Neither Critical Role Nor 5e is OSR

Podcast Name: Critical Role Where I Listened: Podbean for Android Where It's Available: YouTube, CritRole.com, Geek and Sundry, Twitch, ... really, just Google it. System: 5e D&D

Leather (but cursed a bit)

Thoughts and Review

You already know what Critical Role is. Being the single most popular, single most successful live-cast in the RPG ecosystem to date - it is a waste of words to illustrate for you this home-game-turned-live-event franchise. Having now officially lost all OSR credibility for putting this live-cast into my review backlog, I figure I'll spend some effort explaining the decision.

A colleague of mine recently in an event recently indicated, as a personal trivia item, that she enjoyed D&D, alongside some of our other colleagues. Jokingly, I asked her "Gygax or Arneson?" - to which she had a very appropriate reply: "I'm just glad they made it!"

Why is this particularly insightful? Two reasons - one, because she's right: it's the spirit of the game. The purpose of D&D is to escape reality and project into a fantasy adventure, growing from nothing to riches and power or dying anonymously in a dark hole in the attempt. Two - because she was introduced to the hobby by watching Critical Role and may or may not have known who Gary and Dave were.

Whether or not, in order to answer my question, she'd had to Google the names being beyond the scope of my current speculation - but knowing that many players have been introduced to the hobby this way, having listened to Season 1 myself, I wanted to produce a piece that illustrates the commonalities between how an old-school game flows versus what you'd expect from a new-school game: for which Critical Role serves as example.

Full Disclosure

I listened to Season 1. I have not listened to Season 2.

As far as I can tell, Season 1 began as a streamed version of the DM, Matt Mercer's, home game - but as the stream picked up speed, as the brand grew, it evolved into less of his home game and more of a presentation: more of a show. This is understandable. The players are actors - professionals with credits on IMDB and everything - as such, it makes sense that, in order to produce the content their evolving audience and community was appreciating, they would evolve towards their thespian core competencies. Season 1 is, thus, the sole source of the unique rating I'm giving this Old School Audit, which I will elaborate a bit more on later, and the commentary contained herein.

When I listen to an actual play, I am listening for the "play" part. That being the case, I did give Season 2 a listen, but I stopped listening fairly early on: the first few episodes being improv hour at the drama club towards the end of character development. I do not know if Season 2 became more mechanical in later episodes.

Elements to Take Away

Regardless of how extensive a rule set is, the players will always want to do something that is not covered by the rules. This is an element that Critical Role handles well. The DM, when confronted with an element of play not in the books, is not afraid to make a ruling on the spot based on his common sense. One prime example of this is how he handles brawling. The barbarian character, Grog Strongjaw, routinely - when presented with the opportunity to do so - will engage in hand to hand fisticuffs. The DM, in presenting these opportunities, encourages and rewards the player indicating a tactic to engage in that is unique to the situation - such as throwing sand or a groin shot. None of these situations have rules around them - but the DM adjudicates them fairly and consistently based on the situation at hand. This is a prime example of Rulings over Rules - a core tenant of old-school game-play surviving into the modern era. Expect to see - and play - similar in any OSR game you join or intend to run.

In the real world, there are rarely if ever situations in which one answer is the only answer. In an old-school game, a player should likewise expect - and a Referee should expect to plan for - multiple avenues of approach to get through the world and navigate the situations and problems presented by the DM. This element of the game likewise persists from old to new into Critical Role's early episodes. There are some places where there are hallways, of course, leading in one direction - however on more than one occasion (especially in the first 15 episodes or so) the party actually burns the obvious path, accidentally or intentionally, and must then work around the environment. I enjoyed the element of freedom this represented - and I enjoyed its longer-term consequences. Befriending a monster? Plausible, yes; beneficial, temporarily - but worth the risk? The party has to make that call.

Elements to Leave Behind

Critical Role is a good expose of the 5e system. That implies - then - that, as 5e is missing several key elements of an OSR game, Critical Role will also miss several key OSR concepts. This is not a fault in the product - it's a design goal. 5e is not OSR, doesn't claim to be OSR, and doesn't try to be OSR - the purpose of this pointer is to indicate to the reader that, when consuming this product, be mindful that it is, in fact, a different frame of mind than what to expect, or what to aim for, when participating in an old school game.

Can you integrate old school elements into a non-old school game? Yes.

Will the mechanics work against you when you do so? Yes - and you'll have authored a house-rule document larger than the original rulebook by the time you're done.

A few points that will be in an OSR game that is not a part of 5e, nor an intention of 5e, and thus won't really be included in Critical Role are as follows:

• Hex Maps - in an old school game, especially a sandbox or exploration game, hex maps, everyone's favorite anachronistic yet functional mechanism to abstract directionally-unbounded overland movement, does not appear to be in use for Critical Role. It's of course possible that the DM has one behind the scenes, but in play, the party tends to move point-of-interest to point-of-interest.
• Inventory Management - a prime element of old-school play is managing your encumbrance and figuring out how to haul your treasure and gear at the same time. In Critical Role, in focusing away from bookkeeping and towards storytelling, they sideline encumbrance via magical means - re: extra-dimensional spaces, massive strength, etc.
• Hirelings - Hirelings are used, in the sense that the party has a castle that is populated by NPCs, however these NPCs do not accompany the party on adventures. A core element of old school gaming - which relates to a solution to the point above regarding Inventory Management - is to bring NPCs with you to bolster your ranks or to fill holes in the party composition.
• Character Morbidity - I seem to recall a headline in my news feed that there was a character fatality in Season 2. The reaction from the community? Uproar! In new school games - and in Critical Role, in general - player characters don't die; favored NPCs, only rarely. In an OSR game - expect the opposite. The dice are fickle and impartial and player characters are squishy and vulnerable: even at higher levels. A key difference between what to expect on this actual play and what to expect in your experience will lie in the possibility (and probability!) of character morbidity.
• Railroading Aversion. The DM takes extreme care - as I inferred from player reactions to the introduction of props - to ensure the party is guided in the "right" direction for the "narrative." For me, this really starts right around the "Hunter's Guild" arc - for that reason, I'd skip a few months of episodes when you start hearing Slavic accents.

There are other resources, other opinion pieces, regarding 5e and how it's unsuited for or how it can be modified to suit an OSR style of game. I won't go into those, as such a dissertation would exceed the intended scope (and the provided margins) of even one of my loquacious blog posts - I will leave it to your capable Google-fu to figure out how to find them in the event that it's your jam to consider it further.

