Loot Sucks

I'm a fan of ARPG's (You know, like diablo). There's something about finding a cool item that makes you go "oh, I know what to do with this" that never gets old.

It's fascinating really, Diablo and it's ilk were born from DnD, but it isn't clear how. Loot in DnD actually kind of sucks when you think about it.

Why TTRPG Loot Sucks

Imagine you bust open the ancient tomb of the Zarath the Lawbinder, the highest paladin of this or any age, and find his enchanted mace that brought a thousand-thousand demons a true death. It's a +3 mace.

It's boring. It's so obviously boring. It's so deeply boring it spits in the face of finding a cool ancient item. 

And the issue is that all items are boring! Items tend to fit into the categories of "does something objectively better" or "emulates a magic spell". +3 mace? Does a mace, but better. Horn of blasting? Glorified fireball. Very few items do things that are interesting, such as a dagger of returning.

So Define Interesting

There are two forms of interest: opening up a new playstyle, or refining a playstyle. Let's go into them one by one:

• If an item has a unique effect that creates a new playstyle based around it, then you've allowed a PC with that item to have a unique playstyle that is inherently interesting by virtue of being new. A dagger of returning allows someone to play a real throwing weapon based character, something that is somewhere between difficult and impossible in most other games. But why stop there? Why not have a sword that doesn't consume poisons applied to it when it hits opponents, or a set of armor that allows magic missiles to reflect off of you?
• If an item refines a playstyle, that helps a player focus in on the parts of their character they think are fun. Refining a playstyle isn't just a generic buff, it's buffing certain parts in fun ways. A +1 dagger of returning isn't meaningfully more interesting than a dagger of returning, it's just better. But a pair of gloves that improves throwing damage when attacking from shadows is deeply interesting. How do you get use from that effect? Now your throwing playstyle is even more interesting.

So How Does Diablo Relate?

Diablo-likes are defined based on having interesting loot. A Diablo-like with bad loot isn't interesting, as you need the loot grind to make playing for more than a few hours worth it. Getting upgrades, getting items that make you think, that's what Diablo-likes are focused on.

You see both styles of interesting item in Diablo-likes. A unique effect item might be a unique item that changes how one of your core abilities works, or any item with a stat that you can't use without a build designed around it. Refining items are also common, such as with uniques that provide powerful bonuses when used with a certain playstyle.

Of course, Diablo-likes also have lots of items with raw damage bonuses, but this is partially to make getting new items interesting long term. A 10% damage improvement feels good when you're chasing big numbers, but we don't need that in TTRPGs. We just want interesting items. 

Side Note on Baldur's Gate 3

I've been playing through Baldur's Gate 3 for the first time. That game fundamentally understands interesting loot, and at no point have I found an item and went "yawn". Every new thing I find makes me rethink what is viable, what is possible. This ability might suck, but these two items make it disgustingly strong.

How To Make TTRPG Loot Interesting

This is going to be a bit theoretical for now, but let me toss some ideas out there:

• Remove generic +X items. They're boring. Replace them with ones that are situational. A +1 if you do Y.
• Add items with unique mechanics. Like actually unique. Don't think about if the players can use them, that's their job.
• More loot. Replace the game's primary progression loop from levels and XP to loot. Loot can't be an occasional reward, it has to be constant, many items per session.
• If we want to go full Diablo: a system to create loot from random tables. Actual items, with mechanics randomly determined. They might be useless, that's half the fun. 

I do wonder what a game where loot is your primary progression looks like. I understand that games like Cairn and Knave do that, but not really. I want a game where players buildcraft with their items (anathema as you might think it), finding interesting synergies and fun play patterns.

 

A Card Based System

I'm back on my bullshit (I always am) and I've been pondering the idea of using a deck of playing cards instead of dice. Yes, I'll admit, I'm inspired by His Majesty the Worm, but I'm not just copy-pasting the idea.

For one, I think I prefer a standard deck of 52 playing cards to the tarot. Don't get me wrong, tarot are aesthetically pleasing, but I think a standard deck accomplishes much of the same goals while being more attainable for the average person, which is good because I've been pondering a game where everyone uses their own deck.

The Basics

Each player and the GM needs a standard deck of 52 playing cards plus a joker. At the start of the game, each player draws a hand of 4 cards. They must play cards from their hand to perform actions, the effectiveness of the action depending on the value, suit, or royalty of the card (as determined by the GM). Cards are played into a discard pile.

• Value is the listed number of the card, where aces are 1, jacks are 11, queens are 12, kings are 13, and jokers are 0.
• Suit is the suit of the card.
• Jacks, queens, and kings are royals. 

Sometimes cards must be played to beat a check. The check is succeeded if the value of the card played is equal to or greater than the value of a check, with a bonus reward for hitting the value of the check exactly. A player might choose to play an additional card to add or subtract the value of that card to their total. A player might also choose to push their luck. To do this, they flip over the top card of their deck and add or subtract it from their total. If this new value fails the check, they receive an extra negative effect. Most checks have a value of 10. In addition, a GM might call for a check of a suit (such as a spades check to bust down a door) or a check of royalty.

Note on math: any given card has a 30% chance of being 10 or greater, giving you a 42% chance to have a 10+ card in your first hand. However, this value changes over time, and an important part of the game is knowing rough probabilities based on what cards are in your discard pile.

When all players have run out of cards, or have decided to stop playing cards, they discard their hand and draw 4 more cards and Time Passes. Time passing is relative to the situation, but you can think of it as a round in combat or a dungeon turn.

When someone plays a joker they discard their hand, shuffled their discard pile into their deck, and draw a new set of 4 cards. Whatever they were attempting to do fails automatically, and has an extra negative effect. Jokers are bad. A deck is also shuffled if a player attempts to draw from an empty deck, though they don't draw any cards from the newly shuffled deck. They get what they get.

During standard play, the GM does not draw or play cards, but may flip the top of their card to determine things as they see fit.

Each player plays a character, which is represented by four stats: spades, clubs, hearts, and diamonds.

• Spades represents strength. Spades centered actions are often blunt, a measure of brute force and martial might.
• Clubs represents dexterity. Clubs centered actions are deft and quick, focusing on indirect means.
• Hearts represents faith. Hearts centered actions are about supporting oneself and their allies through devotion.
  
• Diamonds represents lore. Diamonds centered actions focus on knowledge and the proper application of such.

Each character specializes in one of these four stats, and can add or subtract 1 to any check made with a card of that suit.

Combat

When combat starts, each player discards their hand and draws a new 4 card hand. One of these cards is played as their initiative (they may play cards modifying this if they see fit). Starting at a value of 0, the GM will count up initiative. When a player's initiative is reached, they take a turn. On their turn, they may move once for free (additional moves cost a card, but require no check usually), and can take one major action.

A major action takes time and commitment, such as swinging a weapon. All other actions are minor actions, and can be taken at any time AFTER a creature has just made a major action. Opening a door, taking a defensive stance, or drinking a potion are all minor actions. These still consume cards, just not a turn.

Combat takes place in zones, roughly 30 foot circular areas divided by distance or natural features, such as walls or a river. Within a zone, movement is 100% free, though movement between zones is not.

When a creature is attacked, they become engaged with the creature that attacked them, and cannot move away from that creature without playing a card (with no check) to disengage.

Attacking involves making a check against that creatures initiative. Attacks do more damage the lower the final value is, assuming they beat the initiative. Some actions can negatively modify your opponents initiative, making it easier to hit them, and thus easier to land large damage. Like all checks, hitting the value exactly is an extra bonus, in this case a critical hit.

Unlike usual, the GM also draws a hand of cards, at least 4, though they draw an extra card for each point of peril the bad guys possess, up to 10.

Note: Peril is a system I've been pondering for years now. It's a replacement for the concept of hit die or challenge rating. Roughly, a mook, like a goblin, has a peril of 0. A more powerful creature, like an orc, has a peril of 1. A peril of 6 is the maximum, and is reserved for things like dragons.

As per usual, once all players (and the GM) are out of cards, they draw new hands and Time Passes. At the start of the round, each creature may play a card to modify its initiative if they so wish, but this does not replace their initiative, only modify it.

Example of Play

Ysgor the warrior is attempting to flee down a decrepit dungeon hallway as a horde of skeletons chase after him. He won't be able to beat them, so he has to slow them down, or speed himself up. He has a hand of 4 cards, the king of spades, a 9 of diamonds, a 4 of hearts, and the joker. To escape the skeleton horde, he needs four successes.

