A Soup Stone game

I wrote most of this article a month ago apparently. As some of you can tell, I'm a fan of minimalistic TTRPGs. Sometimes, this can go too far, even beyond my personal preferences. The most extreme example of that would be We Are But Worms, a 1-word TTRPG. How many words are too little? How many does one need to give actual value? These are the thoughts I considered when I was challenged to write a 10-word TTRPG. Below is my output.

007+

Be secret agent. Roll 7+ on 1d8 to defeat baddies.

It has some substance, evoking James Bond with his iconic label of 007 and being described as a secret agent. But rolling 7+ on a 1d8 to defeat the baddies is too vague. Aside from the fact this would mean that only one in four of your attempts succeed,... what exactly does this mean? Is this only about attacks, or about other activities too? Does it have to hinder a baddie directly? What if you're not trying to hinder anyone, or to fulfill your mission overall with your current action? I'm not even going to comment on the fact that this means you succeed 25% of time.

The Soup Stone

In one of the English lessons back when I was at school, the first fairy tale I learned that wasn't told to me in my native language before was the tale of The Soup Stone. I'm gonna retell it off the top of my head how I remember it for those who don't know it.

A tramp convinces an old selfish woman to make soup for him by convincing her that his stone is magical. When she wants to see how it works, he asks her to cooperate with him because the stone's magic is quite mysterious and complicated. She sets up a pot of boiling water that the soup stone goes into, gets some vegetables, depending on the telling of the story some meat, a dash of salt, and viola - they've got a soup that they can now share.

So... this might be a little bit awkward, but while searching for the story online, I came to learn it's called Stone Soup, not Soup Stone like I thought. That being said, I'm keeping the phrase "Soup Stone game" as is - the game has the same role as the stone in the fairy tale.
Stone Soup, by magmatixi

This story has stuck with me since then, it's a story of convincing someone that something is amazing if they put a lot of work into it. It's also the reason why I like to call games like We Are But Worms, 007, and plenty of other games "A Soup Stone game": it's only as good as you make it.

I hope I didn't come off as negative. A soup stone game isn't necessarily a bad thing, I know several people who say that's all they need to have a fun time. And they are right, why bother with all these complicated mechanic and rule interactions, when you could just let the GM make up a ruling for it on the spot, roll some dice, and keep things moving? Well, the downside with this sort of system is that it tends to be a blank canvas: the less material one has to work with, the more work is required by the GM and the party to make use of it. Take for example 007+. If you are familiar with what 007 stands for, you know you're playing a James Bond-type secret agent who's just that good.

What I've learned this year

I'm pretty sure that if you follow my activity or my blog, you've noticed the challenge I've been going through this year. The 200-word games are simple to make, but ultimately they tend to feel rather... barebones. A couple more words could make them into proper, more replayable games. Why is this?

Well, as I worked on more and more of these, I came to a conclusion why. It will sound obvious, but you can only do so much with a certain word count. These limits might be different for others, but to me personally, it goes something like this:

• Give me a couple of pages, and I can make a game that will last a couple of months.
• Give me a single page, and I'll make something for 5 or fewer sessions. It will be a game alright, but it might be a oneshot deal or something suited for a short campaign.
• Give me 200 words, and I'll make a proof of concept for one or more mechanics. It will look like a game, but it'll likely be missing something, if not a lot of things.
• Give me less than 200 words, and I can make you a Soup Stone game. There will be some flavor to it, maybe even some simple mechanics, but it won't be fun on its own, likely.

And this concludes my 27th article this year. With 11 days to spare, I hope to write at least one more. We'll see how that goes. Thank you for reading, and have a great day!

A Chandelier Encounter

I've made it clear that I no longer feel like running combat encounters in a game like D&D. But recently I had an idea that's too cool not to share. And really, I'm a couple articles away from breaking my personal record of a number of articles in a year, so why not pitch in with something quick and neat?

