The megadungeon has a creative call to it, this grand and imposing space mapped out for adventure, a beckoning otherworld to explore. People dig superlatives, the biggest, the tallest, the most dangerous, the most powerful, the deepest. But the challenge of making something epic in scope can swamp even the most dedicated GM.
It’s very hard to make a truely big space mapped out to a dungeon level of detail, as scope increases the amount of work required to fill the space well increases exponentially. Even some of the largest megadungeons could fit into the footprint of a large mall you could explore in a half day (though a mall with the lights off and filled with monsters and traps would take longer to survey).
To oversimplify this excellent post on the sandbox triangle: High detail, high freedom, or lower effort. Pick two of these qualities for your megadungeon or sandbox design.
For example: If I wanted to make a gameable version of The Forbidden City at high detail, and a high freedom of navigation, I’d be looking at keying ~8000 rooms if I wanted to key the entire thing as a dungeon.
The biggest published megadungeon I know, Ardun Vul, is around 2000 rooms and just 500 yards at its widest. It’s huge, monumental for a dungeon- but compared to realworld spaces, it’s nothing special in scale. I usually don’t try to predict the future but I feel like it’s a safe bet that there will never be an 8,000 room megadungeon that’s better than Arden Vul (which almost buckles under the sheer scale of its contents as a convient GM reference work), though someone is welcome to take a couple decades of their creative life to prove me wrong.
Megadungeons and ruined cities (a sort of open air megadungeon, everything’s a dungeon) can be hard to pull off. My favorite solution is to keep the required effort manageable, player agency and navigational freedom high, and cut detail, reserving the bulk of creative description energy for the specific points of interest inside the megadungeon or lost city. Cut the time at the table spent playing and describing stuff in the middle, between the most interesting node areas of your megadungeon.
For running something like the Mines of Moria, instead of filling half a session with detailed literal miles of mostly vacant corridors, halls, and chambers maybe roll an encounter check or two and describe the miles of interstitial hallways and rooms between your detailed and keyed areas in a quick chunk of evocative description sorta like this:
“The passage twisted round a few turns, and then began to descend. It went steadily down for a long while before it became level once again. The air grew hot and stifling, but it was not foul, and at times they felt currents of cooler air upon their faces, issuing from half-guessed openings in the walls. There were many of these. In the pale ray of the wizard’s staff, Frodo caught glimpses of stairs and arches, and of other passages and tunnels, sloping up, or running steeply down, or opening blankly dark on either side. It was bewildering beyond hope of remembering.”
The Fellowship of The Ring
Having too many navigation decisions in interstitial areas is increasingly counterproductive as adventure site scale increases. RPG adventures can be chunked into different blocks of time and space, maybe a 10 minute exploration turn, a several hour watch in the wilderness or a six mile hex, maybe an entire week of downtime. These discrete chunks are boxes to fill with something interesting enough to note or interact with in the game. If most of these boxes are completely empty I think you either need more content or less boxes to fit the scale of the adventure.
You could break things up into abstract narratively significant scenes like a movie as a number of RPG’s do- but that’s not my preference. I like the feeling of specific time and space. But since we can’t narrate every second, we have to decide where to use the squishy CPU power in our skulls. So we skip and zoom in. A fully detailed and keyed dungeon works well up to a certain scale but in dealing with ruined cities and truely mega dungeons, a pointcrawl style between detailed keyed dungeon nodes offers my favorite balance of detail, freedom, and GM effort, as well as speed at the table.
My thinking on this is most in debt to John Arendnt’s work on The Black City project- which I still hope gets published in a complete form at some point. In one post on node based dungeons he notes:
“This node-based style feels EPIC, and supports vast underground complexes worthy of Moria. It lets you separate your major areas geographically and establish strong themes at each node. The dungeons and lairs are not so expansive that it’s exhausting to stock them. Putting more distance between lairs, factions, and other inhabitants of the dungeon enhances the verisimilitude. It’s much easier to manage dungeon dressing and similar details by starting with a small, strongly themed lair or mini-dungeon complex. And from a preparation perspective, it allows the referee to develop the mythic underworld in much smaller chunks – one mini dungeon at a time – instead of having to generate a sprawling 100-room complex. It combines most of the best aspects of the wilderness hex crawl and the graph-based dungeon into a seamless continuum.”
A great example of these types of node based dungeon map design are metro systems.
Each station on the DC Metro Map, is a point of interest, somewhere to the tunnels in between. Different colored routes offer varying paths with different encounters, routes. In your megadungeon/ruined city, these could be routes like “The Webwrought Path, The Worm Tunnels, The Trail of the Candlelit Pilgrims, or The Imperial Way” with associated perils, scenery, and encounters and inform the environment of the dungeon nodes along their path.
One issue with real metro maps is that they’re designed for practicality in transport and offer heaps of stops right next to each other to be most convenient for their ridership to access a large portion of the city. This isn’t exactly the right metaphor for how to design a sweet node based dungeon.
So in Granada there’s a tourist “train” that looks like this.
It runs in a route around the city in a repeating loop every day. People can buy a one way trip or an all day hop on hop off ticket around the city including a couple stops barred to any other vehicle traffic. On the hottest days in the summer it looks like a ship crammed full of damned souls with no AC.
The ticket price, route, and purposes of the train don’t meet the day to day needs of anyone living there and would be completely impractical for general transportation. It’s designed for managed discovery of neat places for tourists. It’s not trying to present a comprehensive entire city, but an impressionistic representation of the city, a road accessible highlight reel that tries to give a kinda feeling for what makes the place tick.
Video game towns like in Skyrim are similarly impressionistic, trying to give an idea of the city while making a much smaller version then would exist in reality. You could spend your time detailing every street, corner store, and fountain plaza but it wouldn’t be a good return on your time investment. Through the power of tabletop RPG creativity you can have a huge town of thousands or a, you just gloss over the majority of the area, apply a fuzzy lens. This area is abstracted through a pointcrawl.
Fantasy adventuring parties are a kind of tourist, outsiders in the area under time pressure, searching for the highlights. They’re not generally trying to find the routes and places in town that allow them the most convenient day to day mundane life. They’re skipping over 90% of the place to find the palaces, cathedrals, royal gardens, and tombs that hold the treasure they’re looking for in the brief visit available. Many players want to be transported somewhere, to travel and see wondrous vistas when they play in your role playing game world. So give them some cool shit to see and focus your creative energies on these hotspots and let them check out the ones that appeal! Hop on, hop off.
So metaphorical megadungeon metro systems are great. I also think it’s cool to put an actual subway in a dungeon. So many dungeons are the ruins of ancient advanced precursor civilizations why not put a magic or sci-fi podway in there. There’s something fantastical about this to me. As someone who grew up not too far from the middle of nowhere in Nevada, mass transit still feels a bit magical to me, in the same category as castles on peaks or dragons.
Pictured: Average Nevada Commute
Here’s an early draft diagram of the volcano megadungeon, the fallen keep of Cinderstrom I’ve been working on for too long. I used Scapple to make this and dig that program a lot for dungeon planning, but any type of flowchart software would work. There’s also this site which lets you make your own custom metro maps that fit the classic aesthetic and iconography if you’d like to make dungeons that way.
Who knows where the hell the pods go?! Smash some random buttons in a dead language and find out. Maybe one of the pods is sentient and challenges you to riddles and threatens to crash if you don’t come up with good ones. Huge variety of fun options for gameplay with a fantasy podway.
Downtime is sweet, it breaks the campaign into chunks, making time pass and allowing players to pursue personal goals that might not be interesting to the rest of the players to play out for an entire session but lead to interesting developments and more hooks into the world.
Time becomes a resource as torches burn low, and the increasing risk of dangerous and non lucrative wandering encounters increases. Time in wilderness exploration is also expended to discover interesting locations or reach a distant destination at the expense of rations and the risk of wandering encounters.
Downtime is available to do all sorts of useful and interesting things but is also limited. Using Downtime requires choosing what is important at the risk of random campaign events like natural disasters and the success of opposed faction machinations. Also with enough time, aging could cause a character to need to retire and an heir to be decided upon (I’ve thought about using seasonal downtime turns like Pendragon or Ars Magica uses but I prefer a little more granularity in a year of adventuring.).
I’m a big enjoyer of the Worlds Without Number RPG and using it for my current campaign. It’s not my go to for one shots or convention games due to a bit more mechanical complexity than Knave, Shadowdark, Cairn, or OSE but I’ve found that during an extended campaign WWN really sings for me. I’m running an open table sandbox in a dying earth desert city in the unstable wake of the king’s assassination where the players are effectively fantasy cyberpunks, taking missions for different scheming factions as freelancers.
WWN uses 2d6 rolls for skill checks as in the Traveller RPG, instead of the familiar d20 used for combat and saves in the game. This keeps combat swingy but makes experts very likely to succeed at things they’re good at. I don’t always like skill checks in game but when I do- the sharp curve of a 2d6 system is my favorite. You know what else uses 2d6 rolls? The excellent downtime rules from Downtime in Zyan and Errant!
Here’s the gist of how this system works in an excerpt from Downtime in Zyan:
This is also the same system used for many rolls in the Powered by the Apocalypse rule family of games for extra player familiarity if they’re coming from that background. Here’s how World’s Without Numbers skill system works.
Downtime in Zyan assumes the same -2 to +2 range of ability score modifiers to this roll as Worlds Without Number which makes the conversion even more seamless. This would be a really short blog post but the one factor to consider is the presence of skill points (up to another +4) in WWN increasing the maximum odds of success. I initially considered raising the base level difficulty but decided it was more fun for specialists to have the chance at greater success in their Downtime activities for their investment in the skill than to make even basic successes more unlikely for nonspecialists.
