World's Largest Rewrite: Invisible Fire, Cube that Gets You High, IRL Bears

#19: Cave Locust. This is another of old-school D&D’s weird bugs, and another example of a superficially ordinary monster that has a lot going on. Cave locusts have five special features: stone camouflage, a random encounter-inducing shriek, a jump that can turn into an accidental attack, debilitating spit, and poison immunity. This makes it a surprisingly dynamic creature, where a lot of the outputs of encountering it are distinct from the conventional combat encounter.

They have poison immunity because they eat fungus, so we can put them in the vicinity of our previously established fungal creatures. They might be natural predators of the Mother Fungus, and thus implicit rivals of the gecko kobolds and other creatures who seek to exploit or symbiotically ally with the Mother Fungus. 

#52: Griffon. Like the hippogriff and the pegasus, the griffon is a member of the amply populated “flying animal mashup” category. Their urge to attack horses is their main distinguishing feature. 

…It doesn’t say they only attack mundane, land-bound horses, so perhaps they are predators to the hippogriffs and pegasi as well. At 7 HD, they are much bigger than either of those creature types, so they’re plausible as apex predators. Maybe shared fear of the griffon is the only thing keeping those rivals from attempting to drive the other out of the area. 

The Overhaul gives us a nice body variation table, similar to what we used for the chimera. We get lizard body (armor as plate) and peacock wings (half-speed flight). The peacock wings make it a slow and ungainly flyer, so it has to rely on ambush tactics to catch its swifter prey. Imagine an armored peacock the size of a garbage truck screaming in out of nowhere to try to eat you. I would be terrified too, and I’m not even a horse.

#120: Trader. Do you like duplicative stat blocks for barely distinguishable groups of humans? Because the OSE bestiary has duplicative stat blocks for barely distinguishable groups of humans. Our traders are only thinly sketched here, but appear to be lower on the tech tree than the merchants we met before (they trade in "carved wooden items, furs, spices").  

But they do have mules, which are canonically important to our dungeon! So I’m giving these guys a pass. We’ll put them inside the dungeon, to add some contrast with the merchants on the outside; they might have some useful supplies to offer adventurers. 

#20: Centaur. Uhh… how far do we want to take this griffons-eat-horses thing? I can’t think of any reason why the griffon would turn its nose up at a creature that is mostly horse… although with bows, the centaurs are at least better equipped to drive the griffon off. The Overhaul plays up the centaurs’ wild, rebellious side (“we bribed them to attack our enemies, but they spent our money on wine”). They’re prisoners trying to escape, but the griffon’s presence is making it hard for them to make a clean break for it.

#54: Harpy. Another classic monster, and the stat block is what you expect, although they have magic resistance with a +2 save, a feature they seem to have lost through the editions (the 2014 MM omits it). The Overhaul is similar, but does note that they are “divine servants of vengeance.” This harkens back to their origin in Greek myth, where they were usually acting to enact divine punishment, not just to serving as generic monsters. Like the wights and gargoyles, this is another opportunity to turn a conventionally evil monster, which would make sense as a prisoner, into part of the warden staff for the prison. Absent direct oversight from the prison builders, the harpies are experimenting with how shitty they can be without attracting celestial punishment. 

#56: Hellhound. OSE statblocks alternate between “yeah, what I expected” and “hold on, there’s some unexpected details here.” The hellhound is in the later category. They are “cunning, and very intelligent” but presumably not sapient, as other creatures keep them as pets. They have a variable HD range for some reason; it gives them more HP and more accurate attacks, but doesn’t change damage or anything else, so I’m not sure what purpose that serves. They can detect invisible things quite well, presumably reflecting their canine sense of smell and hearing, or their ability in myth (e.g., Japanese) to see through tricks.

The Overhaul variants are interesting. I rolled “Glass Hound. Invisible. Fire is also invisible.” So they’re trapped in the prison, they’ve broken containment, and they have started setting fires that burn like normal, but are invisible. Fire that you can smell and inhale, but not see, is a terrifying idea. How do you know you have actually put it out? This is not just a monster encounter, but an entire dungeon hazard for the PCs. Excellent. 

The invisible fire is such a huge problem that it explains why there's a river flowing through this prison. It wasn't an accident; it was deliberately diverted here to douse the invisible fires. 

#42: Gelatinous Cube. Deservedly one of the most famous and celebrated D&D monsters. This stat block is as expected. Like the basilisk, we could imagine the cube as a contained threat that was let loose in an attempt to stop other monsters from escaping. Like the blink dog, it can easily bypass bars and portcullises. It can devour other would-be escapees while making no effort of its own to escape. 

The Overhaul gives them a “wet wrinkly steak” texture and “gets you really high if you lick it.” So weaker dungeon denizens are being paralyzed and then eaten/and or intoxicated by the cube. Some factions have even captured smaller ones to intentionally take advantage of the intoxicating effect. I was gonna escape from prison, until I got high.

#71: Manticore. Like the griffon and so many others before it, this is another airborne mythological combo meal. The manticore’s ability to snipe from long range sets it apart from those other creatures, but it also has a finite amount of ammunition, so it needs to choose its targets carefully. The Overhaul adds some good lore, including that manticores propagating as evil dreams when they die, which would give the prison builders a good reason for capturing them, rather than killing them outright. This manticore is prowling an area of halls with doors too small for it to exit, using crudely made arrow slits to snipe and poison passerby. It cares more for these pointless acts of cruelty than it does for actions that might bring about its own freedom.

#7: Bear. Just use bears! You can do the entire WLD gimmick in no time at all. Just use bears! Who will notice? I would notice. I would know. I would be disappointed with you. I would be disappointed in myself. I’m too deep into this exercise to JUB my way out of it now.

Anyway, OSE includes four types of bears, and they map to their real-world counterparts pretty well in terms of size and combat danger. No sun bear stats, sadly.

One feature of the Overhaul that I enjoy is how it treats mundane animals. The 5E.2014 MM packs all the normal beasts into short bits at the back of the book, and I get it; you don’t need a lore block explaining what a deer is. But if they’re worth so little attention… why include them at all? The Overhaul, in contrast, is first and foremost a book for inspiring interesting encounters, rather than a book for referencing stats, and it has three tables of evocative bear variations. You could probably run several dozen bear encounters using the Overhaul with getting bored. I think you would be lucky to get one good bear encounter out of the 2014 manual.