A Chandelier Encounter

This battle takes place ideally in a spacious interior with a high ceiling and at least one extra floor that overlooks an empty space in the middle. In the middle of the room is a huge chandelier. Sometime during the start of the encounter, a powerful/heavy enemy runs up to it and grabs onto it mid-leap, causing the chandelier to begin swinging. The chandelier moves at the end of every turn (yes, even if your ruleset says that a round lasts 6 seconds, it'd be boring to wait for the chandelier to get anywhere). I'd personally give the chandelier three positions: one at its lowest point, and two at its highest points. It might be a good idea to also telegraph to the players where the chandelier could be on any given turn.

A character can grab the chandelier if they are close enough to it during their turn, and they can let go of it after the chandelier moves, even outside of their own turn. They need both hands to be free, or one hand if they are powerful enough. Use it as a mode of transportation, use it as a mobile environment, watch the players work out the timing of it, and encourage the characters to prepare their actions. Maybe even consider what material is the rope that holds the chandelier made out of. Is it easy to burn? Hard to cut? Impossible to cut so that you don't lose on this cool chandelier idea? And how does this chandelier swing? Is it just a straight line, or does it slowly revolve around the room?

"Great job, guys. I guess that's it for our chandelier encounter."
 I've considered saying that the chandelier hangs on an adamantium rope, but that's not a thing in every game. I figured I should try to make this a bit setting-agnostic. And I really hope that your players' first instinct won't be to cut the chandelier off.
Le Grand Hotel, by Alexiuss

If you want precision, start by determining the length of the rope the chandelier is hanging from (include the chandelier to keep it simple for yourself), and the maximum angle of a swing. At its peak, the chandelier is at a height equal to the rope's length multiplied by the cosine of the angle. For example, for a rope that's 30 ft. long, its peak is about 21 ft. off the ceiling when the angle is 45°. As for the distance from the middle, you just need to replace the cosine with a sine, which in this specific case also results in a distance of 21 ft. This means that for an optimal interesting fight with a chandelier 30ft off the ceiling, you'd ideally have two balconies 10 ft. above wherever the chandelier's lowest point is, and have them about 40 ft. apart.

Precision isn't necessary of course. You could just say that the chandelier swings from one balcony to another, with the lowest point at the bottom, and keep the exact measurement of the rope and chandelier's height abstract.

Summary:

• The chandelier has at least 3 distinct positions: the one in the middle is the lowest, and the two on the edges are the highest. Add more positions at your own discretion. Give some consideration to the chandelier revolving around the room.
• At the end of each turn, the chandelier moves to its next position: low to high, and vice versa, alternating between the highs.
• It takes an action to grab on, and free hands (one if you're strong enough). If you're a kind GM, you could consider this to be a replacement for one of the attacks, if the system has something like this.
• It takes no action to let go of the chandelier, but you can let go of it only immediately after it has moved.
• In case you need it, work out an appropriate amount of damage it could deal to someone when struck by it, or how difficult is it to destroy its rope.

Math summary, for those who care:

• r is the length from the ceiling to the bottom of the chandelier,
• x is the maximum angle the chandelier swings up to,
• r*cos(x) is the distance from the ceiling to the peak of the chandelier's swing, therefore at its peak the chandelier is at a height of r*(1-cos(x)),
• r*sin(x) is the horizontal distance from the lowest to the highest point of the chandelier's swing.

That's all, have a great time and a great day!

Hear me out! ... but what if there were more chandeliers?
The Hall Of The Golden Hand, by azadraw1

Prophecy Maker

Regardless of how Blades [in the Dark] handles [planning] mechanically, the point of Blades is that characters and situations work hand in hand to weave a story—there’s no such thing as “failure”, its just a different branch along an infinite path. [Dungeons and Dragons] 5E conditions players that a failure state exists (ctrl+F the PHB for “fail” and see what I mean). 
—HeavyArms

This time, I was the one to start a conversation by venting my frustration regarding overtly long planning sessions and how I experienced most of them in D&D, curiously enough. There are many reasons for that sort of stuff to come up: too many players, too many tools (abilities, equipment, etc.), players getting stuck in a loop of arguments, and so on. The one that stuck out to me was a focus on failure, pointed out by HeavyArms quoted above with permission. This led me on a journey that made me relabel this article half a dozen times.

I took inspiration from the conflict resolution from PbtA and Matt Colville's notion of a "null result" to avoid. Add a dash of my favorite mechanic from Double the Zombies, equipment inspired by the Final: Sole Survivor with a bit of a Gon' Click inspiration, and a "but" here and there. The outcome of this process is my very own dice oracle.