A Worlds Without Numbers Downtime System:
Roll 2d6 + Attribute + Relevant Skill
<7: Failure: There’s a complication and/or it doesn’t work. 7-9: Basic or Mixed Success: It works but there’s probably a complication. 10-11: Expert Success: It works! 12-13: Master Success: It works and an extra good thing! 14+: Legendary Success: It works and some really good stuff
Downtime Types
Inspired by the systems from Downtime in Zyan, Errant, and this blog post. More are possible pending player interest but I thought these were neat to me. The various new talent and martial training options from the Downtime Systems have been omitted as Worlds Without Number provides more mechanical advancement and character customization by default than B/X type games but I could see them fitting in the games too if focused in scope and potency.
Animal Training: Step Tracker Assassinations: Single Downtime Building Bonds: Step Tracker Building an Institution: Step Tracker Burglary: Single Downtime Create a Magic Item: Step Tracker Craft: Single Downtime Expeditions: Single Downtime Burglary: Single Downtime Pit Fighting: Single Downtime Proclamations: Single Downtime Investigation: Step Tracker Revelry: Single Downtime
Here’s some examples:
Investigation
The GM creates a tracker for the number of successes required. Each success reveals a portion of the information.
Number of Steps Needed:
Widespread Knowledge
Uncommon Knowledge
Esoteric Knowledge
Forgotten Knowledge
<7 Failure: Stumped, no progress is made on the research tracker this downtime. 7-9: Basic or Mixed Success: The research tracker advanced but the GM may decide the information found is misleading or wrong. They don’t let the PC know if they’ve done this or not 10-11: Expert Success: The research tracker advances 12-13: Master Success: The research tracker advances 2 steps. 14+: Legendary Success: The research tracker advances 3 steps.
Revelry
Drink, debauch, socialize, and be merry!
<7: Failure: Roll on the Revelry Complications Table! Gain a hostile contact. 7-9: Mixed Success: Gain 1 new contact. Roll on the Revelry Complications table. 10-11: Expert Success Gain 1 new contact or 2 new contacts and roll on the Revelry Complications table. 12-13: Master Success: Gain 1 new contact. Roll on the Revelry Boons table 14+: Legendary Success: Gain 1 legendary contact. Roll on the Revelry Boons Table.
Creating a Magic Item
Most Downtime activities are an open spectrum from Failure to Legendary Success . However, some like Magic Item Creation require greater success than Basic as a baseline requirement to achieve the goals. I’m using WWN’s provided rules as a baseline and its system of accepting flaws in a failed item creation roll to still produce the item without the time and cash being wasted is neat and I’ll stick with it.
Multiple Downtimes
Every time a mission based adventure is completed (or abandoned) the party gets Downtime. This Downtime period usually represents about a month before the next adventure in my game. If an adventure or mission takes longer, players get a bonus Downtime activity for every ~3 sessions of adventuring without a Downtime. This doesn’t make much sense from a diegetic standpoint but exists to not penalize the amount of Downtime received and keep it relevant in the game if particular adventures or missions can’t be easily compressed into 1-2 sessions. Further reading on this idea.
If your players can’t touch, smell, be murdered by, manipulate, blow up, discover, or loot your history it doesn’t matter.. Since it’s my blog I can have opinions and I think that if setting history isn’t designed or revisited with the background thought, “How can this maybe lead to interesting gameplay for my players?” it’s not very good for RPG’s.
Like the lonely fun of world building is awesome but as it exists to serve a sandbox adventure game format it should provide Information to your players that lead to Choices that have Impact. Like if I want to develop an intricate 6 tier caste system for my fallen empire of Different Elves.™ That’s cool but why would the PC’s want to know about it? What choices does the information provide them with? What impact would these choices make?
Maybe the Different Elves restricted access to parts of their labyrinth cities by these castes and had magical doors that read the caste tattoo on the user’s palm before opening. Now understanding the society and knowing for example, the funerary practices prescribed for each of the castes becomes useful if the party wants to find some honey preserved Different Elf corpses to cut off a hand and open some magic doors. What if the Priest Aristocrat caste were cremated in a pit of eternal flame, making it difficult to open the particularly fancy doors with their caste name inscribed on it? Throw a few possible solutions into your world, knowing the PC’s may come up with something entirely different that works. You could have a tome of palm designs and the mystic ink needles that can permanently inscribe the arcane tomb secluded in an archive. You could have rumors of a buried maze villa where the resident Priest Aristocrat might still be frozen intact in ice from a cataclysmic icefall. This was like five minutes of spitballing, you can definitely do better spending a bit more time on it. One can have super weird deep history-but tie it into the gameplay itself for the PC’s to experience first hand and internalize which keeps the multiparagraph lore dumps to a minimum.
(Unless they seek out a sage or some other way they’re explicitly looking for that, some players actually dig hearing the history! Then a strange old rambling guy in the game is doing this long lore dump diagetically, not the booming omniscient voice of the GM some players wanted the dump from or not.)
I’m absolutely not against intricate worldbuilding, it’s great creative fun and provides a sense of an otherworld with its own reality. But I think it should be designed or shaped after the fact to provide information and secrets that lead to cool decisions that have an impact in the characters lives and world.
A hundred spells Phandaal personally had formulated — though rumor said that demons whispered at his ear when he wrought magic. Pontecilla the Pious, then ruler of Grand Motholam, put Phandaal to torment, and after a terrible night, he killed Phandaal and outlawed sorcery throughout the land. The wizards of Grand Motholam fled like beetles under a strong light; the lore was dispersed and forgotten, until now, at this dim time, with the sun dark, wilderness obscuring Ascolais, and the white city Kaiin half in ruins, only a few more than a hundred spells remained to the knowledge of man. Of these, Mazirian had access to seventy-three, and gradually, by stratagem and negotiation, was securing the others.
Jack Vance, The Dying Earth
Stick with me, I’m getting to the fantasy worldbuilding and dead gods.
In ecology the trophic pyramid is the basic structure of the food chain. Up to 90% of energy can be lost as waste heat instead of converted between steps, organisms higher up the food chain are more inefficient. It could take 1,000 calories of grass absorbing a fraction of the awesome energy of the sun to produce 100 calories of grasshoppers or 10 calories of shrews feeding on grasshoppers or just 1 calorie of tasty, succulent, owlflesh fueled by catching shrews. As is, this is a neat tool for figuring out the population if you want a bit of simulationist ecology to establish the territory of your biggest scary predators in a sandbox region based on available food sources if you dig that style of world building.
But now let’s take the pyramid and flip the bird.
The power from the owl’s mighty corpse flows upwards, diffusing from its original form to feed a larger number of smaller but still great beings that feed yet tinier and more plentiful beings and so on.
I dig this as a metaphor for how magic and ancient powers can be handled in many post apocalyptic/fall fantasy settings. There is no active inflow to the system in this model. Magics originate from a mighty but finite original source (The Precursors, The Divine World Empire, The Ancients, etc.) that loses up to 90% of its power in waste heat (dead archbeings, spilled blood, burned archives, smashed artifacts, annihilated civilizations) as it is transferred to the next age and then reduced again until the current age is but an echo of an echo of the great power of the past.
This type of worldbuilding method is useful for fantasy setting of old powers buried deep and drawn upon in diminishing fragments by the lesser inheritors searching through the ruins. The concept of a time abyss touched on in Matt Colville’s “Dead Empires” video and Joseph Manola’s OSR Aesthetics of Ruin blog post which elaborates on the idea that “the more wrecked things are, the more open they are to free-form adventure” are both highly recommended pairings with this post.
In order for impressive ruins with cool stuff in them to exist there must exist greater past civilizations. The scattered remnants of House Targaryen at the start of the Game of Thrones series is a shadow of their dominating power in the House of the Dragon prequel which itself is a mere shadow of the wonders of old Valyria. Each age is a shadow of the one before, picking through the bones of its sire.
Some ancient and modern writers saw the arc of real history as grouped into broad ages following a declining trend. Loads of fantasy like Tolkien’s Four Ages or Howard’s Hyborian Age takes inspiration from schemas like this and the influence persists in the heaps of works they’ve influenced. Every age is diminished from the last. Entropy increases. Things fall apart, the center will not hold. All is an echo of the past stemming from initial greatness, the lesser shards and spawn of which produce their own pale imitations of grander forebears.
It should go without saying that real history is messy and doesn’t follow easy schemas, taxonomies, or universalized trends- but fun post collapse world building doesn’t always require accurate historical analysis’s it’s very common that whatever current era the writer was living in was the most unsettled, degraded, and dangerous time- it’s always the end of days, and the worst time in history to be alive, past greatness fading. That’s a pretty powerful vibe, what if it actually was the case for once instead of eternal cyclical nostalgia?
“Our sires’ age was worse than our grandsires’. We, their sons, are more worthless than they; so in our turn we shall give the world a progeny yet more corrupt.” -20 BC, Book III of Odes, Horace
Step 1. Outline your Ages
These ages serve as guide posts for a loose timeline broken into big chunks, things you know are true about your setting and places to slot in your weird magic items, creatures, and ruins. This isn’t prescriptive but rather paints the broad strokes of your setting.
It can be easy to get lost in the weeds here. Don’t do it. If you catch yourself wanting to detail the complete lineage of five thousand year old noble houses, stop! Make a note- come back to it later if it still inspires. Break down your setting’s history into 3 or 4 main ages of creators, and their ruins, and artifacts- this allows you to have a general concept of what’s happened that can be discovered by your players. What we’re trying to do is add anchors that lend congruency to our loose worldbuilding without building an encyclopedic straitjacket of facts about the setting that ossifies it into a dead fixed thing.