Kudos with Caveats

I like to think of this review series as being equally about the enjoyability aspect of a given actual play and the value of that actual play to inspire and educate aspiring Referees. Critical Role, in the first season, is a good expose of the powers, spells, and mechanisms of the 5th edition of the rules. For that, it gets kudos - however, keep in mind: if you're leaning in to the OSR - 5e inverts the design goals of old-school systems. An old school game stresses resource management - 5e, using cantrips and other class abilities, trivializes resource management: for example, the party's Bag of Holding. While it is a legitimate item, part of an old school game is managing encumbrance and choosing which piece of treasure to take or how, based on what you can carry, and weighing that risk against how it may affect your travel out of the dungeon and back to town. An old school game has a higher morbidity rate - as discussed above - 5e makes it difficult for a player character to die. So - if you're looking to learn how to run new school: Critical Role Season 1 is an excellent resource. If you're looking to run old school, it can introduce contradictory expectations to how OSR games operate.

The production quality - kudos again - is very professional on Critical Role. For the video segments, which are in-person tables, the props and miniatures are top notch; for the audio segments, the editing and sound quality are exquisite. The only times when I had issue with the audio was when the sessions were recorded at live-events in a stadium or other large venue. This, among some other flags, is indicative of a dedicated crew - when running your own game, or playing in a game, don't expect to have a boom guy and technicians managing camera angles. Do there not exist hobbyists who are of equivalent dedication and talent in the OSR ecosystem? Of course they do - but it's difficult, for example, to create a Blue Table Painting quality terrain sets for adventures in a sandbox - which many OSR games trend towards. In an old school game, the Referee is not responsible for guiding the players in a direction. They can, of course, but its difficult to predict where the party is going. Also - speaking to morbidity: although there are an abundance of talented miniature collectors and painters in the OSR ecosystem, your first character is not likely to be your only character - in many cases, a player will burn through a dozen or so, depending on their level of skill and the degree of challenge they encounter. That in mind, you'd be doing either a lot of painting on your character's avatar or you'll be doing a lot of mini re-use.

Lastly, voice acting. The players - and DM - of the Critical Role game are professional voice actors, appearing in a wide variety of media - most notably including commercials, television shows, and voices in anime adaptations. As such, the voice acting does help with the immersion. But like I've said in other reviews... as a personal preference... I hate voice acting in games. It can add to the mood if it's done right; but the number of professional voice actors in your game is by most estimates going to be the limit of X as X approaches 0. I do not recommend trying voices in your game unless you're very good at it - and even then, if only one or two members of a six or eight person table are doing it... it is much more likely to detract from the experience than add to it: and it is likely to contribute to character attachment: which is unhealthy in a game which employs an OSR-level of morbidity.

In Conclusion

Critical Role, I rate as Leather (but cursed a little). It's not OSR and doesn't try to be. It's good for what it is - a 5e game that is tailor made to appeal to the new school of gaming. In that sense, it is not a good tool to learn about the OSR and what the OSR play-style represents. In the first season, there are some elements that you can learn from - some tricks and tips that you can pick up on from the game to improve your own - and I'm not disappointed that I listened to as much of it as I did.

Do I recommend it?
No - from an OSR perspective - because hidden among the persistent old-school elements are nuggets of new-schoolery endemic to the system and to the focus of the campaign that may, for a novice Referee, stand at odds to the assumptions that old school games make.

What about if you're not interested in old school gaming?
If you're not interested in old school gaming, how did you wind up on this blog?


In any case, may fortune smile on your dice, good readers.

Glossary of OSR Acronyms

The OSR is full of acronyms - some of which are self explanatory, others a bit more vague. A week or two ago, an anonymous enthusiast compiled a pastebin with a really good list of acronyms and terms, which is available as follows:

https://pastebin.com/Ur8nPWsK

Although some of the terms are general internet acronyms rather than being OSR-specific (for example, I'm pretty sure I've seen "WTF" in another context before) I wanted to give that list a shout-out. Having been working on a list of my own here for a week or two prior, now I don't have to finish it! But more importantly, it's a good lexicon, it's a good start, and seeing new faces to the hobby, this is a good way to provide a glossary that, to date, is maintained via oral tradition rather than by reference.

Here compiled is an extension to the above pastebin - not knowing how to contact its maintainer to suggest addendums - along with some clarifications that I would personally supply.

• BitC) Blood in the Chocolate - A module for the LotFP system themed around Willy Wonka, but embedded with controversy surrounding the use of sexual themes to drive interest.
• BTAM) Better Than Any Man - A supplement for the LotFP system containing an adventure, but also supporting resources, such as new spells or magic items.
• BXE) Basic / eXpert Essentials - the original working title of OSE.
• DAC) Descending Armor Class - used in original TSR editions, descending AC means "lower AC is harder to hit."
• D&D) Dandies and Daffodils - the much anticipated sixth edition of WotC's D&D with significantly more emphasis on player introspection and the poetic aspect of collaborative storytelling in a role-playing context. Occasionally abbreviated DnD.
• FOE) Foul Odor Expressed - a reference to the typically poor hygiene associated with the less savory members of the hobby; commonly used in conjunction with GYG) Grogs, You Gag!.
• OSR) Old School Renaissance - the name of the movement bringing D&D back to it's roots!
• RTCS) Red Tide Campaign Setting - [RESEARCH]
• ToEE) Temple of Elemental Evil - A module for AD&D, published as a sequel for VoH, originally published in 1985 known for its lethality and as a source for anecdotal stories stemming from its inclusion in Gary Gygax's home game.
• SWN) Stars Without Number - a sci-fi system written by Kevin Crawford that draws on some influences from Traveler.
• VoH) Village of Hommlet - A self-described introductory AD&D module and the first in the Temple of Elemental Evil series.
• WoHF) Wilderlands of High Fantasy - A campaign setting published by Judges Guild originating in 1977, having originated in CSIO.
• ~ZOZ) not an acronym. I seem to recall this originated as an error in an AD&D PDF, where the word "fun" was mistranspiled as "~ZOZ" - in either case, I hate this term. No express reason.

Missing one? Got another? Post it! And may the dice smile on your table.

Possum Drawing Dungeon

In publishing my musings on the process of designing, drawing, and stocking a dungeon, I produced - intended to be humorously - a map floor plan from tracing a drawing of a family of possums hanging from a tree. I kind of liked the map, and it was already drawn anyway, so I went ahead and added one more loop for good measure and decided to key it.

Enjoy!

Scale: 10 ft.
Click here for a PDF copy of this adventure!

A - Foyer

A narrow hallway leads into the dark behind an iron portcullis. The door in the center is rusted. It has a lock on it, but it has been unlocked and cast aside. The narrow hallway is even, with a gradual slope downward: net, 10 feet between the iron grate and where it levels out, near the door to N.