All you need is a pair of six-sided dice.
The image is public domain.

Prophecy Maker

The count starts at 0 unless it's greater already. Start by defining:

• a good, a bad, and a random outcome,
• an expected outcome, and a countdown amount,
• the skill bonus used,
• and the item used, if any.

Roll 2d6 and add them to the skill and item bonus.

• The good outcome happens if the sum is ≥ 7, and it has a catch if it's 7.
• The bad outcome happens if the sum is ≤ 9, and it has a catch if it's 9.
• The random outcome happens if both dice have rolled the same number.
• For every 6 rolled, increase the count by 1. When count ≥ countdown, the expected outcome happens, and the count is reduced to 0.

Finally, the item can be damaged if the lower die roll ≤ item's bonus. In such a case, subtract the roll from the bonus. If the new bonus equals 0, the item is destroyed.

Now available in a business-card format! ... okay, I don't know how big a business card is, but with some shifting around this could fit for sure!

---

Since I wanted to shorten the above as much as I could, it's time for some notes.

Skills are assumed to range from +0 to +3, with +1 being the average. and items are expected to have a starting durability of +1 to +3 depending on how reliable (yet fragile) they are. The total of a skill and item bonus shouldn't exceed 7, otherwise bad event has no chance of occurring.

A character is assumed to carry at most 4 items at a time that they could use for the oracle. As for what the nature of a random outcome is, it should be something that raises the stakes and is perhaps typical of the genre played. For example, zombies appear in a zombie apocalypse story. The expected outcome is anything that could happen any moment now to raise the stakes (such as guards bursting into the room after activating the alarm in a heist), and you can get the countdown amount by tripling the number of rounds you think this should take. The math likely doesn't check out, but I don't mind too much, this is a guideline, not a hard rule.

The numbers 7 and 9 could be shifted up or down individually based on an outcome being more or less likely, I just picked these two numbers because they'd be easy to remember after a while.

The random outcome, the items, and the countdown to an expected event are all optional. You do not need to do them with every roll, they are just there in case you need them.

---

As you can see, I've tried to squeeze as much use out of 2d6 as possible. One could still in theory replace the 2d6 with a 1d12 for a reckless attempt at it, but that would complicate the matters of equipment durability and random outcomes. I actually dropped some parts of it, like 2 and 12 being an automatic bad outcome and good outcome respectively, but both getting an extra "and". I've considered going beyond what it is at the moment too much. This is good enough, considering all you need is two six-sided dice (or one rolled twice).

Anyway, that's it. I originally wanted to make it into a 200-word TTRPG, but honestly... why would I. Making it into a dice oracle is pretty neat. Besides, this game borrows so many of my ideas from other systems I published that it barely tries anything new. It's a culmination of the ideas I've been processing this year with my monthly game design challenge, and I'd say it's a pretty good outcome.

Thank you for reading, and have a nice day!

Reliable vs. Reckless

Here's a quick idea. Instead of asking a player to roll the same dice every time, give them a choice: they can either try to do something in a reliable manner, or reklessly. When doing something in a reliable manner, they roll multiple dice. When doing something recklessly, they roll one die. Both should have roughly the same values and averages. In the case of my future Runehack TTRPG, these would be 2d6 vs. 1d12. While their numbers are not a perfect match, they do have some minor side effects, such as 2d6's average being a tiny bit higher, and a 1d12 having a possibility of rolling a 1 (which has the same likelyhood as 12 or any number between them). Other valid options include 2d4/1d8, 2d2/1d4 (if you like coins?), 3d4/1d12, and 2d10/1d20. In case you want to protect the players who are indecisive, treat the reliable roll as a default, and reckless as an opt-in choice. It won't be a perfect solution, but it's better than nothing. Anyway, that's about it for now. Thank you for reading, and have a nice day!

1d1212

Indulge me, if you may. So lately I wanted to make a game about Orbtech for some time now. This has me thinking about the 12-sided dice because they are one of the most spherical dice out of the platonic solids. I wouldn't want to make a game requiring a player to buy too many specialized dice, which is why most of my games focus on using d6's. The d12 is the one die I would consider worthy of an exception because 12 is a good number. It has many divisors: 2, 3, 4, and 6.

