OVERZEALOUS: Your cult has no chill!

 

⭕ You are a powerful entity ready to manifest as a benevolent god
⭕ You see a cult has formed to worship you
⭕ You try to guide them towards the summoning ritual
⭕ ...They're all bloodthirsty, bickering zealots

It's a shame your cultists are so

OVERZEALOUS

I've just launched the crowdfunding campaign for my solo TTRPG of cartoon violence and cult mayhem! You can become a backer now to help summon the game into reality, and get a print or digital copy of Overzealous.


Play the game as an exasperated would-be deity, trying to do make do with the cult you've been given. Trying to ignore that they've called themselves something like "The Exalted Children Of The Abyssal Mantle". Trying to shepherd your cultists into performing The Immanentising Ritual, so you'll be summoned into the world and win.

Standing against you are the bloody squabbles and bizarre interests of your cultists, counterproductive stabbings and spiritually-pointless sidetracks from the overall goal. These will increase inevitably increase the cult's Divergence, Fervour, and Monstrosity stats.

A tactical game for solo play, Overzealous has an irreverent tone and a loud cartoonish feel.

You'll get the game as a 42-page book with print-on-demand option, plus a print-and-play companion zine and page of stat trackers.

Caution: Murders. Religious schisms. Profanity. Cannibalism. Cultists summoning nameless tentacled horrors, then making them fight. Heresy. Deliberate plagues. The inspiration of poets. Hordes of the undead. Stolen artefacts. Mystic energies attracting ancient demons. Death spirals. Hobbyist grave-robbing. Blood sacrifice. Lots and lots of candles.

 

Joinnnn usssss

A simple treasure table system

Here's a classic problem: The characters find some treasure – let's say diadems, gilt-framed paintings, jade figurines, and various other art objects. The GM describes them so that the players can write them down. The objects may not be sold for many sessions, before which many other treasures will be acquired from various sources, including different modules and the GM's improvisation.

The characters shouldn't generally know how much the art objects are worth when they find them. That should be GM-facing information. On the other hand, the GM shouldn't have to remember where every item came from, or transcribe each one and then try to hunt for it on the big list when the characters eventually try to sell it.

The typical solution is usually to bite the bullet: give out sale values along with treasure, or make it a hassle for the GM. Or perhaps compromise by giving out an indication of a treasure's worth and then rolling randomly based on the indication at the time it is appraised or sold.

 

A better solution:

I'm proposing a system which I've never seen in a TTRPG before, but it's so obvious that I bet I'm reinventing the wheel. It's similar to how item values work in the video game Dwarf Fortress.

We express all our treasures as a {class, descriptors} tuple or phrase, where class is a type of item with a base monetary value, and descriptor is an adjective with a multiplicative value modifier. These values are on big lists that are privileged GM information.

So the GM has a list of item classes coupled with base values that looks something like

Amulet   2 gold

Beads    1 silver

Cutlery  5 silver

Diadem   20 gold

Ewer     12 gold

Figurine 4 gold 

...

Then there's a list of descriptors, or possibly separate lists of positive and negative descriptors, each with a fractional modifier. Perhaps

Antique     ×5

Cracked     ×3/4

Gold        ×12

Half-rotten ×1/4

Jade        ×2

Large       ×3 

Rusty       ×9/10

Shattered   ×1/20

...

These are tables that would be at the GM's fingertips. They are lookup tables, but of course if you did have a nice number like 20 or 66 or 100 entries, they could pull double duty as dice tables for treasure generation.

Illustration by Zed Nope

 

How do we use the tables?

A zillion sessions ago, the GM let the players know that they found an antique gold diadem and a large cracked jade figurine.

Perhaps they were described more fully (what does the figurine depict?) in context, but the GM made sure to communicate which were the key words, so that's what the players wrote down. The players weren't told the value, just the description.

Now time has come to sell these art objects. The GM doesn't need to remember anything about the treasure – where in the world it was found; what published adventure it came from or whether it was rolled or improvised; what rough-and-ready valuation the characters were given by a passing tinker.

The GM only has to do a couple of table lookups.