The RPG, The Sword, The Crown, And the Unspeakable Power breaks the process of mythmaking origin worldbuilding into a sweet fill in the blank format that’s worth stealing for any game to come up with the elevator pitch for what your average commoner knows about the past as popular history and what you tell your players.
This is awesome and we can steal the Mad Libs method of history generation for a less elegant version that fits our quick history by Ages format to link it all together. I actually recommend making the Golden Age stuff unknown to most common folklore to leave a more mysterious time period to discover.
“In the beginning… (Golden Age) † Until… (Fall of Golden Age) † This resulted in… (Silver Age) † Until… (Fall of Silver Age) † Then (Bronze Age) † Until… (Fall of Bronze Age) † And now…” (Iron Age)
Questions About Each of Your Eras
How Long Ago? What Were They Like? (Culture, motifs/architecture/ruins style, etc.) ? What types of magic items/creatures were often created during this era? Why? What influenced them from previous eras? Specific Notable Figures or Creators of Magic Stuff? (Limit to 1- 5 initially, you can always add another hero, traitor, or godking later) How did their ruin come?
Example Ages of Power
Golden Age/Age of Myth Examples:, Ascended Immortals, Primordial Beasts of Creation, Angels, City Sized Elder Dragons, Kirbyesque Space Gods, Alien Overlords, Nasty Old Ones OSE Spell Level Range: 6-???
The most magical time, the origins of your setting that matter, the deepest layers of Just because it’s the most wonderous time, doesn’t mean that it needs to be the most enjoyable time to be alive. Maybe the world was ruled by unknowable Lovecraftian Old Ones, whose slumber led the way to the new age where people could live outside their rule. This could be the dawn of time itself or a thousand years ago, it is the point at which the interesting stuff in your campaign first emanates from. You don’t care about anything before this, it doesn’t matter. In most games most creatures or relics from this era are outside of the range of possible player advancement and gameplay unless you want to wind up playing a truly epic level game. Real Infinity Gem, Simiril, Dragon Ball type stuff. I mostly use this age to set the vibes of the setting, themes, and to influence the direction of following eras.
Silver Age/Age of Legends OSE Spell Ballpark Levels: 5-6+? These beings come directly from the scattered magical essence of the Golden Age. Inheritors, usurpers, spawn, or rebels? Their magic items are the most powerful artifacts, creatures, spells, around, campaign macguffins, mighty dungeon treasures or threats. Of these make at least one absolutely crazy artifact as your power ceiling for the expected campaign somewhere, go nuts with that one. This is your One Ring or God Slaying Blade for your sandbox. Tuck it away in a dangerous dungeon somewhere or give it to an ambitious NPC antagonist. Put it somewhere a level 1 PC is likely to pick it up if you want some great shenanigans early on.
Bronze Age/ Age of Heroes OSE Ballpark Spell Level: 2-5? These beings and items are inheritors or creations of the Silver Age Powers. This era is your bread and butter, recent enough that it’s vaguely familiar history to most people in your settings but old enough that it has enticing magics and was suitably mighty. If you need a sweet magic mace, wild wonderous device, or helm this will probably have it. I like to have a recent centralized empire, a nice contrast with modern scattered and endangered successor states and settlements for that swords and sorcery vibe.
Iron Age/ Age of Today OSE Ballpark Spell Level:1-2 Inspirations: Conan/Dying Earth/Dark Souls/Lord of The Rings This is the fallen realm of today, squatting in the layered shadows of the past.. This where your strange minor items, common supernatural beasts, and new creations of modern mages, witchlords, and alchemists fall under. The realm of the impressive but knowable. In a limited magic setting even these lesser sorceries might be wonders or terrors. In a wide magic but low power setting these types of items and charms might be widely available or replicable. All of these minor magical items from Goblin Punch fit well.
Step 2: Create Magic Items for Each Age
Reserve the most powerful or impactful items for being created or originating from the oldest eras with a little overlap between the mightiest craft of a new era and the weakest of the old. Older stuff is generally rarer and more powerful. New stuff is less potent but more Try to tie almost every interesting magic item to an Age. Give it a style, trademark special effect, material, associate it with one of the historical powers to create a denser web of hooks. This helps players learn more about the world’s connections and history in an interactive manner and be given the context to act on this. They’re also paying more attention than average when you describe treasures. Your players might grow beyond the limits of the current Age and create more mighty items of their own- sweet.!
The trophic pyramid might use a 1:10 scale between new and old tiers but you could use 1:4 or 1:6 or whatever fits your idea of how prevalent magic items from each following era should be. You might also need more or less magic items depending on the scope of your games setting. The specific ratio doesn’t matter just the basic principle.
Example Magic Item Spread:
0-1 magic items? = The Golden Age 10 magic items = The Silver Age 40 magic items = The Bronze Age 160 magic items = The Iron Age
Now at this point you might say “Joel, there’s absolutely no way I’m going to spend the time to come up with 210 magic items for prep – that’s a recipe for burnout.” No worries, that’s cool! You don’t have to, no should you write down a couple hundred magic items before you start your campaign. If you can’t even come up with ten big Silver Age magic items at first, steal and adapt from other sources or just come back and add to the list when you’re inspired or need to invent a magic item on the spot. It’s an aspirational list, but I think it’s neat that there’s also a limit to the number of items of each potency and era existing in your game. It’s a finite resource.
Name: Appearance: What Does It Do: Origin (Who created it and the era, 1-3 sentences ) :
Thrown Together Example:
Name: The Eye of the Flamemother Appearance: Bloodshot Quartz Eye with boxy geometric engraving, smoking pupil enterally darting around. Shines bright orange When Used. What does it do: Replaces an eye, ignites everything stared at for 2d6 damage – covered with a ruby eye patch. The user can look into any flame and see what has passed before it in the past. Visions push the user to greater pyromania and must Save to not ignite large flammable structures in view. Origin: Plucked from the Fettered One’s face during the Silver Age of Legends by the Eld Lord Hanuba who wore it on the battlefield. After he was felled during the Year Without Summer, The Eye was passed down the generations by the Slayers House of Jareen. (I don’t actually know what all these lore references are yet besides the broad strokes of which culture/faction/force was the power of each age, you can flesh out nuggets in random details if needed )
Step 3: Scatter Magic Items Around Campaign Setting
At this point you should have the start of a list of sweet magic items of varying eras and puissances. Start putting them in dungeons and the hands of powerful NPC’s. Anytime you need to place a magic item and don’t already have something specific in mind, grab it from your list.
In creating your adventure sites use whatever your method of sandbox stocking is. I like the Worlds Without Number, An Echo Resounding, and Beyond the Wall region generation procedures supplemented by hand placing others.
Now roll on this d10 table and tie all of your built adventure sites to the. (Again, odds can be shuffled to taste.)
1d10 1-4: Iron Age(Modern Era) – 40% 5-7: Bronze Age Ruin- 30% 8-9: Silver Age Ruin- 20% 10: Golden Age Ruin 10%
This doesn’t track with the various eras’ magic item ratios but those get looted or destroyed over time and shattered ruins stick around longer. If you roll an older era for an adventure location that’s modern and in use then it’s a repurposed original structure dating back to that era-also helps give this setting a sense of history.
If players notice a recurring patterns from exploring a black marble swamp laboratory showcasing eight headed snake motifs carved with glowing eye gems and holding strange animate bone whips and scissor blades, and built atop a collapsed ziggurat whose interior grave chambers contain the undying skeletons of hydras with a single vial of glowing blood locked in a chest of shimmering blue crystal in it’s deepest vault.
This seems a lot more fun and engaging then telling them the players via a lore dump that the vanished Hydramancers of Thaarn built their laboratory compounds in the swamps to revere the undead remnants of hydras bred long ago by the Gray Emperor who used the blood of captured gods in awful rituals. They’re going to remember actually experiencing that archeology live a lot more. Maybe they don’t ever get the whole picture but because you know it, it’s easier for a sense of verisimilitude and consistency to develop with your world- a feeling that there’s always something new to discover.
Not every site needs every layer of history to be present and tangible. Plenty will just be a recent construction or built upon a site associated with a single previous era.
Leveling Up and Digging Down
So what are adventurers and seekers of lost lore doing? They’re scavengers converting the power of the former Age more efficiently and reducing the waste energy that bleeds away to the past on the magic reverse trophic pyramid.
A dungeon consists of going deeper and deeper through the layered ruins of these past ages. The deeper you go the weirder things get, the more dangerous, the more magically potent. As adventurers gain levels and power they are digging back into the past. Explicitly and symbolically. Modern Iron Age structures and settlements are everywhere, Bronze Age ruins are fairly plentiful, Silver Age ruins are rare and the location of the couple intact Golden Age sites are lost to all or the deepest held secrets of some order.
Perhaps in forging great wonders of their own, delving into secrets, they might turn the Wheel once more towards the wonders and glory of elder days?
Later something new and great and terrible could be created- some atom bomb analog capable of putting to shame anything the old order had and laying waste to the new era’s wonders in the process. The future ruins of this brave new world created by that party could be the era’s ruins you have another party crawl through in your next campaign’s shattered future. The cycle continues.
Lethal Company seems to be blowing up on Steam currently and it’s the most dungeoneering fun I’ve ever had and I think it’s very accessible to get into. It’s also the best digital approximation of a session of Mothership RPG I’ve found I really, really, like it and think a lot of my enjoyment comes from what I love about OSR dungeoneering.