I assume everyone reading this knows how the dice work. 3d12 means three twelve-sided dice, while 1d6 means one six-sided die. There's a peculiar idea within the TTRPG space of a d66 roll table. It doesn't use a special sixty-six-sided die, it's actually a table with 36 results that you get by rolling two d6's without adding the numbers: 11, 12, ..., 16, 21, 22, ... 65, 66. I suspect this type of table was inspired by 1d100 - since most people do not own the singular hundred-sided die that almost looks like a golf ball, most players would roll this type of roll with a 1d10 and a percentile die (which is a 1d10, but with a 0 after every result). This got me thinking... wouldn't this technically make it a 1d1010?

So, these two lines of thought converged yesterday and led me to 1d1212. This abomination of a notation seems to hint at first at a table with 144 elements in it. But unless we distinguish which digits belong to which die, we might get into some complications. Is the row labeled "112" an 11 and 2, or 1 and 12? ... how about both? Don't worry, the only other exception like that is 111, so this table loses only two of its elements.

The only next step beyond this is 1d2020. ... Let's not roll this one, I'm sure plenty of people here still feel off about that number. That being said, ... how about mixing things up? 1d1220, 1d2012, 1d120, 1d200 (technically 1d1210 and 1d2010), and then going into combinations of 3 or more dice.

That's about it for now. Just a silly brief thought I had the other day that I felt like sharing. Maybe I'll actually make a d1212 roll table someday, only time will tell. Until then, it's time for me to get back to my projects. Have a great day!

Game Mechanic: Negative Damage is Healing

I just had an interesting discussion with a bunch of 3rd party D&D writers. One wanted "heal" to be a keyword, and honestly, that's sensible. But I wanted to take a whack approach to this demand. This should work for any game that revolves around damage types, such as D&D, though it could also work with other systems that deal with numeric amounts of damage. To keep things simple, though, I'll use D&D 5e as an example system where this would apply.

Negative Damage

Damage can be reduced below 0, unless it is because of a negative ability score modifier added to the attack. When you take negative amount of damage, you regain that amount of hit points. Other modifications to the damage apply.

What does this achieve? You can flavor your healing spells in various ways, giving the imagery of how the healing works.

• The fire that cauterizes the wounds.
• Piercing damage applied straight to an acupuncture pressure point or something.
• The divine radiance that just heals because it's divine or something.

Not only that, but it suddenly matters also how you want to heal others. What if your group's warlock is resistant to fire damage? A spell that would deal -11 fire damage suddenly deals them only -6 damage (remember, it's rounded down, not just to zero!). Frankly, though, I assume healing spells would just let you choose what damage type the healing goes with.

Damage reduction would also be a lot better. A goblin hits you for a measly single point of bludgeoning damage, and your Heavy Armor Master feat reduces it to -2. Thus, you suddenly heal 2 hit points.

Of course, some adjustments would be necessary here, like solidifying the idea in players' minds that the hit points are not always just wounds. They can stand for stamina, luck, or some other things that PHB mentions.

Finally, absorption could become a proper game keyword. Immunity reduces damage to 0, vulnerability doubles it, resistance halves it, and absorption... negates it. Simple as that, AND it's already a thing in the game (see flesh golem).

Negative psychic damage is placebo, change my mind.
Xetorath Healer, by TSRodriguez (at least according to Pinterest, the original DeviantArt page for it seems to be down)

Anyway, time for me to get ready for my session, just wanted to write this up real quick before I forget the idea. Have a great day, everyone!

Yearlong Resting

Have you ever realized that the epic adventure you played over the course of years of actual time has actually lasted way less time in the game's world? Did recognizing that your characters have gone from level 1 to 15 in months of in-game time make it feel less epic and more like a guide for quick leveling in World of Warcraft? Maybe you'd like your legacy to live on in adventurers who you raise.

This is an idea of mine that hopes to fix all that, returning the campaigns that air of grandness that they deserve. It might not be developed for now, but that's because I don't know yet if it's worth developing. Please, entertain me for a moment as I try to sell you on an offer of long rests taking months, if not years, to finish.

