D100 Places to Stay that Aren’t Generic Fantasy Inns

Adventurers in a typical vanilla fantasy game arrive in town and need a place to stay for the night. They get directions to the inn. You can readily imagine the inn that the DM improvises. It is familiar from many fantasy TTRPGs, video games, books, and movies. A rough-hewn fireplace, perhaps a full-ass hearth. A heavyset bartender, facial hair guaranteed. Some extremely provincial locals and workaday traveler NPCs gathered in a common room, perhaps with a musician performing.

Of course, that typical fantasy inn is an anachronism. It does not resemble anything that was particularly common in real medieval or renaissance settings. It is instead similar to the English coaching inn, which developed hundreds of years after the source period for D&D and most similar fantasy work.

That’s not a bad thing; D&D is full of anachronisms anyway. The game would not be improved by hunting down those anachronisms. But it does create an opportunity to brainstorm lodging options that add some more variety, particularly for a game that features a lot of travel.

Roll 5d20 for a result that will skew toward the middle of the list, where the (relatively) “normal” results appear. Roll 1d100 for a truly random result. If you’re wondering why the first few entries on this list are so gonzo, it is so they won’t show up at all on the more controlled 5d20 roll. Skip to the entries in the 50s for examples of the more conventional results.

1. Hotel of Dogs. Comfortable and well-appointed, but entirely staffed by dogs, who clumsily but diligently attempt to perform all the tasks of hotel management. They lack opposable thumbs, language, and other key tools of the hotelier trade, but try very hard. Polymorphed humans, or merely well-trained ex-familiars? No one knows.
2. The Terror Beast of Grottug Swamp. Spend an hour or two grooming ratfang ticks out of its fur, and it will perceive you as a cleaning mutualist. Sleeping curled up against it is about as safe as it gets, because everything else in Grottug Swamp is terrified of it. 
3. There Is No Anti-Memetic Hotel. Everyone forgets about this place shortly after checking out due to some ancient enchantment magic. The sensation is mildly distressing and confusing, and it makes it hard to find it in the first place. But it is relatively secure from any non-accidental discovery and attack.
4. Secure demiplane accessed by a one-way magical door. Reasonably safe from everything. The only catch is that you can only leave it by a different one-way magical door, and no one is sure where that door goes.
5. Enormous tortoise trundles across the landscape. Travelers gather in a house on its back. 
6. A gorgon will petrify travelers for the night, de-petrifying them in the morning. Locals will confirm this isn’t a trick. Pretty safe if true, but do you actually feel rested? 
7. Fane to a faded god, long ago the site of human sacrifices. Theurges have now bound the remnant deity and divert its remaining power to the local town, where it serves those who once served it. The emanating divine energy makes this a warm place to stay. 
8. Ongoing construction. Obsessive builders are hard at work on a megastructure of vague and mystifying origin and purpose. The builders will let you sleep within the completed parts of the structure if you spend a day of hard labor contributing to its construction. 
9. Valley of slumbering mists. Living things fall into a deep sleep at dusk each evening. The mist dissipates in the morning. Travelers here get a great night’s rest, and they won’t be bothered by any predators capable of sleep. Things that don’t sleep are a different issue…
10. Shade? A perfectly square area, 100 meters on each side, is shielded from the weather by an invisible, floating structure or object. Provides shade in the summer and shelter in the rain, but some travelers are understandably uncomfortable sleeping under it; it has been there as long as anyone can remember, but who knows if the magic will someday wear off, and whatever is up there will fall from the sky? 
11. The Endless Show. Sleep No More-style interactive theater. You are given a role and expected to stay in character. You can get some sleep, but expect to be woken up at least once or twice by dramatic happenings.