To come full circle and return to our very first post in this series, our bears are here to GET THAT SWEET KILLER BEE HONEY. They’re probably immune or at least highly resistant to the stings. They’re “belligerent, secretive.” They’ve created a den within the prison that includes a “mummified carcass of an enormous bear.” They’re great! Just use bears!

#49: Gorgon. This is the Gygaxian gorgon, the metal bull that breathes petrifying gas. If you're really cool and smart like me, you know that this type of "gorgon" is actually a petroblepas. If we want to quadruple down on the stone theme, these creatures would be released for serious riot control situations, petrifying entire crowds of prisoners.

World's Largest Rewrite: Mickity Thumpduck and His Gang of Halflings are Horrible and They Aren't Even Prisoners Here

#61: Hydra. The hydra absolutely makes sense as a prisoner. It is interesting that the OSE hydra lacks the ability to regrow severed heads, which is core to modern D&D’s hydra. Rolling on the variant table in the Overhaul gets “centipede hydra.” Ew. But it immediately made me think of the cellipedes we introduced earlier. The cellipede hydra is the broodmother of all cellipedes, and each time a head is severed, a new one will grow, sprouting a brand-new key, which fits into a lock somewhere in the prison. The cellipede hydra becomes a sort of dynamic solution to barriers that the PCs can "harvest" keys from, but may not want to kill, to avoid missing out on future keys. 

#53: Halfling. Like our recent hits on dwarves and elves, halflings have basic OSE entries and no dedicated Overhaul entry. As with those previous cases, we can use the Overhaul’s adventurer section to get a feel for the local halflings. 

• Vice: Envy
• Goal: Drugs and retirement
• Why are they here: Utterly lost
• Subtype: Brawling
• Leader: Mickity Thumpduck; small eyes, leather cap; profession: justice; hidden miniature crossbow 
• From: Gamwich village, in the Stenrind region

I’ve praised the Overhaul a lot during this series, but I can’t stress enough how well-calibrated the tables are to produce gameable output. I could run Mickity Thumpduck and his idiot gang of corrupt rent-a-cops right now, no further prep needed. They heard about the dwarven treasure, showed up hoping to get a cut, and are now lost inside the prison.

#57: Herd Animal. Stampede is the interesting mechanical hook here. The Overhaul (understandably) does not not have entries for mundane moose and oxen, but it does have one for telluric goats. These are mineral-eating goats, so pose a bit of a rust monster-esque challenge for adventurers. Rolling on the tables in the entry, we get bite effect of “target’s head and body must face north” and a reason to fight them as “whenever telluric goats appear, landslides and earthquakes are sure to follow.” This suggests a possible reason for the insecurity of this previous secure underground prison. The goats began (or exacerbated) the decline of the prison, and now roam its halls, seeking delicious ore. 

#75: Merchant. Yeah, this is a separate entry from Normal Humans. The stat block itself is not important. The entry instead sketches out the size and composition of a merchant caravan, so we’ll follow the same logic and place these merchants outside the dungeon. They’re probably keeping their distance from the brigands, hoping to buy weird stuff that adventurers extract from the prison.

These caravans are big. I rolled 1d20 for number appearing and got 10 merchants. That means we have: 

• 10 mounts (one per merchant, implicitly?)
• 20 wagons (2 per merchant) with corresponding beasts of burden
• 40 L1 fighter guards (4 per merchant)
• 2 L2-3 fighter lieutenants (1 per 5 merchants)
• 1 5L fighter captain 
• 2 extra animals 

These guys are a serious force! For exterior factions, the brigands might be stronger, if there are enough of them to form a fortified camp and score a genuinely high-level leader (we didn’t nail down William Osprey’s level in the brigand entry). But even if the brigands are stronger, the merchants could put up enough of a fight to make them think twice about throwing down. So it is an uneasy detente outside the dungeon.

#114: Squid, Giant. As we foreshadowed in the giant octopus entry, OSE delivers too much tentacle-based trauma for one game to sustain. These cephalopods are broadly similar, with the giant squid differentiated the most by some boat-attack-focused abilities. As we did with giant octopus, we’ll again use the Overhaul’s kraken table for inspiration, and we get “vampiric.” This is a bit of a play on the real-life vampire squid, or Vampyroteuthis infernalis (vampire squid from hell) if you’re nasty. Wikipedia articles are an excellent source of monster content, and there’s no reason we can’t raid this one. Look at the spikes on that hood. Imagine this guy dropping on an adventurer’s head and draining their blood, while using strobing bioluminescent light to confuse and stun would-be rescuers. We can even be really literal and associate these guys with the vampire we already placed in the dungeon.

#110: Snake. Speak of the (vampire) devil, the next randomly chosen entry is for the snake. We already decided we wanted a giant albino snake to keep the vampire company, which brings Lair of the White Worm to mind. Snakes are nasty in OSE. We can size up the giant constrictor, and maybe give it a vampiric bite as well, depending on how we want to embellish the relationship between the vampire and the snake.

#136: Wyvern. From snakes to their heraldic descendants, wyverns. Like the snake, the wyvern has save-or-die poison. The Overhaul, interestingly, doesn’t treat the poison sting as a default feature. Rolling on the variant table, we get “Gulper: Neck sack, wattle, one nostril.” Imprisoned for its ravenously hungry behavior. 

#90: Pegasus. This far into this series, we have a lot less blue sky design, a lot more filling in spaces between already established monsters and factions. Pegasi are potential flying mounts for the jailers; the fighter jets to the bomber that is the roc we found earlier. They serve lawful characters. Perhaps the pegasi are no longer willing to aid the dwarves, sensing that some of them are compromised? 

#87: Ogre. They hate neanderthals. Otherwise, they’re bog-standard ogres. But the Overhaul can give us a tailored ogre.

• Name: Durl
• Feature: Thick forehead ridge
• Weapon: Hook and chain
• Crime: Despoiled sanctified ground
• Type: Fumeguts, leaks black fumes, twice per day, opaque fog, 30’ radius, 10 rounds

Locked up for farting in church. Sometimes these entries write themselves.