Time keeps marching onward. The world needs heroes, and chances are you're not gonna be around forever. You're likely not adventuring every day, so how about you invest some of that free time in the next generation?
Art is drawn for the game Artifact, by Magali Villeneuve.

Variant Rule: Yearlong Resting

Using this variant rule, a short rest takes 8 hours of sleep, and a long rest takes 3d12 months of downtime. Any abilities that describe altering your sleep during a long rest, such as the Trance racial trait of the elves, instead alter your short rest in the same way. After a long rest, all of the character's hit dice are replenished instead of one half.

Why

The main goal of this rule is to provide a natural way for long durations of time to pass between the adventures to enhance its feeling of epicness. In the game as written, it's not worth it for the players to invest their resources or time into some long-term goal because of the adventures that span mere days. But with this rule, the heroes get some breathing space between significant adventures, letting them invest their time in various activities: whether it's crafting new equipment, building a house, training their successors, starting a family, learning new languages or tool sets, working a fairly normal job, or something completely different is up to the player. Once the adventure calls for it, the characters gather together once more to venture out and do what has to be done in a matter of several days.

Another important factor that this rule brings into the game is the age of the characters. How many times have you actually seen a character's age increase over the course of a campaign without using supernatural abilities such as the ghost's Horrifying Visage? With this rule in play, your characters will get older as their level increases, and the players realize rather quickly how their character will progress over the course of the campaign into becoming older and older. Once they get too old, they start to consider who to pass their art to next - should they raise a child of their own? Or perhaps they could find a competent promising young individual to train into becoming an adventurer. Their riches and their equipment are suddenly not theirs alone, nor does it belong to their adventuring party necessarily. What if whatever they leave behind could be inherited by someone they personally chose? Or they could just try their luck and keep chugging those potions of longevity.

A nice advantage that comes as a side-effect is a fact that players can more easily join and leave this campaign, or try out new characters. Usually, a player whose character dies introduces their new character in the next session, which can feel rather off. An established adventuring party mourns the loss of one of their own, only to walk into the nearest tavern, and let the first person who looks at them join their cause for no in-world reason. If the longer rests are available, players can describe how they got to meet this character in their downtime, months after the loss of their friend, and how they slowly but certainly accept the newcomer.

When doesn't the Yearlong Resting work?

This rule isn't meant for the games with time-sensitive plots. If the villain plans to destroy a kingdom important to the players within six months, it would be rather difficult (and kind of unfair) for the players to try saving it. You can give it a go if you really wish to, but I do not recommend it.

Additionally, during the lower levels (especially 1 and 2), the game can feel especially boring for the spellcasters who get to cast 2-3 leveled spells per adventure. While previously I claimed that this is the issue of the Gritty Realism variant rule that this house rule is based on, now I recognize that it is a weak spot of the house rule. Personally, I would either skip the first two levels of the game and start my players' characters at 3rd level or use Gritty Realism/regular resting rules until the player characters reach level 3.

Considerations

I've pondered this for a time and had a couple of discussions with others regarding this house rule. Here are my attempts to address some of the common concerns and issues that arose, in no particular order.