Diadem: Base price of 20 gold pieces. Antique: ×5. Gold: ×12. Actual value: 1200 gp. 

Figurine: Base price of 4 gold pieces. Large: ×3. Cracked: ×3/4. Jade: ×2. Actual value: 18 gp.

The lookups are trivially easy; they're in alphabetical order and fit on one piece of paper. The maths ain't hard. It really is that simple.

 

Joseph Gandy (1771-1843)

 

The benefits:

There are seriously so many.

1. Hidden information stays hidden.

Players don't get information on value which should be secret. If they've found something made of 'ebonshell' and they've heard in passing that ebonshell is valuable, the word is a descriptor on the table and the players won't find out if that means "buy another round" or "buy a castle" until they seek out a valuation in-world.

Prior valuations stay consistent, too. If the GM allows a skill check for valuation, they can look up the true value, give an approximation (or a false answer if the check fails), and then completely forget they've given out that information whether or not the players go on to sell the item.

2. Descriptions correlate nicely with values.

Assuming you have a good set of tables, you're buying extra verisimilitude. The "cloudy garnet ring" you find in one dungeon and the "dull garnet necklace" you find two dungeons later have similar values, both are vastly less valuable than the "hundred-faceted ruby amulet", and that's exactly what players will expect.

Things that would otherwise 'just' be flavour start to matter more to the players. We can only take so much stuff back with us. Is the one-of-a-kind altarpiece cracked or just chipped? What's our best guess about how that compares to this sack of obsolete silver coins? Speaking of which,

3. There are learning opportunities.

We're all big fans of rewarding player skill, right? With this system, attentive players can begin to infer what words matter most for treasure values. This reflects the learning their characters would be doing.

On the other hand, the tables are

4. Easily reset.

If you want to start fresh in a new universe, or with new characters, or change GMs, it's trivially easy to just cross out a bunch of values for base items and modifiers and write in slightly different ones.

Players no longer know what to expect but the whole thing stays internally consistent, because you only tweaked the values. For the same reason, it's

5. Easily customisable.

Let's say you decided in this world, jade has mystic properties which make it worth more than gold. Cool, change ×2 to ×15 in the table and you're done. Any treasure you've already put out there is immediately converted.

If you're using treasure from a publication, when you go to convert an item you'll notice that it's described as "jade", check "jade" in the table, be reminded of your modification, and decide whether this particular thing is massively more valuable or whether you'll keep the value and change the material.

It's easy, because in general, this whole system is

6. Compatible with published treasures.

It's not much effort to start with treasures described by value and work backwards to create the descriptive {class, descriptors} phrase.

Suppose an adventure says "the bag contains three opals worth 300 gp each". What does that convert to? Well, you start by finding the "opal" class base value (or maybe "gemstone" is a class and "opal" is a descriptor), then flick around looking for more descriptors that will get you to 300 gp.

Maybe huge + dazzling + round + opal = 300 gp? Perfect. You've acquired more information about what the treasure is actually like. Or maybe it doesn't fit that they're "huge" so you try a few other descriptors and find that small + flawless + fashionable + opal = 320 gp? Close enough.

7. Simple calculations.

It's easy to price something up. We can put both decimals and fractions in the tables, so that people who are less proficient at mental maths can use a calculator. It wouldn't be hard to make a spreadsheet or online tool that calculates values very quickly.

8. Adaptive.

This single framework should work for most systems and settings. Only the tables will need to change.

Once published, individual GMs could hack further as they pleased. Have as many or few base object classes and modifiers as you want. It's easy to simplify or expand, because

9. You can hang stuff off the system. 

Let's say a character comes from a clothier background, and makes alterations to a "silk sash". Now it's a "tailored silk sash" and its value changes accordingly. A fighter is able to repair the "ragged rusted mail hauberk" enough that she can wear it, and now it's a "patched mail hauberk".

Want to get more out of jewellery and gemstones? Have a subsystem for inset jewels, which might add to or multiply an item's value.

Want to get into the fine detail of setting-specific fine arts? Add a whole extra table of modifiers referring to specific artists and times and trends and students and suspected forgeries.