#102: Salamander. Ya got your hot lizards and your cold lizards. They are mostly similar, although flame salamanders are neutral, and frost types are chaotic. We'll choose the frost type as more fitting prisoners. The Overhaul directs to elemental spirit (where our gnome came from) and suggests barbegazi, which is more evocative than "salamander." These guys are "despised yet treasured local rivals" who look like "old, dark-eyed, serious men and women." That fits with a sort of frost witch folklore.

You Can Not Have Magical PCs if Strict Time Records Are Not Kept

The Druid

The druid draws power from ceremonial attunement with the seasons. They can cast spells of endurance during the winter, renewal in the spring, growth in the summer, and harrowing in the fall. Their power is amplified during solstices and equinoxes.

The Witch

The witch draws power from the cycle of the moon. Their power waxes as the moon does. Spells of obfuscation and trickery with the new moon give way to spells of dominion and transformation with the full moon.

The Hierophant

The hierophant draws power from the sun’s position in the sky. Their magic is strongest at high noon, and weakest in the middle of the night. They wield great power during lunar eclipses and blood moons.

The Mythologist

The mythologist draws power from the shared cultural institutions that subtly inform quotidian life. The days of the week and the names of the months are not arbitrary; they speak to ancient traditions and powers. Those who remember the meaning behind the names can call on the power behind those ancient stories.

The Liturgist 

The liturgist draws their power from the days of the saints. They may invoke the power of a particular saint, but only on that saint’s day. Some saints have broad but diffuse remits; others have narrow but potent ones.

World's Largest Rewrite: Noble Neanderthals, Grimy Goblins, Execrable Elves

#80: Neanderthal (Caveman). Here we find more of the lost world vibe that is pretty strong in early D&D, but mostly gone from the modern game. The neanderthals are a bit more interesting than some of the other bestiary entries that can be boiled down to “Normal Human with slightly different equipment, group composition, and treasure.”

• Friendly with dwarves and gnomes. Turn that mancave into a demihumancave. 
• Lawful. Thog part of community. Thog honor social contract.
• Two 6HD leaders (one male, one female) live in the neanderthal lair. They are 10’ tall and of "a related but distinct race." I presume this comes from pulp fiction like Robert E. Howard’s stories and Shaver Mystery stuff; tales of speculative anthropology, crypto-history, devolution, and civilizational decline, suggesting that primitive humans might live under the sway of an older and more powerful species.
• Attack ogres on sight. Hate goblins and kobolds. They learned it from watching the dwarves?
• Sometimes keep white apes as pets. Who saved who?

Within our prison dungeon milieu, the neanderthals obviously make sense as members of the lost world “section” of the prison. But their alliance with dwarves and gnomes gives us another hook to work with. Let’s say that as the dwarves and their gnomish allies began to lose control of the prison, they thawed out the neanderthals and deputized them as prison security guards. The neanderthals and the dwarves are now separated by dangerous parts of the dungeon, with the dwarves toward the "south" and the neanderthals in the "north," where the lost world stuff is. 

#108: Shrieker. Of course prison builders in a D&D world would use shriekers as “alarms” to detect escapees. It is interesting that OSE shriekers can move, but very slowly. Shriekers in 5E are stationary (lazy). We can presume the shriekers have drifted somewhat from their original “stations.”

The Overhaul doesn’t have a shrieker entry, but we can revert back to the richly populated myconid entry we used for the Mother Fungus. On the hallucinogenic mushroom effects table, we get “Walls move and churn. Navigation difficult.” It would make sense that in addition to screaming, the shriekers would emit spores that would befuddle would-be escapees. This can also help explain why some prisoners haven’t yet escaped the prison; they're watching the walls melt.

#47: Goblin. The one detail from OSE that surprised me is that the king and bodyguards don’t suffer the sunlight penalty that affects ordinary goblins. Otherwise, these are your bog-standard gobbos. The Overhaul gives us five (!) pages on goblins, making them one of the most richly detailed monsters in the entire book. The Overhaul takes some liberties with the stat block, giving them 0 (!) HD (2 HP) and a morale of 4 (!), presumably to differentiate them more from other humanoid-style creatures that 1st-level PCs might encounter. Rolling on a few of the tables gives us some details:

• Special ability: Gravelmouth. Can digest anything.
• What are they doing: Malicious destruction.
• Leader: Bluck-ing Ding Tark. Necklace of teeth.
• Elite weapon: Boiling oil cauldron.
• Superweapon: Doomwand.
• Mounts: Larval worm. Hmm… maybe they’ve tamed some Caecilia?
• Loot: Turnips.
• Bullying target: Kobolds.
• Where goblins come from: “If you use a turnip as a ‘marital aid’ and plant it in a dunghill it grows into a Goblin." Skerples, why…
• Fear and response: Music; paralyzed
• Leadership method: Elective democracy

An embarrassment of riches. Democracy makes them our most commendable prisoners, although I don't like what they have been doing with it. Never eating a turnip again.

#77: Minotaur. The OSE minotaur is pretty basic. Dwells in mazes, charges like a bull. The Overhaul can beef it up (I’m sorry). 

• Why must this minotaur die? Technically the heir to the dying ruler’s throne. 
• Name: Harnthgar
• Feature: One blind eye
• Weapon: The Big Club

So our minotaur is a VIP (very important prisoner) who was put here because he is the heir to a powerful kingdom. Too important to kill, to dangerous/embarrassing to keep at court. One of god's own prototypes. Now there's some kind of succession crisis and the kingdom needs him, but there’s no easy way to retrieve him, due to the prison’s decline. Perhaps one or more of the organized factions on the outside, trying to get in, are seeking the minotaur?

#38: Elf. Elves don’t have a dedicated Overhaul entry, but we can once again use the Adventurer section to develop ideas. The tables there are intended for rival NPC adventuring parties, but mostly work just as well for a faction. These elves have…

• Vice: Distressing greed
• Goal: Bloodshed
• Why are they here: Found a map
• Subtype: High elves
• Leader: Vaeleth Duskstrider; unwrinkled, charming face; soldier; lifedrinking longsword
• From: Kethampton 

Oh, wonderful, I already hate these guys. Bloodthirsty, greedy elves in search of treasure. They are probably very well-mannered and good at putting up appearances, but are really just sadistically cruel shitheads.

#130: Water Termite. Ah, yes, the classic D&D monsters. Goblin, minotaur, elf… water termite. Again I am charmed by some of the OSE oddities that don’t appear in modern editions.