The door to N is not locked. The door to I is locked. The secret door to B is a faux stone pattern, painted to look like the stone around it - it will shift, if pressed, and once discovered, should be treated as a stuck door - opening inwards and hinged to the left.

B - Mirrored Corridor

This small corridor has mirrors on the north and south walls. If the players look closely, their reflections face with them rather than the opposite: thus, if they look to one mirror, they will see the back of their head - but behind them, their face in the other mirror. If they touch the mirror, it will allow them to pass through: as though a portal to the other side of the narrow hallway. The doors to A and D, opening inwards, are obvious from this end, but stuck.

C - Hat Room

Inside are Halfling-sized hats - a dozen of them - hanging at various heights from lines affixed to the ceiling. A lone lockbox sits in the south-west corner. It is open and empty.

D - Moai Chamber

The doors to L and C are not locked. The secret door to B is faux stone, painted to match the walls. Once discovered, treat it as a stuck door. The door to E is obvious - but will not open, being secured with iron bars behind it.

In the two angular sections in the south wall are basalt moai - mouths agape, a circular slot on the tongue. If a gold coin is placed on the slots, they will loosen, allowing the party to rotate them. If they are set to face each other, one east; the other west, the door to B will slide open on its own; if they are set to face opposite, the door to E will open. If the gold coin is removed from either, they will slide back into a northward facing position, causing both the door to B and E to close.

A party of 13 Halflings (B36) are investigating the moai - but none of them brought any gold. They will claim they had gold, but it was pilfered by a subset of their party - whom they are tracking.

E - The Narrows

A breeze runs north to south through these narrows - wide enough barely for a man-sized creature to squeeze, gradually descending from south to north. Mushrooms that glow line the corridor - they will glow for 2-12 minutes further if plucked: illuminating as a candle. There are enough of the mushrooms that the whole of the narrows are illuminated dimly. If ingested, Save vs Poison or die, retching, in 1-4 rounds.

The secret exit to J is obvious from the Narrows - being a hole in the ceiling obscured by thatch. The exit to H is not as obvious - as it is a sheer drop from H, 20 feet in height. The doors to F and D are locked.

F - Workshop

Two Gnomes (B35-6) sit at a small table - their workspace the size of a Human step-stool. They are dissecting an entity which appears to be half biological and have mechanical. They look up curiously if disturbed.

Each gnome has a pouch, in which can be found 500 electrum pieces. The clockwork creature has a small, spherical gemstone at its heart - worth 100 gold pieces - which emits a faint glow. The gnomes tools, probes, and miscellaneous equipment is worth 50 gold pieces. 500 silver pieces are piled neatly on a shelf on the south wall.

G - Glue Room

Three feet into the room, there is an obvious groove in the floor. In the south-east corner, there are two skeletal corpses on top of each other; in the south-west corner - a desiccated corpse on the floor - Halfling sized. There are three alcoves in the south wall, each with a small silver idol: one covering its eyes, one covering its ears, one covering its mouth.

The idols are worth 20 gp each.

If a character steps onto the floor past the groove, the floor begins to sink down; from the edges bubble over a sticky liquid. Any character on the sinking platform must Save vs Paralysis or become stuck. The floor will sink a total of eight feet over the course of 4 rounds; characters who cannot be freed from the sticking substance will drown. The trap takes one week to reset; the liquid being mildly acidic, eating away the flesh of the victim, absorbing it into the liquid, itself, thus reducing the weight pushing down on the mechanism.

In a pouch on one of the skeletons in the south-east corner can be found 30 gold pieces.

H - Gilded Balcony

This area is a balcony overlooking I, no visible way up, its floor 15 feet higher than I. In the rear of the room are six Halflings (B36) quietly arguing and fiddling about with the locks on some strongboxes. Among their horde are:

• Three locked strongboxes with 2,000 copper pieces each
• One locked iron chest containing 3,000 silver
• An unlocked jewelry case containing a necklace worth 150 gold pieces and a garnet worth 50 gold pieces
• A satchel containing 2,000 electrum pieces

They are nervous and will likely retreat if confronted, carrying with them as much treasure as they can hold. The door to G is not locked; additionally, there is an area of the floor that has fallen away - indicated by stippling - this is open, a 20 foot straight drop to E.

I - Honeyed Halls

The doors exiting this room are locked. The secret door to O is wedged slightly open, a faux stone painted to resemble the walls. It is wedged by a nest of Killer Bees (B37) - of which 8 inhabit the hive, flitting in and out of O. They are agitated, as normally they can exit the cave via the door to A, but the Halflings running through closed the door behind them, locking it, when they came through; thus trapping the bees.

J - Straw Idol

In the center of this room is an idol depicting a sitting gnome. It is made of straw - excepting two platinum pieces that it has for eyes and a smile made from real teeth - and there is a mat of hay all across the small closet space. If the party works to remove the straw, they will find a thatched mat in the rear of the room that covers a small crack in the floor leading to E. It is too narrow for a character wearing heavy armor to fit through.

K - Stairwell

On the east side of the room is a 10-foot vertical stairwell, with banister, leading up to a platform. On the west side, planter box with what appear to be petrified cactus with wicked looking spines. There are marble runners that flank the east and west walls at approximately 1 foot higher than where the banister is.

The second-to-last step on the stairs is a pressure plate; if a character steps on it, the marble runner from the east wall over the stairs juts out - striking any characters on the stairwell. They may Save vs Wands or be knocked into the cactus: roll 2d6, taking the higher result for any character falling into the cactus from higher on the stairwell and the lower result for any character falling into the cactus from lower on the stairwell. The trap resets in 1 round.

The door to L is not locked.

L - Atrium

The floor of this space has a drain in the center. In the north-east and south-west corners are hanging fixtures with three prongs each, curving up bluntly like a coat rack's tines. Neither the door to K nor D are locked; the room is open to M in the north-west.

M - Lever Chamber

This rectangular space has two circular wells - both dry, both around two feet tall and three feet deep. The north circle, in the center of the well, there is a Silvered Sword - it is identical to a one-handed sword, excepting that it will not rust and is treated as Silver for the purposes of creatures resisting normal damage; the south circle, in the center of the well, there is a silver chain with a holy symbol at the end. If used as a holy symbol, the user gains a +1 bonus to Turn Undead; it is worth 100 gold pieces for materials and craftsmanship alone. In the center of the room is a box - 18 inches cubic - from which protrude three levers - three feet long each. The levers are all in the "down" position.

The wells are protected by a shell of three (or four, see below) sets, each, of retractable iron bars. These bars are controlled by the levers, as detailed in the Lever Puzzle section.