Want collectors to be interested in specific things? Express that as custom modifiers. The antiquarian pays ×7 instead of ×5 for the "antique" descriptor. The archivist ignores penalties from "old" or "repaired" on books. The vizier only wants jewellery in good condition (paying double for any items without any negative modifiers, half otherwise).

Have item valuation and haggling skill systems? This framework just establishes the ground truth / base price, so those should sit neatly on top of this.

10. No tracking.

It really bears repeating that the GM doesn't need to track any extra information, or resort to improvisation when they can't find the item they gave out months ago.

Wilhelm von Kaulbach (1805-1874)

So there's my idea! Do something cool with it. I've added "make a whole little book for this stuff and possible extensions" to the ideas pile.

Complications! Serendipity! Action resolution twists

An envelope gets tugged out of your hand by the wind. You kick your desk and slosh coffee everywhere. You bump into a friend in an unexpected place. A bird lands on your shoulder. The pen runs out of ink when you try to sign.

Because of how our own world works, we expect fictional worlds to be full of lots of little chance things which individually happen rarely. Pieces of serendipity. Unwanted side effects. Unexpected interruptions. Unforeseen complications.

Characters in the fictive world of a tabletop game should expect to encounter little surprises here and there. Not all the time; perhaps not as much as they do in the real world, because of the focus on exciting impactful play — but enough for verisimilitude.

Twisting outcomes ad hoc

TTRPGs often have rules for very consequential rare outcomes (critical hits, spell mishaps, fumbles, etc). But (especially in rules-light games) it is often down to the referee to come up with any smaller "twists": the complications and bits of serendipity we expect to happen not-too-infrequently when someone attempts to do something.

There are two problems with having the referee add twists to action outcomes on the spur of the moment.

1. The imagination is a resource. Thinking requires time and effort, a referee has a lot of mental overhead, and adding twists to action resolution begins with remembering to actually do it. Even an experienced and confident ref likes to have tools at their disposal to reduce mental effort.
2. If it's not a formal procedure, it can feel arbitrary. If the referee just tells a player "your sword hilt catches in the reins of the knight's horse as it gallops past and is ripped away, pinwheeling across the battlefield" it may feel unfair, even punishing. Why them? Why now? Why misfortune instead of fortune? This naturally leads to the ref only adding complications in low-risk environments, which is less interesting.

So here's an approach you can bolt on to any game to add more twists.

 

A procedure for twists

I was reading some older blog posts about (1) spark tables (Bastionland), (2) GM intrusions in Numenera (Alexandrian), and (3) the habit of rolling for complications (Necropraxis), and they got me thinking. We can put together some simple tools for adding twists.

The design goal is to create a procedure that is

• quick, simple, and useful to a referee,
• neither too game-specific nor too vague,
• open-ended and flexible. 

We just need a few dice tables and a basic rule for rolling on them. 

Here's the simple procedure I came up with:

1️⃣ The referee (or designer) should decide on the mechanical trigger for adding a twist to an action outcome. This will be system-dependent, e.g., "when the margin of success or failure is 10 or more", or "when a 01-03 or 98-00 is rolled on percentage dice", "when rolling with (dis)advantage", or "when anyone spends a luck point".

2️⃣ Ideally it's something that players and referee alike can notice, so that it gets remembered, and eventually comes to be expected.

3️⃣ Now if this trigger applies during action resolution, the referee rolls 1d10 twice and consults the following dice tables, picking whichever of the two outcomes is more plausible for the context. Reroll if absolutely necessary.

(If there's no appropriate trigger for your system, you might roll 1d12 before each action adjudication and give a positive twist on a 12 or a negative twist on a 1. Or if you want lots of serendipity/misfortune and fewer dice rolls, just extend the following dice tables to 1d20 size and roll a pair of d20s for every action adjudication, one for a positive twist and one for a negative twist, ignoring results higher than 10.)

 

Dice table #1: Combat-specific twists

In a fight, one side's boon is the other's bane. The table entries refer to a "combatant" who should either be the character acting, or the opponent they are focusing on, as appropriate for the trigger. (This should work even for games without symmetrical combat mechanics, with a reasonable choice of trigger.)