• Short-lived Races. What can one do about races that have a lifespan of fewer than 100 years? The solutions here would boil down to three options: either the DM doesn't change anything, or they alter all of the races to have a lifespan of at least 100 years, or they give players with such characters a reward during one of their adventures in the form of a magic item, blessing, supernatural gift, or some other kind of reward that increases their lifespan or lowers their age somehow.
• Old Characters. Players are heavily disincentivized from playing old characters since they're much more likely to die during the campaign. I see this as a plus since it always seemed to me ridiculous that an old studied wizard some player made up for their first session only knows 6 spells and a handful of cantrips when they begin adventuring. If you wish to let the players do this, though, consider implementing rewards that boost their lifespan or make them younger, as described in the previous bullet point.
• Hit Dice. It felt to me silly to have the characters regain only half of their hit dice after several years spent not adventuring. I'd probably bump this number up to all of the dice, but I wouldn't be surprised if any of you choose to ignore it.
• Long Rest Spellcasting. For narrative purposes, I would let the players cast their leveled spells even if they lack their spell slots during the long rest. As long as it's not abused just for the sake of powergaming, I'd be down with the players making a new teleportation circle or a couple of magic mouths between adventures free of charge (but not free of the expensive Material components).
• Downtime Activities. The current rules assume mostly that the downtime will last a couple of days, with some exceptions being crafting equipment or learning new languages. If this house rule were to be implemented, it would need a rework of the downtime rules to let the players perform the same downtime activities over long stretches of time with little to no (mechanical, not narrative) complications. This should include things such as building a house, starting a village, or creating a family of their own.
• Character Catching Up. In the case of a death, the player could choose to use their character's student or relative to use as the next adventurer. It is however likely that this character didn't reach as high of a level as someone who went out adventuring regularly. If this rule were to be more fleshed out, it should be considered whether they are going on adventures of their own, how to determine their starting level, and how they catch up to the party. When it comes to catching up, I usually have the character level up upon finishing every long rest until they match the highest-level party member. Of course, this assumes that all other characters are of the same level, and one can play the game with characters of wildly different levels, but it's easier this way.
• The Intensity of Adventures. The characters go out on an adventure for roughly three days and come back to unwind from them for months. During this time, they don't go on any intense adventures, but that doesn't mean they can't adventure at all. A character could go out to hunt some feeble creatures in their free time, whether it's to earn money or for sport. The important keyword here is intense. If it's a call to a major adventure that the players might want to play out, it might not make for a good adventure. At the same time, the DM should consider the fact that downtime is a time for calmness, which means that none of their players' adventures should be mediocre in order to keep the campaign interesting. The DM should keep increasing the importance and stakes of the quests that their players do outside of their downtime.
• 3d12. I chose the 1d12 because it felt like the most thematic die to represent a fraction of a year, with 12 sides representing vaguely the 12 months in a year. If your calendar uses more or fewer months, feel free to adjust the die's size to whatever fits your needs. On average, a roll of 3d12 will yield a result of 19.5 years, which can feel like a lot or too little to some DMs out there. You can adjust the number of dice, altering thus the minimum, the maximum, and the average number of months that passes between the adventures. I chose to go with 3 dice because it gives plenty of space for downtime between the adventures.
• Villain. Of course, someone who wrote a cookbook about them (yet to bind it into a single document) would think of the villains too. If you wish to have an overarching baddie, the most obvious ideal choice would be a creature that lives for centuries, such as a lich, a dragon, a vampire, or something different along those lines.

But What about the Numbers?

Mechanically, it is identical to the Gritty Realism variant rule, so if there's any question regarding the encounter balancing or resource management, search or the commentary on that about whether this incentivizes short rest classes or makes rogues into gods.

What I'd rather focus on is the complaint that this will make the actual campaign last way too long before the players make any progress. For this, I made a handy table that I'd like to share with you.

To keep things short, I followed the guidelines in DMG regarding the Adventuring Day XP budget and combined those with the required XP for leveling beyond the 1st level, which gave me a rough estimate for the number of adventuring days (and thus long rests) between each level up. Turns out, most of these take 1 or 2 adventuring days, with the only exceptions being going from level 5 to level 6, and going from level 8 to level 9 which take 3 adventuring days each. In other words, even if we assumed that each adventuring day will happen over the course of 3 sessions, you'll get a level-up on average once every 6 sessions (1.5 months of real time if you play weekly, 3 months if you play once every two weeks).

The Easier Option

As /u/BladeBotEU has pointed out to me before I started writing all of this down, a much simpler option would be to make leveling up take much longer instead of long rests. But I hoped to get some discussion going mainly regarding my idea, to see if it's worth working into a proper document or not, instead of taking someone else's idea that they already use and running with it to the public.

An even easier option would be to announce a time skip every now and then, but that feels rather forced to me as a DM unless the players request it for some reason. I've never personally seen a group of players request that their party takes a break for several years, but I've heard at least one person tell me about it.

---

I felt this is a neat enough idea to write an article about really quickly. I was mostly inspired by an animated indie series Tales of Alethrion that's all about an epic fantasy adventure that weaves its epic tales and complex relationships over the course of decades. Maybe one day I could make this a core aspect of my own RPG instead of trying to push it into D&D, but until then this is all I can offer. An idea, a bunch of recommendations and considerations, and if I get enough feedback on this, maybe a written supplement on this in the future.