N - Resting Place of the Mace

The door to A is not locked by default. The door to O is hidden - faux stone on a steel door, painted to match the wall, that slides in if pressed heavily.

In the north-west corner, there is a small circular room containing a slightly smaller circular well, 2 feet tall and three feet deep, behind a set of three (or four, see below) metal bars which retract and extend, blocking the entry.

The metal bars are controlled by the levers in room M, described in more detail in the Lever Puzzle section below.

In the well is the Mithril Mace, submerged. In the walls are lined with three sconces with two gemstones at the end, like eyes, illuminating the mace. If the sconces are not covered or turned such that the light no longer touches the mace - the "eyes" can no longer "see" it - if a character attempts to remove it, the door to A locks and the well begins to overflow: filling the room in 2-6 turns. It will remain filled for a further 1-3 turns before draining completely. It will be dry for 1-6 days, after which point, the trap resets.

The mace weighs half as much as a normal mace and gains a +1 bonus rolling To Hit only.

O - Caves

These caves are nondescript, though a tight squeeze. The secret doors out are obvious from this side, metal plates holding up the faux exterior.

Lever Puzzle

Each of the three barred wells are protected by a set of retractable metal bars. This is either three sets of bars or four - depending on how much your party enjoys puzzles. To start, the bars are configured as follows, where O indicates the bars are retracted, giving them:

Simpler Well 1st Bars 2nd Bars 3rd Bars M North Open Closed Open M South Closed Open Open N Open Closed Closed

More Complex Well 1st Bars 2nd Bars 3rd Bars 4th Bars M North Open Closed Closed Closed M South Closed Closed Closed Open N Closed Closed Closed Closed

I envision the bars to all be vertical, in the case of the wells in room M, but to be criss-cross in room N - first bars being vertical; second being diagonal from the top-left; third being diagonal from the top-right; and fourth being horizontal - but you are free to elaborate or interpret as makes sense to you.

To start, all levers are in the down position. When a lever is pulled up, some of the bars move: retracting or extending, toggled into the new position from their previous state. If using the more complex puzzle, the levers move different bar sets when moved up versus when moved down:

Simpler Lever Bars Moved Left 1st & 2nd Center 3rd Right 1st & 3rd

More Complex Lever Upward Downward Left 1st 1st & 2nd Center 2nd 3rd Right 4th 3rd & 4th

In both complex and simple examples, there is an obvious trap (or perhaps mechanical malfunction):

• If one lever is in the up position, a slight humming can be heard from the box.
• If two levers are in the up position, a louder humming can be heard from the box and perhaps sparks begin to arc around it.
• If three levers are in the up position, all levers become charged. Any character touching any lever with a conducive element - their hand, a metal object, etc - will be shocked for 1-6 points of damage.

The above is net state: that is, if three levers are up and one is pushed down, it reverts to humming,  but is no longer dangerous; whereas if that same lever is up again - the charge resumes.

At Least One Solution
There are many solutions to the presented puzzle, but at least one can be achieved for each as follows from the initial state:

Simpler Well Lever Sequence M North Left, Center, Right M South Center, Right N Center, Left

More Complex Well Lever Sequence M North Left, Center, Left, Right M South Right, Left, Right, Center N Center, Right, Center, Left

Note, it is unlikely the players will interact with the puzzle more than once in its initial state – but that’s intentional as part of the challenge.


Public domain possum drawing respectfully pilfered from ReusableArt.com in August of 2020. Public domain drawing,  Foucault & Dubosc Electromagnetic Regulator by an unknown artist, retrieved from OldBookIllustrations.com on 9/5/2020. Attribution in alt text.

The Mushussu: Glittering Serpent Folk of Caan

Smoke fills the room.

Thin, acrid smoke - a scent reminiscent of spices imported from the far reaches - lingers, floating, refusing to dissipate. Her eyes sting at its caress - but the man with four fingers had assured her it was worth her time. So here she is... staring at a thick curtain. The guard inquires; she replies - the passphrase four-fingers had given her. He nods. The curtain is drawn back ... more smoke ... and she steels herself against the visage. She steps in.

"No need, my pet, to hold yourself so stiffly," it says - sibilant syllables dancing off its scaled lips, velvet - "Come. Be seated with me." 

The creature is nine feet long. Six feet, a lithe, cylindrical body - the thickest constrictor - ending in the face of a serpent - its eyes round, but its pupils slits: tilted the wrong way. About the head is a headdress bedecked with pearls and aquamarine. In its hands... no... its paws... a hookah: a thin stream of smoke trailing from one of seven mouthpieces protruding from hoses attached to its slowly boiling center. Three more, a tail, curled around a second mouthpiece to one side of the grand cushion on which the creature is in repose, it's clawed legs crossed: short, stubby - dwarf-like legs, almost a parody attached to the frilled serpent.

"Partake, pet," it speaks again, satin, "Surely, you will not have had such as this before."

"I prefer to speak to business," she replies.

A pause. Down feathers.

"Fair enough. You have come seeking knowledge, it seems, as to the location of Odakon's Eye - guarded by the Deepwater Convent. You nod - good, pet, I have been informed rightly. I have come across in my wanderings a parchment - most valuable - which contains a guide to the tower in which it is kept. If your courage is keen enough to take it, this parchment rests rolled in a map case behind you. Take it to the tower at least one hour after the sun has set - the knowledge contained therein will guide you: its enchantment, it will protect you - so long as you are able to leave no later than an hour before the moon has vanished. Bring the Eye to me - payment for the parchment - and you must keep anything else in the tower that you discover." 

The map case is where the creature has said it was. She should have felt it - this cushion isn't so soft as to disguise a vessel of treated leather and brass.

"Ah, pet, but the evening is still far afield, the moon still hours from awaking. Perhaps you would want to spend those hours here - your armor, it must chafe with the humidity of these parts..."

"I have things to prepare," she interrupts, "An afternoon's time is short."

The creature smiles - "A professional, pet; truly so," - caramel and butter - "I will see you upon your return. And in the meantime, though I fear I have no knowledge of where you found that parchment, your guide."

She nods. 

In the moment, she rises, departing half facing the creature, a disquieted crab-walk: keeping eye contact in either respect or suspicion - not sure which. Out of the smoke. Out through the staff corridors of the garden-tavern. Into the heat of the afternoon.

From behind a curtain on the wall, another reptilian face emerges. A crest, a frill, hangs loosely - relaxed - red, brighter than the deep hue of the curtain. Anticipation.

"Have four follow her." Brass. "Wait in the grass for her - and when she returns, kill her and bring the Eye to me."

The ridge of the eye raises - no brow to raise with it. A smile.

"She will return, if she survives. And then we will know she is worth her employ."