1. Exposed. Combatant is drawn out of position, surrounded, or put on bad footing.
2. Toppled. Combatant is knocked down.
3. Lost grip. Combatant drops their weapon, gets it stuck in something, or loses their grip.
4. Disoriented. Combatant is blinded, dazed, scared, or demoralised by a combat event.
5. Jostled. Combatant is trampled, grabbed, or knocked aside.
6. Extra injury. Combatant suffers an additional incidental wound.
7. Ally harmed. Combatant accidentally causes harm to (or disrupts) one of their allies.
8. Armour broken. Combatant's shield or a piece of body armour breaks, is removed, or is rendered useless.
9. Weapon breaks. Combatant's weapon is made useless: a blade breaks, string snaps, gun jams, etc.
10. Impeded. Combatant is tangled or otherwise hampered by terrain or their own armour.

 

Next we'll look at random tables for general actions. We can't expect there to be a zero-sum symmetry like there is in combat, so we'll need separate misfortune and benefit tables. Choose the appropriate one for the trigger.

(Depending on the trigger, negative twists might still occur for successful actions and positive twists for failures. I think this is a good thing.)

Dice table #2: General action twists (misfortune)

1. Incidental damage. Whatever the character is working on or with (a rope, lock, computer, tool, weapon, etc) is damaged.
2. Extra time. The action takes longer than expected (the character may choose to abandon the task early when this becomes clear).
3. Costly. The action will take more resources than expected (the character may choose to abandon the task instead when this becomes clear).
4. Loud or unimpressive. A mistake or coincidence causes the action to get everyone's attention. This may be laughable, socially objectionable, distracting, or dangerous.
5. Minor injury. The character suffers some small harm in the course of attempting the action.
6. Crudely done. The action is performed clumsily or its effect is crude and sloppy, in a way likely to have later repercussions.
7. Unwanted side effect. Attempting the action also causes a problem, likely related to the method used and the circumstances.
8. Hidden step. Attempting the action reveals a new challenge which must be overcome before the action can actually be completed. *
9. One shot. Attempting the action reveals circumstances which mean the task can't be tried again following this attempt. *
10. Tougher than it seems. Attempting the action reveals something about the situation which makes the task harder than anticipated. Adjust it for others and for future attempts. *

* Note the last three entries may necessitate changing the details of the world. This approach might not work for everyone.

Dice table #3: General action twists (benefit) 

1. Skill increase. The character performing the action learns something along the way. This may be as diegetic or game-mechanical as you please.
2. Mastery. The character can do this specific action again (in this same context) without any chance of failure.
3. Positive side-effect. Performing the action also causes an unexpected helpful outcome.
4. Good return. The action takes fewer resources than expected to accomplish, and/or yields more of some measurable outcome than it normally would.
5. Quick. The action takes half the time it normally would.
6. Quiet. The action is accomplished stealthily and subtly, or there's a distraction elsewhere that takes attention away from it.
7. Impressive. The character performs the action in a way that's inspirational, smooth, culturally appropriate, or garners public approval.
8. Stacking. The way this action changes the world makes it easier for allies or harder for foes to accomplish some related thing(s). *
9. Discovery. The character performing the action finds something (information or an object) when they attempt it. *
10. Easier than it seems. Attempting the action reveals something that makes the task easier than anticipated. Adjust it for others and for future attempts. *

* Again, the last three entries may require changing the details of the world. You'll need alternatives if you don't like that.

The benefits of table-based twists

There are three main benefits to this approach.

1. SALIENCE. The simple procedure means easy referee decisions. It reminds the ref of various outcomes that should be possible. And it's a quick way of selecting between side effects.
2. PLAUSIBILITY. The tables are fairly general. Rolling twice and picking the more plausible twist is easier than having to think of a particularly suitable possibility, but is quick and flexible.
3. PERMISSIVENESS. When a game system doesn't overtly empower the referee to intervene in small ways, adding a defined procedure feels less arbitrary. The one I've written up is neutral with regard to the player characters; in games where characters are more skilled than their opponents, it may even be a small advantage.

