9 nearly full pages of old-school mega-mega-mega-dungeon.
All created using the random tables on pages 170-172 of the AD&D 1st Edition Dungeon Masters Guide by Gary Gygax, published in 1979.
Why? Because drawing dungeons from just the scratch of my imagination has become kinda boring.
I marked my entry point in the center of a page and simply went with whatever happened. It was linear at first, but it soon expanded; side passages upon side passages, straight, diagonal, parallel, intersections -- 4-ways, Xs, Ys, Ts, all leading to chambers and rooms of all shapes and sizes (it's implied but never explicitly stated that rooms have doors and chambers do not). These tables are designed to go on and on and on; there are occasional dead-ends, but if you don't consciously stop it, it probably will not stop (25% of periodic-checks introduce side passages and 50% of side passages introduce multiple side passages).
I wanted every passage to take you deeper down the rabbit-hole, so no looping was allowed until deeply forward for every path. Every new corridor goes underneath any room or passage it crosses, but eventually loops do occur, plenty of them. At times, it's like solving a puzzle; decisions have to made, to connect or not connect? Sometimes I beg for a dead-end and sometimes I have no choice but to place one and sometimes a loop is allowed. This place is wild. I get lost just looking at it. If players were mapping it, they'd fuck up quickly, just as they would if it were a real place.
This process also reinforces the notion of space; not every room will be occupied (could/should still be interesting though) and there are many long, twisting corridors. Noise wouldn't travel here very well, not clearly. Certainly you might hear echoes and clangs and screams, but they would haunt like distant nightmares. It's easy to see adventurers snooping about, even fighting, without disturbing much of anything at all. What about the goblins in the next room? With Gygax's system, chances are, there are no goblins in the next room.
Eventually I came to the edge of the first page, all four edges, and thought, what the hell, let's keep going, and before long, it became clear that it would bleed over onto at least 9 pages. I configured entry points to align with Act III if I insanely go in that direction. Who am I kidding...
Some thoughts...
Wandering Monsters are built in. That's right, on the main d20 "Periodic Check Table" a roll of 20 results in a wandering monster, not a check, an actual random monster right then and there. So, I put an X on the map, always in a corridor. Sometimes they occur in bunches. So, what if wandering monsters were always handled this way, and, is that a repeated occurrence or just a one time thing? Just thinking out loud; one time occurrence is obvious to me, unless something (a glyph?) is spawning creatures.
Stairs... come up plenty of times, but there's no way I'm doing levels below this monstrosity. So, I simply put stairs in the corridor -- almost always going down. Combined with the fact that new passages go under already drawn ones, the farther out you go, the deeper underground you are. It's shaped like an underground hill. This could be how danger (dungeon levels) is measured. Center page -- dungeon levels 1 and 2; 8 pages surrounding the center page -- dungeon levels 3 and 4; 16 pages surrounding that -- dungeon levels 5 and 6, etc. So danger equals distance from the center as opposed to levels straight down.
Tricks/Traps come up as often as stairs and such; all in corridors. I've never been a fan of hallway traps because they're punitive and make the game an unfun slog. The players have no defense other than to check every 10' of the place. So whatever these turn out to be, there must be clues.
Special passageways... Rivers, caverns, chasms, streams, all come up periodically, but I've avoided all so far. I have a certain look in mind -- the cellar of Castle Dracula, complete with arched columns, vaulted ceilings, and at times, unfinished floors. I may add subterranean canals at some point, but I'll be damned if I taint this place with caverns.
The implied setting of D&D, as a number of writers have pointed out, can also be said to be post-apocalyptic. That often conjures images of science fantasy writers from Appendix N, but of applies to in the literal sense if not the generic sense to the Hyborian Age of Conan and the 3rd Age of Middle Earth. Materially greater and in some ways more advanced civilizations must precede the current one for there to be so much wealth and magic to be looted in old ruins.
A post-apocalyptic setting allows the frontier to be closer at hand, and indeed really sort of obscures it even being a frontier, as no discernable border but instead the distance between "civilized points." Connecting these dots seems more reclamation than expansion.
That works, but in D&D settings like Greyhawk, Krynn, and the Forgotten Realms, the apocalypse is remote enough so that the current civilization doesn't seem post-apocalyptic, at least no more than the High Middle Ages seems to us recovering from the fall of Rome.
Yet, Greyhawk, for all its map full of named regions, heraldry, and rulers with elaborate titles, is really empty. Some of this exists to facilitate the desired game play, sure, but that's the Doylist explanation. I like the more Watsonian explanations of humanoid and demihuman groups that are not adequately censused coupled with events that have led to a decline in population.