The GM narrates Ysgor coming to a massive chasm. Ysgor states his intention to leap accross, and the GM declares this is a check of 10 or spades. As Ysgor can do both with his king of spades, the GM grants him a boon, two successes on escaping the skeletons.

Next Ysgor encounters an overgrown tunnel full of lashing vines. Ysgor ponders a moment before throwing caution to the wind and charging through. The GM rules this is a check of 10, which Ysgor can only beat by playing his 9 of diamonds and his 4 of hearts for a total of 13. A third success on escaping the skeletons.

Ysgor next encounters an immense iron door, too large to open without a feat of super-heroic strength. Sadly, all Ysgor has is the joker, so his attempt to open the door is both a failure and attracts unwanted attention. As Ysgor shuffles his deck, the GM narrates a ghoul crawling out of the darkness towards him. Combat begins.

A ghoul is peril 1, so the GM draws 5 cards as Ysgor draws 4, each play a card for initiative, a 3 for the ghoul and an 8 for Ysgor. The ghoul acts first, rushing towards Ysgor and playing a 9, subtract 1, for an 8, a critical hit. Ysgor takes nearly half of his health in damage. The ghoul then uses a 6 to defend itself, changing its initiative to 6.

On Ysgor's turn, he swings his mighty battle axe, playing a lucky 6 to crit the ghoul back for excellent damage, then as a minor action discards the 2 of diamonds to blow his horn of thunder, finishing the ghoul off in a mighty blast.

With the ghould defeated, Ysgor discards his last card and draws a new set of cards. He is now wounded, and the skeleton horde is dangerously close, but he can almost taste the freedom in the air. The GM rules that opening the door is a mighty check of 15, and Ysgor's new hand is miserable at best, only getting him to a total of 11 when added together. Ysgor pushes his luck, flipping over the 4 of hearts, just barely managing to force the door open and get his final success to flee from the skeletons.

Conclusion

It's not a game, more of a proof of concept, but I think it's neat! And I can't get it out of my head. I've been thinking about how different concepts translate to a card game:

• A fighter might focus on changing the values of cards to land critical hits easier.
• A thief might focus on getting to draw extra cards for free.
• A mage might focus on suits rather than values, needing cards of different suits to cast different spells.
• Magic items grant abilities that require the use of certain cards, such as Ysgor's horn of thunder requiring a diamonds card.
• A GM could create an encounter table using both the suit and value of a card to easily determine what pops out to scare the players.

And the best part is you can play around the randomness. Perhaps it's just me, but I love the concept of players pushing their luck when their decks are full of good cards and the GMs deck is bereft of them, and playing more cautious when the jokers are near and all is bad.

 

I think that's interesting. Maybe that's just me.

Mass Combat

 This is a system designed for large scale combat, specifically between smaller sized armies. This won't emulate thousands on thousands, but would emulate a few hundred to a thousand odd soldiers on each side (think the Black Company). This system likely becomes extremely unwieldy after 10+ units on each side.

Units

Units come in 5 types: Infantry, Ranged, Cavalry, Siege, and Heroes. These are loose terms, treants are infantry just as axmen are.

Each unit is defined by its name, its health, its damage, and any special abilities. For example:

• The Fourth Vanguard of Poles (Infantry): 8 hp, 1d6, +2 vs Cavalry
• Goblin Rust-Arrows (Ranged): 4 hp, 1d4
• The Grain Knights (Cavalry): 12 hp, 1d8, Unbreakable
• Seedmark's Onagers (Siege): 4 hp, 1d6
• Malicrag, the White Dragon (Melee Hero): 12 hp, 1d8, Can attack anything, Flees at 4 hp.

How units are acquired is up to the GM. 

Combat

Before battle starts, the commander of each force decides their intended actions for each form of unit according to the following rules:

• Siege units attack anything before battle, but cannot fight during battle.
• Infantry must attack other infantry, unless there are no opposing infantry in which case they can attack anything. Infantry can also defend a target, taking attacks instead of it (regardless of which side goes first).
• Ranged may attack infantry, ranged, or applicable heroes.
• Cavalry may attack anything.
• Heroes may attack anything applicable to their type.

Afterwards, combat is started in the phases of Siege (First Round Only) > Ranged > Infantry >  Cavalry.

During each phase, each commander rolls plus their charisma (or attempts a Charisma check, or whatever fits for the game) to determine which force acts first. Units that are attacked are stuck in combat, and cannot perform their intended actions, instead attacking one of the units they are engaged with. IE: if you send your infantry to attack a certain unit, but they are attacked first by a different unit of infantry, they are stuck fighting the second infantry. Attacks always hit.

After initial engagements, units alternate attacking a unit they are engaged with, and ranged units firing at valid targets, unless a unit is engaged with them, in which case they fight in melee (ranged units fight in melee with a d4). If infantry or cavalry becomes free of engagements, they may engage a new enemy, abiding by their regular rules.

When the tide of battle shifts dramatically against a side, all of its units must make a morale check (2d6 attempting to beat their health). Units that fail are removed from combat. Unbreakable units never flee.

Post Combat

Afterwards, damaged units may regain 1d4 hp, up to their max at the start of combat. All other damage taken is permanent. Units with 0 hp are fully lost, though units that fled due to failed morale are allowed to return to the army and heal.

Example!

The Shields of Wrenn (Led by Galian, Savior of Wrenn) are a mercenary company charged with protecting a town from an aspiring necromancer and his horde of undead minions. The Shields have access to the following units:

• Wrennish Militia (Infantry): 4 hp, 1d4
• Long Mountain Dwarves (Infantry): 8 hp, 1d6, Unbreakable 
• The Rangers of Elding Lodge (Ranged): 6 hp, 1d8, Fights in melee with a d6.
• Galian, Savior of Wrenn (Infantry Hero): 19 hp, d8, 3rd level fighter

The Necromancer has access to the following units:

• Zombies (Infantry): 8 hp, 1d4, Unbreakable, Is defeated when their necromancer dies
• Skeletal Knights (Cavalry): 8 hp, 1d6, Unbreakable, Is defeated when their necromancer dies
• The Necromancer (Siege Hero): 4, 1d8

The Shields decide that their best course of action is to take out the necromancer, which means defeating his undead first, thus splanning to send both units of infantry to attack it, as well as their archer, and Galian.

On the opening round, the necromancer goes first (as he's a siege), and strikes the Rangers of Elding Lodge for 2 damage, dropping them to 4 hp.

Moving to ranged attacks, the rangers go, pelting the zombies for 2 damage and dropping them to 6 hp.

To infantry, the necromancer beats Galian in a charisma test, and the zombies charge into the Wrennish Militia, attempting to destroy them before they can attack. They hit for 3, and the GM rules this is scary enough to cause the militia to flee. The dwarves and Galian then engage the undead, easily defeating them.

Finally the skeletal cavalry attack the rangers, engaging them with 5 points of damage, easily defeating them. Were Galian not played by a foolahrdy player, and the Dwarves of the Lone Mountain not unbreakable, this would likely the end of their battle.

Luckily, it isn't, and on the second round of combat the dwarves and Galian assault the necromancer and easily deal over 4 damage, ending the battle.

Afterwards, the milita are patched up for their missing 3 hp, their wounds more psychological than physical. Sadly, the Rangers of the Elding Lodge have met their last hunt, and are given a proper burial as a respect for their service.

Making Cairn Combat Better

The Rules

On each character's turn, they get two actions, but only one of which can be used to attack or take a similar action (push, disarm, trip, etc.). A PC can forgo their second action to guarantee they go before their opponents (ignoring the DEX save).

Combat takes place in zones. Zones are approximately 40' areas. Moving between zones is an action, but moving within a zone is free and can be done at any point. A blast hits all creatures in a zone (or a number of creatures equal to the damage roll). You can use melee weapons to hit anything in your current zone. Ranged weapons can hit up to one zone away.

When a creature is hit in melee combat, it becomes in engaged with the creature that hit it. While engaged ranged weapons cannot be used, and if an engaged creature attempts to flee, all enemies engaged with it can attack it for free. A creature can disengage as an action to escape an engagement.

As an action, a PC can take a defensive action (block, dodge, or parry). If they take a defensive action and are attacked, they gain fatigue (but gain no fatigue if they are not attacked).