You no longer need as many specific rules for monsters, traps, etc, because it all works inside the established fiction of the world. Now if a monster is described as having a hard shell, whenever "Weapon breaks" is one of the rolled options you'll instinctively pick that one without thinking too hard about it.

Alternatively, you can hang stuff off the procedure to extend it.

• A cursed sword might always favour the "Ally harmed" twist when rolled as an option, and doubles the effect when it happens.
• A sticky jelly monster always permits "Lost grip" as a third option to choose between, so that more and more swords end up stuck inside it.

The procedure can be completely player-facing if you want. In story-telling games you could even make the choice of twist a collaborative decision.

You could also use the twist procedure to simplify rules-heavy games, turning their specialised action outcomes into simple table entries and then discarding their complex action resolution mechanics.

Finally, you could build your own tables to come up with task-specific results. If your game is mainly about tracking, you probably want a tracking-specific table of twists.

A potential drawback: Combat asymmetry

This will give you different ratios of good and bad side-effects depending on the number of combatants involved. If a dozen characters fight one giant, or fifteen minions fight one player character, there's a risk of the solo combatant being buffeted by constant 'bad luck' due to the sheer number of rolls the other side is making.

Ultimately this comes down to choice of trigger. Some possible adjustments: Only accept the first two twists that get rolled each round (for combat systems with initiative). Only take the biggest margin of success from each side (for combat systems where everything happens at once). Identify one-vs-many situations and change the trigger to benefit the one. Give boss monsters the power to ignore the first negative twist they would suffer each round.

And of course you can codify rule zero. The referee should simply reject a twist if none of the possibilities rolled seem suitable for the situation. That way a mob of gnomes can't keep knocking the giant over, making her drop her club, etc.

Finally

I should note that this procedure is untested, but I hope to give it a go at the table in the future. I'd love to hear if you have thoughts or feedback. Leave a comment or let me know on Bluesky or Mastodon!

 

The art in this post is by Gordy Higgins. Used with permission.

The Verdant Chamber: A dungeon room

Deep in the dungeon there's a smooth green cyst in the bedrock. Trapped within, a weird organic sludge waits for a chance to begin its expansion once again.

If you open the door, it may bury the world in slime.

 

 

Merry Christmas! Here's a dungeon room for you, courtesy of the 2025 Onegeon Jam on itch.

Blogwagon: The Valley of Eternal Cheer

Merry hexmas! Here's another weird adventure location I made for the community holiday blogwagon courtesy of Prismatic Wasteland. Use it however you like! Creative commons license at the end. If you link one of your hex edges to mine, drop a comment or message me on Bluesky and I'll update the post!

Download link

If you'd like a copy of these Christmas hexes in PDF form, get it for free here: https://periapt-games.itch.io/hexmas-locations

Summary

A sect of treetop angels makes this isolated mountain valley their home. Dwelling in the porous rock caverns, the object of their worship: the Blissful Homogenate. It is an immense festive slush composed of thousands of former intelligent entities, now an immense mushy rainbow sea, a hivemind experiencing True Holiday Joy. It dissolves anyone who touches it.

Hex terrain description

This is an area of lofty wind-wracked mountains, most of them bare other than the omnipresent snow. In the more protected valleys, pine trees huddle together for warmth.

One particularly deep valley, more of a huge crevasse than anything, is curiously warm. Wisps of steam drift about, and a rivulet of snowmelt runs its length. Bubbling up from clefts in the rock, a lumpy rainbow mishmash that looks like a tendrilly mess of soft modelling clay.

Above, there's a stand of huge trees, where glittering candlelight suggests the presence of people.

Connecting hexes

• Southeast: The Transient Snowfields (https://periaptgames.blogspot.com/2025/12/blogwagon-transient-snowfields.html)

Locale: The citadel of the treetop angels

A huge ice-encrusted treehouse with numerous parapets, slit windows, and clear sightlines. It is supported on the trunks of six massive pine trees. The only way up, if you can't fly, is a winding path that flips back and forth between ladder, tunnel, and staircase. Concentric walls of stakes at the base help keep out interlopers, but the gate – and the charitable donation box next to it – are both kept unlocked.