12. Abandoned giant termite mounds. Hollow like dead trees. Not enough room to lay flat, so you must sleep upright. Awkward but functional.
13. Tombs! Safe, dry tombs, at bargain rates! Rumors of a breakthrough in magical immortality research have forced cemetery owners to pivot and market their real estate for a different purpose.
14. The basement backrooms. Huge, underused space underneath the largest building in town. Damp and full of forgotten and worthless echoes of whatever is cherished and valuable up above. Probably connects to local dungeons. 
15. Murder mystery. A shriek in the night. One of the other guests in this sprawling estate is dead? Who could be the killer? No one is recovering HP or memorizing spells in peace until the mystery is solved. 
16. Pleasure gardens. Safe from harm, comfortable, plenty of food and wine… but will you ever want to leave?
17. Mush-room. Toadstools the size of cozy cottages. Come hungry. You have to burrow out the interior to create enough space to sleep for the night.
18. Faerie ring. Sleep here at your own risk, for this place is bound to another world… 
19. Gargoyles guard the abandoned chapel. A local scholar claims to know what kind of offering will appease them, allowing travelers to sleep safely within the chapel. Is it real, or is she scamming the unwary?
20. Quaint witch’s cottage. The witch is currently (1d6): 1. Hungry 2. Bored 3. Horny 4. Polymorphed 5. Wrathful 6. Not Home.
21. Hollow, egg-shaped stone structures. Step into one, and it will close and keep you safe for 777 minutes. Large enough to provide enough air for one sleeper. Can’t be opened early by any known means. Simple, secure, eerie, unnerving.
22. Capsule hotel-style tubes in a massive granite block. The tubes are eerily silent. More than 10,000 years ago this block was part of a prison complex meant to drive prisoners mad through sensory deprivation. The prison and its purpose is long forgotten, and now the permanent Silence spell merely ensures a good night’s sleep. 
23. Wealthy distant relative. What a surprise, it turns out the PC’s wealthy uncle, sister-in-law, or other relation owns a vacation dwelling here. They may take an interest in one of their relative’s companions.
24. Discarded giant’s helm, embedded in the landscape. Provides a cave-like space where every sound echoes sonorously. Despite age and wear, parts exposed to the air gleam brilliantly in the light each morning.
25. The Painted Caves of Cavinto. An ancient cave art site of stunning beauty and sophistication. The Painted Sisters who care for the site welcome all who appreciate its beauty. One of the sisters may decide to paint the portrait of a party member. If they are not finished by the time you depart, they will travel with you until they complete the work. 
26. Slopes of the dormant (?) volcano. Heat from the vents keeps the night’s chill at bay.
27. The traveling circus will provide safe and dry accommodations in exchange for contributing something to the show. Magical tricks, acrobatics, and strongman performance are obvious options for adventurers, but weirder ideas from the PCs are welcome. 
28. Offseason shacks. Whatever the fishers/hunters/punters use this for in-season, it isn’t in use now. Poorly suited to this season’s weather, but otherwise fine.
29. Cartographer’s guild camp. Free admission for anyone who can provide detailed descriptions of the areas they traveled through to get there. The longer the journey and the more they got lost, the better.
30. Romantic spa. The newlyweds’ suite is the only room available, and the owners are strict about only renting it to qualifying customers. They are licensed and willing to perform a marriage between two party members, for a small additional fee. 
31. Abandoned owlbear lair. Safe as long as the smell lingers and keeps other predators away. Probably not a good choice once the nesting season begins.  
32. Laboratory. You will be tested, examined, poked, prodded, quizzed, queried, then tested again. And finally allowed to sleep.
33. Well-guarded ksar. The worse the approaching dust storm is, the greater the ksar's obligation of hospitality compels them to accept travelers. 
