquid used by the acolytes in their exploration of the maze. When the Villain did not find the Head of Disunity, he threatened the occupants and in the end tried to cut down their tree. Unfortunately for all involved, this resulted in the liquid gushing forth and infecting entire areas of the Maze. In large enough quantities, it causes insanity.

The Villain, himself infected, ran away dropping his map as he fled. The inhabitants of the Maze all went insane and the facility has been abandoned. The tree continues to seep its black liquid in large quantities. Thus, the Maze offers up the possibility of all kinds of crazy monsters mutated by long exposure to the liquid, including the original occupants as well as the hazard of the liquid itself.

The hook involves the Villain, who has been recovering his sanity for the past decade and is finally active again. A Patron of the PCs has found out that he is after a map that lies somewhere within the Maze and has sent agents to go find it. The PCs are tasked with getting the map before it falls into the Villain’s hands.

All this was made possible because of a bunch of random tables and the creativity of a little girl with some help from her dad. This is a great adventure location with a built in race against time, an excuse for coming up with surprising monsters, a cool magical liquid that could have far-flung consequences and uses, an evil artifact that exists somewhere in the world (another higher-level adventure), a villain who wants to go get it and an implied political setting to boot.

In other words, Matt Finch’s Tome of Adventure Design has already paid for itself, as far as I am concerned. If you haven’t bothered to take a look or make use of it, I can’t recommend it enough (something, unfortunately, I've never been able to say about the DMG).

Review: Demonspore (and a Challenge for the OSR)

The short: Demonspore by Matt Finch is the best module produced by the OSR to date. Period. Full stop.

The long: Potential module designers of all stripes pay attention.

There are other modules that look better (see anything by Paizo which probably has the highest production values in the industry). There are other modules which are far more clever and weird (Matt Finch’s own The Spire of Iron and Crystal is better). There are other modules that have a better and more thought out back story (though the idea of growing your own god is awfully cool, I think the background for James Boney’s The Chasm of the Damned has a lot more potential and Michael Curtis has done a more thorough job with Stonehell).

The reason why I love this module so much can be summed up in Matt’s own words:

If the Referee has a different sort of sinister enemy in mind rather than toadstool-creatures, it is certainly not required to use Stone Cyst of the Shroom Priests as the sequel. Other than the fact the the insidious corruptors of the Toad-Men have some skills in alchemy, no facts about these deceivers are revealed by the material in this module.

Demonspore is actually two separate modules that are connected, but as can be seen above they need not be. Coupled with the fact that Matt has given us three different ways to connect the first part of Demonspore to any extant dungeon/ruin/whatever that happens to be in our own campaign world means that this module wasn’t designed to have a high production value, to be clever and weird or to have an incredible back story. Rather IT WAS DESIGNED TO BE USED.

To me, this is by far the most valuable asset of any module I purchase. While the other three are valuable (and, trust me Demonspore has them in spades) they are rendered meaningless if I can’t actually use the adventure. As a testament to how easy it is to use Demonspore, the very same afternoon that I had skimmed my copy I had seamlessly integrated the entire module into the tentpole megadungeon for my Lost Colonies campaign and it made my own megadungeon better. My players may be exploring Matt’s creation as soon as our next session.

Whether he knows it or not, Matt has stumbled upon the best way for our community to publish a megadungeon. Matt dispenses with any information about where this module is located, other than the fact it is part of a dungeon. He provides several ways that his module connects to the rest of this dungeon. The rest he trusts us with.

Now, imagine if we had available a dozen or so modules written by any number of designers who shared this same format. We, the end users, would then be free to piece them together however we wish in order to form our own unique megadungeon. How much of this megadungeon is our own homebrew and what is published is entirely up to us. The result, I believe, would not only give our generation of gamers the common cultural experience of gaming with broadly used modules, but also allow all of us to have that experience be truly unique to each campaign because of the freedom we would have to use them to construct our own unique megadungeon.

Therefore, I would like to throw down a gauntlet and challenge all of the would-be designers of the OSR to do just this: use the format of Demonspore and produce good quality modular adventures that I guarantee will get used because at least this gamer will gleefully attach them to an existing megadungeon.