As Chris Kutalik and other commentors suggested in his blog series of years ago, I think Greyhawk is best analogized not to some science fantasy post-apocalypse but to historical eras like the "Dark Ages" (or early Middle Ages) after the collapse of Rome, or the plague, famine and war riven period of the Crisis of the Late Middle Ages.
In many ways, I think, Greyhawk reads better as a setting where the apocalypse (or at least an apocalypse) is not the remote past but happening now or relatively recently. This isn't so much a total destruction kind of apocalypse but a "civilization is dealt a blow" sort of one. This allows for the breadth and complexity of social structures described in Greyhawk, but also for the population numbers and available real estate for enterprising adventures to carve out something for themselves.
It's "points of light" to use the modern descriptor, but not (like so many of those settings) a rather static period, but one where there are still roving bands of invaders (humanoids, monsters, or armies of other human nations) and isolated communities that must either grow larger and more resilient or be wiped out. I should add, There's no one way the communities have approach this problem to survive. Orcs settling down to live in some sort of peace is potentially just as possible as driving them out and killing them.
I think this sort of implied framing could be fun to lean into. D&D settings need more Random Calamitous Event Tables and societies in flux (like we see in some epic fantasy like A Song of Ice and Fire). Christopher Buehlman's historical horror novel Between Two Fires and his fantasy series beginning with the Blacktongue Thief where human civilization is still dealing with the fallout from a disastrous (and still simmering) war with goblinkind are great inspirations, as well.
This twelve page adventure uses about three pages to describe four rooms in a hag lair. It sufferers from the generic/universal curse and relies on tables for a substantial portion of the adventure. Abstracted content with little specificity to help bring it alive.
The legend of the beast is persistent in these parts, a terrible force that dwells deep in the swamp and strikes fear into the hearts of those who live nearby. Little do they know, the beast is but a pawn, for something far more sinister lurks within the bowls of the swamp.
Ah, the generic/universal adventure. They seldom fail to not disappoint, even when statted for “OSR”, as this one is. There is something about them that makes a designer seemingly fearful of providing anything concrete to it. The designer wanted an adventure in which the party shows up to a village on the edge of a swamp. Fearful and superstitious locals. Talk of The Beast, everywhere, the cause of all ills. And then a journey through a swamp, full of dread, before finally arriving at the beasts lair, only to find out Muhahahahaha! The beast is the pet of a swamp hag!
Instead, we get little of that.
Adventure writing can be hard. As a designer you have to get out of your head what you are imagining and get that down on paper so that when someone reads it they can get close to what you intended. We get what the designer wanted here because they out right tell us “To get the full effect for this mini-adventure, make sure to play up the townsfolk’s fear of the beast.” That is, in principle, great! You want a town that seems immersive to that point. The adventure designer needs to help bring that about. This doesn’t do that. The village is quite minimal, just one line or so about the town being on stilts and moldy. That’s fine, but, what isn’t fine is the lack of the The Best present in their ramblings. Or any rambling at all. We might look to the rumors table, but all we get is abstracted information like “1 The swamp has been especially active lately.” or that the swamp spirits are angry. There’s nothing much here at all about The Beast. I love that it’s called The Beast, but there’s nothing more. None of its misdeeds or lame calves or anything. The designer needs to bring an adventure alive through specificity for things like this. Yes, the DMs job is to run with it and expand on it but you have to give them SOMETHING to work with.
Then we get to the swamp. This also is abstracted away. Just roll on a page full of random tables. “3 A large depression that collects rainwater.” or a smell that “A salty taste, similar to being near an ocean.” That’s what you have to work with here; it’s totally abstracted away. There IS an encounter table, or single line entries or so, and it does show some decent things in it. “A series of stick figures are attached to the trees. Until they are destroyed, those traversing this area of the swamp walk in circles always arriving back at the figures.” That’s creepy as all fuck. And it deserves more than a line on a d12 encounter table. The swamp needed to be fixed encounters, or a pointcrawl or something, with the entries worked to bring them to life.
The lair, proper, is four rooms. You get The Beast room, a Catoblepas, and then a potion room. In the potion room you get told EXPLICITLY how to make a potion, by a journal, that gets you through a bramble corridor. Then you hit, surprise, Lareth the Beautiful! Err a swamp hag. No hints of a hag up to this point at all. It’s all wasted.