34. Leper colony with extra beds. Shunned by the nearby town, but the “lepers” generally have non-contagious or non-threatening skin conditions. Staying with them is actually safer than staying in the nearby town.
35. Convent operated by the Sisters of Perpetual Quietude. No charge to stay, but all visitors must keep completely silent while there; violators are cursed (or so they say (or so they would say, if they could talk)). 
36. Clay furnaces. They fire the furnaces all day, then the residual heat keeps sleepers warm through the bitterly cold night.
37. Brothel. Yes, you can rent just a bed. But the upselling is intense. 
38. Crowded tenement. A stair landing or coat closet is considered a viable rental spot.
39. Blacksmith’s shop. The heat from the forge is nice, but watch out for the cinders and hot ash that can ignite fires long after the blacksmith has gone to sleep.
40. Workhouse. You can stay here, but you need to put in an honest day’s work, or participate in an impromptu musical number. Food, glorious food… 
41. Overhanging cliff forming a natural windbreak. A fire is almost always maintained here, and stories are exchanged, as exaggerated silhouettes dance upon the rocks.
42. All-night bar. I don’t care where you sleep, but you can sleep here!
43. Fishermen shacks. Hammocks made from fishing nets. You will smell like fish for at least three days after staying here.
44. House for rent. The owner will rent it at a rather low price, for any length of time. Suspiciously eager to close the deal even at a discount price. Something happened here…
45. Boomtown mining camp. Think Deadwood season one. Tents, communal campfires, ample gossip and carousing.
46. Communal sleeping quarters. Stretch of bare floor in the largest building in town.
47. Hayloft. Not fancy, but reasonably dry. Moo.
48. Hostel. At least one Weird and Extremely Extroverted Traveler is going to try to get you interested in Their Weird Thing, whatever it may be.
49. Bathhouse. It seems like some people never leave. 
50. Coaching inn. Yeah, this is the basis for the generic fantasy inn described at the beginning of the post. Make it over-the-top stereotypical. You can have one ordinary inn now and then, as a treat.
51. Hollowed out tree. Surprisingly comfortable. There are signs that a gang of kids may have once dwelt here, long ago. 
52. Cells in the local jail, currently unoccupied. Don’t worry, they won’t lock the doors. Worst-case scenario, you get kicked out at 1 a.m. to make space for bar brawlers.
53. Monastery hospitia. They have empty beds. If you can plausibly fake an illness or injury, it is a good place to sleep. Just don’t fake it too well, or they’ll insist that you stay for an extended period.
54. Combination hotel and tattoo parlor. You can stay for free if you get a tattoo advertising the place. 
55. Lumberjack camp. Residents are friendly but boisterous and earnest. Lots of men’s men going around shirtless, wrasslin’, and having a wholesome good time, just hangin' out with the boys. Hope you like flapjacks.
56. Under the bridge downtown. That's where I want to be. Watch out for rattagators. 
57. Nomadic campfire. Of course you can stay here, if you can perform an impressive FEAT OF STRENGTH.
58. Qanat or underground cistern. Built by some long-lost empire that once ruled the area. The water is clean and cool, but paranoid travelers claim they have seen large, shadowy forms swimming in the waters…
59. Couriers’ Mansiones. PCs who wish to stay there will be expected to demonstrate what important information they are carrying on behalf of which governmental entity.  
60. Endless party on a river yacht. Plenty of comfortable places to sleep amongst the revelry, if you don’t mind the noise.
61. Asylum. It is a coinflip between creepy horror movie nonsense and an orderly, clean, professional facility.
62. Lighthouse. Dry and secure but the lighthouse keeper is a little… odd. Pray the weather doesn’t keep you here more than one night.
63. Short on beds. It is an ordinary inn, but the biggest festival of the year is happening right now, didn't you know? They have instituted a two-to-each-bed policy. Parties with an odd number of members should expect a roll on a carousing table or similar to decide who the unlucky (?) adventurer will get paired with.