Like the beetles and rats, the mechanics of the water termite imply An Entire Situation. They are pests that consume wood, including the undersides of ships and boats, with a built-in chance of someone noticing their presence. They might have been drawn to the dungeon as the sea seeped into the lower levels, coming into contact with wood... delicious wood. They are probably also living inside the sperm whale’s stomach, feeding on the crashed ships therein. 

#76: Merman. Nothing surprising here. Let's go to the Overhaul.

• Leader: Tenchal 
• Feature: Sensory barbel-whiskers
• Lower half: Eel
• Trades/treasures: Untraceable poison
• Want: Return of a kidnapped merfolk

Once again the Overhaul’s random tables provide a connection that would not have otherwise occurred  to us. The merfolk are willing to trade an “untraceable poison,” probably derived from some deep-sea creature. Sounds like just the sort of thing our dwarven leader would have used, right? They’ve traded that poison for the freedom of a merfolk leader (Tenchal) trapped in the prison. The dwarves have to return this prisoner now, but that process is probably complicated by the distressed state of the prison. The merfolk are getting impatient…

#28: Djinni (Lesser). Like the sea serpent before it, we have a lesser creature with no greater equivalent. Maybe this is some inherited B/X design, where the “greater” creature is assumed to be something lower-powered PCs would never encounter.

Regardless, amid other, flashier powers, the djinni has two powers that are particularly interesting to our prison builders. They can use each of these three times per day.

• Illusion: Visual and audial. No concentration required. Remains until touched or dispelled.
• Conjure soft goods / wooden objects: Up to 1,000 coins weight. Permanent.

So a djinni is summoned and bound to serve the wardens. They have it spend its daily uses conjuring wooden objects – all the non-stone components of the dungeon, like the doors. This compliments the cockatrice/basilisk/medusa/gorgon system of stoneworking. The djinni uses their illusion powers to create illusions that will complicate escape from the prison. Many of these illusions have been dispelled overtime by touch, but some remain. Whether through accident or betrayal, the djinni, like the medusa, is now trapped in the prison it helped build.

#58: Hippogriff. The most interesting thing about the hippogriff is that they hate pegasi and will attack them on sight; I guess because the pegasi are competing for similar “flying amalgamation from mythology” category that the hippogriffs live in. We haven’t even reached the griffons yet.

Pegasi make sense as mounts for Team Lawful, so we’ll assume these hippogriffs are mounts for the twisted elves we just met. The elves are able to enter the dungeon from a non-obvious angle because they have flying mounts.

#50: Grey Ooze. These are the rock-camouflaged, armor-dissolving oozes. While I didn’t want all of our slimes to be associated with our black dragon, the grey ooze is the one that fits the best with their acid vibe. The black dragon can loogie these out and send them roaming places where it cannot go, but they're too dumb to do complex tasks, which might mean the dragon would be willing to parley with adventurers. 

World's Largest Rewrite: Rats are Terrifying, I Want to Leave This Dungeon Right Now

 #25: Crocodile. We got giant crocs, we got large crocs, we got normal crocs. In contrast to OSE sharks and 5E crocodiles, there is no unique mechanic, like a bite-and-grapple; they just get bigger and bite harder. We’ll go with the giant crocodile, as it has a bit of lore – “usually encountered in Lost World regions” – that fits with our idea that the prison has a zoo of ancient pseudo-extinct beasties.

#95: Rat. Rats are typically either a tutorial challenge for newbie adventurers, or little more than set dressing. I like that OSE treats rats rather seriously. They have five (!) special characteristics, making them much more mechanically distinct than a lot of OSE’s other animal monsters. 

• Afraid of fire. Will flee unless “forced to fight by summoner.” Their fear of fire means they are a puzzle monster; like the beetle swarm that invites the PCs to escape by diving into water, the rat swarm has built-in counterplay. We’ll decide later if these rats are compelled by a rodent-summoner, or just out there swarming on their own volition.
• Disease. There’s a 1-in-20 chance of disease, which allows a save, and the disease has a 1-in-4 chance to be deadly over 1d6 days. Given that the disease has no immediate effect, I would probably keep a rat bite tally during any encounter with rats, and sum the infection odds to a single roll after the encounter is over. The disease system here is pretty forgiving, but obviously scales in danger with the number of rats encountered…
• Pack. The equivalent of swarm rules from modern D&D. It does not specifically state how the pack feature interacts with the disease odds; I would rule that swarms have a 5-in-20 chance of inflicting disease, versus a sole rat’s 1-in-20.
• Attacking in water. Excellent swimmers, no penalty. Swarms of disease-ridden rats chomping away at a swimming adventurer is scary enough on its own, without even considering…
• Engulf. The PC saves versus death or falls prone, unable to attack until they can stand again. This is pretty scary in a land encounter. In the water… well, when your PC sinks beneath the surface, covered in ravenous, diseased rodents, no one is going to mistake that for a training wheels encounter. 

#101: Rust Monster. Another classic creature that is brutal in its old-school presentation. Magical items only have a 10% chance per “plus” to resist the effect (the entry does not say if metallic magical items without pluses even get this chance). Oof.

I like the rust monster as an invasive species, possibly drawn by the abundance of unprotected metal in the prison. Like the cellipedes, they are a kind of dungeon vermin that specifically plagues prison wardens. As much as adventurers hate rust monsters, prisoners love them, as they can quickly destroy metal cell bars, incidentally freeing the incarcerated.

So the rust monsters are hated and hunted by the guardian monsters, but beloved by the prisoners. Escaped prisoners are trying to capture and herd the creatures toward their allies, using the rusties to jailbreak those who could aid them in a more general escape from the structure.

#117: Thoul. We planned for this. Our thouls are bodyguards to the hobgoblin king! They were mutated with trollish blood, which caused runaway cellular replication; the ghoulish infection counterbalanced that explosion of life, and now these creatures live a tenuous existence, their trollish blood and their necrotic flesh caught in a delicate balance. 

#131: Weasel, Giant. Like the giant shrews before them, the giant weasels provide a surprising degree of mechanical crunch. They are tunnel dwellers who are good at tracking (favoring wounded prey) and have infravision. They attach to targets and suck blood (!), and treasure is found on the bodies of their victims, in their lair. This encounter writes itself. 