• Block - Attacks against you are impaired. You need a shield to do this.
• Dodge - When attacked, roll a d8, subtract your armor, then reduce your damage taken by the result. If the damage s reduced to 0, you are disengaged for free.
• Parry - When attacked, roll your weapon's damage and if it's greater than your opponent's damage, deal damage equal to your roll to their STR. If its lesser, take their damage directly to your STR. Neither of these hits trigger a critical damage save. If equal, nothing happens.

Everything else is Cairn as written.

The Explanation

I'm trying something out here, giving you the rules first and the reason for the rules second.

Anyways: Cairn's combat isn't the best. That's not a complaint, it's not trying to be good. I however, prefer my combat to be a bit more tactical. This is the goal of Block, Dodge, Parry, but I have some issues with BDP's implementation.

Quick and full turns are better represented by two actions (in my opinion) and I prefer zones to vague range bands, though that one is entirely personal taste, and I think engagements are necessary to allow the fighters to actually protect their squishier comrades in the back line, but what about the eponymous block, dodge, and parry.

Blocking and dodging in BDP work the same, they grant two weapon speeds (balanced and either fast or slow) impaired. Frankly, this has always felt really weird to me. For one its a punishment for using the middle tier of weapons, with none of the narrative bonuses of a fast weapon (ie: easy to hide) but none of the mechanical benefits of a big two hander. Yes you get a shield, but you can do the same with a dagger.

BDP attempts to fix this with the weapon clash system. I think it's a good system, though I wonder how useable it is at the table, but I applaud the implementation. A balanced weapon is equally likely to be the first to hit as it is to be the last to hit. That's useful, being average is often good.

But it doens't change that blocking and dodging are binary choices in BDP. Either blocking does the thing, or it doesn't. That's dull.

In my attempts at changing it, I wanted blocking, dodging, and parrying to hit different niches. Dodging is better than blocking, but only if you are unarmored, and blocking requires a shield (or a weapon capable of blocking). Parrying prefers big weapons (or a parrying dagger) but comes with high risk and reward. And that's ignoring passive defense in armor. Is it better? I don't know! It's not tested! Most of what I make isn't!

I've still been trying to implement the face down defensive card mind games of His Majesty the Worm into a game with dice. I'm not sure it's entirely possible, but the mind games of playing a horrible roll as a riposte and then acting like you played a good card is just so tempting. I need to find a way to implement this into a game that doesn't use tarot.

Haustoriamancy (For Cairn)

 Magic (the stuff you're thinking of) is a long dead art, practiced only through ancient scrolls and dying magitech. In this age we have haustoriamancy, or if you are of a less educated sort, enchanting.

Enchanters do not make magic items, no +1 swords or rings of protection. No, they bring magical to the mundane to let the mundane perform the impossible. Only in the hands of an enchanter is a torch a bomb, or a rope a binding coil, or a wolf's pelt a snarling beast.

Haustoriamancy is intended to be the primary form of magic in a setting, with more traditional Cairn magic existing, but not intended as a primary source of a character's abilities.

Becoming an Enchanter

Enchanting is a specialized semi-magical technique present in some members of society. For purposes of PC's, it is assumed any PC has the ability to become an enchanter, but lack the training unless granted to them by a background. Training takes 100 silver (silver standard) and several months of dedicated practice.

In addition, a haustoriamancer requires a ley-enchanted item, items with natural magic present inside of them. These items are either ancient relics (made entirely of non-conductive material) or items of deep sentimental value (again, made of non-conductive material). Regardless of what a ley-enchanted item is made of, it acts as a simple weapon (1d6 damage), unless it's a weapon that would do more naturally.

Enchanting

To enchant, a haustoriamancer uses their ley-item to infuse magical energy into an item, with the following restrictions:

1. Items must be non-conductive. Magic does not like metal.
2. Items must be a single item. You can enchant a bag filled with dust, but not the dust within the bag.
3. Items must be solid. Water is not an object, but ice is.

To enchant an item, a huastoriamancer gains 1 fatigue and expends an action (if in combat), and then afterwards can command the item to do something that fits for that item. For example:

• A candle explodes into a large puddle of slippery wax.
• A rope attempts to bind someone like a serpent of its own will.
• A quill writes a message on a paper when a certain trigger is met.
• A torch shatters into a storm of sharp splinters.
• A bag of dust explodes into an obscuring cloud.
• An arrow flies an impossible path.

After performing its duties, an enchanted item crumbles to dust if not destroyed by its action. The effects of these commands are up to interpretation. Creative use of items carries the day.

Enchanting Other Things

Additional training can unlock other possible items for a haustoriamancer to use. Just as learning enchanting, these cost 100 silver (silver standard) and several months of training. In addition, most of them are considered illegal in civilized lands, and will be stated as such.

Familiars and Blood Enchanting

One can create a loyal and intelligent familiar by spreading their blood onto an enchanted doll or other small construct. These familiars can communicate and follow tasks.

One can create more familiars, or larger and more dangerous familiars, but this is considered illegal, as a familiar will attempt to kill its master if it gets the chance. Small, singular familiars simply lack the necessary ability to do so.

Ley-Combat

One can learn to master the power of their ley-enchanted item. Ley-combatants can turn their item into any form of weapon.

Fire

One can learn to enchant flames, allowing them to guide the flame (not command) and increase its size and temperature. As fires are, of course, alive, they have minds of their own and will obey less and less the larger they get. Pyromancy is illegal. 

Wind

Like fire, wind is a obviously alive. Unlike other forms of haustoriamancy, to learn to control the wind you must first bargain with it by climbing onto the highest peak in the region and offering something of great value to the wind (the giants bargained their voices). Once you and the wind reach accord, you cam now bind to breezes and command the wind.

Bones

One can animate the bones of the dead (a complete skeleton is a single object, after all) into unthinking, but utterly devoted thralls. Only capable of simple tasks, such as hauling goods or pointing a spear at something and as effective at those tasks as any animated skeleton would reasonably be. Ossomancy is not necromancy, as you are only animating the bones, not returning them to unlife. Ossomancy is also illegal, but only on moral grounds.

Biomancy

One can manipulate their own blood, organs, and flesh through enchanting like they would any other object. Such options include:

• Using your intestines like a whip or rope
• Turning your nails into claws to use as natural weapons or to climb a tree
• Altering your face and body to be uncrecognizable.

Biomancy takes extreme toll on the body, causing 1d6 points of strength damage after an enchantment is finished. Legends tell of powerful biomancers being able to manipulate the biologoy of other beings, most notably to create the ketch, also known as the worst predator to ever exist. Biomancy is illegal.

Dreams

There is no magic in dreams.

Finding training in oneiromancy is difficult. There are few practitioner, and those who are hunted relentlessly. Oneriomancers can infuse magic into their thoughts to create phantasms of their ideas. These phantasms are real, but only temporarily. These dreams act real, though are obviously made out of thin magenta light, rather than flesh. Dreaming things into existence is extremely taxing mentally, causing 1d6 points of willpower damage. Oneiromancy is extremely illegal.

Simple Freeform Combat: Keywords

I dislike most OSR game combat. This is my attempt to fix that with a simple system that rewards player creativity.

The Basics.

On your turn, you can attack and then do something else, such as move, use an item, or spend a keyword.

Weapons (and other items) have keywords attached to them. These keywords can be used to do cool things based on the word, but after a keyword has been used, it is spent until the party rests in a safe place or a whetstone is used on it.

Example.

Torr, in his conquests of the north, has come face to face with an armored knight as his opponent. Torr is currently using a Longaxe, which has the keywords cleave, sweep, and hack.

On his first turn, Torr attacks and then spends the hack keyword to hack into his opponent, making a second attack.

On his second turn, Torr attacks and then spends the sweep keyword to sweep his axe under his opponent's feet and attempt to trip him.

On his third turn, Torr attacks and spends the cleave keyword to cleave his opponent's shield in half.

On his fourth turn, Torr attacks and kills his opponent.

Ok So How Does it Actually Work?

When you spend a keyword, you can perform an action that would be reasonably described by that word. Attempting to cleave a man in half and attempting to cleave two men with one attack are both reasonable interpretations of the cleave keyword.

This system is inherently a bit cursed by "Mother May I?" syndrome. This is, ultimately, a curse shared by most systems trying to create interesting combat that's simple. You can't provide a pile of rules to make content fun, or it stops being simple, so it becomes the GM's problem. 