Serpents of Splendor

The Mushussu are a reptilian race with shimmering scales. Males and females are similar in size - taller than most humans - but slender. They have short legs not dissimilar to a bird that sprout just above a long, thick tail - appearing almost comically stunted when compared to the length of their frame. Their arms are smooth, proportional, and terminate in thick hands that look almost like cat's paws with thumbs. Along their neck and up the sides of their head is a semi-retractable crest - ribbed, almost as though formed of skin and horns - the inside of which, which faces forward, is a bright crimson color.

The avarice of the Mushussu knows no bounds. That which glitters speaks to them like it speaks to no other race - and given any opportunity, they will festoon themselves with expensive clothing and gaudy jewelry: albeit never in the wild... as they may risk spoiling them. The Caanish are untrusting of the Mushussu - not knowing whether to call them friends, foes, or even mercenaries - as they are as likely to turn for better opportunities as they are likely to honor their commitments. Their leaders - alchemists and transmuters - are more trustworthy than the rank and file, but the years of conniving that has gotten them to the station they occupy lends to experience in bargains that even the Caanish, building a society on mercantilism, are wont to display.

When there is a conspiracy, a money-laundering operation, or other sprawling illicit enterprise: it is not uncommon to find a Mushussu at or near the head of the pyramid.

Encountering the Mushussu

Mushussu are able to "retract" their lower legs - folding them behind their backs as a soldier at ease folds their arms - and move about on their bellies, like a snake. This gives them a 4-in-6 chance to surprise in tall grass - typically three feet, minimum - and increases their movement speed to 150' (50'), but while slithering like this, they suffer a -1 to hit in melee and their AC is reduced to 6, as they lose some agility. Slithering tends to be the preferred mechanism of locomotion outside of combat or social situations.

Mushussu
Armor Class:	4	No. Appearing:	2-8, (6-36)
Hit Dice:	1+1	Save As:	Elf 1
Move:	90' (30')	Morale:	8
Attacks:	1 weapon or 2 claws	Treasure Type:	U (B)
Damage:	As weapon or 1-4 / 1-4	Alignment:	Chaotic
Frequency:	Common	Chance In Lair:	8%

A Mushussu of typical stature ranges from 6 to 7 feet in height, but weighs between 180 and 200 pounds: their bodies are solid and their scales are tough, but they are somewhat slender. On occasion, they are known to use shields - if so, their AC is increased accordingly. In battle, they are fond of shaking and flaring their crests as a challenge and intimidation of foes.

Preferred weapons of the Mushussu are pole arms - bladed ones like the glaive or the fauchard, especially. Many will carry slings or some throwing knives - as the benefit of range is not lost on them, but slithering is not conducive to carrying or using bow-style weapons.

For every 8 Mushussu appearing, the group will be accompanied by one Mushussu Sorcerer.

Mushussu, Sorcerer
Armor Class:	5	No. Appearing:	1-3 (2-9)
Hit Dice:	2+1	Save As:	Elf 4
Move:	90' (30')	Morale:	8
Attacks:	1 weapon or 2 claws, both -1	Treasure Type:	V (H)
Damage:	As weapon or 1-4 / 1-4	Alignment:	Neutral
Frequency:	Uncommon	Chance In Lair:	16%

Mushussu Sorcerers are those among the Mushussu who have ascended above the rank and file, politicked their way into the good graces of the Akhkhazu or with other occult masters. Like their brethren, they are untrustworthy and seen as spawn of Chaos - especially when their witchery is considered in tandem - however they tend to avoid direct participation in the cosmic struggle, themselves being Neutral: they know that in a pure chaotic state, it becomes impossible to retain and enjoy the material wealth they have attained.

Mushussu Sorcerers are as skilled with their weapons as their mundane brethren - however they prefer to orchestrate from the rear, serving as arcane support. In part, this is due to standard assumptions of marching order... but in part, also, they are seeking to protect their own scales by hiding behind a wall of underlings and hired blades.

Bodyguards - Mushussu Sorcerers encountered in the wilderness have a 50% chance of being accompanied by 4-16 mundane Mushussu bodyguards. In lair, a bodyguard is guaranteed.

Spellcasting - Mushussu Sorcerers can cast spells as a M-U of level 3. First level spells preferred by the Mushussu include Charm Person, Detect Magic, Darkness, Shield, and Ventriloquism; second level spells include Continual Darkness, Detect Invisible and Invisibility, Knock, and Wizard Lock.

Spoiler Alert!

The Deeper Lore section contains some notes to help a GM (me) to run the Mushussu in a way consistent with the archetype they are supposed to fill and some of the inspirations behind their creation. If you play in (or want to play in!) a game GM'ed by me, beyond this point will ruin some of the mystery for you for both Mushussu and for most of the sentient races: having some impact in the game world that isn't immediately available outside of player character discoveries.

Deeper Lore

The Mushussu are based on a mythological Babylonian dragon of the same name. Dragons, by association, in western literature tend towards the embodiment of greed: thus, Mushussu being greedy makes sense - as they are described as being serpentine, with one translation of their name being the "splendor serpent."

In game, the Mushussu were once men - corrupted by Chaotic spirits, Akhkhazu, in the service of the goddess Dimmekur, who is incarnate the Peccata Clamantia of Violence: the impetus driving the cardinal sins Envy and Wrath. They are capable of normal reproduction - laying clutches of eggs, 4 to 8 at a time - in which case, the Chaos Seed is passed to the young from the mother - however they can also be created by the implantation of the seed by powerful magic, the kind of which the Akhkhazu are capable. In their origins, the Mushussu emerged from the corruption in opposition to the Dabrutu - who embody Wrath - and are envisioned by the Akhkhazu to serve as spies, strategists, and seers in the war against Law.

The Mushussu are not wont to reproduce commonly - as they seek their own gain and take almost no care of their young, who would serve as a drain on their own success. This countermeasures a naturally long productive life span, keeping the ambient Mushussu population at a manageable level. There are stories - as a Mushussu takes as long as three decades to reach maturity - of wizened Mushussu sages using magic on pits of hatchlings to advance their age 15, 20 years in a single ritual: bypassing childhood and adolescence entirely in a quest for immediate and loyal underlings. This act would produce somewhat of a naive nest - which may account for their affinity for Chaos compared to the more experienced sorcerers - but with that naivety can be bought loyalty... at least for a time.