The giant weasels are invasive to the prison complex. They have burrowed down into the ground surrounding the prison, and created tunnels between otherwise unconnected areas. They show up 1-4 turns after a PC is injured, stalking the group, waiting until the PCs are in darkness, separated, or otherwise vulnerable. They then emerge from the nearest tunnel, attempting to grab a victim and drag them back toward their warren. If they succeed in pulling someone back into a tunnel, they move backwards, so that their victim’s body blocks pursuers’ line of sight. The weasel can continue to drain blood as they drag their victim to their doom. That’s a pretty intense encounter, for a superficially unimpressive creature.

But those tunnels also provide an opportunity to the PCs. Like our mother fungus, apes, and gargoyles, the weasel is not just a combat threat, but also a creature that creates an overlay on the dungeon, another network of connections that intersect and defy the built structure itself.

#55: Hawk. Not much to see here. We have normal hawk and giant hawk; they can swoop attack, and they are trainable. That’s it for OSE. The Monster Overhaul index directs us to another entry with a “why are they attacking” table, where we find “judgement-altering disease.” 

I’m going to combine that with OSE’s note that they can be trained, and use this as another opportunity to tell the story of the prison’s decline. The hawks were once kept by the prison wardens, perhaps used to track prisoners who escaped the walls and fled into the wilderness. They are now feral and have contracted some kind of illness that compels them to harry anyone who approaches the prison exterior, regardless of purpose. The brigands camped outside the prison have figured out some kind of combination of smells and colors that repel them, and have festooned their camp in associated materials (it makes them look ridiculous). 

#86: Octopus, Giant. We’re running into some overlaps as we get deeper into the OSE bestiary. The giant octopus lives in the same mechanical space as the lesser sea serpent, and we haven’t even gotten to OSE’s giant squid. The Overhaul’s index refers both to the kraken entry. Rolling there are on the variant table we get chameleonic; pulsing chromatophores. I’m reminded most strongly of the intelligent octopi in the science fiction novel Children of Ruin, who use colors to communicate in a way that the humans in the story don't understand at first. Making our giant octopi intelligent rather than yet another big sea beast could carve out some interesting space. Deeply curious creatures, they’ve been to drawn to explore the dungeon. 

#122: Triceratops. The OSE triceratops is an aggressive herbivore that charges on sight, presumptively behaving like a territorial bull. The Overhaul refers us to the same “herd lizard” category that we used for stegosaurus. Lets do something different and say that our knight Sir Guy Truthspeaker has captured a young triceratops and is using it as a mount. The other triceratops are agitated by the missing member of their herd.

#46: Gnome. The best bit in the OSE entry is “May make foolish decisions to obtain precious items.” They get along well with the dungeon's dwarves, so they fit neatly with an already-established faction. Like any good faction, some of these gnomes are on board with this whole “strip the magical prison of valuables” approach, while others recognize that this is a bad idea. The Overhaul gives us some unexpected material to work with, directing gnome-seekers to the elemental spirit category, where they are the earth/stone equivalents of nereids, sylphs, and salamanders. Rolling on the “local reputation” table, we get “the honored dead, reborn.” So the dwarves have summoned gnomes that they believe (rightly or wrongly) are reincarnated ancestors. That certainly adds an edge to the dwarves' betrayal.

#103: Scorpion, Giant. A good straightforward monster. Most OSE animals, even giant ones, are neutral, a pattern that holds true in modern D&D as well. But the giant scorpion is chaotic. I’m not sure why. It’s not because of the poison (the giant spider is also neutral). The chaotic alignment pushes me toward the idea that the scorpion was a prisoner (or specimen) in the dungeon, rather than an incidental invader. 

Fix 5E Fights By Turning Monsters into Glass Cannon Puzzles

I’ll skip the whole preamble establishing how fights in 5E and other modern-style D&D games are too long. Let’s go right to a solution.

The recipe for a glass cannon puzzle monster is as follows: 

• Reduce the HP by a lot. If you like to math this out, you want the total monster HP to be equal to no more than three rounds worth of the party’s total DPS. Probably closer to two rounds. But if you don’t enjoy that math, just eyeball it.
• Make their attacks 25-50% stronger. They are going to get fewer chances to hit, so they should hit harder. You can buff their to-hit somewhat as well, but I don’t find this to be necessary. They should hit hard enough that the first time a PC takes damage, the group should be a bit surprised and taken aback.
• Give them a big edge. Some monsters already have these as they are currently written, but they’re often narrow, superfluous, or transparently obvious to overcome. Give more monsters powers that make them hard to overcome… at least to start.
• Tie that edge to a major weakness. They have some kind of weakness, usually associated with their strength. If understood and exploited, they become much easier to defeat.

1d10 OK give me some examples: 

1. The azer’s heated body and weapons can set creatures and objects on fire, causing them to burn and take damage each turn. The flames can spread to other creatures and objects. An azer who take cold damage or is doused in water loses these abilities until they complete a long rest.
2. If the banshee sees its reflection, all of its immunities and resistances drop away, and it is as vulnerable to damage as a normal person. 
3. The chimera is immune to fire (from its dragon head), fear (from its lion head), and losing its balance (from its goat head). But the heads hate each other. Make a cromulent criticism of a chimera head, even in the midst of a fight, and it loses the attack and immunity associated with that head until the end of its next turn, as the heads bicker and undercut each other.
4. The duergars’ ability to enlarge themselves and turn invisible make them fearsome foes in combat. They have resistance to damage from creatures who are smaller than them or can’t see them. But when fighting creatures who are larger than them and/or that they cannot see, the duergar have disadvantage on morale checks and Wisdom saving throws.
5. The distracting sound of the hook horror’s claws scraping against the rocks of the Underdark requires any spellcaster to pass a concentration check in order to cast a spell. The hook horror has disadvantage on saving throws and vulnerability to damage from any effect with an auditory components (e.g., Tasha’s Hideous Laughter). 
6. The peryton goes directly for the heart. If it succeeds on an attack roll on a dive attack, it is an automatic critical hit, and if the damage leaves the target at or below 0 HP, they must immediately make a death saving throw, or the peryton rips out their heart. The peryton will then attempt to retreat, taking the heart with it. Some resurrection magic will not work without an intact heart. A peryton that has damaged a humanoid but failed to rip out its heart is blinded by single-mindedness and has disadvantage on Dexterity saving throws and attack rolls against other targets until it has killed the wounded target. 
7. Shadows are fully invisible in darkness, torchlight, and even magical light. They are visible and completely susceptible to damage in candlelight.
8. Skeletons are almost completely immune to piercing and slashing weapons, but can typically be destroyed with one hit with bludgeoning weapons.
9. The sphinx can't be harmed until you answer their riddle. If you stump the sphinx with your own riddle, it is vulnerable to damage you deal until it can solve your riddle.
10. The troglodyte’s stench doesn’t only poison those near it, but incapacitates their foes as well, if they fail their saving throw by 5 or more. But the troglodyte’s aversion isn’t limited to just sunlight; soap, running water, or anything else that could dilute or cleanse its stench forces disadvantage on its attacks and Wisdom (perception) ability checks.