I believe there is a simple way to help make this system better: keywords all have an example of a reasonable action. These examples are not the only actions available, but a simple option for new players and GM's to take. For example:

Cleave: Deal damage to a second enemy in weapon range.

Sweep: Enemy saves or is knocked prone.

Hack: Make an additional attack.

Keywords are based on the weapon, with better weapons having access to more keywords. Any given keyword should be equivalent in power to any other keyword, so a weapon with 3 keywords should just be better than one with a single keyword. This makes weapons feel different and does so in a way that is obvious and simple to understand.

Taking It Further

You might be thinking "can we go further?"

Yes. Yes we can.

A mage might have a staff with the keywords fire, smoke, and eruption. These are the mage's spells, and what they do with them is up to them. Now mages and fighters play by the same rules, and quadratic wizard linear fighter isn't an issue.

Maybe a priest gets a gift from their god and gains a keyword rebuke. What does that do? No clue, let them decide. The fighter gets cursed by an obelisk and has horns, gains the keyword horns. Perhaps she can gore someone, or charge with her horns!

The enemies can have keywords! A wolf could have keywords howl and rip, with examples of abilities those could represent for the GM that doesn't want to balance abilities on the fly!

This isn't a fully fledged system, it's an idea that could be made into a fully fledged system. I hope it's somewhere between interesting and inspiring.

A Rough Idea for Psionics in OSR Games

The Great Big Lie

Psionics are a lie.

Well, they exist, as far as everyone can tell, but they shouldn't. A psion can't really teleport, they're just very good at lying to the universe about where they are. Psionics are a collective fever dream, a lie just believable enough that we can all go along with it. Sure, a psion can teleport, but only because they can convince us they can.

This is why psionics are magenta. Psions are liars, just like the false color that paints their actions.

Are You Psychic?

When you create your character, for each of INT, WIS, and CHA you have above 15, you have a 10% chance to be psychic (up to a 30% chance). This is rolled once, at the end of character creation, and it is a "yes or no" thing. You are psychic, or you aren't.

If you are psychic, you know the Mind Blast power, and its associated passive trait to understand psychic songspeak, and have 2 PP plus 1 PP for each of INT, WIs, and CHA you have above 15 (minimum 3 PP). You gain 1 additional PP for each psionic power you learn. You regain PP when you sleep, same as spell slots.

Anyone can be psychic. Even a barbarian. Imagine how horrifying that'd be.

Using Psionic Powers

A psionic power consists of an activated effect that spends PP to active, as well as a passive effect that is always active. Using a psionic power takes your turn (or action, or whatever) and is treated as a magical action if necessary (but isn't effected by anti-magic). Consume the amount of PP listed by the power to perform its effect. Once you run out of PP, the universe is done with your bullshit and refuses to let you lie to it anymore.

Learning Psionic Powers

Whenever you witness another creature use a psionic power, you have a 1-in-6 chance to learn it. This effect is cumulative, so the second time you see it you have a 2-in-6, and so on.

Once you learn a psionic power, you must meditate to unlock it by expending 1,000 xp (or system equivalent). Once you do, you gain 1 PP, the power's passive effect, and can use its active effect.

Psionic Powers

Art of Mind Blast

Passive: You know songspeaking, the psychic language shared by all psionic beings. It is an incomprehensible song to all other beings.

Active: Spend a PP to attempt to destroy a creature's mind. Creature saves vs. spells (or intelligence or whatever) or takes 1d6 damage per psychic's level. Only works on intelligent beings. Beings of animal intelligence take half damage.

Art of Longspeaking

Passive: You can communicate telepathically with creatures within 10 feet of you. This speech is two-way, but requires a shared language.

Active: Spend a PP to form a long distance telepathic bond between you and a creature. You can communicate telepathically up to 200 feet away. This speech is two-way, but requires a shared language.

Art of Jaunting

Passive: Your feet lie about their position at all times. You can stand on top of liquids, or thin air, or anything really, but if you attempt to take a step you will sink.

Active: Spend a PP to disappear and reappear in a spot within 30 feet. You don't teleport, you just stop being where you are.

Art of Telekinetic Weapon

Passive: You can touch a weapon to cause it to float by your side. It's covered in a thin magenta mist, and hovers around you, never in the way but always there. Doesn't do much except look cool.

Active: Spend a PP when you fail to attack something to try again with your floating weapon. You use all the traits of the floating weapon when making this attack (enchantments, damage, cool magical effects, etc.).

Art of Push-Pull

Passive: You can grab objects up to a foot outside of your actual hand's reach. You still have to hold them, you can just do it further away.

Active: Spend a PP to attempt to move a creature of object. If it's an object, it's moved up to 15 ft. in a direction of your choosing at extreme speeds. If a creature, it must save vs. paralysis (or dexterity) and if it fails it's shoved 15 ft. in a direction of your choosing at slightly less extreme speeds.

Art of Other-Self

Passive: You can make small modifications to your appearance at will. You are still obviously you, but you can make dirt disappear and remove unseemly blemishes. Or add dirt and blemishes if you so desire.

Active: Spend a PP to create a duplicate clone of yourself. This clone acts like you and performs the actions you would in any given scenario, but is incapable of making meaningful impact on the world. It's attacks do no damage, it's hands pass through objects, and everything about it just seems a bit off. When everyone stops believing in it, it disappears in a cloud of magenta smoke.

Art of Easy-Truths

Passive: You have preternatural control over your voice. You always sound like you wish to sound, and the meaning of your words is easy to follow. You can also change your voice in cool ways, like making it louder or echo.

Active: Spend a PP and with a quick wave of your hand while speaking a lie, you convince a creature that your lie is 100% truthful. They'll figure it out if they are presented evidence that obviously disputes your lie, but otherwise they accept it as truth.

Planes are Dumb

 Plane: A world separate to the primary one in which a game takes place, usually representing an alignment or element. Not the air kind.

Today on my list of strange and unnecessary vendettas: Planes.

I don't really like them anymore. Like don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with planes as a concept, and a lot of the standard DnD ones are interesting on at least a surface level. In fact, I think the take of planes being separate places is perfectly valid and there's nothing wrong with it, I just prefer otherwise.

I don't need to write an essay on why I think the way I do. I'm just going to ask a series of questions: Is the Plane of Fire infinitely big? If so, what is going on everywhere else? Why do we only see part of it? If it isn't then how big is it? Do all worlds share the same Plane of Fire? Have fire elementals been to other planets? Do they know secrets of the universe that we could never know?

There are answers to these questions, and they are interesting to answer, but oh boy is the result weird.  I prefer my weirdness to originate from things the players can interact with.

Something I've been trying in Neurim is making any sort of outer plane part of the same universe. There was once a demiplane called the Gaol, but now the Gaol is just a cavern deep under the earth. You can go there, no portal required. The Gaol isn't just a thing in the lore, its a tangible thing the players can interact with. You want to visit the high god of this world? That's cool, just climb the space elevator or find a space ship. You want to visit the elemental plane of fire? That's cool, just find a way to the sun.

I am unsure how useful this will be. Perhaps you will find it inspiring.

Make Your Hexcrawls Smaller

 This is a sequel to this post. I'd also recommend reading this post.

A 6 mile hex is 31 square miles, give or take. 31 square miles is a lot. A lot of my complaints with hexcrawl design relate to this size being massive, in that it leaves worlds feeling big and empty and devoid of anything outside of the couple of preplaced things the GM has decreed exist.

My argument is simple: Make your hexcrawls smaller. You do not need 200 hexes. I promise you that you do not, in fact you could have a full, complete, and exciting game in a single hex. Hell, you could have a full, complete, and exciting game in a single building, though perhaps said building would have to be the House of Leaves.

Perhaps that's an unfair thing to say, a lot of us want a big grand adventure. We want to explore open untamed wilderness. To that I say, you underestimate the amount of wilderness in 31 square miles.

In my last post, I talked about the idea that hexcrawls are essentially megadungeons and presented two ways to interpret that: site as dungeon level and region as dungeon level. Something I think I didn't realize is that region as dungeon level implies a big area, but like, a region could easily fit into 1 six mile hex, and if you think about hexcrawls like that then how many six mile hexes do you need? One for each level, so somewhere between 10-12.

Side note: If you're going to do this, and I recommend that you do, then feel free to blend things a bit. A hex is not a hard barrier, it's just that each dungeon site should take approximately one hex of area.