Inside, the citadel is freezing cold, lit only by candles. What care angels for warmth?

Principles of hospitality are a little fraught at the moment: the order is nearly torn apart by religious quarrel.

The treetop angels consider the whole valley a holy site. The caves and tunnels honeycombing it are filled with a miraculous vast-lake-sized gelatinous entity of perpetual cheer and enormous power, the Blissful Homogenate. The treetop angels revere this entity as their guardian, guide, and future, but they are at odds over the nature of their worship.

The order of angels is split into several factions, or 'choirs'.

• The loudest voice is that of the status quo, who sing: those who should be drawn into the Blissful Homogenate are already fated to do so. No intervention is needed.
• Another choir believes the angels should be united with their deity at once. These angels are only holding back long enough to convince their sistren to take the plunge together.
• A more radical faction sings carols of escalation: the heathen must be converted, whether by the sword, by persuasion and pilgrimage, or by cracking the stone of the valley asunder and letting the Blissful Homogenate descend like a multicoloured avalanche into the plains below.
• A small number of voices call for study and for optimisation. The rate of dissolution should be maximised. The Blissful Homogenate should be increased in volume if possible. The order should investigate methods for budding off new homogenates to carry elsewhere in the world.

The rift between angels is unlikely to be repaired, but canny adventurers could align themselves with a choir for personal gain, and possibly even egg on the factions to the point of violence. The treetop angels don't have much gold, but their stockpiles of frankincense and myrrh run deep.

Locale: The overlooking cliff

A precipice directly above the deepest part of the valley. Ancient, crumbling steps descend in fits and starts into the crevasse. It's screamingly windy here, shredding the wisps of steam that rise up.

When the sun is high, you can see through eddies in the mist below: parts of the Blissful Homogenate extend from the valley's caverns. It looks like a colourful smear across the rocks, as if vomited by some vast sherry-soused god on its way home to a mountaintop paradise to sleep it off.

There is a little shanty town here, made from rough-hewn pine wood, stacked boulders, and reindeer hides. A motley bunch of people have come here, mostly on bad information, and are unsure of what to do next. There's a continual argument simmering like an eternal stew.

Currently about twenty people live in the shacks (detailed in the encounter table below). Many others before them have returned to the lowlands, or descended into the valley to become one with the Blissful Homogenate.

There are also four treetop angels hanging around here:

• Numerica Of The Last Apex Unclimbed. Studying the Blissful Homogenate by observing those who may or may not eventually enter it. She's conducting an ongoing census and interviews. Currently taking measurements.
• Radiala Of The Final Pinnacle Unmatched. Feels a desperately personal relationship with the Blissful Homogenate. Paranoid. Fanatical. Has given up everything. Will keep herself out of the homogenate for all eternity to fulfil her self-appointed role of keeping it safe. Currently making patrols.
• Levitica Of The Ultimate Peak Unsurmounted. She's trying to enforce a taboo against hanging around the valley through persuasive sermons. Mostly she has succeeded in making everyone annoyed with her. Currently standing on a boulder and lecturing to the wind.
• Honoria Of The True Zenith Unparalleled. She's dipped a toe in the Blissful Homogenate and will soon be part of it. She's flown back up the cliff to spread the good word. Currently ecstatically dissolving.

Random cliff encounters (1d10):