In Lethal Company, you’re players on a team of up to 4 interns/subcontractors that has a clunky spaceship on lease from The Company. You land your ship on a series of moons and delve into abandoned industrial structures with your friends over in game voice chat looking for scrap. And these moons and structures are filled with a variety of awful creatures that want you dead. Here’s a couple things I enjoy about the game that can be applied to OSR dungeoneering.
1. Debt
In the game you have 3 days to reach your profit quota from the scrap and items you’re able to recover from your expeditions. Each time you land on a moon is 1 day of your time. In the first days if things get too dangerous or a crew member dies it’s easier to call it early and try to get out alive with a minor haul, but as time gets closer to your terminal deadline the pressure of a fatal default leads to riskier decisions in spite of really not wanting to go back in. “I don’t care what you saw in there, get back in- we’ve got to make quota!” This corporate horror framing helps answer the horror RPG question of “Why don’t they just leave this awful place?” and pushes players to constantly have to weigh their greed against their fear on each run in an awesome push your luck effect.
I like this framing even more than the traditional OSR treasure as XP for encouraging adventurous behavior in a survival horror setting. It’s not just how you get better but if you don’t extract the required value in goods, you’re dead or as good as. The pressure of debt on your character is a constant needle to take risks or actions you don’t want to in order to keep your head above water and live to delve another day with an even higher quota to reach. Also relatable to lots of players.
2. Limiting Communication
The best way to play is using the in-game voice chat. Directional audio is excellent so you can hear where your buddy is as they walk around you, voices echo in canyons, and get muffled underwater. If you go out of audible range you need to carry an in game walkie talkie and communicate with a crackling static filter. It’s not uncommon to discover a coworker has died only by not hearing them for a second, turning a corner and seeing their twisted body and still glowing flashlight and having to breathlessly report it to the rest of the team.
A monitor inside the ship offers a radar that can switch cameras to view each player as a blue dot on the map. requires someone to stay back at the ship as overwatch instead of haul scrap if they want to use it and communicate intel about the layout of the facility, green dots representing goodies, and the presence and movement of red dots representing hostile creatures via the walkie.
One of the worst feelings is when you hear a cut short scream over the walkie from ground control person and know you don’t have anyone scanning for dangers around you and you’re going to have to go back there and face whatever killed them to escape the moon
Due to the difference in medium this is hard to pull off in tabletop RPG’s but I think for novelty occasions pulling players into a different Discord channel or room of a building and the GM jumping between them fairly rapidly to reduce deadtime is a fun gimmick to bring out rarely.
Splitting the party and cutting between characters’ viewpoints while the players are at the same table would be the more efficient way of doing this 90% of the time and I’ve used this to good effect in horror games. Foreshadowing dread is spooky and provides some of the joys of knowing dread when you see the thing moving behind a character in a horror film even if it doesn’t provide the actual lack of information. But as both the knowing audience and unknowing participant, tabletop RPG’s are in an interesting space between a horror movie and a horror video game and I think provokes cool feelings and experiences that are distinctive from both.
3. Woeful Underequipment
The Company recommends a rookie starter package that costs more credits then you start with, which sets the tone for the level of employee benefits and support you can expect in the game. This leads to creativity through necessity. Without enough money to get radios for everyone do we have one person stay at the ship? Do we just all run for it without someone watching the radar monitor? Dave died carrying the stop sign we found, but if I pick it up I can club this spider with it. As teams amass more credits they never have enough for everything they might want. Should we buy a teleporter or pay for fuel to get to the moon Titan and it’s more lucrative and dangerous terrain? This vibes with the high focus on equipment and making the best of the tools you have with the environment in OSR type dungeon play.
4. Go Back For The Body!
The company docks your pay if you leave a body behind. This often leads to fleeing a beast that’s just slaughtered your coworker only to double back sneakily after being reminded of the cost for leaving them there. This has the same effect of the Funerals for the Fallen house rule of gaining the XP of fallen teammates for the equivalent spent on proper funerals and I think it’s fun and leads to stressful and occasionally silly gameplay benefits.
5. Swings between Terror and Hilarity
I haven’t played any other video game that pivots so strongly and frequently between the two poles. It’s a great time hanging out with your friends or nice internet strangers and joking and shooting the breeze that gets interrupted by moments of sheer terror and long stretches of building tension. The games PS1 era graphics also give it a goofy primativeness that also makes it spookier in a retro analog horror way.
You very, very, rarely can get the feeling of true horror around the table in RPGs. Trying to enforce a single vibe at the table is counter productive. Humor is used to defuse tension and is a natural reaction and also fun.
On the flipside I also think that a GM trying to be consistantly funny can rapidly turn into pure farce. Every game I’ve played at a con that marketed itself as humorous wasn’t as funny or fun to me as the unexpected laughs in other RPG sessions.
Silliness is an emergent property of gaming and throwing too much of the GM’s own from the start often overspices the stew. The gameplay in Lethal Company acts as a GM that plays the horrific straight man to player shenanigans through the setting but with a cheeky sprinkle of dark humor that doesn’t take itself over seriously. It’s nice to have both things.
Stolen graphic from the excellent Mothership Warden’s Operation Manual
6. Easy to Get Into The Game
I’ve played like 12 hours total so far. Multiple times I’ve had a friend or random player join for their first round ever and told them. “You push 1 to dance emote, 2 to point, and we need to go into spooky buildings and grab trash to take it back to the ship and pay off the debt on the monitor or we’re dead in 3 days.” And they were good to go! When you die and get to spectate the rest of the team with the other dead folks in a voice chat, commenting on the livings impending peril and laughing about how you kicked the dust-this downtime is brief because each day is limited to ~10 minutes at which point the ship autopilot takes off at midnight. And the experience of watching mirrors my feelings when I’ve died in Mothership, OSE, or another game I can expect to hop back in lickity split without spending two hours of character creation.
7. Player Skill over Character Skill
There’s no permanent progression between plays, you can buy some better equipment like a shovel, teleporter, boombox, or a romantic table for your ship as you gain credits on each playthrough. Everyone is playing the same noodly armed intern in an oxygen mask. Much like Mothership there’s not really leveling up (though the company gives you XP that leads purely to a fancier job title on your hazard suit) and when your crew inevitably falls short of quota eventually you’re given a High Score. You get better at knowing the behaviors of creatures, natural hazards, and the differences between moons on each subsequent run and can pass this info on to new players.
8. Teamplay
The life of the game is your teammates. Your fates are welded to each other and the team lives in dies on the mistakes,triumphs, banter, and sacrificial monster distractions to allow the other intern with the loot to get away from each other.
More than that, the real person on the other end of the is what makes it fun. Because communication is such an important part of the game you spend a lot of time just chatting with the other folks on the team. There’s enough downtime and goofiness in the game that you get to just talk as well instead of constantly aiming for optimized behavior. On a mechanistic level there’s not that much going on in the game loop and it could seem boring. Get scrap, go to other moons, meet quota, get higher quota, get more scrap. What makes it so replayable and entertaining is the specific humanity of the player behind the player character. I’ve had a blast with friends but also complete strangers who I developed a sense of genuine camaraderie with after 2 hours on a team shooting the shit while dancing and pointing at each other, creeping through dark facilities, stealing alien bee hives, and huffing strange inhalants, and hauling each others corpses. The game has a lot of space for emergent gameplay.
The human element of playing with other people towards a shared goal while being able to communicate and goof off with each other is a lot of what I love about RPG’s. While not able to reach the same highs of experience as GMing a table of good friends in person, Lethal Company offers a bit of that joyous experience- which is quite the achievement for a $10 video game.
Bonus: Steal the Premise for Your Fantasy RPG.
You and the other PC’s have been branded for your crimes with a geas sigil -the Holy Order of Tharn believe all members of society deserve a chance to contribute without being constrained to a prison. If you don’t haul out enough gold pieces worth of treasure from these awful holes in the ground in the pockmarked Valley of the Old Ones and deliver it to your debt holders outpost you’ll be burned to a crisp by your searing geas brand in 3 days. Perhaps you can find a way to break the geas by paying it off or rising against your captors but right now you’ve got a quota of 2000 gold pieces and daylight is waning.
*Debtors brand entirely stolen from a suggested framing for a Hot Springs Island campaign
So I’ve been doing a lot of work on RPG projects lately. This is a good thing and beats every other job I’ve had. But I’ve been coming to that classic obvious revelation that when something becomes your work it can change to where it’s not always as fun as the purely hobby game stuff you do- without the intrusive ideas about how to polish this as a module for publication or help pay some rent with it hovering in the back of your mind. So I’m going to try to make more fun unpolished free stuff more frequently for my own kicks and inflict it on anyone who reads the blog.
These two classes are made for GLOG* systems which are relatedish to most OSR adjacent rules. You can also just steal these for as is for monsters or weird magic abilities if the classes don’t work for you. Thanks to Chris Meabe for walking the streets of Granada and bouncing dumb class ideas off the wall with me.
(*The GLOG are assorted DIY house ruled system hacks spread around heaps of blogs and kicked off by Arnold K of Goblin Punch that are loosely based on minimalist D&D type rulesets that constantly steal, mutate, and iterate from each other. The main consistency are hundreds of weird custom classes that follow a 4 level template patterned classes like these and a neat Magic Dice system for spells. https://oblidisideryptch.blogspot.com/2020/07/how-i-learned-to-stop-worrying-and-love.html)
Handyman
You lost your hands in an awful accident but a wizard was able to attach some new ones from a recent corpse. They work better than the original. Two isn’t enough- you need more. More. MORE. You’ve learned the secrets of harvesting and attaching hands on arms made of more hands to yourself and animating them.