64. Restaurant. A few hours folding napkins or skewering dire weevils in the basement will earn you a spot to sleep in the back of the kitchen.
65. Chimneyheaps. Creep out onto the roof of the palatial mansions in the wealthy district and sleep against and around the massive chimneys, warm from the heat of fires below, stoked through the night by diligent servants. Just step lightly on the tiles, lest you alert a sleeping noble to your presence…
66. A halfling wagon train has stopped here. Friendly RV camp vibe. They will expect you to sing in the round with them. 
67. Wedding! So large and extravagant, they don’t even try to keep out the wedding crashers. You will be expected to bring a gift for the newlyweds. Everyone dances.  
68. Futons in Dave's creepy shed. Dave is as creepy as advertised, but also extremely harmless.
69. The king has decided to hold open auditions for those who desire a sponsor for their heroic quests. The city is consequently lousy with adventurers. Every inn is completely booked, even at high surge prices. Tinier and tinier subdivisions of space have been made available for rent. Look forward to paying a fortune for a thin strip of floor behind a sideboard, or an uncomfortable night’s sleep on a pile of onions (you aren’t allowed to eat the onions).
70. Dilapidated resort. Just barely still in business, a reminder of better times. The resort is known for (1d4): 1. Skiing / yeti avoidance 2. Diving for enormous pearls 3. Rustic backwoods charm 4. A regrettable incident that the staff will only whisper about.
71. Bandit camp. Risky option, but plausibly a safe place to stay if you can convince the bandits that you are not worth robbing. This one time, at bandit camp… 
72. Haunted manor. Comfortable, spacious, and free, but low level poltergeist activity throughout. The spirits can be placated with fine wine, witty bon mots, or a game of charades.
73. Old folks home. The only payment expected is an attentive audience for their long, rambling stories. Stories may include historical lore that is nominally relevant to the PCs, but the storytellers will inevitably focus on mundane details, and they will get annoyed when someone tries to steer the conversation in that direction.
74. Ramshackle beach hotel. Rooms are rented out around low tide. The proprietor plans to take the money and run before tenants realize they’ll be underwater at 2 a.m.
75. Thieves' den. Guild membership typically required to enter, but if you can “steal” a good night’s sleep here, they would probably be impressed. 
76. Exclusive club. Members only. Very difficult to find unless you know the right person. Members are charming, useless, status-obsessed idiots.  
77. Monkey hot springs. Give them gifts of fruit or they will steal your gear.
78. Fragrant greenhouse. Rumor is that the smell repels predators. In truth, the smell attracts an alpha predator, which frightens the other predators away. But the alpha predator probably won’t come by tonight, right? …Right?
79. Elven hammock commune. Hammocks are available really, really, really high up in the trees.
80. Junior enchanters academy. The apprentices are all practicing the Sleep spell, and need volunteer test subjects. 
81. Mercenary camp. This free company once roved the land, but have taken root in this particularly resource-rich and conflict-prone region. Friendly to adventurers, but will try to recruit them into their ranks, particularly young and impressionable (impress-able?) hirelings and henchmen. Each night there is a cumulative 5% chance that the local political authority launches a surprise attack on the camp. 
82. Dungeon basecamp. Not the dungeon your party is traveling toward, just some other dungeon along the way. The camp is (1d4): 1. Freshly set up for a delve that has not yet started 2. Occupied by adventurers licking their wounds 3. Only guarded by a few hirelings while the adventurers are inside 4. Abandoned ("found a mule"). 
83. Shrine of Revelations. Perfectly safe, dozens will seek shelter here every night. Every night, at least one person who sleeps here will be forever changed by a spiritual awakening, often a traumatic one. 