1. Inkoo and Shmo. Pair of gigantic lumbering penguins. Mountain natives who make a simple living guiding curious people out here, then usually earning even more to guide them back again. Very disliked by the treetop angels.
2. Jenk Holdfraught. Withered old man. A would-be lich who hasn't managed to walk any of the normal dark paths. He's decided that eternity will still be worth it even if filled with tinsel, whistling, and the cross-talk of a happy hivemind, but it's not his first choice, and he's waiting until the last moment possible. If he waits much longer he won't be able to get down the steps under his own power. Has a small amount of treasure, mostly in the form of magical scrolls and cursed ritual equipment.
3. Five tuskers (huge tusked trolls) all wearing enormous boots and ceremonial bells. Not very smart. A small religious pilgrimage from the Grove Where The Snow Is Like Icing, over Rime Ridge. They were trying to find the Big Rock Candy Mountain and are unsure of what they've stumbled upon. That thing down there... is it pudding?
4. Prudence Dearborn. Half-angel. Skilled chef. Her current ambition is to make the ultimate festive spice mix, and she's travelled here for inspiration.
5. Old Father Chrysalis. A white-bearded wizard who touched the Blissful Homogenate and is becoming one with it, but much more slowly than usual. Meanwhile, he's wandering the valley and the cliff. Nobody knows his real name. Doesn't converse. Mumbles a slurpy bubbly mixture of arcane half-secrets and mystic half-truths. (Probably warded himself against the homogenate's effects and only partly succeeded.)
   
   
   
6. Snarlface, Dayglo, and Toad. Three escaped orcs of the Red Lord (see magnoliakeep.blogspot.com/2025/11/blog-bandwagon-orcish-toy-factory.html). One of several secret orc cells combing the world for potential superweapons to wield against their despicable master. Cautiously excited by the potential of the Blissful Homogenate, but underequipped to do anything with it.
7. Plush Carl. Three-eyed misfit toy. Trying to track down his happy-go-lucky great aunt, missing for months. She's one with the homogenate already.
8. Terrrence Norrbrright. Gangly hollow-eyed elf. Legate of a deposed tyrant. Truly hates good cheer, but is pretending otherwise. Smile like a death rictus. Hums off-key. Secretly wants to destroy the Blissful Homogenate and has brought a sorcerous weapon looted from his old boss's treasury to accomplish this. With the right invocation, the Cauldron Of Inversion should turn the homogenate's boiling, joyous form into something cold and hard and miserable. It won't, though. It'll just splatter dangerous chunks of it all over the landscape.
9. Jephrow Bosk. A skeleton percussionist. Inexpertly plays his ribcage like a xylophone. Thinking of branching out into skull bongos. Extremely cheerful; was drawn to this place by a mysterious inner pressure he can't explain. Jephrow wears the bejewelled Tiara Of Undead Control, giving him enormous amounts of self-actualisation. If it is removed he will become a mindless bloodthirsty monster.
   
    
10. Zephany. A westerly wind, separated from her easterly sister Gale (see thegloaminglog.blogspot.com/2025/12/the-quiet-season.html?m=1). Gale was last seen above these mountains, having talked to a treetop angel on the way past. She has left already, but Zephany doesn't know that, and deeply dreads descending into the valley. She hopes her brother Eddy will catch up to her here to lend some support.

 

Locale: The cheer-clogged depths

The rocky valley floor is in shadow for much of the day (the parts near the walls, perpetually so). A small stream of snowmelt pours the length of the middle and ends up in a sinkhole, feeding who knows what underground river further on.

Steam shrouds much of the valley depths, stirred by the omnipresent mountain wind, and occasionally scattered in wisps to the top of the overlooking cliff. It's slightly warm down here, and feels shockingly hot compared to the rest of the freezing mountains.

There's a pleasant humming sound.

Entity: The Blissful Homogenate

Larger than most lakes, and composed of colourful whorls of half-liquid, half-solid organic strands. These flow and wobble and slowly move about by themselves, occasionally splitting off and wandering semi-independently, never far from the main mass. Looks like the aftermath of an inconceivably huge and ultimately failed modeling clay project.

Vestiges of faces smile back at you.

It smells of cinnamon and hot plastic.

Background and expansion

The world's most optimistic and spirited are instinctually drawn to this place on their deathbeds, making it an elephant's graveyard of the merry. They make up the bulk of the homogenate. It has also amalgamated various stupid or unlucky animals (most avoid this place), unwanted experiments/victims who were disposed of here long ago, and a certain number of people who couldn't hack it as liches.

The rest of the homogenate is made up of molten treetop angels. They've been joining it pretty regularly over the years.