Starting Equipment: A sewing kit, a dagger, a dozen mismatched gloves, and a set of magically-infused threads.
A: Second Hand, Hand Sandwich B: Lend A Hand C: Mage Hand D: Ambidextrous
Second Hand: If you harvest an intact humanish hand from a biological creature you can sew it onto your flesh and give it new life. You need to collect 5 hands to build and operate one arm made of hands. You can sew on as many handarms as you want and they can hold or do anything a normal hand can. You still can just use one action or special ability a round. If you drop to 0 HP, you lose one handarm at random, the hands scuttling away from you and finding a dark corner to turn to ash in. Each handarm also has a special ability chosen or rolled from the Hand Jobs table.
Hand Jobs: 1. Hand(le) Bar: Hand has a small nozzle in its palm that can produce enough red rum a day to get 12 people outrageously drunk. Highly flammable. 2. Glad Hand: Can pat someone nearby, massage their neck, and squeeze their biceps. Gives a +1 to all rolls as long as the Handyman is adjacent to them. 3. Sleight of Hand: This hand can do one type of activity as a skilled thief, but only the hand. 1. Lock Picking 2.Pick Pocket 3.Cup Game 4.Climbing 5.Really, really good shadow puppets. 6. Knife Throwing 4. Man Hand(le): This handarm is swole and can shove any creature it hits smaller than a horse 10 feet if they fail a Save. 5.Out of Hand: Something you can hold in with the one hand vanishes. It reappears in 1d6x10 minutes. 6. Hand Off: Hand can pop off the handarm and be directed to scuttle around like a crab. Useful for scouting, getting into tight spaces, or attaching a small bomb to it. Hand Sandwich: If you eat an intact hand you gain 1 hp. Takes 1 round per hand to consume it. But then you can’t sew it to yourself, bummer. You can spend 10 minutes carefully unstitching one of your handarms for 5 hands to eat if you really need to- you don’t like doing that. Lend A Hand: You can rip the stitches out of a handarm and loan it to someone by sewing it on to them. They have an extra hand arm that can do whatever they want with, keeps any Hand Jobs it has. Lasts for 10 minutes x (Number of Templates) before it falls off. You can sew it back on to you after. Unwilling targets can Save to avoid. Mage Hand: If you harvest the hand of a magic user, the hand retains arcane remnants of a single spell. You can cast this once per day. Instead of choosing a Hand Job for the handarm, you can roll on a table of random spells. Ambidextrous: You now get two actions per round as long as you have at least three handarms.
Lamp Host
You saw the light. It called to you, told you to trust it- to find peace in its flickering. And the next thing you know you came to with a small fleshy covered lamp growing out of your shoulder. It would kill you to remove it, it’s part of you now. It’s your friend.
A: Illuminated Path- Lamp parasite is size of flickering candle. B: Burning Revelation- Lamp parasite grows to size of handheld lantern. C: Gaslight-Lamp parasite grows to size of impressive desk lamp. D: Hive Mind-Lamp parasite grows to full lamppost size 5’ above your shoulder. Unwieldy to get through doors.
Illuminated Path: You are always surrounded by a 30’ halo of flickering lanternlight. You can cover the lantern to hide the light but it harms you 1d4 HP every 10 minutes to do so. The lanternlight allows you to detect magic auras by seeing them sparkle. If you tell a lie- no matter how ridiculous-anyone standing in its pale greenish light must Save or believe it until proven otherwise.
Burning Revelation: You can boost the light of the lamp parasite to a flash of blinding white green radiance (Number of Templates) times a day. All viewing with eyes must Save or be blinded for 1d6 rounds. Those wearing blindfolds or prepared including you get Advantage on the Save.
Gaslight: The lamppost parasite can give its hypnotic swirling glow. Any creatures with eyes with less than 2x (Number of Templates) HD must Save or begin to walk towards the light and stare into its glow. This lasts until they take damage or 10 minutes have passed- after which a small lantern emerges from their back, spreading the parasite infestation.
Hivemind: You (or is it your lamp parasite making you?) can command any lamp hosts you’ve infested with Gaslight as long as it doesn’t suicidally risk their lives and the wellbeing of their lamp parasite. They can save every (Number of Templates) weeks to try to break free of your control. Beware of powerful lamp hosts trying to do the same to you.
This is going to be one of those posts where someone says how Game Mastering in RPG’s is basically a lot like part of their work experience in another field. I’ll also get into the dangerous arena of providing GM advice. I’d like to tell you I’ll avoid cheesy reaches to fit the framework but make absolutely no guarantees.
“A GM wears many hats… just like a ranger!”
If you’ve been to a national park in the US you’ve probably seen an interpretive park ranger, they’re at the visitor center giving out maps and directions, giving campfire talks and slideshow programs, managing social media, and leading hikes. This was my main job before I started publishing and writing RPG material at Silverarm and the job I’m returning to for the summer season tomorrow again.
If the writing and publishing enterprise ever goes catastrophically belly up, it’s basically the only other career I’m any good at. There’s pros (gorgeous sunsets, strong community, lots of bears and marmots, feeling good about the work you’re doing) and cons (no healthcare for seasonal employees, bureaucratic red tape, increasingly underfunded agency budgets, and isolation), but overall I can definitely say I haven’t regretted my time wearing the funny hat.
Interpretation isn’t really education as there isn’t a desired specific pedagogic outcome. It’s the art of talking about vibes and trying to grapple with a big picture around the facts. A lot of the times when I say I did interpretive park ranger work people misunderstand and ask me what language I was interpreting for visitors. It’s a good question and not unrelated to what the work entails. It’s about the attempt to imperfectly translate environments, history, and broad ideas into a small amount of relatable human language that serve to ideally connect the visitor to an idea of some greater and unemcompassable whole- that of the place itself. This is not unlike what a GM tries to do at the table to translate the vistas of the private worlds inside their skulls into a place that players can comprehend and interact richly with.
It’s less important that someone walks away knowing a specific detail like that Mt. Rainier is 14,411 ft tall or that a kangaroo rat can go their entire life without drinking liquid water and pees solids. It’s the feeling and the broad ideas and overarching concepts communicated by related specific details that stick with them. How will climate change affect this place? What was it like to be alive during the Civil War? What does home mean? How do things adapt to the environment they live in? What are national parks for? How should we talk about difficult history?
Some of the best interpretive themes are big questions with information that attaches to this scaffolding and provides a variety of facts and perspectives, not an authoritative thesis from a lecturing “sage on a stage” bore with all the answers. Much like good game mastering, good interpretation is informed and altered by the interests and lived experiences of the visitor experiencing the program.
If you stage a cat burglary into any national park visitor center after hours you’ll find a copy of a 1957 book called Interpreting Our Heritage by Freeman Tilden to heist in the staff library, a landmark book in the interpretive field. In the last 66 years since this dude wrote it there’s been a lot of changes in the world and interpretive field but the work has remained popular. While elements of the book’s contents, uncritical historical perspectives, and its masculine generic pronouns have become dated, it has remained a central work and a powerful reference for environmental and historical interpretive work for years. In it, Tilden lays out some principles for providing interpretive programming that doesn’t suck or bore an audience to tears.
I’ve made the change of swapping the word ‘interpretation’ with ‘game mastering’ and ‘interpreter’ with ‘game master’ in each of the 6 Principles and from other quotes I’ve included from throughout the book as I think they’re just as relevant to running RPGs as they are to interpretation.
“Principle #1: Any Game Mastering that does not somehow relate what is being displayed or described to something within the personality or experience of the visitor will be sterile.
Principle #2: Information, as such, is not game mastering. Game Mastering is revelation based on information.
Principle #3: Game Mastering is an art, which combines many arts, whether the materials presented are scientific, historical, or architectural. Any art is in some degree teachable.
Principle #4: The chief aim of Game Mastering is not instruction, but provocation.
Principle #5: Game Mastering should aim to present a whole rather than a part and must address itself to the whole man rather than any phrase.
Principle #6: Game Mastering addressed to children should not be a dilution of the presentation to adults but should follow a fundamentally different approach. To be at its best it will require a separate program.“
Here’s some elaboration on using some of Tilden’s principles in your RPG games.
Principle #1: Any game mastering that does not somehow relate what is being displayed or described to something within the personality or experience of the visitor will be sterile.
I think this is one of the core elements of running a game well. You’re not telling a personal story purely for your own enjoyment but collaborating on a shared experience that every player at the table finds engaging and interesting. This doesn’t mean that you should sacrifice your enjoyment. You have to present a world that’s relevant to your players interest and meet them at the intersection of your interests and experiences.
You need to meet people where their heads are at. Sometimes people just want to know where the bathroom is, sometimes someone wants to have a lengthy conversation on the history of the federal government displacing people from land they were already living on. The difference around the table is that being a Game Master doesn’t require being a public servant on the clock, it’s important for your players to meet you at the intersection of your interests as a participant in the game as well, everyone’s a participant at the table to have a good time.
On Immersion in the Game and Player Agency
“For remember, the visitor ultimately is seeing things through his own eyes, not those of the Game Master, and he is forever and finally translating your words as best he can into whatever he can refer to his own intimate knowledge and experience. I put the words as best he can in italics, because thus it will emphasize the importance of making this translation as easy as possible. It may not be too much to say that most history may be interpreted effectively (but of course not exclusively) by provoking the thought,‘‘Under like conditions what would you have done?’’