Thank you for reading, and have a nice day!

Game Mechanic: Rooms and Doors

About one and a half years ago, I came up with this mechanic for space traversal. After 17 months, I decided to turn it into a short blog post in case someone would find a good use for it, whether it's me or someone else. It's not a perfect system or a mechanic even, just a rough idea I had back then.

A room is a small region in the world encompassed by the doors. A door is a border between two neighboring rooms. Each door has a size. A character (NPC or player's) has a speed and size. An object has a size. The speed of a character defines how many doors it can pass through in one turn. The size of a character or object defines the size of doors it can interact with in various ways.

The default size for a character is 0. In a game about humans, a human's size is 0. In a game about giants, a giant's size is 0. A character with a greater size is physically larger than a character with a lesser size. If a character carries an object of a size greater than its own, its size is considered greater for the purposes of dealing with the doors.

Let the size of a character or object be C, and let the door's size be D.

• If C ≤ D, a character or an object can move through the door.
• If C ≤ D - 1, a character or an object can squeeze through the door.
• If C ≤ D - 2, a character can interact through the door (attack, use objects, etc.).
• If C ≤ D - 3, a character can perceive through the door.
• If D = ∞, the door is a wall.
• If D = -∞, the door is an open space.

This system could be applied in systems that are not about traversing a physical environment, but I do not have good examples at the moment.

Doubled Creature Types

Alternative title: Are we the monsters?

I had a neat idea about D&D 5e, so I've decided to make a short article about it.

Intro

What creature types can you find naturally on the Material Plane? For the sake of clarity, I would say that a creature type naturally on a plane is a creature type that's integrated within the plane's ecosystem on a long-term scale. This is not a trick question, let's just go through them:

• Beast
• Dragon
• Giant
• Humanoid
• Monstrosity
• Ooze
• Plant

Mini-rant: Giant is just a Large or larger humanoid, it shouldn't be a creature type because it's more of a size category.

I could in theory add more creature types, but these will suffice for now. Now try to tell me, what creature types can you find naturally on the Upper Planes? As far as I am aware, just celestial. What creature types can you find naturally on the Lower Planes? Fiend, maybe one or two extras.

What if there was a way to introduce a bit more variety to the various planes of existence? Let's think through this thought experiment together, and make up a system of Doubled Creature Types.

Finding an art to represent the idea of a double creature type was hard enough, so I'm gonna just go with this art, call it a "fiend construct", and call it a day. ... Addae. That's not a bad name actually.
Arcane Construct III, by CaconymDesign

Doubled Creature Types

Let us begin this journey by splitting the creature types into two halves: General, and planar.

• General creature types include beast, construct, dragon, humanoid, ooze, plant, and null (more on that later).
• The planar creature types include aberration, celestial, elemental, fey, fiend, monstrosity, undead.

(I left out giant because of my mini-rant above, feel free to put it into either category.)

Now, each creature gets assigned two creature types. In most cases, one should come from the general, and one from the planar half. Understandably, which types go where is up to everyone, but that doesn't matter.

The planar creature type determines the plane of the creature's origin. The general creature type determines its function within the ecosystem of the plane. Plants are there for the herbivores to consume, oozes consume the corpses, humanoids make civilizations, etc.

So what does this give us? More variety to all of our planes of existence where we apply these, of course! Why restrict yourself to just fey, when you could have fey beasts like talking wolves or sacred deer, fey plants who can talk to you and bind you in its roots, fey oozes that glitter or something, and other stuff. How about a corrupted bear turning into an aberration beast? A constructed celestial? A fiendish dragon? All these and so much more are suddenly open to us!

What does that make our player characters though? What is their planar creature type? Well... monstrosity is the best fit. Monstrosity covers anything that's on the Material Plane (as far as I can remember) that isn't a beast or a humanoid or anything else like that. So every human, elf, or other humanoid race has a creature type of monstrosity humanoid. Every beast of the Material Plane has a type of monstrosity beast.