84. Bulette graveyard. Shells form convenient half-dome shelters. There is a small but very dangerous possibility that a dying bulette will show up during your stay and take offense at your use of its family’s shells as shell-ter. 
85. Cemetery. Make an offering to the dead that reflects what they cared about in life and enjoy a peaceful night’s sleep right there atop their grave. Monsters, animals, and even the weather will be repelled from the gravesite, if you get the offering right. The local historical society will pick the right offering for you, but they charge a high fee.
86. A deep well. At the bottom are muddy ledges surrounding the source of the water. Various moist intelligent creatures hang out at the bottom, loudly advocating the virtues of sleeping at the bottoms of wells, and encouraging passerby up above to come down and join them.  
87. Foxholes. Oh, you didn’t know there was a war? Get in this hole if you want to survive the night.
88. Scarecrow fields. The scarecrow here keeps more than crows away, so this field is a safe place to sleep. In the morning, there is a 1-in-10 chance the scarecrow takes a shine to the travelers and leaves its post to go with them. 
89. Toadstool hovel. Charming, bucolic, safe, and warm. Three months after staying here, visitors will emit clouds of spores that will eventually grow into new toadstool hovels. Otherwise harmless, but likely to anger hoteliers, who don’t appreciate the fungal competition. 
90. Sirens' rocks. An enterprising merchant sets up shop just out of earshot, selling wax earplugs. You can then approach the shoreline where the sirens sing. Your earplugs keep you safe from their song. Their song keeps you safe from bandits and vagabonds. You really have to trust the discretion of the earplug guy not to sell you out, though.
91. Huge sleeping monster’s gaping maw. Locals say it has been open like that for years, and no other monster will approach it, so it is probably a safe place to stay. Bold choice Cotton, we’ll see if it works out for them. 
92. Competitive sleeping event. Professional slumberers will watch you sleep to see if they can learn anything from your technique. No need to post a watch!
93. The dump. Raccoons run it. They will accept visitors, but are extremely raccoons. 
94. This is my hole! It was made for me! Whenever people travel past this ravine, the cliff face inevitably features silhouette-shaped holes perfectly sized to match each traveler. Save or crawl inside.
95. Pitcher-plant like pods that entice creatures to slumber in them with sweet smells. Harmless to the sleepers, but the plant devours any and all insects on the sleeper’s body as recompense. Travelers plagued by lice and similar parasites will actively seek these plants out. 
96. Serpent dream-harvester. (Relatively) friendly/hungry giant snake runs a well-kept bed and breakfast. No money required; harvests dreams are payment.
97. Mandrake’s Mystical Manse. A magical doorway provides access to an extradimensional space with lavish bedrooms and nourishing food. Travelers assume a powerful wizard once cast it and… forgot about it? Died? Plans to return someday?
98. The Infinite Library. A fine place to sleep if you can resist the temptation to read uncountable fascinating books. 
99. Crashed aerial caravel. Upside-down, ploughed into the earth, never to fly again, but the hull provides reasonable shelter. Music from a spectral band (standing inverted on the deck above those sheltering under its hull) seems to keep wild animals away, but wild magic can surge forth from the long-dormant engines at inopportune times. 
100. Tired of being tired? A wizard here will sever you from your dreaming self, for a fee. Trapped in a bottle, your dream-self slumbers constantly, while you live on without the need to sleep. Side effects may include (1d4): 1. Difficulty telling time, gradually getting worse until even clocks and calendars become gibberish. 2. Susceptibility to illusion magic, as the mind gropes for dream images it can no longer find. 3. Enmity of a powerful night hag, who sees your dreamlessness as a professional challenge. 4. Flatulence.