Freeman Tilden
As GM you words are the player’s window into this other world, everything they experience passes through the portal of your description. The situation should be detailed and their understanding of their place in it is clear. You open the door and…
“What do you do?”
To me this is the sound of freedom, I think there are no sweeter four words in a game master’s vocabulary. It’s at this moment where the player is able to walk through the portal of the imagination and use your description to inform their choices to interact with the world and the consequences of that. For my tastes as a player, the more meaningful choices I am provided with along with information to inform these choices and consequences to the actions, the better the game is. I’m preaching to the choir and understand other people have heaps of ways of enjoying RPG’s but to me an RPG session with a preplanned route and end, no matter how artfully concealed behind the GM screen is a withered dead thing, a pinned butterfly on a wall- the pale shadow of the colorful, living, erratically flapping thing it represents.
Principle #2: Information, as such, is not game mastering. Game Mastering is revelation based on information.
“People go to parks because of a keen realization that no picture or printed word, however brilliant, can do more than whet an appetite to experience with one’s own senses the grandeur and wonder nature has formed. No textbook, however instructional, can convey the feeling of reality that comes to us when we stand in the very places, among the identical objects.
Freeman Tilden
This year at GaryCon I got to play in a game with Victor Raymond and chatted afterwards about the best ways of introducing complex settings to players and some of the pitfalls folks can run into. He said something along the lines of who would you say knows more about London? Someone who’s read an intricate and lengthy Fodders travel guide to the city or someone who has actually been to London? You can recite a list of cultural facts and historical dates to your players, but the best way to learn about a setting is to play within it. You need to take them to London, Lankhmar, Sharn, or the Shire not just give them facts and lore about it to read up on.
In exploring the streets, squabbling factions, and sites of an imagined location through actual gameplay their knowledge will be acquired first hand and much more relevant and sticky through navigation of these imagined spaces. Much like there’s value and knowledge to be gained from watching a documentary about national park sites like Yosemite, Yellowstone, or Manzanar- but the sense of place and context gained through the first hand experience and context of occupying the same space and seeing the granite cliffs over the sunlit valley, herds of bison blocking an icy road, or a lone watchtower outside the site of an internment camp is more impactful.
When you describe the interior of a dungeon chamber or spaceship you’re not just telling the players about the facts. They don’t care if it has 11 dented pots and the hinges of the pots are made of copper and the drawers have 27 red forks, there’s a broom in the cover. You want to get the idea of the place across and you only have limited brain space in which to do it. Extraneous non-gameable, interactive, or evocative detail should be excised as players only attention span to take in. I’ve found that the rule of 3 is a good number to stick to for initial description about a place or situation as that seems to stick in the brain easier than a flood of extra detail but still provides enough imagery to be vivid and provoke a strong sense of place. Follow up questions from players can allow for further elaboration that’s directed by their curiosities.
Principle #3: Game Mastering is an art, which combines many arts, whether the materials presented are scientific, historical, or architectural. Any art is in some degree teachable.
This is generic enough to be cliche but I guarantee someone reading this needs to hear it. You’re going to suck some when you start because it takes time and effort to improve and that can be frustrating. I know I still suck at a lot of major GM skills after years of running. But there’s so much great resources out there to learn from and the biggest teacher is just time playing with friends and figuring out what you enjoy and don’t enjoy. Anyone can become a great GM, and you don’t need to be try to be the best GM in the world, you just need to have fun at your table. You have the capacity to improve and reach your players regardless of how bad you feel you are. The worst GM’s I’ve had were the ones who firmly believed they had perfected the art and had nothing left to learn. You have the ability within yourself and can improve these abilities through practice and passion as a journey without an end.
“The GM must use art, and at best he will be somewhat of a poet. This sounds frightening, I allow. I can see some of my readers shuddering at the thought and wondering where it leaves them. ‘‘But I never wrote a line of poetry in my life. You cannot expect me to be an artist.’’I reply: You do not know yourself. You have been so frustrated by the curatorship of unimportant details that you have forgotten your inborn talent. We are all, in some degree, poets and artists. If you mean you are not capable of the exquisite flights of a John Keats or the rumbling organ tones of a Thomas Hardy, very well. None of us are. But we can have something of the perception of a poet without having the graphic skill. We can have a sense of joy at sounding a lovely chord, without being a virtuoso.”
Freeman Tilden
Principle #4: The chief aim of Game Mastering is not instruction, but provocation.
This is one of my favorite principles. Show, don’t tell. It is up for the player to meet you in the middle through the feelings you inspire from them.
In recent years someone coined an acronym to help NPS interpreters in training frame how they approach interpretive programming using a similar principle- ORACLE(the Only Right Answer Comes from the Lived Experience). Government loves to torture a turn of phrase into a misshapen acronym. When I heard the phrase in employee training at a park in 2018 I felt uncomfortable with it and the entirely subjective feel of it. Were basic facts about science and history to be left up to feeling? Luckily that’s not the point.
The point is that the things that resonate most deeply are those that are arrived at through the filter of a visitors particular perspective and find meaning within their individual lens they view the world with- you shouldn’t lecture people on what to feel about a topic, only provide some fuel and a spark that lights their own consideration of the thing. As a GM it’s not your job to editorialize and tell the players something is scary, awesome, disgusting, or ensure their characters react and take actions in a specific way that you think is best. It’s the unpredictability how a player will perceive and interact with part of your game due to their individual nature that makes GMing different than the lonely fun of writing a fantasy novel. All you need to provide is the tinder of the situation in your world, lit by the spark of your particular style of description that attempts to show this situation to your players. Where and how the conflagration spreads from there is out of your hands.
On Telling Players What To Feel
These Alpine peaks know how to speak for themselves, and they speak a language that the world of people shares. An object, whether a mountain, a lake, a crystal, a Chippendale or an heroic act, is not made more beautiful by being called beautiful.- And the perception of beauty is always in the nature of a surprise. We sometimes humorously call overlooks in the National Park areas‘‘ohs and ahs’’ from the fact that these exclamations are the spontaneous manner in which the visitor expresses his wonder-struck feeling. Thus, in an interpretive sign you are not wise to describe any definite object as beautiful; besides being impertinent by infringing upon the visitor’s taste, you are interposing between him and the scene.
Freeman Tilden
Principle #5: Game Mastering should aim to present a whole rather than a part and must address itself to the whole man rather than any phrase.
I think every bit of information and description provided in running a game should be focused on how it best presents the gameworld as living and complex multidimensional space. Different people also have varied interests and each player at the table will have preferences that will be met differently. Even the individual player and GM’s contain multitudes and variety in gameplay keeps things fresh. Sometimes they want to delve for gold and slaughter goblins. Even if you’re all deeply focused within a narrow subgenre of your game, there’s always room for some variation. Switching things up and providing different types of gameplay helps.
For example, a Mothership Sci-Fi Horror RPG campaign that has the adrenaline constantly cranked to 11 levels of horrifying can lose its power over time as players grow jaded and used to the non-stop terror train. Being able to breathe and experience the mundane, the suspenseful, the pleasant and the boring, make the moments of horrors much more affecting over a campaign.
In Alien like lots of great horror movies we spend a lot of time getting to know the crew and doing mundane things, arguing about shares, exploring strange structures, even experiencing some hardwon triumph at the end. It would be a much impoverished film if it was nothing but 120 minutes of chest bursting, vent crawling, and head biting. Pacing is often seen as something only prevalent in more narrative railroad styles of play but through introducing opportunities for a player directed wider variety of experiences from dungeon crawling, to intrigue, to seafaring, to goofy social interacts in your campaign the emotional highs and lows will hit harder and be more fully appreciated.
On Limiting Disconnected Background Lore in Favor of Gameable Content
It is far better that the visitor to a preserved area, natural, historic or prehistoric, should leave with one or more whole pictures in his mind, than with a melange of information that leaves him in doubt as to the essence of the place, and even in doubt as to why the area has been preserved at all.
Freeman Tilden
“…you sometimes note an impatience on the part of a specialist that the public does not show sufficient interest in his assemblage of information as such. He is likely to conclude that the average person is somewhat stupid. The opposite is true. It is a sign of native intelligence on the part of any person not to clutter his mind with indigestibles.”
Freeman Tilden
Principle #6: Game Mastering addressed to children should not be a dilution of the presentation to adults but should follow a fundamentally different approach. To be at its best it will require a separate program.
Running games for kids isn’t for everyone as the interests and temperaments of the audience can vary a lot from the adult game. It’s important to differentiate the type of game you’re playing. You’re probably not going to run a Game of Thrones political intrigue sandbox with your 11 year old cousins. There’s also lots of opportunity for really fun game play using the trends of younger groups and it’s worth spending the time tweaking your normal adult style to prepare a game that plays into those particular strengths.
General Ideas for Kids Games: (from my experience and stolen from others) 1. Kids often like to come up with creative solutions. 2. Attention spans can be short, keep things as flowing and simple as possible. 3. Chaotic murder hobo behavior is widespread. Embrace it, don’t fight it.
Ben Milton of Questing Beast and several other notable designers and GM’s are also educators and Milton frequently notes that designing for kids has improved his adult games as well with the principles of clear simplification and openness he’s learned.
On Appealing to Kids With Your RPG Game
“If we cannot interest with our treasures those carefree young persons whose minds are at the height of receptivity, how can we hope to interest those adults who are inevitably fogged and beset by the personal and social worries of an uneasy world?
