Well… its not that heroes so much go into dungeons, but that they come out of them. Sometimes. Well, there are three ways you come out of a dungeon. Dead, running away to never return, or as a Hero.
- Dead people are buried.
- Scared people go hide and aren’t noticed again.
- The rest get… weird, so we call them something: Hero.
Thus, Heroes go into dungeons, because they are the only people that get remembered.
And then Heroes keep going into dungeons, until they become dead (as they generally don’t become Scared due to their twisted perception of risk).
So me and the grill-fiend went and saw Dunkirk the day before yesterday. I can’t say it didn’t deserve its good reviews, because it probably did. And the aeroplane combat scenes were just great. In fact, so great, they made me want to write a system for flying planes in your RPG system. Or mostly air combat. With fighter planes.
As per the first and second post on this, I’m trying to get some decent weapon properties to differnetiate the weapons used in Disposable Heroes (my personal D&D variant).
If possible, I’d like to solve many different things with one fix. Something like having damage dice also be weapon durability and initiative would be good (though not necessarily exactly that combo!).
Anyways, I did some math (or lots, maybe). Basically, I calculated what the average damage of different damage modifiers were, against no to full armor (damage reduction), to make sure that regular weapons in the same category were decently equal.
If you wonder why I’m so harsh with this equal damage thing, it is because I want to remove the notion of an overall “best” or “most damaging” weapon, and make it all situational.
Here’s some table for generating owlbears, among other terrible hybrid animals. Why settle for just owlbears when you can have shark-horses, rhino-turtles, and spider-snake-lion-swans? So here are a few tables for the creations of mad wizards.
Another part in making animals weird.
Serpents are simple creatures. They eat, and then they sleep. Only, they really don’t want to sleep, so they eat constantly. Differently from their lizard cousins, they can literally eat until they burst. They cope best in areas of relative scarcity, where they can’t eat too much, but have enough to grow quickly. Like every creature of the so-called creatures of cold blood (snakes, frogs, lizards, turtles), they can grow indefinitely and won’t ever die of old age. Their reckless gluttony is mainly what gets them killed.
It’s not thick (barely past 60 pages) but stuffed full of things.
- It isn’t a traditional adventure in the way of “here’s a villain and a town and a quest go do it”, but more like a toolkit for building a sprawling, crazy city.
- Several random tables; “I loot the body”, buildings, aristocrats, and many more.
- There’s interesting, usable, and inspiring (and weird) locations.
- A bunch of rules on city adventures and other bits of rules to stick in your game.
- The weirdness that is Vornheim itself, with its religion, architecture and so on.
Thus far, I’m enjoying it, and I can see it being useful at the table.
Here’s a monster for ye olde D&D.
It looks like a man who was first gene-spliced with a hairless gorilla and then fed steroids his whole life, in doses high enough to kill elephants. It’s basically a still living muscle-golem. The head is painfully shrunken, lacking almost any features except for round, -shark-like eyes, and a wide mouth filled with teeth like gravestones.