The natural life span of a Mushussu is in the vicinity of 120 years - with those who have not reproduced living slightly longer, to 140 or so. This number is impacted, likewise, by the amount of largesse a Mushussu in question is able to attain: those more impoverished allowing their envy to impact their health - aging them more quickly and compromising their immune system. As such, Mushussu who consistently see themselves as attaining - fairly or not - less than others tend to live closer to 80 years at the maximum. Some may argue that the most wealthy, when targeted, suffer in health as well - their jealousy over subordinates attempting to subvert their success nagging at them as badly as seeing others succeed more would have - but the easy solution to this problem, for most, is for the Mushussu to surround themselves with allies either more loyal (as a human might be) or more stupid, arresting larcenous outcomes.

The Mushussu - on a meta note - are among the Vice Races: embodying the vice of Envy. Like other Vice Races, they can be redeemed - but again, this is unknown to the people of Caan: though there may be some among the Mushussu who suspect as much - something that they, if knowing, would guard jealously: for fear, perhaps - that in redemption, they would lose their riches or desire therefor; for self-preservation, perhaps - seeking to hide the fact in case it could be used against them; or perhaps even to keep it as an ace in the sleeves - potentially exploiting the knowledge, themselves, weighing such an act against the potential fury of Dimmekur.

Public domain artwork respectfully pilfered and adapted from OldBookIllustrations.com and the National Gallery of Art on or about 8/13/2020. Attributions in alt text.

Maps & Monsters: On Making a Dungeon

With the exceptions of tools and guides, the most viewed posts on this blog are the ones that provide a map and key: plug and play dungeons and dungeon levels which can be incorporated into a home game, wholesale, or which can be mined for ideas and inspiration. Why is this? Dyson is far more prolific and talented than I am at layouts; Donjon has a generator that will create a map for you (and isn't the only one!); and there are countless online resources (the One Page Dungeon Contest archive, for example), that provide virtually endless of the same type of product.

Because they are keyed.

Drawing or finding a map is easy. Keying a map, stocking the map, takes time and not everyone - especially folks with odd or demanding work schedules or *cough cough* young children *cough* have time to devote to it. More so, random generators rarely provide the ever-interesting "Special" result: so keyed maps and modular adventures, wherever you find them, are idea mines. Don't like a map? Doesn't fit your setting? Grab the good stuff and mold it into your game!

Keyed maps and modular adventures are, at their best, plug-and-play sessions and at their worst, idea mines. Knowing that, and knowing that a core competency of mine lies somewhere in that territory, I wanted to elaborate on the method: how I operate. It's not an end-all be-all guide to how to make a map adventure: it's just the procedure I follow when I make dungeons and dungeon levels.

Concept and Theme

First and foremost, you'll want to come up with a concept for the dungeon. What are you trying to accomplish with this dungeon? How will this dungeon fit into a game world? Keep in mind - "I want a dungeon that is a hole in the ground with random critters guarding gold" is a perfectly acceptable and I would argue, to be encouraged, goal! A generic dungeon - especially a small one - can be a welcome diversion from ever-unique and infinite depths. While having too much generic or repetitious elements indeed can make the game more stale, losing the interest of the players, having some or just enough of the classical will encourage player skill - which I will elaborate a bit more about in a bit. Rangers don't get good at ranging without having ranges to range - so to speak: if your player latches on to the hunting of Hobgoblins: let them! It's known as emergent storytelling - if that character survives, it's now the protagonist of a Hobgoblin-hunting memory that you and the player group have created together.

To that end - you may elect to highlight a particular theme: and this is a nebulous term. You can define it to be based on the dungeon's purpose - was this dungeon a library? a prison? - or you can define it based on the dungeon's intended occupancy - is this a lair for goblins? Is this dungeon a fungal cavern that is harvested by various local factions for magic mushrooms? Themes are particularly useful if designing lairs or locations of interest - while not mandatory, they can help guide your imagination during the stocking process.

What is the purpose of the concept, the theme?
The reason you want a concept or theme up front - and the reason it's important that it's up front - is because it will influence how you key and how you map the dungeon. If you go in with a concept in mind, it will be much easier for you to flesh out the encounters, the factions, and the map in a way that engages the players: rather than producing a random series of irregularly shaped boxes containing assortments of treasure and its guardians. Again - randomization is not a bad thing, nor are dungeons with a plethora of creatures: but if that's what you're going for - you want to commit to it: set that as your theme, your goal, as a guard against violating your theme.

Can a dungeon have multiple themes? Yes. That's where factions come from - the area occupied by the cultists should be different than the area that's unclaimed or that is occupied by the Kobolds. In that case, think of that subsection of the dungeon  as it's own dungeon "level" - running through the process of dungeon creation independently for the themed area (primarily, the encounter list and stocking process: mapping, I tend to draw the map holistically first, and amend if needed). The lair element - the area occupied by a particular faction - should fit that faction: and treating it as such will produce a section of dungeon distinct from the rest that fits with how it should be, assuming that there are members of that faction making their home there: the cultists are less likely to have traps on every doorway, for example; or the Kobolds are perhaps less likely to have wandering acolytes on patrol.

Encounter Lists

Wandering Monster List

Based on the level of the map and the design goals of its contents, come up with a wandering monster list. In B/X, a d20 table is presented with different monsters whose number of hit dice match the level of the dungeon - 1 HD monsters on level 1, 2 HD monsters on level 2, and so on. You're absolutely welcome to use the tables out of B/X - or a third party table from a blog or other resource. If you make one yourself, don't feel compelled to have 20 monsters: you can have just six, or you can have 100 - if you want: keep in mind, however, that a wandering monster appears roughly every 12 turns - 1-in-6 chance every other turn - the broader your encounter list is, the less likely your party is to encounter one specific entry on it.

Consider, also, your theme. If you are using a particular type of dungeon, try to craft or select a wandering monster table that reinforces the theme: for example, if you are building a set of catacombs beneath a forgotten mausoleum, rodents or scavengers would be appropriate on upper levels while undead would be more appropriate on lower levels. By reinforcing the theme, the players begin to predict what to expect and will plan accordingly - it does not constitute a failure of the DM for players to prepare properly: one pillar of the game being player skill, if players on a return trip to a dungeon come equipped with spells and items that are more effective against the themed list, that means you've successfully rewarded and encouraged a core tenant of old-school play. If they get the equipment/spell list right on the first try based on the rumors they hear about wherever they are going? You've double succeeded - as the player skill has increased and you've provided a consistent world. That's not to say you can't or shouldn't surprise your characters - but unless you're going for a total fun-house adventure (in which case, disregard this paragraph), surprises should be just that: a surprise. If every room is different, without verisimilitudinous transition, the dungeon will lack cohesion and the game will trend against serious play.

Consider factions - or potential faction play. Don't plan to have every encounter resolve via combat. Instead, think to include elements that may parlay, team up with, or betray the party: combat, apart from being a hazard and a resource drain, hardly makes a memory the same as a non-combat element that the player's made their way out of using their wits and elan.