What does that make the previous monstrosities, like owlbears or medusae? Monstrosity null, or simply monstrosity. Null is a simple creature type add-on that you can add on top of the planar type to make something that's just... too generic to use two creature types (unless you want to experiment a little, making medusa a humanoid or owlbear a beast).

Could there be a creature with two general creature types? Yes, for example, a wolf overgrown by plants could be one. Could there be a creature with two planar creature types? Yes, for example, the elemental titans could be both elementals and giants.

What about stuff like charm person or Wildshape? Do they now work on all these new creature types? Up to you. If you want them to work, go right ahead and experiment! If you don't want them to work with them, make up a houserule along with these that reads "whenever the rules say something affects a humanoid, it affects a monstrosity humanoid unless I say otherwise", and analogous for other creature types you're worried about.

So there it is. A short demo of an idea, without a proof of concept. I'll probably include them in some of my future brews, along with a write-up as to how they should be handled and which of the creature types is the "dominant" one. I feel like I could make a booklet on planes now, except I don't have much time, energy, attention, and ideas for that kind of stuff. I got some ideas for it, don't get me wrong. It would be a cosmology of my own, possibly similar to the one I've presented on this blog previously, or maybe a new one. It definitely wouldn't be a carbon copy of the Great Wheel, at best I'd merge some of the planes together to get the essence of all the interesting things in there. But any of that is a promise I can't make, I already have so many other ideas I could work on, and yet I feel like these days I have less and less time to work on them.

Rule of Dice

Here's a quick little post to talk about my personal rule for all of the dice-using RPGs I've GMed so far, that I have developed over years through trial and error:

Rule of Dice: If it's impossible or guaranteed in the available time, you shouldn't have to roll for it.

Let's break down what this means:

• If what a character is trying to do is impossible, they shouldn't even get to roll.
• If a character would definitely succeed in something, they don't even have to roll.
• If it's only a question of rolling high enough and there's nothing stopping the character from rolling over and over again, they get to succeed automatically.
• "[...], you shouldn't have to roll for it." This is the most important bit to me. It means that the DM shouldn't just have the player roll their die pointlessly if they can't succeed, or can't fail. Because if they roll a 20, and they fail anyway, that sucks. I personally as a DM communicate this to my players when it's relevant, for example "You don't need to roll the die to try to kick the troll to the moon, you automatically fail because I know your bonus to the roll is too low" (of course, not this verbose every time it occurs). If a player really insists on rolling, well then they can go ahead, but they already know my answer without even involving a die.

What does this rule do:

• Removes unneeded die rolls, saving time.
• Removes some cases of unfulfilled expectations.
• Keeps the game a little more grounded.

D&D Role play crit fail 20, by Blanca Vidal

At the end of the day though, you should play the game how you want. If your table likes moments like when a dwarf rolling down a hill rolls a natural 20 multiple times in a row and begins to fly against all known laws of aviation, or you all enjoy the sound of math rocks going click-clack (I know I like the sound), then I say go for it! I'm just here to formulate this into a proper rule to help anyone who was searching for it.

Whether you agree or disagree, I hope you'll have a good day! :)

Location Statblocks

I made a thing, and people seem to like it!

Long explanation made short: In D&D, exploration is underdeveloped as opposed to combat, and I wanted to try out making it better by treating environments as monsters according to suggestion of someone on reddit.

Here's the original version, and here's the version 2.
Direct link.

It seems to have become a trend.

Sylvan Loner, style of game

I feel like I have made my own style of DMing, one that appears to have inspired people to DM this way too. I'm not sure if it isn't already a thing in D&D, but I felt like this could use a name, like West Marshes since that too is a playstyle with some characteristic rules to it. I'll name my playstyle "Sylvan Loner", keeping that name until someone shows up to tell me there's another name for this, possibly a couple years old.

The rules necessary for this playstyle:

- players all play in the same world
- each player plays a solo game
- NPC companions are vital, when in combat the PC gets to control them unless said otherwise
- time in the world is inconsistent
- sandbox
- when players meet, they aren't really supposed to merge parties. Maybe just stay for a bit and talk, or at best they could do one quest together, like helping with killing a dragon or in a heist. Afterall, all players have some goal of their own.

That would be everything for today. Thank you for reading, and have a nice day!