The World's Largest Rewrite: Diabolical Dwarves, Boorish Brigands, Sanguivore Squids

As described in my recent series of megadungeon posts, the world's largest rewrite monster series is pretty useful for generating monster ideas, so I'm returning for another batch of 10 to add to the pile. When this series is finished, we'll sift through it for the best monsters, and (if they are very good) we'll add them to our megadungeon.

 #126: Unicorn. You thought we were done with weird horses? We are not done with weird horses. 

OSE gives unicorns the “empathy with maidens” and “teleport” powers. The maiden affinity comes from myth, but I went down a rabbit hole (jackalope hole?) on the teleportation ability. It appears to originate with AD&D, possibly to give unicorns a countermeasure against players hunting and harvesting them. That would make sense, given Gary Gygax's focus on the benefits of hunting or capturing monsters.

The unicorn doesn’t really make sense as a prisoner in our dungeon-prison, and while it is lawful, it isn’t really a dungeon guardian. Rolling on the Monster Overhaul’s excellent “Dubious Methods to Lure a Unicorn” table, we get “a wounded Dryad.” The unicorn is here to help a dryad in distress. We haven’t rolled dryad yet in this series of posts, so we’ll revisit what exactly is going on when we get to that result.

#34: Dwarf. Are these dwarves prisoners, intruders, or guardians? We’ll just choose randomly, and we get guardians. OK, so a clan of dwarves is sworn to protect this place. They are comfortable underground, reasonably long-lived, and could repair structural damage to the dungeon, so they make sense for this role.

OSE suggests groups of dwarves have a leader, and we can use the Overhaul to detail this leader, and in turn, better understand these dwarves. OSE does not have dedicated entries for dwarves or other PC ancestries, but they appear under the general “adventurer” category. Rolling on the random tables there, we get “sloth” as a vice and “wealth beyond dreams” as a goal. So the dwarves delved too greedily and too... lazily. Our leader is Fingmir… Silverstone… no, no, absolutely not. Fingmir… Silverheart. He has blue and red heraldry and is a prophet (!). His specialty tool is “targeted poisons.”

The story becomes clear. The prison builders (celestials or other uncompromising lawful types) contracted a dwarvish clan to guard the prison. The dwarves’ commitment to the pact has weakened over generations, particularly as it became clear the prison builders either could not or would not deal with the progressive deterioration we’ve seen in other parts of the prison. The dwarves become despondent and lazy, and Fingmir, driven by greed, poisoned the previous clan leader, his mother, believing that she was hiding secret wealth from him. She was not. He is now trying desperately to figure out some way to get rich quick before his crimes (and lack of treasure) are revealed to the other dwarves.

#27: Dervish. The OSE bestiary is kinda wild. We don’t have time to unpack the layers of cultural misinterpretation that transformed an ancient Persian ascetic tradition to the “fanatical desert warrior”  archetype that Gygax and his successors had in mind. I guess it kinda gestures at condensing 2000 years of history, ranging form Parthian horsemen to Ottoman janissaries, into one pulp fiction stat block.

There are a few ways to do something more interesting with this entry, but I think keeping the idea of “lawful extremists” and throwing out the Orientalism is probably the easiest way to get something useful. We can use the knight entry from the Overhaul to add some new stuff in its place. The Overhaul tables give us the following.

Sir Guy Truthspeaker is a knight of middling renown who duels everyone he meets to develop his combat skills. He’s bedecked with weapons and wracked with religious doubt. His heraldry is azure, with a pale division and a lion charge surrounded by ivy.

We just had Dwarven guardians, so I'm going to make Guy and his retinue outsiders. They’ve come here on a religious quest, but Guy has doubts. Maybe seeing the state of the prison has shaken his confidence in the celestials. 

#83: Nomad. Yes, we’re rolling randomly, but as with the stone-adjacent monsters last time, the dice do like to suggest connective themes. So after an entry about dervishes, who wander steppes and deserts, living in tents, we get to an entry about nomads who… wander steppes and deserts, living in tents. We haven’t even gotten to the bandit/brigand pairing yet.

The Overhaul saves us once again. Whereas dervish was an excuse to use the otherwise-unrepresented knight entry, nomad points us to the Overhaul's barbarian category. Rolling on the random tables, we get “Dream-readers. Dour, fatalistic.” They want “Strong drink. Herbal distillations preferred.” They are led by Slagnar Urn, who is “feverish and ill, desperate.” 

So Slagnar is ready to imbibe a fatal dose of rare herbs that will take him on his dream-quest into the afterlife. He and his family are here to gather the necessary herbs. Unlike the gnolls and other intruders, they’re a much more practical faction for the PCs to cooperate with.

#119: Toad, Giant. This is the classic sticky-tongued ambush predator. We can drop them in the same general area where our other “freshwater invasive species” entries landed earlier. They dwell in a log jam in the “river” that is pouring through the roof of the dungeon, and they love to eat beetles, which they snag from the nearby swarms. The devil swine who run the area prefer human flesh, but aren’t above snacking on toads that intrude into their territory in search of beetles. 