Consider, last, your mechanism of resolution: Rolling a single die - 1d6, 1d20, 1d%, etc. - offers a flat distribution of probability: that is, each wandering monster on the table is equally likely to come up when you roll for an encounter. If you want preferential treatment - for one or a set of monsters to wander more than others - there are a couple options to solve the problem: first, the most common solution, is wide-ranges on a D% - so, if I am in a Goblin lair and Goblins, Wargs, and Hobgoblins are on the list, logically, I may give "goblins" 20% (results 1-20), "wargs" or "hobgoblins" 15% (results 21-35 and 36-50, respectively), and then divvy up the remaining 50% among other dungeon occupants.

Another option is to use multiple dice - so, 2d6, 3d4, etc. - and put more common elements in the middle. I personally enjoy the multiple-dice approach, as D% seems sterile to me, but be very mindful of the probability curve: if your table is bigger than 2d8, or if your table has more than 2 dice - be mindful that the enemies at either extreme will become incredibly unlikely - with our goblin example, on 2d6, the easiest approximation for a 20% chance for "goblins" would be to key that encounter to both 5 and 9 - which have an 11% chance each. This will preserve your probability from above, but it will reduce the variety in the table: there are 11 possible results on 2d6 - so putting "goblins" onto two of them means a maximum of 9 other monsters will have assignable numbers. Similarly - consider your edges: rolling a 2 on 2d6 is the equivalent of applying just shy of a 3% chance. Increasing the die size to 2d8, the probability of a 2 drops to just shy of 2% - increasing the number of dice to 3d6, a 2 becomes impossible: but the probability of rolling a 3 is right about 0.5%: one half of one percent of rolls. Knowing that - your edge results, with this method, will become rapidly less likely to appear: at an average rate of one encounter every 12 turns, the party will have to be in the dungeon a long time and will encounter a lot of other wandering monsters before these special ones come up. Counter point - the dice love to defy probability: stories of several natural 20s in a row or encountering the 1-in-100 enemy right at the gate of the base town make for most memorable sessions - but regardless of those forum stories and copy-pastas: as personal advice, I would stick to smaller dice and smaller numbers of dice if using this approach.

In recent vintage, I've become enamored of the DX/X approach: that is, D6/6, D8/6, D4/4, etc. - rolling two dice and consulting a nested table. This is - in effect - very similar to the D% approach (which can really be considered D0/0, after all - as my d10s, at least, have a 0 on the tenth face) in that you are rolling two dice - one for the "tens" column and one from the "ones" column - however in reviewing the wilderness encounter tables in the X side of B/X, one finds a prototype version of this sort of table-nesting: for example, rolling a 1 results in "Men" - or a 2, "Flyer. "Men" and "Flyer" both have their own follow-up table - complete with brigands, bandits, etc. and gargoyles, griffins, etc. respectively.

Effectively - Expert, producing wilderness encounters, rolls a D8/12.

Why DX/X and not table references? I like rolling several dice once - not rolling one, looking up the result, and rolling again: so it's quicker for me in play and prep to have a DX/X. Second, presentation for reference - the aforementioned "Men" table is fine, as the wilderness encounter first-table and the appropriate reference table are on the same page - X57 - but "Flyer" on the other hand is a page later on X58. Depending on your printout, flipping back and forth might not be a bad thing - but looking at a table as such on a PDF is problematic - as it's much more of a chore to flip back and forth in a PDF or on a web page than it is to simply leave a physical book or pamphlet open on the desk while you work. DX/X tables are less object-oriented than table references: but they are more usable - especially in an online format.

Stocking Encounter List

Optionally - after having come up with a wandering monster list - you may come up with a special encounter list, or a stocking monster list. This is the list - in my case - that I'll roll on to determine what's in given rooms. It may be a super-set of your wandering monster list - or it may be something totally independent - but in general, it should contain things that would naturally be in the rooms of your dungeon, based on your theme, factions, and other pertinent influences.

How is this different than a wandering monster list? Your wandering monster list will be rolled in play - as such, it represents moving elements. Patrols, commuters, scavengers... these are your wandering monsters. Although it is totally acceptable to populate a dungeon using the wandering monster tables - those wanderers have to bunk somewhere - the purpose of the stocking table is to house, in addition to mobile elements, less mobile elements: thematically appropriate encounters that will not be encountered unless the party discovers them in their nest.

Doesn't Basic tell you that special monsters should be placed intentionally, along with special treasure, and the REMAINING space can be stocked procedurally? Yes. And if you want to do that - do that: in which case, this optional stocking encounter list, I don't create. The reason I include it, and the reason I use it when making dungeons that I don't have a particular layout in mind for, it can be fun to use a randomizer to determine where special or thematic elements reside - where the head cultist is, where the field of fungus monsters are (fungus doesn't walk around, now does it?), where the night-hags have set to roost. Doing so creates dynamics that don't arise when placing them manually: if two different factions are uncomfortably close to each other, the question then rises "why are they so close?" and "how does this proximity influence their behaviors?" Additionally, it leaves room for surprises - mentioned above. It is then an avenue to guard against accidentally formulaic layout choices and insurance that surprises remain an exception to the norm, preserving their designed capacity to keep the party on their toes.

The Map

Drawing the Map

There are dozens of posts on how to generate a dungeon - there are articles and sections in rule books as well - and there are also random generators, some linked in the introduction of this post that are based on those articles and sections. They are great resources - and I would be tempted to use them.

That said, I tend to draw my own maps - as it's something I enjoy doing: and the key to enjoying it, the key to producing maps that will challenge and reward the mapper - is to ensure that you, the author of the map, are likewise inspired. If you enjoy what you do while you're doing it, you're more likely to produce an inspired product: one which the player will enjoy unwrapping.

To start, grab an image, or an idea, or other visualization that strikes you. A bird might work - or a geographic pattern. Imagine what it would look like pixelated, and draw that out - these are your initial halls and rooms. From there, think of some shapes you haven't used yet - as you draw, see if there are some shapes you like that you want to repeat: draw them. Incorporate them. Don't be afraid to take up a lot of horizontal space - too much on a page can create clutter: and some white space can lend itself towards a more esthetic layout. Alternatively, you could draw a maze - if that's what you're vision says - in which case, the guidance still applies: recall, most parties are going to be between 8 and 12 bodies: not necessarily 8 to 12 players, but four to six players each with a hireling, henchman, and torch-bearer or two. If the goal is to create cramped conditions and a feeling of claustrophobia, a ten foot hallway twenty feet long, though seeming a big space on graph paper, is plenty small enough for an adventuring party to get cramped cramming into. On a battle grid or VTT, after all, 10 by 20 feet is the bare minimum to accommodate our aforementioned minimum party of eight tokens! So - you can make it cramped if you want: but recall, don't be afraid to make it sprawl. It is always more cramped in play than it feels on paper (or in pixels, if you're drawing it virtually).