Stolen Board Game Mechanic: Divide-and-Choose Spells

Various types of boardgames and card games include “I cut, you choose” mechanics. One player divides a quantity of tokens, or cards, or some other discrete game element into two piles, then a different player gets to pick among those piles, with the first player receiving the remaining selection. Like unchosen picks accruing value, divide-and-choose is interesting because it is self-balancing. The divider is incentivized to make as even a split as possible, unless they have access to information the chooser does not, or believe that the chooser is otherwise unlikely to pick correctly.

How could we apply this to D&D-style games? Consider divide-and-choose as a magic system.

Assume each spell has three major effects. The caster separates them into one pile of two and a remaining pile of one. The target of the spell can choose either pile.

For example, imagine that Fireball had the following effects: Area Effect; Fire Damage; Burning Condition.

The caster divides; they offer the target either Damage OR Area Effect + Burning Condition. The target is low on HP, so they take the Burning Condition and Area Effect, which spreads the Burning Condition to several of their allies. 

Video games provide plenty of ideas for effects. Area and range, damage increases, damage over time, all kinds of “debuffs,” poison or disease, fear and charm, and so forth. 

Some care has to be taken to avoid making one choice much weaker or much stronger than the others, such that the divide-and-choose would become trivially obvious. But this approach also makes it possible to add niche effects that wouldn't otherwise be "worth" including.

Consider a spell that forms a cloud with the effects Poison, Obscuration, and Coughing. The Poison and Obscuration effects are probably more broadly useful, and would typically be split, so that at least one would apply. But if the target is a spellcaster, and Coughing could prevent them from intoning arcane words, it might be viable to divide such that Coughing is alone and Poison and Obscuration are together, forcing the target to accept both Poison and Obscuration if they want to avoid Coughing and be prevented from casting spells.

A spell is not necessarily limited to three choices. A higher-level spell could involve four, five, or more choices. But we should be careful about how many we offer; too many choices and the divider will take too long picking their piles, dragging the game to a halt. 

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.

Another Card-Based Method for Wrapping Up a Campaign

TTRPGs provide a lot of assistance for beginning a game and a lot less for ending one. I’ve written before about using cards to wrap up a game. Late last year, we wrapped another game with cards. The situation was as follows.

• We were wrapping a multi-year game, and the PCs had finished everything that we wanted to address through conventional, moment-to-moment play.
• We wanted to "zoom out" from a typical session's focus and resolve some big questions without rolling the dice. 
• The PCs had two goals that were in tension with each other.
• We wanted to break the action into separate stages to define gradients of success and failure.
• We wanted danger, risk, or conflict embedded both in the individual stages, but didn't want any particular resolution to be too time-consuming.

For brevity’s sake, I’ll skip the in-fiction details and focus just on the mechanics of the process.

The PCs needed to get through 14 “phases” to achieve their two goals. To ensure we could complete the finale in one session, I used a timer, with the PCs compelled to move forward to the next phase. Each phase began with two face-down playing cards, which the PCs revealed when they began the phase. I had the 14 phases laid out on the table, and the two cards were placed in columns on either side of each phase.

In addition to the face value of numbered cards, jacks were worth 11, queens 12, kings 13, and aces were wild cards, worth either 1 or 14, at the players’ discretion. The gap between the numbers on the two cards indicated the danger of the current phase. A difference of 0-2 indicated minimal danger; 3-5 signified moderate danger; and 6 or higher suggests extreme danger. I had concepts planned for how danger might manifest in each phase, as well as some general danger-escalation tools that could be used at any stage.

To determine how well their efforts to deal with a dangerous situation were going, they could draw a card from the top of the deck and add it to either side. So if a 3 and a 9 were revealed for either side of the phase, creating a danger score of 6, and a player drew an additional card and revealed a 5, they could add it to the side with the 3 to bring that side up to 8 and the stage's overall danger margin down to 1. The six characters in play had three chances each to add a card in this manner, for a total of 18 among the group. To use one of these draws, the PC had to “flash forward” to one of three epilogue moments – one day later, one month later, and one year later.

Here’s the catch. In addition to resolving the danger of the present stage, the running totals of each column will determine if they players achieved one, both, or neither of their overall goals (separate from the danger in each phase). 

So the players needed to balance the phase-by-phase spread against the running totals for their two goals. These two incentives could easily conflict, where they needed to "make up" a difference in the overall goal totals by leaning into danger in some of the stages. The players in my game were actually forced to make the last stage much more dangerous for themselves in order to get their goal numbers to where they wanted them to be.

We handled all of this narratively, using NPCs, abilities, resources, and the flash-forward epilogue moments to interpret the results of the revealed cards. No dice were rolled during this session. But there’s no reason (besides time) that something like this couldn’t be used as a “progress clock”-style overlay on regular game action.

Difficulty 

I decided that a final difference of 4 or less would indicate both goals has been completed successfully, while 5 or more would involve compromising or partially failing at least one of the two goals. I didn't go too deep into calculating the odds here, but I think I was lucky that the cards provided some tension that forced them to act, as there is a non-trivial chance that the numbers on the cards could balance themselves too easily and let the players move forward passively.