Freeman Tilden
The Secret Ingredient for Running A Dungeon
I am reminded of a party of visitors I joined to explore a limestone cave. The guide was amiable and personable, but he had made two major mistakes in the work he was pursuing—without catching. In the first place,he had committed a recital to memory, and he suffered a lapse of memory before he had gotten very far. This may be a source of embarrassment to the interpreter, but it is worse for his auditors, for they do not merely bleed with him—they bleed for him. After that stoppage, our guide said, ‘‘Well, I’ll begin again. . ..’’ This time he sailed through.
But the second defect was the fatal one. He had undertaken this interpretive work without being in love. If you love the thing you interpret, and love the people who come to enjoy it, you need commit nothing to memory. For, if you love the thing, you not only have taken the pains to understand it to the limit of your capacity, but you also feel its special beauty in the general richness of life’s beauty.
Anything written without enthusiasm will be read without interest. You must be in love with your material.
Freeman Tilden
As GM’s we are guides to unknown caverns within the world, strange and distant stars, and soaring palaces of crumbling obsidian. Memorizing the exact route, planning the excursion to every moment and expecting no deviations whatsoever will not let players have an experience of exploring these fantastical places on their own without respect for their interests and self directed pathfinding. We are never able to reveal the whole fantastical vista that lies in our mind.
Our words and descriptions will never translate the whole of our imaginations to the tabletop. But when I’ve GM’d or played in my favorite games it’s the ones where we had collectively summoned this other world and together were there, sharing that fantastic landscape as a living creation of multiple engaged minds. There’s tons of skills to learn and there’s whole worlds of blogs, books, and advice videos to help you hone those and improve your Game Mastering but it takes that first ingredient to make the journey worthwhile.
Game Mastering at its best- is an act of love. Love for these games and their inspirations. Love for these otherworlds in your head. Love for yourself, your players, and that shared experience at the table. I don’t care if it sounds cheesy. We only have so many moments of real life to spend how we want, we might as well care deeply about what we spend them on.
Bonus Quotes from Tilden Applied to Gaming:
On Fancy Home Gaming Setups and Digital Tabletops:
No institution should install any mechanical devices until it knows that such gadgets can be adequately, continually, and quickly serviced. No matter how good they may be when they are working properly, they are a source of shame when they are allowed to be more than briefly inoperative; Gadgets do not supplant the personal contact.
On Experiences With Difficult People
“In the course of a long career, the GM will meet the pestiferous, the un-manageable, the ineducable, and some whose apparent reason for existence is to provide the hangman with work. These are not the many; they are the few. One who has suffered a number of attacks by poison ivy may get the idea that this malicious plant dominates the scenery. In truth it occupies only a little space in the whole floral luxuriance.”
So back last fall I ran a Karth Jam where folks created cool gamable content that could be useful for use with my Mothership module Desert Moon Karth. And there was a lot of great ideas!
As long as people are asking first, giving me credit and aren’t doing anything nefarious (I.E Sandsquid NFT’s, Digital Wigoy prospecting loot boxes, hate speech) I generally like seeing my stuff inspire other creations and am super open to folks using elements of works I publish and putting their own twist on them.
Also contrary to what certain RPG company boardroom ghouls in human skin suits seem to think, it’s also beneficial to the creators/publishers of something to make it easier for other people to make cool things for that something.
A. There’s more cool stuff for Desert Moon of Karth, these can make the base module more fun for me and other folks to run. B. People who discover Karth due to another neat thing someone else made using are likely to pick up Desert Moon of Karth and give me money. That’s also cool.
Anyway here’s an overview of all the sweet entries:
Included is a one sheet PDF add-on for Desert Moon of Karth featuring a new location, NPC, and set of jobs.
Two short audio files of broadcasts are included.”
Also the author commissioned Logan Stahl who did the portraits in Desert Moon of Karth to create the illustration of Cpl. Sharp.
Arkady’s Outpost
https://joshua-justice.itch.io/arkadys-outpost “Arkady’s Outpost is a supplement for use with the Mothership® Sci-Fi Horror RPG. It’s an independent trading outpost located on the outskirts of Larstown on the remote moon of Karth. Arkady, the shopkeeper, is a laid back, but clever woman who grew up in the desert expanse. Here you’ll also find one of the most infamous criminals on Karth: the mad cultist, Lars Rossart. This pamphlet is designed to be used with Joel Hines’ Desert Moon of Karth module, but can be dropped into any shore leave Mothership session.”
Another modular location to pop down in the sands, the brochure combines an interesting shop with peculiar goodies, item illustrations and two more of the dangerous or bizarre type of character I like to have around Karth.
Karth Race 2000
https://mandalastudios.itch.io/karth-race-2000 So this one never got finished so the author uploaded the draft for folks to download. It’s heavily inspired by Death Race 2000 and maybe the pod race scene in Episode 1. It’s a deadly canyon race with a new mechanic to allow for gaining or flagging towards being the first to cross the finish line. There’s some really neat sections here and if anyone digs this and wants to wrap it up I highly recommend reaching out to the author and checking on that!
Four more ne’er-do-wells for bounty hunting, double crossing on a robbery, or getting shot in the back by in the streets of Larstown with desires, fears, secrets, and jobs. Checkout Roxie ‘Bad Mouth’ Bartlett, S.A.M ‘Sunrise’ Holotape and the whole crew.
Karthian Manhunter
https://krakenhund-studio.itch.io/karthian-manhunter “On the long nights of Karth against the darkness of the stars, you’d see it. A tall, emaciated body covered in human skins, draped across it like rags. Wigoy coral horns. Limbs so long you’d feel like they could reach across the entire desert and grab you. A bad omen, they’d say. A very bad omen…“
Clearly there wasn’t enough nasty stuff on Karth already. This pamphlet has an android monster, its background and a detailed lair. Throw the Manhunter on the random encounter table. Or use it as a contained one shot adventure- beware the horned one.
If you haven’t heard, a lot of folks in the RPG space are taking part in the #Dungeon23 challenge. Recently started by Sean Mccoy on Twitter the idea is that if you key a single room a day starting on January 1st in a dungeon complex you’ll have a detailed 365 room dungeon at the end of 2023.
It provides a framework for easy, gradual, but constant progress where you have a huge complete thing at the end of the year! There’s tons of other resources and variations on the idea folks have posted. There’s even a subreddit now! You should totally do it.
I’ve been laying the groundwork for my Cinderstrom volcano megadungeon and the surrounding wilderness sandbox of the Steaming Basin for around a year now and it’s got a lot left to go, mostly in specific keying of rooms. Doing Dungeon 23 should help with that.
I thought I’d share my own messy, slow, process so far in making a connected sandbox region/megadungeon for eventual publication at Silverarm and see if it’s helpful for anyone.
Joel’s Method for Megadungeon Sandbox Design So Far:
Pick Concept and Theme. Just write down the cool ideas that get you stoked in a not super organized way that you want in this megadungeon sandbox. This part is easy dopamine and the least work of any project for me but provides the loose core that the entire project will metastasize and pick up other influences over time.
(Read The Hobbit, Dying Earth, and Conan Red Nails story. Volcano megadungeon. Andalusian Islamic architecture. Metro style podway and science fantasy. Abandoned dwarf hold sorta like Moria. Dragon with berserker cultists.)
Lightly key and name Wilderness Sandbox locations, deciding on scope (7×7 hexes with 49 locations of interest. Procedurally generate hex contents to speed the process up using Hex Describe, replacing bad ones with completly different ideas and tweaking and twisting and stealing from good ones to create new version of contents that fits the setting.
Rough level layout of the megadungeon using Scapple to create flow chart style map. (~300 rooms divided into levels ringing central lava chamber of volcano in three tiers connected vertically and horizontally metro style ancient podway system that also connects to some other dungeons in sandbox outside)
Come up with lots of great room concepts rapidly using this brainstorming method from GFC D&D.
Detail and name other dungeons/settlements around the region and establish size, lightly key whichever you have energy for. (12 other dungeons, average of 10 rooms each)
Detail the factions that are already in head with a more detailed treatment, decide how everyone feels about each other, where they’re based, and what their goals are.
Create Sub Regional Encounter Tables and other Random Tables (Campaign events, merchants, rival NPCs)
Jaquays your wilderness sandbox for interesting navigation and meaningful choices because the wilderness is a dungeon. Create a variety of specific detailed paths between locations.
Start Actually Playing with players in an unfinished setting! Build out based on organic play needs helping you create and tweak setting to be better.
Have three different games in the setting sporadically end and start over a year period.
Read too many OSR RPG blogs and books for good design ideas to bookmark and steal ideas and procrastinate on the hard part of actually writing the specific detail of every keyed location slowly.
Transfer everything from a huge Google Doc to OneNote because organizing different areas and topics into folders is easier to parse.
Settle on a dungeon level and room key format that provides a high level of usability at the table and provides a clear framework for work ahead. Acknowledge this will likely change some when I find a format I think is even better.
Nail down the loose history already in head and then simplify the huge historical timeline to no more than 50 short events. These must be referenced in actual things the players engage with for organic discovery in the world Dark Souls style. All history must connect to actual play and be load bearing lore the players can interact with.
Create World Anchors or themes and content that reoccurs throughout the sandbox for an organic sense of congruence and cohesiveness outside of a railroaded narrative. Plan that every dungeon or hex must have some link to one of these ~1d10 anchors to build these themes up.
Pass back through Step 4 again and make things more cohesive with a new understanding of the setting’s context and history .
Use a version of the Basic D&D Dungeon Room Stocking procedure but adapting to wilderness hex versions to add more stuff in a good ratio of types, continuing to treat the wilderness as a single overworld dungeon with other dungeons fractally inside.