#63: Invisible Stalker. OK, here’s a special guy. The invisible stalker is a flawless tracker and nasty ambush attacker. It has a clear fit with the dungeon theme, as a summoned creature deployed by the prison builders to track down and capture escaping prisoners. But as the enchantments that bind it have weakened, its behavior has grown erratic. The Overhaul directs us to elementals to cover the stalker. Rolling for air elementals, we get a motivation of “a sealed building or tomb opened.” So the stalker is now doing roughly the opposite of what it was originally employed, hunting guardians or aiding prisoners. We could include a random mood table, where the stalker -- if encountered multiple times -- is sometimes more cogent, completing its original duties, and other times rebelling against them.

#12: Brigand. I mentioned them when talking about nomads, so of course they showed up almost immediately. They have little distinguishing them from bandits, except that the brigands are fighter-coded, while the bandits are closer to thieves. We’ll use the Overhaul’s mercenary entry here, and worry about bandits later. 

Rolling on the mercenary tables, we get the Legion of Gold, led by William Osprey. They prize cleanliness and order! Apparently William’s astrologer-wizard started gibbering about “moondrops” and “silver rain” and ran off into the night, entering the prison in a delusional state. The mercenaries are understandably wary of following him in, but want to get him back, presumably because his magic is essential for some scheme they are pursuing.

They’re camped right at the main entrance to the dungeon. They’re more than happy to opportunistically tax adventurers coming out, or even outright steal from them (I think among the old-school megadungeons, it is possibly Rappan Athuk that is famous for brigands camping the front entrance?) Then again, the brigands could be merciful to adventurers willing to go back inside and find that wizard…

#127: Vampire. After a series of guardians and invaders, we finally meet another unambiguous prisoner. The vampire has a massive entry by OSE standards, mainly detailing all the classic folkloric vampire powers and weaknesses. Compared to some of the monsters with rather thin premises behind them, the vampire almost has too much to work with.

Fortunately, random tables can provide focus just as well as they can provide inspiration, and the Overhaul has a full three pages dedicated to the vampire. Ours is named Kirkstein, and they have a classic ruff, frills, and handkerchief aesthetic, with decadent indolence as their demeanor. Anyone who kills them is doomed to gradually become a vampire – that would explain why they were imprisoned instead of destroyed. They possess a sublime charm that makes them difficult to attack unless they are already hostile. Their favored follower is a giant albino snake!

#5: Bat. It keeps happening! Themed back-to-back monsters. We want our giant bats to hunt our giant beetles, so we’ll place them in the same region. Both the OSE and Overhaul entries are pretty minimal, but the latter gives us “pushing prey towards a cliff” as a reason to attack. The lefthand edge of our prison flowchart features a lot of wildlife and cave-dwellers, so there must be a broken precipice where the bats are chasing giant beetles, driver ants, boars, and the occasional terrified kobold over the edge, then eating them after they die from the fall.

#104: Shrew, Giant. In terms of monster detail, the humble shrew is quite a lot closer to the vampire than the mechanically generic human subtypes. Click that link and see how much this guy has going on. In summary:

• Insectivore 
• Burrower
• High morale (most beasts have 8; the shrew has 10)
• High movement (180/60, similar to a wolf!)
• Always wins initiative in the first round
• Ferocious; creatures with 3HD or less have to save or run away (the shrew itself is only 1 HD, but bugbears and harpies are fleeing in terror before its shrewful presence)
• Territorial 
• Echolocation 

OSE does not even mechanically apply the venomous saliva that allows some real-world shrews to paralyze their prey! You're leaving money on the table, OSE!

As burrowers, the shrews also help us create dungeon connectivity and emphasize how the space has changed from its original usage. I’ve recently been reading through Demon Bone Sarcophagus, which also demonstrates how a burrowing animal (in that case, a giant sloth) can provide navigational complexity that breaks up a very orderly, grid-based, built environment. Our shrew tunnels will be a useful navigational hack, but also dangerous for low-level characters to exploit; you do not want to get caught trespassing in these tunnels by a gang of ferocious, brave, fast, echolocating shrews.