Fortunately, it is easier to make this harder in one of several ways:

• Decrease the margin for success on both goals; for example, say that a margin of 2 or less is required to succeed on both goals, with 3-5 succeeding on the higher-value goal only, and a difference of 6 or more indicating that both goals fail.
• Set Aces to 14 only, rather than allowing them to be wild cards. 
• Remove the 2s, 3s, and even the 4s from the deck. The game will become swingier without the low cards, with more phases showing high levels of danger. 
• Allow for fewer interventions to add cards to balance out danger.
• Instead of measuring the success of both goals by the final margin, give the two goals separate (and conflicting) success states. For example, one column could succeed on a high score, while the other could succeed on a low score. This would essentially force the players to choose one over the other, partially influenced by the randomness of the cards. 

But Why Tho?

To some degree this is just a different way of getting to what is really just a progress clock or skill challenge. Dice could simulate this in a way that is closer to the conventional game action. 

But I think there is something for switching systems entirely to frame an epilogue. After spending an entire campaign rolling dice to resolve moment-to-moment action, the cards signposted that the resolution system here was going to be different. 

The cards also provided a good visual centerpiece for the session. When I run games in person, I'm mostly happy to do it with few maps and props. But I have noticed that players benefit from having a shared visual thing to look at, particularly when the session has a very specific shared objective like this. 

The World's Largest Rewrite: Trepan Lizards, Grues, and Carving Up the Stone Theme

Last time: Grey Horse, Devil Swine, and Normal Humans

#109: Skeleton. We’ve already met our mummies, zombies, wraiths, and wights, so we have a pretty good number of undead knocking around the prison. Skeletons, like zombies, make sense as minions of more powerful undead. We placed the zombies with the mummies, but let's save the skeletons as servants of an as-yet unseen monster. I’m going to place them near the salt water aquatic monsters, to provide some variety there. The bones of failed escapees, animated by some dark magic, drifting up from the depths amidst the seaweed, to clutch at ankles, join us, join us... 

#132: Whale. Yeah, OK, let’s do this. OSE includes a killer whale (AKA orca), narwhal, and sperm whale. Rolling randomly gives us the sperm whale. A brief aside: It is interesting to see how OSE stats suggest a different concept of the world than a modern D&D system. A sperm whale has 36 HD and 162 (!) HP. A red dragon, the strongest of the chromatic dragons, has 10 HD and 45 HP in OSE. 

Compare that to 5E.2014, where an adult red dragon has 256 HP. The 5E MM doesn’t stat whales, but the roc is similar in HD to the whale in OSE, and that is about even with the dragon in 5E. It feels like modern designers felt it was important that the dragon was not only the most dangerous monster, but also (among) the biggest monsters. No such compunction in OSE.

The sperm whale is so big that it is hard to place it in the dungeon; it is very much intended as a wilderness monster. So let’s embrace that idea and put it outside the dungeon, but strongly associated with it. The sperm whale’s signature abilities are to ram ships and to swallow creatures whole. The prison builders enchanted this creature to crush ships approaching the island prison, and swallow any survivors in the water. Their intent was to prevent both prisoner escapes and rescue attempts from the outside. The whale itself can serve as a mini-dungeon, with survivors living inside the whale; that’s a classic trope. 

#41: Gargoyle. The flow of water is already a consistent theme within this dungeon, so let's include gargoyles that honor the origin of the term. Historically gargoyles were not just statues (or “grotesques”) but specifically rainspouts on the buildings they adorned. Our gargoyles are bound by the dungeon builders to channel water through the dungeon, for hydration, drainage, and sanitation purposes. They may be cruel and twisted monsters otherwise, but their commitment to the routing of water takes priority over monstrous behavior. Two gargoyles can form a 1’ diameter “pipe” through solid stone between their locations. PCs who parley with them could use their help to bypass various hazards and obstacles. Beware their betrayal, however, as they could easily send you trouble instead.

#115: Stegosaurus. The OSE entry for the stego is minimal, but the Monster Overhaul, as usual, proves its value with supplemental random tables. Rolling on a few of those we get “fleeing a predator” as a response to the prompt “why are they charging?” and “we steal and devour their eggs” to answer “what do we use them for?” We’ll place these guys near the sabre-tooth tiger, since they also fit the lost world theme. But we also want to build up the idea that the dungeon’s divisions are breaking down, and that creatures from different regions are interacting with each other. So we’ll say these stegosauruses are frightened by the chimera, and that the noble and his retinue are stealing and eating their eggs.

#23: Cockatrice. It is interesting that cockatrices and basilisks, at 5 and 6 HD respectively, are quite a bit bulkier monsters in old-school D&D, while modern D&D presents them as relatively junior monsters, compared to the medusa and gorgon in the Family Stone. The cockatrice is described by OSE as “small,” but is about as tough as an ogre. The monster overhaul notes they are “rarely viscous, though their feeble minds and tendency to panic can lead to disasters” (this also serves as a good description of my cat). As discussed when we placed our medusa, petrification is an incredibly useful ability for the fantasy prison warden. Petrification can be a way of safely transporting a prisoner; putting them in “solitary”; managing a shortage of supplies by temporarily (unless…?) reducing the percentage of the prison population that needs to, you know, eat; and even creating statues that can fit together to build walls. You know, like in Unico in the Island of Magic.

Uh, you know, Unico in the Island of Magic? OK, maybe not everyone has seen Unico in the Island of Magic. You can watch it on Youtube! The petrified-people-used-for-building stuff starts around the 30 minute mark. I watched this when I was very, very small, and for years afterward, I had a very deep and paralyzing fear of being turned into a statue and used as building material. Fortunately, this never happened to me in real life, and I eventually got over that fear. But this probably does explain why I have written about gorgons so much on this blog. These blog posts don’t typically include processing childhood fears, but there ya go.

What were we talking about? Oh yeah, the cockatrices are here for the same reason the gorgon (medusa) is – petrification is really useful to the prison builders. For the same reason I don’t want to cluster all the undead together, I’m not going to put the cocatrices next to the other petrification creatures. I’ll drop them near the center of the map, next to the doppelgangers, who were the second-ever monster we placed during this exercise. If the cockatrices petrified the doppelgangers, they might have formed a feral colony near that area. The zombies are unaffected or indifferent to their presence, and the bull sharks are protected from the stony birds by water. 

#4: Basilisk. What a serendipitous result. We have our oops-all-rocks enemies showing up back to back. In Soviet Russia, rocks pet you. 