Decide roughly how much total gold there is in the sandbox (Lots) based on how many levels that would get the average party that found all of it (From Level 1 to at least Level 10 for a party of four Fighters in OSE). Once there’s this budget of total treasure, distribute it around the setting with more of it being found in higher level places of danger. Figure out how many significant magic items will be in the sandbox (At least 46 in the Cinderstrom megadungeon, 23 elsewhere.) Distribute these across the various dungeons)
Get sucked deep into Metroidvania and Zelda style game design for the megadungeon and setting and creating a series of soft “locks” for accessing difficult and lucrative levels and areas and discovered “keys” in other locations in dungeon or sandbox that would help bypass these (Keeping in mind player ingenuity allows for tons of other ways to sequence break through locks and limits of video game design applied to tactical infinity of the tabletop rpg sandbox).
Tweak things more
Today. I have~420 total rooms to key in the megadungeon and surrounding sandbox. So far I’ve at least named and lightly keyed ~100. but only have a handful of detailed keys.
How I Plan on Using the Dungeon 23 Challenge:
I have my scope already established which helps me see that there is light coming at the end of the tunnel. Starting in January I’ll attempt to key at least a single room for every day of the week. However, knowing my brain and the way I work I think it’s most likely I’ll achieve these 7 rooms in a single day or two over the course of the week and do nothing towards it on most days. I read about someone starting an accountability Discord server for folks working on Dungeon 23 and I think that’s a great idea. It’s like having gym buddies to keep you making progress except with more hunching over a laptop looking at a screen.
The specific granular work of detailed keying and refining of every single room and wilderness location is never the fun part for me. It is, however, incredibly necessary to produce a megadungeon sandbox worth playing for others instead of a collection of cool ideas on a blog. Feeling inspired and producing neat ideas is awesome but it’s being willing to commit to the grind of implementing these things in a playable form instead of tweaking format and high level design that will let me publish a megadungeon in a yearish instead of have a series of cool blog posts about the design I would use in a hypothetical awesome sandbox that I never made.
Creators often live in the shadow of their own previous work, the big thing they’re known for. Danial Radcliffe isn’t called the guy from Guns Akimbo or Swiss Army Man– he’s Harry Potter to the average person on the street. Steamtunnel at the Hydra’s Grotto can be counted among these shaded creators by their well known 2009 blog post “In Praise of the Six Mile Hex”. In it they laud the 6 mile hex scale as the most convenient for computing distances at the table.
This post has become one of several classic and seminal OSR posts with the blog getting linked in blogs and social media threads everytime someone is discussing how to build and scale a hex crawl. Open any RPG hex crawl product that’s come out since and it seems like there’s at least a 75% chance the module uses a 6 mile hex. (This blog post isn’t the only reason for the scale’s popularity as a 6 miles is the suggested small hex size for detailed wilderness areas in B/X D&D, though older D&D adventure modules use a large variety of hex sizes- still it’s definitely helped popularize the scale.)
There’s just one problem- its conclusions are complete bunk for many styles of hex crawl and the author agrees.
Their second post that revisited the topic of hex scale nearly a decade later has been far less widely shared and spread. In The Ergonomic 3 Mile Hex, Steamtunnel noted that the three stated benefits of their first post are tied to a certain view which views hexes as rulers to measure specific distances instead of as discrete units themselves. Different styles of hexcrawl run hexes as discrete boxes while some use hexes as rulers of specific distance which allows for fractional hex travel. My preferences find the specific measurement method as simultaneously more work and less immersive. To quote the post:
“Human beings generally don’t think about travel in a continuous Cartesian way. We think of it in a discrete linear way. That is as lines between origins and destinations. The rivers, roads, passes, trails, and other linear routes that we use to navigate about our day are really just lines connecting origins and destinations with sequences of landmarks we are familiar with. This is why the point crawl is such a powerful and familiar idea. The most important thing we ask ourselves about these lines is not the question “How far?” but rather “How long?” And this question should drive how we determine hex size.”
One discrete hex can be the same as one wilderness turn or watch. The size of the hex determines the length of a turn, the frequency of random encounters, and the density of wilderness points of interest. I agree with Steamtunnel’s take on the alternative merits of the 3 mile hex for tables that prefer using hexes as discrete units of time and specific game content as opposed to markings to aid exact distance measurements.
“These factors indicate a 3-mile hex is the superior measurement and here is why:
Travel from the middle of one hex to that of the next takes 1 hour over open terrain. This makes counting time easier. Time to cross can be adjusted to allow for various terrain features. The center of the next hex can be viewed from the current hex rather than the edge as is the case in the 6 mile hex. This allows for all movement to be discrete and informed – we no longer need measurements. A smaller size (approximate to 1/4 of the 6 mile hex) allows for a better focus for what is in the hex and thus a better discrete location.”
Being able to see 3 miles to the horizon allows the PC’s to always see the general terrain contents of all surrounding hexes allowing for informed decision making instead of randomly selecting a direction to be locked into for six miles even if there’s no access to a tree or hill to climb to see to the next hex. Terrain can be more detailed in chunks that measure allowing a “small” region of even 21 miles across to be revealed as a content rich, diverse and adventurous area that a whole campaign could be based in. This makes the world feel bigger and more discrete.
This 3 mile hex scale also helps provide a faux medieval feel if you care about that as it matches the 2-3 miles average minimum distance between villages in much of Medieval Europe if that era is an inspiration for your setting.
3 mile, one hour hexes can also be a great diegetic hex measurement as they are the same distance as one league and it sounds cool and old timey fantastic to have NPCs say “The bandits are camped 4 leagues up the road” instead of miles or hexes. I’m a proponent of a gradually filled PC hex map being a player facing tool and in game artifact. Burn some holes in it with a lighter if the party map carrier gets fireballed. Difficult terrain? Just increase the number of hours it takes to cross the 3 mile hex. A party can travel for a total of 8 hours.
If you are stuck being used to silly imperial units like me, the 3 mile hex also converts well to close enough to 5 km if someone in the metric majority of the world wants to use your hex crawl.
Coins and Scrolls blog has noted that all of medieval and modern Siena, Italy including the surrounding countryside, hills, farms, and over 17 castles fit in a single 6 mile hex. I think it’s a sparse fantasy setting that only has 1 or 2 points of interest in 6 miles. A 3 mile hex is still a large space but at least it’s ¼ of the area of a 6 mile hex resulting in a denser and more discrete region, defined in less abstracted terrain and content detail.
Outdoor Survival, the wilderness board game that OD&D used for overland exploration also used 3 mile hexes to break down travel across terrain into discrete chunks. This experience tracks better with my experience hiking in the wilderness than chunking the day into huge 6 mile blocks.
Okay Joel, so when do you think larger hexes are good? If instead of a location designed for exploration like a dungeon is, the wilderness is just connective tissue or purely an obstacle to be traversed between sites of interest where the real meat of your sandbox content is then larger hexes work well. Also if you’re moving rapidly over great distances, such as in a sailboat or airship, then a hex scale of 18 or 24 miles could be better as the world whips by you and you don’t need to be concerned with more granular terrain for navigation at all. A point crawl between these detailed hexcrawl regions of deeper interest could fill this region space as well and simplify your prep.
(On the topic of point crawls I’m currently mulling over new stuff I’ve been reading including Ava Islam’s response to my post on the topic.)
Example Comparison Region
Below on the left is the 6 mile hex map from Kevin Crawford’s excellent Wolves of God historical fiction setting. It shows all the cities and regions of that era’s Britain after the fall of the Roman Empire and invasion by the English and is a land split into petty sparsely populated kingdoms where even the lords are poor and most of the population lives in tiny hamlets. This is a setting where societies are small and diffuse and dangerous wilderness covers much of the terrain. But I think that the larger scale and smaller density of this version of the map makes this area feel smaller and less imposing and wild than the setting implies due to it’s sparseness. In a setting like this, two days journey should provide a large serving of adventure and danger.
The larger the hex scale the less keyed stuff there is to encounter in the world through exploration gameplay and the smaller and less wild the world is. On the right is a fan made map of the same region done in 3 mile hexes.
Move the slider around to check out what I mean. I don’t think I matched up the scale exactly but you get the jist.
I think the 3 mile version provides a more interesting wilderness navigation experience due to the increased specificity of the terrain and contents. It makes a geographically smaller area feel imposing and dense. It also might be too large of a region now due to the huge increase in the total amount of wilderness hexes over the same area. For a more manageable scope a campaign could zoom into just the kingdom of Dyfed and environs and have plenty of content.
This smaller area is still 138 miles wide. If you’re using hexes as discrete boxes of content then the grander your unit of hex measurement is, the smaller the world feels. While the characters may travel further distances but the players experience of wilderness adventure is more diffuse because the content engaging with it is more spread out and sparse.
The advice on wilderness journey’s in Dungeon Crawl Classics RPG follows this principle as well. “In a game that accurately attempts to capture the medieval adventuring experience—or, phrased differently, in a game that retains the spirit of Appendix N—you do not need a vast space for adventuring. An area of land only 100 miles square should provide years of adventure.”
I think many GM’s including myself tend to inflate the size of our sandboxes using larger scale hexes due to our modern understanding of distance. This is influenced by our access to cars and trains and accurate maps of the entire globe to the nearest mile in our pockets. Enormous tracts of land feel instinctually more epic and large, but I think by making a smaller setting dense with content and wild we better inspire a feeling of scope and fantastical awe.
P.S If you’re researching how to build a great hexcrawl sandbox this recent post by Prismatic Wasteland is one of the better summaries and synthesis of good advice I’ve seen.