One of my real complaints with most hexcrawl's design is that being big doesn't make them better, it makes them emptier. It kills verisimilitude for each 31 square mile area to consist of exactly one thing worth engaging with. Perhaps you don't care about that. I do.

Part of this is the fact that 6 mile hexes are just too big to be useful, but I'm not sure things improve if you change from one thing per 6 mile hex to one thing per 1 mile hex, still with 200 odd hexes. Part of it is simply that there's too much content to explore, and too much to design, and way too much to keep track of if you want hexes to interact. 

Second side note: I can't remember where (probably Reddit), but I saw a comment about Wolves Upon the Coast where there was an idea brought up in one hex that was only useful in another hex like 8 hexes away, and I think that helps prove my point. 99.99% of players are never going to experience the content of going to hex A, then going to hex B with the thing from hex A, and recognizing that's what the thing from hex A is from, so why is it even in the game? This isn't a knock against Wolves Upon the Coast in general, I have not played it or read it, just an example of the failings of hexcrawl design in general.

Basically: make smaller hexcrawls that are more dense. I know I will.

Hexcrawls are Megadungeons

Is this a contentious take? 

I'm not sure because frankly it seems obvious in hindsight. Hexcrawls (and pointcrawls) are essentially megadungeons, but instead of hallways we have plains and hills and forests and instead of floors we have modules and encounter sites.

I'm not actually going to argue this point, because I don't think doing so is particularly useful. Instead, I'm going to explain why thinking about hexcrawsl like this is amore useful way of thinking about things.

What Makes a Hexcrawl Good?

The ability to make meaningful and informed decisions(I stole this from Goblin Punch and I'm willing to admit that), Hexcrawls are about resource management and exploration, and both of those things require informed decisions. 

This is where most hexcrawls fail. If all you know about the adjacent hexes are their biomes, you have essentially 0 information and no way to make a choice on which one is the best one to go explore. If you go north and "oh surprise there is a river that you cannot cross!" than you feel like you've wasted your time. This makes the resource management less meaningful. It turns exploration from something you think about to something you just kinda do.

What Makes a Megadungeon Good?

Well, the ability to make meaningful and informed decisions. Megadungeons are about resource management and exploration, and both of those things require informed decisions.

Good dungeons are designed in a very certain way. They limit the players options to help them make more informed decisions. Hallways are the obvious one, you can't go from a room to any other room, but you can go from room to rooms 2 and 3. Doors and gates and keys are another way, be they literal doors or gates, flooded passageways, an enemy too difficult to fight head on, or anything else.

Restrictions give us the information to make more informed decisions.

Restrict Your Hexcrawls.

Not, restrict as in size (though you should do that too), or restrict as in reducing the number of monsters you use.

No, restrict your player's ability to go form hex to hex. Use doors and gates to help focus direction. Remember, if you have infinite equal options, then you have no options because you're essentially choosing at random. Limiting options is not limiting creativity

Megadungeon Hexcrawl Design

In my opinion, there are two options for hexcrawl design:

1) Site as dungeon level

2) Region as dungeon level

This is a choice of how grand your scale is. If your sites are dungeon levels, then your goal is to design a hexcrawl where each adventure site is approximately one levels worth of contentt, and if you choose region as dungeon level you'll have one levels worth of content spread out over multiple sites and open areas.

Figure out which you want, then seperate different sites or regions with doors and gates,

In order to go from the snake temple to the crystal caves, you have to find a way through the spooky forest full of spiders! How do you deal with the spiders? I don't know, but you're going to need gold and the best way to get gold is up in the snake temple.

Obviously, this doesn't mean "turn your hexcrawl into a glorified line. It's still a hexcrawl, encourage exploration. Even if sites are a dungeon level, introducing smaller places to explore or interesting places to find make the map feel more alive! And you can always have multiple options. The crystal caves might be level 2 of our "megadungeon", but the spider tree is level 2a, and both are equally valid to explore, and the spider climb boots in the caves could be used to skip up to level 4 of our "megadungeon" up in the mountains.

Basically: think about how you would connect your hexcrawl as if it were a megadungeon, and then shape things around that.

Note: My examples here are all talking about site as dungeon level design, because I think it's easier and more obvious. Region as dungeon level is simply, in my opinion, harder to design because there's just more content. If the spooky spider forest is meant to be enough content to level up, you'll likely need several smaller dungeons, a number of non-dungeon adventure sites, and all that.

Second Note: Do all the other things you'd do in a megadungeon too. These dungeons can(and should!) have factions! There is no reason to think the spiders don't have their own goals and won't interact with the world seperate to the party. The party might ignore the spider tree, but it's hard to ignore the spiders when they're invading level 3, the orc castle.

Doors, Gates, and Metroidvania Dungeon Design

Doors and Gates

A door is a obstruction to descending or progressing in a dungeon. A giant locked door blocking the way from level 2 to level 3 is a door.

A gate is an obstruction to an optional path in a dungeon. A underwater passage acting as a shortcut leading from level 1 to level 4 is a gate.

Soft and Hard Locks

A hard locked door or gate has exactly one solution to it, such as as the aforementioned giant locked door requiring the equally sized giant key.

A soft locked door or gate is one with an intended solution, but one where a variety of other solutions also works. The blessing of the water god might be the intended solution to the aforementioned underwater tunnel, but a water breathing spell or potion works just as well.

Tangent: What Even is a Metroidvania?

Some questions don't have answers, but I will attempt to do so anyways because I am nothing if not a fool.

A metroidvania is a type of video game that's kind of like Super Metroid and Castlevania: Symphony of the Night. Vague, I know.

Essentially, it's a genre in which you explore a large open map and unlock powerups over time that allow you to explore new areas, as well as explore areas in a new lens. A double jump might unlock the garden level, but it also allows you to reach that chest that's been taunting you since the start of the game. It also makes exploring areas easier, allowing you to easily perform once-difficult jumps with ease.

You might be seeing some similarities to the megadungeon.

What Even is a Powerup?

In a video game, the answer of "what is a powerup" is VERY easy to answer, even in the context of the extraordinarily weird genre that are metroidvanias. Samus' ball form is a powerup.

What about in a megadungeon?

This question becomes harder to answer due to the ephemeral nature of PC life. The fighter finds a cool ass set of boots that lets him walk on water? Damn it really sucks when he gets eaten by a dragon.

Games that treat players as a group of a great organization (like His Majesty the Worm) or where character's are much harder to kill (many modern games, but an OSR style game where the PC's are immortal would work too).

So again, what's a powerup? Simple: it permanently opens gates. A water breathing spell temporarily opens an underwater passage, but the blessings of the water god open it indefinitely. Draining it also does this, and as strange as this statement is, I would also consider that a powerup. Not having to treck through 3 dungeon floors to get to floor 4 is inherently a powerup to exploring the lower dungeons.

Ok But How Do I Make a Megadungeon?

Doors block progression. Gates block options. The point of a door is to stop the party from going places without first doing something else. You do this either to limit them from going too deep too fast and getting themselves butchered, or to prove that they have the mettle to explore something. 

In a hexcrawl (which is essentially a megadungeon), the areas that are filled with more dangerous random encounters are generally only explorable by parties that can handle said random encounters. Those encounters are acting as a door.

Hard locked doors are a sometimes treat. A door that can only be opened by its intended key is inherently limiting to the party. Use them only when it makes sense and only in rare circumstances. New players often appreciate a hard locked door encouraging them to explore what they can handle first.

Soft locked doors are great. You want to progress? Prove you have the smarts to go on. Like any OSR problem, soft locked doors shouldn't have simple or obvious answers. "How do you cross the undergrouind ocean" is a far better question than "can the rogue roll high enough to open the locked door".

Hard locked gates are for checkpoints. They're a reward for progressing to a certain point, an easy way back.

Soft locked gates are also for checkpoints, but where a hard locked gate is best for progressing deeper, soft locked gates are best for progressing sideways, though obviously both are effective at either task.

The Caveat: The Rule of Options

There should never be but one key.

You might have a hard locked door, but there should never be only one key. At least 2, 3 is better. You never want the party to be stuck, unable to progress because they can't find the only key to progression.

Even gates and soft locked doors should have multiple options. Yes, the blessing of the water god will get you past the underwater tunnel, but so will finding a way to drain the tunnel, or drinking the alchemist Damasc's permanent water breathing potion, or any of a number of other options.