An Attempt at a Finchian Monster

As far as I am concerned, one of the great monster designers in the OSR is Matt Finch (who is beginning a new monster book!). One thing that makes some of his best monsters so awesome is not the damage they do or how cool they look. Some don't even pose that great of a threat in and of themselves. What makes them so entertaining is that they change battlefield conditions — they force players to deal with a changing environment that affects the way they are able to fight and explore the dungeon/wilderness. Though I have promised myself to imitate this design technique, my output in this direction has been anemic. This is an attempt to change that.

Merovingian Hound

But you, O Lord, do not be far away! O my help, come quickly to my aid! Deliver my soul from the sword, my life from the power of the dog! — Psalm 22:19-20

Number Appearing: 1d6
% in Lair: 80%
Alignment: Chaotic
Armor Class: 5
Move: 12
Hit Dice: 1+1
Attacks: 1d6 + special
Special: see below
Save: F2
Morale: 12
Hoard Class: none
XP: 45

Easily mistaken for some kind of undead creature, Merovingian Hounds are actually a construct, using many of the same techniques used to make golems. They are used by necromancers, vampires and other dark powers as guardians.

Upon a successful attack, a Merovingian Hound will lock its jaws upon its victim and begin emanating a piercing noise somewhere between a whine and a growl. This is will result in an immediate wandering monsters check, with a 50% chance of success. Until the noise is stopped, the party will be subject to this wandering monster check every turn. This noise will continue until the hound lets go of its victim, even in death.

The hound will only let go if its victim is killed, even if the hound itself is reduced to 0hp. These victims will take no further damage, but will have their movement rate cut in half. If anyone attempts to cut the victim free, the victim will take 1d6 damage and must make a save vs. death. If successful, the victim is free of the jaw. If not, the procedure must be done again, doing another 1d6 damage. The only way to force a Merovingian Hound to let go of one of its victims is to pour a vial of holy water on it.

Being a type of golem, Merovingian Hounds are immune to sleep, charm and hold spells as well as fire and cold attacks. Electric attacks will heal them. Further, they may only be hit by silver and magic weapons.

Lost Colonies Session 10

This session saw the party return to the site of their battle with the masked necromancer to find that the tower was now throbbing like a heart beat and that each beat revealed red, glowing runes that seemed to emanate from inside the rock itself. They followed these runes deep into the bowels of the tower where they found a machine powered by a river of blood and a water wheel made of some strange kind of black stone. Assuming that this machine was evil in intent and origin, they set about trying to sabotage it by jamming the golden mask of the necromancer into the gears of the machine, bringing it to a grinding halt and beginning a desperate battle as those who were using the machine began to investigate why it had stopped working.

It is at this point that I have to give a bunch of kudos to Matt Finch. I populated this dungeon with several of his creations from Monsters of Myth and the results have been spectacular. One design cue that I plan to steal whole-heartedly is giving seemingly innocuous creatures powers that change the way the battle field functions, and then adding a layer of strategy to the dungeon denizens who are able to take advantage of these changes.

For example, one of my new all-time favorite vermin looks for all intents and purposes to be a giant cockroach; however, it is really a denizen of the elemental plane of earth and has a defensive ability to turn rock to mud in a 50' radius. Here's the kicker: when the thing dies, all that mud immediately turns back to stone. Thus, the creatures can be abused by dungeon dwellers to set a battlefield trap for unwary adventurers — when the characters find themselves bogged down in mud, kill the bugs with some well-aimed missile fire and the characters are suddenly immobilized and target practice can ensue.

This scenario is what happened in the middle of the running battle after the sabotage, with the dwarf being the sole party member not stuck in the floor desperately trying to defend his comrades from goblins attacking from several flanks. Beautiful stuff — when the party pulled themselves out of the fire with some well timed spells and those trusty old iron spikes, they knew they earned victory. Or should I say survival? We had a very entertaining evening because Mr. Finch inspired me with an ingenious monster design.

The party did manage to capture a goblin and garner some information from him. He claimed that the machine opened a gate that would allow his people to wipe clean the surface world. When pressed, he bragged that machines like it dotted the landscape. All the characters were also haunted by a dream of a strange altar consisting of what could only be described as flailing tentacles barely conceivable by the human mind. The altar was situated on the top of a tower, surrounded by a blue fog. Far below, the outline of an alien city could barely be seen. In the dream, Arkmed the Dwarf and Dn. Goram were entranced an inhuman melody. When they awoke, they were compelled to do everything in their power to destroy the gate.

Our session ended with preparations to re-enter the bowels of the tower to do just that.