Combined with our gargoyle in this entry, and our gorgon (medusa) lore, I think we have some interesting ideas of how petrification played a major role in the formation and maintenance of the dungeon. I like the idea that the prison-builders started with cockatrices (relatively easy to control, insofar as they have to make physical contact to petrify). Later, as the prison grew both larger and more difficult to control, they added basilisks, in a desperation move (capable of petrifying at range, but a real double-edged sword for other sighted creatures).

Rolling randomly, I’m gonna put the basilisk on the left side of the map, and it lands right next to the… rock baboons… which feels like the dice trying to tell me something. We’ll keep our scream-oriented baboons but also make them literal rock baboons. Why not? 

#15: Bugbear. Another minimally described goblinoid in OSE. Hairy, ungainly, attacks with surprise (this also serves as a good description of my cat). Going to the Monster Overhaul directs us to the… ogre entry, surprisingly, but I respect it. The Overhaul is not afraid to create Weird Problem Creatures, and the bugbear is definitely one of them. Its abilities are as follows: “Harmed by innocence. Attacks against the [bugbear] take a penalty equal to the attacker’s HD or level. Bonuses to damage become penalties. Toy swords cut as steel ones.”

That’s kinda mental, right? Certainly more interesting than “stronk goblin with +2 to surprise, move along.” You can imagine why a creature that fundamentally subverts violence would end up in our prison. However, by imprisoning this freak amongst mostly guilty inmates, the jailers have inadvertently made him powerful. None of the twisted reprobates in the prison would be able to harm this guy. I’m not trapped in here with you, you’re trapped in here with me. This is a cool puzzle monster. Clearly our bugbear is a dungeon boss, like the dragon and the devil swine, controlling other monsters/NPCs, because they cannot harm him. We’ll drop him near the bottom of our diagram; he’s probably bossing around some combination of hobgoblins and humans. Maybe the poor cyclops too.

#69: Lizard Man. The most evocative bit from OSE is obviously “Man-eaters: Kidnap humans and demihumans, whose flesh they regard as a delicacy” (thankfully, this does not serve as a good description of my cat). 

To my surprise, there is no entry for lizardmen in The Monster Overhaul. Not even an index entry pointing to another monster. I guess lizardfolk fall somewhere between kobolds and troglodytes in the Overhaul taxonomy. We’ll use troglodytes. With four separate random tables, they have enough going on in their entry that there will be material left for the actual troglodytes when we eventually roll them up.

Rolling a few times, we get “Genetic offshoot blessed with strange powers but cursed with mind-rot” and “Trepanning drill. Improves divine access” as a treasure. These two hooks together really sell these guys. The basic OSE beastiary does not have a direct mind flayer equivalent, so for this dungeon, our lizardfolk fill that roll.

#105: Shadow. “Intelligent, incorporeal (but not undead) monsters that look like shadows. Able to slightly change their shape.” I like the non-undead shadow concept. The Overhaul’s index suggests “Grue” as an interpretation, which isn’t on our OSE list, so we’ll use that to embellish these fellows. The grue is a highly mobile, durable, deadly creature in darkness, with light as its only weakness. It is easy to imagine our prison wardens trapping a grue/shadow here with redundant “walls” of light. As the prison keepers' authority slips away, the lights begin to go out, and the grue probes its containment, restless to be free. We’ll probably create a “high security” block for creatures like this, that require special methods to imprison. 

#45: Gnoll. Gnolls have a little bit more going on than some of the other humanoids, but not much; the OSE description is just a winking reference to their post-Dunsany presentation as a portmanteau of gnome and troll. The Overhaul has no gnoll entry, but refers to the hyena entry, which has a nice “legendary abilities” table. “Hyenas only eat the corpses of unholy people. The souls of those they consume stay inside the hyena.” This gives them a pretty clear reason to show up in our dungeon. The gnolls have broken into the prison in search of "unholy" souls to devour. We’ll assume they’ve entered the prison from the top and are trying to get toward the lower middle, where the humans are.

Here’s our updated diagram. Getting a little more crowded, isn’t it? Remember, this is not the dungeon map; just a very simple diagram that can eventually inform regions, which can in turn serve as the basis for an actual map.

Oops-All-Backgrounds D&D

I have written before about the underrated design of the backgrounds in D&D 5E.2014. Backgrounds in 5E include a brief description and some “suggested characteristics,” but mechanically they boil down to the following pieces: 

• Two skill proficiencies
• Usually one or two tool proficiencies (although a few backgrounds don’t get any)
• Usually one language (although again, a few backgrounds don’t receive one)
• A brief starting equipment package
• A “feature” that doesn’t have an explicit mechanical application, but exists entirely as something to be leveraged by the player and adjudicated by the DM. Usually the feature grounds the character within the game’s social milieu.

This is a solid chassis for a starting character, even without ancestry and class. The problem with backgrounds in the context of 5E is that they are quickly swallowed up by class progression. Those background details may come up in the first few sessions, but nobody bothers to use the Rustic Hospitality feature by level 5, let alone level 20. 

But… what if they weren’t competing with the classes? What if instead, the classes were designed like backgrounds? What if... the fighter class just looked like this?

1. Skill proficiencies: Choose two, just as you normally would, from the 5E fighter skill list
2. Armor proficiency: Choose one from among light armor, medium armor, or heavy armor
3. Weapon proficiencies: All simple weapons and any three martial weapons
4. Equipment: Same options as the in the 5E fighter list
5. Feature: Choose either Action Surge or Fighting Style

And what if the dwarf ancestry just did this? 

• Weapon proficiencies: Battleaxe, handaxe, throwing hammer, and warhammer
• Tool proficiencies: Artisan’s tools of your choice (smith’s tools, brewer’s supplies, or mason’s tools)
• Languages: Dwarven
• Feature: Choose either Darkvision or Dwarven Resilience

Any one of these is an MVP (minimum viable PC). Where you go from there depends on what kind of game you want. If you want to hew closer to normal 5E, layer on additional features and mechanics as class advancements, but keep it much leaner than typical 5E. Use GLOG-style progression as a model, with maybe four levels, capping characters at a low/middle power level, just like you might when using a 5E chassis to run a megadungeon.

If you want to keep it simpler, instead model the game on a system that features little or no advancement, like Troika, or one of the Into the Odd-based games. Or assume that advancement comes mostly from exogenic acquisitions, as in an equipment-focused game like Knave.