There should ALWAYS be options. Options breed creativity, and creativity is good. If you take nothing else from what I've said, take this.

In fact, there should be multiple paths of progression anyways. There should never be only one way from level 1 to 2, but several. Perhaps there is the main intended path, but there's also a way from level 1a, and a secret route from level 1 to 2 that requires a bit of fenagling to find.

Again: options breed creativity. Options breed exploration, and metroidvanias are about: fostering exploration.

I have a million more things I could say on the topic of megadungeon design and what we can learn from metroidvanias, but I'll call it good for now. Perhaps if there's interest, I'll consider writing more.

How Many Ancestries Is Too Many?

It's a question I have asked myself many times because I don't know. Ask anyone and you'll get a different answer. The human-centrist will argue one, just human. The standard-fantasy gamer will argue for 4, human, dwarf, elf, and halfling. The 5e-gamer will argue that there's no such thing as too many: more choice is always better.

Personally, I think there is a limit to the number of how many you can reasonably have. At a certain point, you have so many options that the average party becomes a glorified circus attraction and the things that are weird and unique cease to be interesting. In 5e, a party can consist of a sapient ooze, one of three seperate varieties of bird person, an interplanar warrior from space, and a turtle. That's not a party of adventurers. That's a zoo.

Neurim has 6: humans, elves, dwarves, halflings, mokhan (sapient rock people), and half-orcs. I have toyed with adding more, namely in the form of curseling ancestries, such as cambion/tieflings and ghouls, with curselings not being available for a first character due to weird rules and narratives. That feels good to me, though at times I wonder if cutting one of the original ancestries for something different would be cool. I like my dwarves and my halflings, which means it would be elves, and considering elves are such an extreme rarity in Neurim, it might make sense.

You'll notice I haven't answered the question. I don't have an answer. I'm not sure there is an answer to be had.

Three Action System for Exploring Dungeons

Today on an ever-growing list of half-baked ideas from Pastel.

A couple of weeks ago I made a post about why I disliked 10-minute turns. Today, I bring you a way that I think helps alleviate some of my worse issues: implementing Pathfinder Second Edition's 3 action economy into exploration.

The idea is simple: During each dungeon turn, a party/player has 3 actions that they can spend performing actions. A simple action, one that takes 2-3 minutes, takes one action, a more complex one two actions, and a long and in-depth one takes all three actions. All actions are declared  before anything happens, and then the GM describes the results of their actions before ticking down time and checking for random encounters. If multiple players, or a player and some number of hirelings/retainers attempt the same action, only one roll is made (if necessary) but is made with some sort of advantage.

For example, a rogue might be exploring a dungeon and come into a new room with a single chest in the middle. They might spend 2 actions checking the room for traps, then 1 action unlocking the chest. That's their 10 minute turn.

It's very simple on its face, though I am not dumb enough to not see the flaws. For one, there is a bit of "mother may I" in determining the length of actions. A player might think an action simple, but the GM might think it complex. These sorts of interactions can feel bad for the player, though I don't imagine it happening on a regular basis. For two, this is going to massively increase the amount of time each turn takes. I cannot answer if that's good or bad, but it most certainly is true.

I am also not 100% sure of whether or not actions should be for each player or an entire party. On one hand it doesn't make a whole lot of sense for everyone to stand around the rogue while they lock pick, but on the other giving 4-6 players each 3 actions is going to be a lot, though I do know that hirelings and retainers likely shouldn't get actions or it all gets obscene very quickly. It needs some ironing out and perhaps someone else will have an idea worth implementing further.

Some other ideas: for using this system with the Underclock, just give the players 3 actions for each time-based roll of the clock (not for rolls from making noise or general tomfoolery). For random encounters, you can roll a d3 to determine during which action monsters appear to see where each character is currently.

Level 0 (And a Bit on Shadow of the Demon Lord)

I don't know if you've heard of Shadow of the Demon Lord, but it's probably my favorite TTRPG right now, though that might be replaced by Shadow of the Weird Wizard when it drops. It's very good, pretty much everything I've wanted out of a TTRPG except for a thriving 3rd party scene. The mechanics are simple but fun, the crunch is generated via player choice and the choices players have are interesting, and enemies are threatening even to high level players to encourage creative problem solving even when combat is engaging. It's simple, but has a lot of depth.

This isn't a review of SotDL, this is a review of a single aspect of SotDL that I love: level 0. The intended start for a SotDL game is as a level 0 commoner, nothing but your ancestry, your starting equipment, and some sort of weird extra item or bonus or curse or something.

It's great. I've recently started running a SotDL campaign and the first session was one of my favorite sessions ever. Tossing the party in and letting them get way in over their heads and come out on top via creative problem solving is 100% what I play TTRPGs for. 

There's often this adage that backstories should be simple (I often limit players to a single paragraph) because the game is the story of them being adventurers, and level 0 hits that perfectly. This is the story of how the party become adventurers. How they went from nobodies to monster hunters and tomb divers.

It was great. I loved it. I think it really solidified my love of SotDL. A singular encapsulation of what makes the system good. Overall, the idea of a session 0 is one I can't recommend enough. The story of how the party becomes adventurers is such an interesting one to tell. It might take a bit of homebrew (DCC is the only other game I know of with something similar), but I can personally attest to how cool the results are.

Why I dislike 10-Minute Turns (And Why I Love the Clock)

If you aren't familiar with Goblin Punch's Underclock, I'd recommend reading that before reading this.

I doubt I'm about to say anything that hasn't been said before, but I think the concept of 10 minute turns for dungeon exploration is silly. I get the point: provide a simple and consistent procedure for dungeon exploration to make resource management and random encounter generation as easy as possible. Does it do that? Yes, sort of. It does it effectively enough, though I think we can do better (chances are, we can always do better). Let me start with my major points against 10 minute turns.

1. Let's start with the most obvious: 10 minute turns break verisimilitude. By their nature, they are restrictive. Everything must fit into a 10 minute slot or a 0 minute slot, even things for which either slot makes no sense. It also leaves no opportunity for "something you thought would take long took basically no time" or the opposite.
2. I find 10 minute turns extraordinary tedious. Mark down duration, roll for random encounters, so on and so forth. There's a laundry list of things that must be done after every single turn, which is an issue when taking turns are the most common action players do.
3. I find turns actively discourage experimentation. If you know that any action can result in wasting 10 minutes, then taking actions becomes a dangerous dance of "will this take 10 minutes". Examining a cool statue becomes risky when it could mean losing a sixth of your torch and a roll for random encounters. Ultimately this problem is born of the restrictive nature of 10 minute turns, but I'm listing it separately because I feel it is an extreme antithesis to the game we play.
4. Random encounters lose a lot of interest when they are truly random. Random encounters are best as a tool to drive the narrative and build suspense, but when they just appear they lose a lot of interest.

If you read about the Underclock, I'm sure you can see where this is going.

I've finally be given an opportunity to run a new campaign for some friends, and I've been using the Underclock in it, though I simply refer to it as the Clock. Whenever the players do something that takes time, or makes noise, I roll a d6 and subtract it from 20, with 6's exploding. When they do something that takes a VERY long time, or makes a lot of noise while taking time, I'll roll multiple d6's, with 6's exploding. When the Clock strikes below 0, a random encounter appears. That's not all I do, but it's the gist.

The big point of the Clock is that the players can see it. Random encounters are no longer truly random, the players now know when things are going to happen and tension is built. They plan around the Clock, but I think that's a good thing. Adventurers should have a sixth sense for when something is about to go wrong. This fixes problem 4.

It also helps that a full cycle of the Clock is approximately an hour. Things take as much time as they need, as represented by the roll of the d6. If the roll is low, then it didn't take much time. If the roll is high, it took a while. This fixes issue 1. The whole rolling for the Clock thing is easy too. Just some d6's and simple subtraction, and when it goes below 0 an hour has passed and torches will go out and spells will need to be reset. Makes issue 2 a non factor too. And finally, because I control when the clock is rolled, I can choose not to roll it for things that are short and simple. Examing a statue could take 2 minutes. That's not worthy of the Clock, and fixes issue 3.

Basically, I wrote all this to talk about how much I like the Underclock and how much it fixes one of my largest issues with old school play. I'm not saying it's perfect for you, but it is perfect for me, partially because I am a fan of cutting a lot of the fat out of my games. I find such strict time keeping unnecessary for the way I play, so I prefer a system that removes it.