Make the town afraid. Make the swamp a real area and bring life to the best of the encounters on the table. Hint at creepy things to foreshadow the hag.
Tables ruin adventures. Yes, old school uses tables and randomness, but not to create the entire adventure from.
This is $2 at DriveThru. The preview is four pages. You get to see the “village” and the “swamp”, or at least the dressing for it. The preview should have shown a bit more of the adventure, a lair page, for example.
https://www.drivethrurpg.com/en/product/571424/lair-of-the-swamp-beast?1892600
Though, I'm not opposed to kung-fu elves, mind you, perhaps in the case of elves, these would be based around a particular school or style of magic? They could be based on the elements or maybe the Classical Planets. They would presumably each be centered in a particular locale, probably remote from wider civilization.
Using this approach, different types of elves would have less physical or temperamental differences, but perhaps more philosophical ones. There might be rivalries between them. Since it's not an ethnicity but an allegiance, elves could move from one to the other, though perhaps not without some penalty.
I think this approach also has the benefit of making elven subtypes less background and more factions to interact with in gameplay.
The ‘Toymaker’ has gone missing – and nobility across the realm are scrambling to get their hands on his highly sought-after dolls. Hauntingly beautiful, and scarily well made.
His workshop is hidden, deep within the ‘Whispering Woods’. A dark and desolate forest, that locals warn all who dare enter, never return… that is, all except the Toymaker. To find his workshop, you must navigate the pitch black wood, haunted by imprisoned demons, zealous lumberjack wardens, cursed werewolves, possessed dolls, an entitled elf prince and a gaggle of other monstrous horrors. The balance of power in the woods is shifting – will the evils that lay trapped here be released unto the world?
This 52 page adventure presents about thirteen hexes and a couple of dungeons with about thirty rooms total in a dark forest kind of fairytale vibe. Sinister plots abound while the party tries to navigate a lot of competing goals in an adventure built to run.
Ok, so, as I’m describing what’s going on I’m going to have to ask you put aside certain feelings you have. Like, when I say “toymaster” or “puppets.” I know we’ve all been indoctrinated to expect certain things from the use of those themes. I promise this one isn’t like those others. Also, I suspect that the cover art might be a bit offputting. The designer is also the artist, so, hey, sorry man! I think the interior art is fine but the cover, along with the title “master of puppets” both sort of lean in to some tonal and historical implications that we are ALL bad people for having but which are true nonetheless.
Let’s think of a dark forest fairy tale vibe, maybe with a touch of farce in it, similar to Gone Fishin. And there’s a lot going on in this place. The Whispering Woods are a kind of dark forest/mirkwood stand in. All ancient and old and dark and foreboding with rumors of ancient battles and demons. And that the woods will whisper to you. There are woodcutters in the forest, who were once a kind of border guard keeping an eye on the woods but over time are perhaps a little financially focused. Especially since their funding was cut. Funding? Yes, the elves used to fund them. Let’s think a more Fey-like elf than a Tolkein-elf. ANyway, the border guards get their funding cut and now the mission has degenerated. Why does it need border guards it’s a literal demon forest, the trees are demons. Some old elf king defeated an invading demon army long ago and turned them all to trees. His magic axe, along with his bloody handprint, is embedded in a tree stump in the middle of the woods. Also, the trees can’t be cut down. Let’s think a super strong ironwood. In to this comes the Toymaker, who lives in the woods and makes wooden dolls. Expensive wooden dolls. That everyone just loves to get for their rich ass trust fund kids, like some fairy tale stanley cup. Yeah, he figured out a way to cut down the trees and makes dolls from them and lets the border force sell the remaining wood. Also the dolls whisper things, an attempt by the toymaker to embed his little chukies in to the nobility in order to influence them and gain power because, yeah, the demon from the tree is now in the doll, kind of, bound by the doll clothes. A couple of the dolls get loose and the toymaker goes looking for them, only to get killed by some werewolves in the forest. Werewolves that are turning the border guards and whose curse starts from a different fey-elf that was kicked out of elflandia, is 143 in line for the throne, and now wants to take over the wood and thinks that a perfect way to start that is kicking everyone out starting with the border guards. I think I just wrote a page on that shit? And theres more people/groups running around in there. A slightly different framing of the toymaker would have hit better, but it all kind of makes sense in an evil consequences kind of way and is not as “pretext” as the length of description might otherwise imply. These are just things following from others naturally, if pushed just a little.