If you touch the Blissful Homogenate, you immediately start turning into it. You go runny bit by bit, the event horizon slowly travelling up your arm. You can be saved from the effect if you strike off the digit (or, for the incautious, the limb). Just make sure you cut far enough up.

It usually takes a few hours, after touching the Blissful Homogenate, to collapse into a pile of goo. Features slide off the face. The face drips off the body. Limbs elongate. Clothing melds with flesh. A distinct cheerfulness is felt all the while.

Once it's done, you're indistinguishable. Now if anybody touches you, they start turning, too.

Capabilities

The Blissful Homogenate is in a sense an intelligent hivemind, but undirected. It has never been known to take any real action; it is continually thrilled beyond mortal comprehension just to be experiencing the world around it.

The entity only cares for things that are lively and moving and glittery; it doesn't eat through rock and trees.

The Blissful Homogenate is extremely hot to the touch, like flowing candle wax. Hot enough to warm the rock of the valley and melt the snow above. Bits can be struck off its mass, and if this happens, they slowly cool, losing their animation. They will try to return to the main mass before this happens.

The entity doesn't retaliate if struck. There's an ocean of this stuff, much of it underground. What could possibly harm it?

Challenges and opportunities:

• The Blissful Homogenate is always happily humming. Its underground parts sometimes break out into full-on carols. The distant singing could draw characters into the dangerous cave systems around the valley walls where the goo level ebbs and flows.
• There's tall cliffs above and below the valley, and the rock is porous. A landslide, snowmelt-heavy river, earth tremor, or explosion could knock things into motion. An avalanche of hot homogenate would flow into the network of valleys below like a rainbow lahar, eventually reaching inhabited pastures. There'd be enough mass for it to last for weeks or months independently of the main blob, with all the trouble that would ensue.
• The trouble that's brewing with the treetop angels could easily reach a head. The outlook for their custodianship of the Blissful Homogenate is different depending on which faction wins.
• The shantytown inhabitants all want different things. Trouble is particularly likely from Terrrence Norrbrright, Jephrow Bosk, the orc trio, or the not-too-clever tuskers.
• If a small part of Blissful Homogenate is separated from the main mass, it will eventually cool down, deanimating. But it does not become completely inert. If a small part got into a town's water table before rotting away completely, it could cause strange hallucinations, and toys to be born as misfits.
• Buried in the caverns of the Blissful Homogenate are a few bits of magical treasure too dull and/or cold to be homogenised. The Sceptre Of The Snow Miser turns a foot-wide sphere of solid matter into snow with a touch (exactly as horrid as it sounds). The Woadstone is a simple stone amulet which dyes you blue as long as it is worn. The Snow Deanimation Orb projects a league-wide field which annihilates the consciousness of any snow-based lifeforms.
• The Blissful Homogenate has never been stirred to anger... to date. Characters who presented a genuine threat to it would find out how mobile it really is.

Rumours about this hex (1d6):

1. The long-sought Fountain of Merriment really does exist, and it's closer than you'd think! A drop of its waters would leave you happy for the rest of your life.
2. The Banshee Queen, whose voice was the demise of thousands, did not herself perish but is still alive somewhere in a hidden valley, kept alive by unnatural magics.
3. There's a geothermal springs with miraculous healing properties deep in the mountains. Their waters can even heal a damaged spirit!
4. Should a treetop angel be slain in anger by its brethren, the body's angelic halo can be snatched up by a mortal to grant an unearned textra life.
5. Some deranged alchemist created a dangerous substance called Colourful Amalgamising Clay. If you survive a brush with it, your mind will be forever changed.
6. A cabal of the world's most naturally cheerful people have a secret mountain retreat where they recharge their optimistic energy and make blood sacrifice to a great chthonic god.

Credits

The text of this post is released under a Creative Commons BY (4.0) license. Do what you like with it as long as you follow the terms: credit me, link here, and link to the license.

Illustrations licensed from Alderdoodle (alderdoodle.co.uk), Amanda Lee Franck, Jose Eduardo "Jegs" Gonzalez, and Art SilverGlass / Sophie Grunnet. Some illustrations by Fernando Salvaterra - used with permission.