Then, make some alternate ins, alternate outs, from various sections - looping, as some folks call it, or jaquaying - leaving some places as dead ends if it makes sense for them to be dead ends, but creating circuits elsewhere: provide re-usability for the map - make the players want to explore more than once to see the ins and outs, or give the players (or monsters!) a way to move around more quickly, or to out-maneuver a pursuing adversary (or adversary under pursuit!).

Lastly, figure out your secrets. Which dead ends - or which thoroughfares - should be hidden, based on what you envision being in there? How would a character in that area engage with the terrain in order to find it or to enter? Are there too few secrets? Consider blank spaces on the map - if other places don't have a blank there, consider adding a secret room: a good mapper will notice if a map feels uneven and the party will often times double back and give it another go in the event that the mapper says, "Something should be here."

For you, the author, a map is freedom. The map is the point where there really isn't a good substitute for experience: and it's an avenue for artistry for folks (like me) who can't really do real art. Have fun when you draw - and if you aren't having fun, use a generator for this step, instead. Anything to get your map and your dungeon closer to actually being played: at the end of the day, isn't that the point?

Stocking

Having identified your stocking tables, as sub-sections by faction or area or as a whole, next, label your rooms using the naming convention of your choice and start rolling! This is a fairly simple process - as such, existing resources (B and X come to mind as my go-tos) having a good grasp on the process, I won't wax poetic too much: but will instead focus on process.

Rooms have three major elements:

• Treasure: the valuable elements that the player characters will want to take with them.
• Trim: the furnishings of the room - including traps, thematic elements, dynamic components to the room, or even mundane furnishings.
• Occupants: the monstrous (or not so monstrous) living entities in the room with whom the player characters can interact.

... each of which is represented by a roll on the stocking tables provided by the system. An initiate will be tempted to go down the list, room by room, and generate the required elements: rolling D6/6 to see if I have a monster, a trap, a special, or empty, and then to see if that monster room, trap room, special room, or empty room has treasure in it - upon finding a monster, rolling for said monster; upon finding treasure, rolling for said treasure - noting it down, writing some flavor text, and moving to the next room. This method is time consuming and will drain you, bouncing back and forth between different tables in entirely different sections of the book. Instead, to minimize the page-flipping overhead and minimize GM preparation strain, I stock as follows:

1. In a separate "key" file - enter a line each for each room to stock, by room key. This list will allow you to iterate a specific series of action for each one.
2. First pass, roll D6/6 determining room contents as a flag - so, does this room have treasure? True/False; does this room have a monster? True/False; and so on.
3. Second pass, for each room with a monster, roll accordingly for occupants, based on the stocking table; note their treasure type, but do not roll it.
4. Third pass, open the book to the unguarded treasure table. For each room that contains treasure but does not have a treasure type - note, to my personal taste, I will treat a monster with treasure type Nil as unguarded treasure for this purpose - roll unguarded treasure, as appropriate, for each. Note its net value.
5. Fourth pass, open the book to the treasure type tables. For each room that has a treasure type, roll treasure accordingly. In this stage, it might stand to character to then do another round for magic items, gems, etc. - which you can, but I don't: gems and magic items are infrequent enough that I find flipping the page to them doesn't slow me down enough to warrant a dedicated pass. Note, again, the treasure's net value.
6. Finally, sit back - look at your key, look at where the rooms are and their contents in relation to each other - and come up with short descriptions, evocative - preferably, to explain what's going on in those rooms - think of a one line reason why there is a trap here, or what are those skeletons guarding. In so doing, this will help to come up with elements for the ever-mercurial Special room result - but also it will produce a dynamic between elements, between monsters, within the dungeon - perhaps through randomization, producing a faction that you hadn't planned for.

Likewise, if coins are getting boring, I will routinely change out treasure items. Rolled 300 silver pieces? Why not find three canopic jars, 100 coins weight each, that are worth 10 gold pieces each? This can help to reinforce your theme - to run with the canopic jars example, it would be a much better fit for those jars to appear when breaking into the embalmer's room in the tomb of an ancient mummy than it would be to find a stack of coins lying around. Similarly, it would be much more thematic to find a 100 gold piece torc when rummaging through a cairn to a pictish hero than it would be to find 100 gold pieces. Sometimes, you'll want to take liberties with the weights - assuming you run encumbrance rules - but all in all, it's not hard to make up the difference elsewhere: or, knowing that there will usually be more treasure in a larger floor than the party is going to haul out anyway, it's also not hard to not worry too much about it. Picking the right treasure to haul is part of player skill, managing inventory management and encumbrance.

Treasure vs Hazard Audit

We've all heard - and many of us experienced - the problems associated with too-much treasure: the Monty Haul game, wherein player character wealth grows out of hand and compromises the game by its buying power in a medieval population that runs on a denomination of wealth an order of magnitude smaller than the amount of wealth extracted. We've also experienced, though, the overbearing response to the threat of wealthy players - that is, stingy GMs. To account for these potential outcomes, I tend to keep a treasure audit versus the hazards that I've generated.

Each time I note the value of the treasure to be found in a room, I keep a running sum - potentially just putting it, one line at a time, in an Excel column. For me, and I don't know if it's just that I roll cursed dice to generate treasure - but I'm far more likely to randomly generate a small treasure than a big one. For that reason, I try to add treasure - potentially in places it would make sense for it to be - to bring the audit up a bit. I don't have a number in mind when I do this, in terms of "how much treasure is this versus how much would a party of the same level as the dungeon or dungeon level being mapped is intended to be need to level" - but instead eyeball it: would I, knowing the hazards therein, risk myself against those hazards with the promise of the treasure at hand? If I wouldn't, then I add some more - knowing that the party likely isn't going to find or extract all of it, that may change the number.

Are the players going to know beforehand what the hazard level is or what the potential reward may be? Of course not. That's part of the fun of playing. However, I as the referee, I want them to feel rewarded. I want them to be able to weigh their options fairly - some maps will have more treasure, some maps will have less: and sometimes one will appear the other based on how the players interact with it during the session - what they find, what they encounter, how they roll, ... - so, when stocking for treasure, behind the scenes, I tend to try to maintain that balance.

Them's My Two Coppers

Now get out there and build, dungeon makers!

Public domain art respectfully pilfered from OldBookIllustrations.com, ReusableArt.com, Wikimedia Commons, and the National Gallery of Art in June and August of 2020. Attribution in alt text.