The Aesthetics of the Unknowable

Cthulhu isn't scary. Sure, the idea of an unknowable elder god who's schemes have defined all of existence and are impossible to understand and the mere attempt to do so is going to end in, at best, death and, at worst, insanity is scary, but Cthulhu is not scary. Cthulhu is a silly looking tentacle man.

It is hard for humans to write about the unknowable. By the very ways we create art, making art of something that is completely abstracted from our reality is difficult. It's hard to make something you can't parse. In reality, the best art of the unknowable we can create are series of unrelated shapes and colors. The second any part of it makes sense is the second it's no longer alien.

As a result, we have a habit of picking things on Earth to use as the basis for our eldritch horrors, most often deep sea animals: especially squid and octopi, as the terrors of the deep sea are the closest thing to a true unknowable horror we have on Earth. Octopi are intelligent, very much so, but the way they think is foreign to us. They're a solid basis for eldritch horror.

Yet, we fail to go for something true alien. We humanize the idea of an eldritch horror. Notice that a certain iconic monster from Dungeons and Dragons is shaped like a person. They have defined arms and legs and heads, just with the addition of tentacles. Is this scary?

We have a habit of this. Mushrooms are alien to us, but mushroom-people are almost always mushrooms with stumpy little legs and little arms with cute little mushroom fingers. It's easier to see them as cute than it is as a weird alien being so wholly different from us that the fact we can communicate at all is a miracle.

What's the point of the unknowable being so...recognizable? Perhaps I am the only one who thinks that unknowable eldritch horrors from a reality out of time should look as weird as they think. Turning them into the planet of hats robs them of being anything more than just another bad guy. And that's not to say there's anything wrong with that. I like my squid people too. I just wish we had our horrible alien eldritch monsters too.

But how do you communicate the idea of something that is not of this world? My best advice: make something impossible. Something that couldn't possible exist, and then turn it into an all knowing scheming mastermind. The Bodyless Ones of Neurim are memetic thought viruses (they exist only as thoughts) that built an interstellar empire. The Abathethi (also of Neurim) only exist in two of our world's dimensions (they appear flat).

The point of all this wasn't to crap on squid people. Again, I like squid people. I just feel that squid people are pigeonholed into the role of "servants of the great old gods" when they're really best used as weird guys that want to eat your brain.

Choices, Information, and Meaning

When I wrote this post on the Fallacy of Freedom, I mention that players want their choices to matter but I realize that I haven't quite defined what a choice that matter is. So let me continue my dive into game design about player motivation.

Let's define terms:

• A choice is any time a player is presented two or more options.
• A choice can be meta (outside the game) or narrative (within the game)
  
• A non-choice is anytime a player is presented two or more options, but one choice is clearly and objectively correct.
• A false choice is anytime a player makes a choice where all outcomes are essentially the same.
• A choice is meaningful if all options have tangible and measurable consequences.
  
• A choice is informed if the players have the ability to reasonably predict the result of each option.

Choices are extremely common. By the very nature of the game, players must make choices on a regular basis. The question of whether to go forward or backward in a dungeon is a choice. Choices define the game, which is why I like to think about things in terms of the choices offered to the player. Note that I split choices between meta and narrative. Neither are inherently bad or good and both have their times to exist, though it can be bad when a meta reason is used for a narrative choice (this is called metagaming). Choosing a class is a meta choice and there's nothing wrong with that.

Non-choices are an interesting topic because they aren't choices. If option A is leagues and bounds better than option B, then you aren't making a choice. You choose A. There's nothing wrong with presenting non-choices. Sometimes there is merit in making the players realize that option B is bad, but I do think it's bad to try and trick players into picking option B.

False choices are bad. The standard false choice is the party coming to a fork in the road. To the left there is an ogre, to the right is the same ogre. The GM has decided the party is going to fight an ogre, and this their best answer is Schrödinger ogre. False choices are essentially a lie, and at a point it's better to simply not provide a choice than it is to provide a choice where all options have the same outcome.

Now we come to the two interesting terms: meaningful choices and informed choices. Let's start with meaningful choices.

You might be inclined to think that all choices are meaningful, but this is false. Plenty of choices have no meaningful consequences. The choice of whether or not to buy supplies or weapons first is mostly meaningless. That doesn't mean it shouldn't exist and it surely doesn't make it bad, but it is still meaningless.

Note that I define a meaningful choice as having tangible, visible consequences. If a choice has no visible consequences, then to the players it has no consequences. If the players fail to stop a bad guy and the bad guy takes over a region they never seem then this doesn't mean anything to the players. It is essentially window-dressing. If that bad guy instead burnt down their base of operations, suddenly their actions have visible consequences, and the choice feels meaningful.

Information and informed choices present an interesting topic because what exactly is the ability to reasonably predict an outcome. Well what it doesn't mean is that the players need perfect knowledge of all outcomes. They don't, they simply need a good guess as to the result of their choices. As long as the players have some half-decent idea of what the consequences of their actions might be, they can make informed choices. The choice between dungeon A and dungeon B with no information about either is often not a choice: it is random selection, which limits player agency (or autonomy, as I called it before).

My post on the Fallacy of Freedom boils down to players wanting agency, not pure freedom. Agency, then, is generated by the ability to make meaningful and informed choices. Choices without meaning can be fun, but they have limited application and can get dull fast, and choices without information often boil down to random selection, but a choice with both meaning and information is one the players can actually make. A good choice has no correct answers and equally valid options.

Let me provide an example. The party knows of two dungeons. The first has an ancient sword that can destroy evil, and the second has a necromancer threatening to destroy the town the party lives in. These are options with measurable consequences, thus the choice is meaningful. The party has heard of the sword through various rumors, and they have met the necromancer and heard his evil plan before. This is the information the party needs to act on those choices. This is a good meaningful and informed choice.

In conclusion, while it is fine to provide non-meaningful and non-informed choices, and it is at times reasonable to provide a non-choice, the primary choices in a game should be meaningful and informed.

I Love Weird Monsters (and You Should Too)

Looking through the Second Edition Advanced Dungeons and Dragons monster manual has reminded me that seeing some weird and utterly nonsensical monster is great. I just look at the feyr or the deep spawn or the thought eater and am filled with so much inspiration that I don't get when I look at goblins or orcs.

There is a certain magic to the classics, don't get me wrong. I like my goblins and orcs as much as the next gal, but I feel that with the classics you run into a problem. Say you encounter a troll. You know how to deal with a troll: with fire. The act of using fire on a troll is less good thinking and more a test of "do you know your dungeoneering basics?" A fine question, and one that should be asked at times.

But we can do better. What if you didn't immediately recognize what you were fighting. Instead of a troll being tall with green mottled skin, a troll is instead a giant insect with fast regrowing chitin. The answer is still the same, but then the question has changed, and thus discovering that fire works is new and exciting! The issue that there is only so many times you can reskin a troll before players begin to suspect that every new monster is troll in sheep's clothing.

What happens when you come across a feyr though? It's weird and different, and obeys its own rules. Figuring out how to deal with it comes with the same magic they must have had back in the day when they realized how to beat trolls. The classics are the classics because they're easily recognized, a shorthand form of symbolism. New monsters, weird monsters, ignore this symbolism. That makes them interesting.

As a GM, using cool monsters is a large part of my enjoyment. Putting a cool challenge in front of the players and seeing how they deal with it is my fun, and weird monsters are the perfect cool challenge, fresh and new and exciting. This is why bestiaries are my favorite kind of TTRPG product. A monster can be an entire adventure, a whole and complete session bundled in a few dozen sentences of description. It's also why I've added different types of monsters into my setting Neurim, and changed up the ones that are more classic while removing some of the usual suspects. You've seen a goblin, but you likely haven't seen my goblins, and you assuredly haven't seen my husks.

Long story short, I think we should stray from the classics every now and then and use something a bit more exciting. Not always, weird monsters are like candy, too much and you'll rot your teeth but perfectly fine as an occasional treat.

Better Torches

Despite the fact that a key factor in the survival horror gameplay of the OSR, torches are ultimately kind of boring. They are often left as little more than a checklist. Did we buy torches? Have we lit a torch? Busy work, I'd call them.