Playing the Game of Clue as a Deckbuilder

In TTRPGs like Dread and video games like Balatro, we can see how a simple and familiar game concept serves as a "chassis" for a more complex or customized game. When you start thinking about games like this, it can be hard to turn those thoughts off. Consequently an offhand comment about what the game of Clue (aka Cluedo) would be like as a deckbuilder turned into the following.

Assume “standard deckbuilder” rules, wherever a rule is not otherwise stated. Dominion is a good baseline, since the turn procedure is straightforward. This version of Clue would require making a new deck of cards, for various reasons that will be obvious. But it could use the existing Clue board.

First you would need multiple copies of each suspect, weapon, and room card (collectively, clue cards). The specific amount would be determined after playtesting. Shuffle the clue cards and then distribute them evenly in piles between the nine rooms, face down.

Each player starts with some mix of Shoe cards and Magnifying Glass cards (10 total, proportion would depend on playtesting). They draw a five-card hand per turn, ala Dominion. Playing a Shoe allows you to roll the dice to move. Playing a Magnifying Glass lets you search the room you’re in. You can’t search the same room two turns in a row (place a token at the end of your turn to mark your last-searched room). There is also an investigation deck that is available from all rooms.

Searching a room allows you to draft a card from either the clue deck in that room, or the universal investigation deck. Cards acquired this way go in your discard pile, and then you later draw them as you would in any other deckbuilder. The clue cards don’t typically do anything until the “solving the mystery” phase (see below), although some investigation cards might care about them and leverage them as resources before that time. 

The investigation deck includes cards that do typical deckbuilder-type things (see below). Three to five cards (again, determined via playtest) are always available face up in a “market” next to the investigation deck; searching allows you to take one of these and replace it with a new card from the deck.

Solving the mystery: On any turn in which you have each of a suspect, weapon, and room card in your hand; and you are in the room in question; and no other player has a card in their discard pile that matches any of those three cards: you may play those three cards and declare the combination to be the answer to the mystery. Do this in the typical Clue style (e.g., "Professor Plum, with the Wrench, in the Ballroom"). At this point, any player may reveal and discard one of these three cards from their hand to “disqualify” your solution. If they cannot, you win the game.

Most of the investigation cards would be familiar to deckbuilder afficionados (improved movement, more searching, card draw, trashing unwanted cards, etc.) A few ideas for special cards particular to Clue:

• Snoop: Privately look at one other player's hand. Then draw a card.
• Clever Reveal: When a player proposes a solution, you may reveal and trash this card to search any one room’s clue deck; if you find a clue that matches any part of their proposed solution, you can add it to your discard pile (thus invalidating their solution).
• Rule Out: Choose an opponent; they trash a clue card of their choice from their discard pile.
• You’ll Never Catch Me: When a player proposes a solution that names your character as the suspect, you may reveal and trash this card. If you do, they do not immediately win. Instead, you win if you can reach the “x” spot on the staircase on the Clue map. The accusing player can stop you by reaching that spot first. Play continues as normal for other players. During your turn, you may discard this card to draw a card.

Possible issues:

• It may be too easy to reach a fail state where no one can win? Possibly clue cards need to be retrievable in some way, even after they have been trashed. A straightforward solution would be for trashed clues to go to the bottom of the deck.
• Movement around the board may not be incentivized enough?
• Optimal play may obligate competitive players to try to track too much of what they see in their opponents discard piles, particularly clue cards.
• The “you’ll never catch me” minigame may be too cute by half.
• Random card acquisition versus more filtering (e.g., "look at the top three cards of the clue deck, choose one, then shuffle") may need to be evaluated.
• Getting lucky (e.g., finding a room card in the clue deck for the matching room) might allow a player to win too quickly.