The hooks are the usual lame hired/dream shit, but the first one reads “A local Count wants the doll he ordered for his daughter’s birthday, but the Toymaker failed to make his delivery last week.” This one, I think, could have been pushed more and be the center of the adventure, much the way Gone Fishin was. A little expansion, a little more farce. And it’s gonna fit in well with people you meet in the forest, cavalier mercenaries who are sent by THEIR patrons to get toys for THEIR kids. A little push here in the writing, the absurdity, a tinge of evil, future chukie foreshadowing, insane offers, this would have lent a nice opening vibe that would frame the rest of the adventure instead of having just some genero stuff.
There are a decent number of NPC’s in this. They are well organized with wants, needs, knows, offers to the party, along with short little descriptions like “Wild red hair. Always shouts, unable to speak at a reasonable volume” or “A nude, 2’ tall, crudely made wooden puppet. Exclaims ‘oh boy!’ frequently.” Perfect little nudges for the DM. You can talk to a lot of people and things, including a termite queen who can be particularly useful in a forest full of evil wooden chuckies. Not everyone is friendly, and a lot of the situations are tense and almost all can lead to some combat, but the talky talky option is there for a smartie partie. Think of the cavalier mercenaries, as an example of talking and fighting.
Magic items are decent. “Royal Ceremonial Sword – +2 Elven Glass Blade, with gold leaf details. Used in knighting ceremonies. On a critical hit (19-20) it shatters, doing maximum damage. Repairs itself in 1d6 turns” and “Thief’s Lantern – Emits an area of light only visible to the wielder, and others that touch them.” These are nice little examples. Interesting effects to be sure. Useful, fun, unusual. They FEEL magical, especially the lantern.
The entries start with a little overview that could be a read-aloud (In fucking italics! Don’t do that!) with certain words underlined and bolded (I’d do one or the other, not both) and those bolded/underlined words are then followed up with in their own sections with more details. A Sentence or two for each keeps them each to scan and run. Descriptions are not winning awards but are still pretty good. “A large open-cut marble quarry. Filling with water from a spring on the northern cliff face. A dull glow emanates from the loudly bubbling depths. Red handprints cover a nearby marble boulder. “ I don’t like “large”, but, not a bad little description and it hints at many things to follow up an examination on.
There is A LOT to get in to trouble with in this, mostly from the party fucking around. Not in a Museum Tour kind of way but just the party doing normal shit. The locations can be fantastic, like a buried titanic statue you enter through a mouth, filled with stac/tags inside. Some of the wanderers seem rough, like 2d6 werewolves, but, hey, it’s OSR. You’re going to be doing a lot of freeing people, questioning them, and so on to get information you need to find the workshop, itself a twenty room dungeon. All without getting screwed over by the captives and/or people you meet along the way. Can you, having discovered termites, put together that this is an excellent resource to take advantage of in a wood themed adventure? If so, the designer was ready for you. Or, you can just stab them. How shall you navigate the mercenary knights? “Contract knights, mounted on warhorses. Equipped with expensive weapons and armour. Annoyed they couldn’t just pay someone beneath them to fulfill their quest “ Overemployment has always been a thing man.
This is $10.50 at DriveThru. The preview is four pages, showing rooms keys. Great preview.
https://www.drivethrurpg.com/en/product/569545/the-master-of-puppets?1892600
Almost all my game designs include some form of "meta currency". Luck points. I got the idea originally from the TSR AD&D adventure module CB1: Conan Unchained. In that module, David "Zeb" Cook gives us a cool luck mechanic invented for the adventure to help mitigate the disparate outcomes of a typical AD&D game vs. what you see on the big screen (the module cover is literally a photo of Arnold in the Conan movie). In other words, Conan does amazing feats that are difficult to simulate if you're just playing the game straight.
Cook's idea was simple. Each PC has a set number of Luck Points that only the DM knows. You as a player have no idea who many points you have. Here's a screenshot of the text.
I actually adore this. I've tried to use it a couple of times in one-shots with mixed results. Players need to embrace the idea and you gotta remind them to use it or they just keep playing normally.
Anyway, for Dead Wizards, there is Sand. Sand is the meta currency. Players know how much they have and they can spend it to auto-succeed in tasks or to take over narrative control of the game for a very short time (kinda like The Pool).
The auto-succeed is called a Sand Storm. The idea is the Judge rolls a secret d6 to see how many actions you can get away with. You start describing your actions. You stop when you feel like it, but once you exceed the number of actions rolled by the Judge... you're run out of luck. If you exceed it, your excess action not only fails but it fails in a terrible way. So it's a gamble.