So I've decided to throw some ideas out there for more interesting torch mechanics, ones that are interesting to engage with and have the following traits:

1. The question of whether or not to light a torch is an interesting one.
2. There's a reason to keep using torches once lanterns have been purchased.
   
3. The torchbearer doesn't feel punished for having the torch.
4. The torch going out is bad news.

The Five Levels of Light.

Level	Sources	Human Effects	Monster Effects
Shining	Magical brightness, Brightbugs	+1 to attacks	-1 to attacks
Bright	Fresh Torch, Sun	As normal	As normal
Dim	Dying torches, Full moon	-1 to attacks	+1 to attacks
Fading	Candles, New moon	Disadvantage to attacks	Advantage to attacks
Dark	The pitch dark of no light	Automatic failure on attacks	Automatic success on attacks

Torches.

A torch burns for 1 hour or 6 turns. When lit, it burns bright for three turns,  dim for two more, and fading on the final turn. After, the torch goes dark. Torch timers are incremented at the end of a turn. A torch can be intentionally dimmed as many levels as desired. The brightest source of light in an area is the light level used. A torch can provide reasonable light for a half dozen characters.

Torches in non-human dungeons or carried by monsters are never brighter than dim.

Striking with a Torch.

If a torchbearer misses an attack with a melee weapon, they can chose to swing with the torch. The torch deals damage equal to the die of a sword minus one die size (if a sword deals 1d8 damage, the torch deals 1d6). On a hit, there is a 50% chance the torch dims one level. For example, if a bright torch is used as a weapon and is rolled to dim, it moves to the dim stage and burns for 3 more total turns. A dark torch is not a torch, and is instead a club.

A torch can be thrown, say to light a pool of oil. A thrown torch has a 50% of going out upon impacting something.

Lighting a Torch.

A torch can be lit from another torch, automatically gaining that torches light level, but not its remaining time. A torch lit from a bright torch burns for 6 turns, though one lit from a dim torch only burns for 3.

Torches can also be lit from a flint and steel. In good conditions, with at least fading light, this process succeeds automatically and takes no more than a minute. In poor conditions, such is when it's wet or dark this process takes an entire turn and has a 25% per negative condition to fail.

A torch can be automatically lit using a brightbug, a special alchemical mixture that creates extremely bright flame. A torch lit this one way burns shining for one turn, then bright for two, dim for two, and then dim for one.

Torch Replacements.

Lantern.

Lanterns burn dim for one hour when given oil. Lanterns cannot be used like a torch to attack, but can be attached to a belt instead of carried.

War Torch.

A torch holder designed for combat. Holds a normal torch. When used to attack, the torch has no chance of getting dimmer.

Candle.

Borderline useless as light for a dungeon. Burns fading for 6 turns. Only enough light for one.

Alchemical Flare.

Burns extremely bright and fast. Burns shining for one minute. Rare.

Specialized Torches.

One can get torches (or lanterns) designed to burn different colors for certain uses. Such torches or lanterns cost three times the normal prices, and are likely harder to find, but can burn with a number of unique properties. Examples include:

• The violet flame of ghost warding: spectral undead cannot enter its range while bright.
• The golden holy flame of demon warding: demons and similar outsiders have disadvantage within the torch's range while bright.
• The silver mercurial flame: reveals hidden doors and text while bright.
• The pale blue astral flame: is cool to the touch, cannot start fires, is not put out by water.
  

Using Light Levels.

Using this torch system, light levels can be used as an interesting way of engaging with monsters. Different creatures can interact with light in ways that are interesting to learn and to engage with. 

For example, goblins could be terrified of bright light, fleeing while in the presence of it. While the party is engaging with goblins, the questions relating to "do we light a new torch" become even more interesting. The inverse is also true when fighting other humans. Turning off your torch makes them worse at fighting you just as it makes you worse at fighting them.

Conclusion.

To me, the most interesting part of this system is that torches get worse over time, thus the question of lighting torches early is raised. A dim torch is still usable, but it ramps up the danger and whether or not you wish to spend the extra resource of a new torch is a legitimate question, which was my primary goal.

The risk reward of wasting torches or being in dimmer light could be amped up further. Perhaps, XP gains are increased while the torch is dim or fading. A piece of gold grans 1.2x or 1.5x xp, meaning there's even more reason to play risky with a dying torch. I have no idea if that's a good idea, but it definitely sounds like one worth testing.

Hacking: Environment Based Magic

Today on my ever growing list of "ideas that would be fun to design around but currently lack the defined mechanics to make them useful": hacking.

This is a little outside of the wheelhouse of what I usually discuss, but I want to talk about hacking. In TTRPGs that have a high tech level, hacking is often included because it's cool and ingrained in popular society as an aesthetic of high tech fantasy. Hacking is often seen as an advanced parallel to magic (because people lack understanding of how computers and their ilk really work), with the ability to do anything if the hacker is given enough time.

This is fine. Cool even. The issue is that hacking is implemented in TTRPGs poorly. Hacking is often a sub-system, a minigame within the TTRPG (just look at Shadowrun). Such minigames can be fine, but the issue arises when the mechanics grow complex and engaging with the system takes time where the non-hacker players simply watch someone else roll dice. This can be fun every now and then, but if you want to play THE hacker, well, prepare to take the spotlight, and a lot.

I think this sucks. It sucks to play and it sucks because it fails to capture the aesthetic of hacking. I personally cannot think of a piece of media where the process of hacking something is important rather than the outcome of the hacking. The tech-wiz tapping on her laptop keys to open the door is what people find engaging about hacking, not the process of finding weak points in code-based defense and tricking firewalls into ignoring you.

So what? Is hacking supposed to be a glorified version of lockpicking? A quick dice roll, some narrative tapping on the keyboard, and the door clearly labelled "use hacking here" is opened? That's also not what people want from hacking. Well, it's not what I want, and I imagine you don't either.

Well, if hacking is magic, why not lean into that?

Environment Based Magic.

A group of mercs are attempting to bust into the skyscraper of a shady megacorp (not that there's such a thing as a non-shady megacorp). The lobby is heavily guarded and the mercs are outgunned, but they have a secret weapon: a hacker sitting in an alley across the street. She's already got her eyes in the camera system, so she has a bird's eye view of the lobby. Before any combat starts, she trips the fire sprinklers, spraying the room with water and giving her team the advantage of surprise.

First round of combat she activates a smart grenade on a guard's belt, causing it to explode. Second round she causes a turret to haywire and shoot at the wrong target. Third turn she jams a call for support from the guards, but accidentally trips security and gets herself locked out.

Environment based magic is exactly what it sounds like: magic based on the environment presented to the hacker/mage. An environment based mage's spells (or a hacker's hacks) take advantage of distinct traits of the environment: such as a roaring fire or fire sprinklers.Effects are guaranteed, but something has a chance to go wrong. These spells/hacks would be tiered, similar to spell slot levels. As a mage/hacker gets better, they get access to better tiers of spells/hacks, and eventually can do lower tier magic/hacks without fear of backfire.

A low tier spell/heck on a half decent mage/hacker is 100% safe. The next tier up would require a d12 roll, then the next tier would be a d10, and so on. If the mage/hacker rolls a 1, something bad happens. Perhaps a magical anomaly forms, or a hacker trips security and gets locked out of using their abilities. Something dangerous to fill the aesthetic of accidentally tripping the alarms and realizing everything is going to hell.

Personally I prefer the idea of a system with defined spells/hacks rather than a more open one. In a more open one, it becomes the GM's responsibility to define how difficult any action is at any time which makes running for a mage/hacker annoying. You might think that if a mage/hacker only has certain spells/hacks, then they'd be useless if none of their abilities work in the situation they find themself. And I'd agree. I'd argue it's good.

Staking out a place before causing a problem there is peak cyberpunk media for me. Asking the player to plan and think ahead of doing anything dangerous is, I think, good. It's fun to plan ahead. And besides, it's very possible to shift the environment into your favor (start a fire to use said fire).

Example Spells/Hacks.

Magic.

Level 0: Expand Fire, Freeze Puddle, Redirect Wind

Level 1: Create Flamethrower, Earth to Mud

Level 2: Freeze Pond

Level 3: Create Tunnel, Condense Air

Hacking.

Level 0: Look Through Camera, Disable Light Security, Open Door

Level 1: Stun Machine, Jam Weapon, Trip Fire Sprinklers

Level 2: Disable Heavy Security, Activate Grenade

Level 3: Control Machine, Jam Communications