1d20 wizardly afflictions

In the vein of 1d20 spells from a cursed spellbook, here's 

1d20 wizardly afflictions

Art by Perplexing Ruins

1. Localised portent. The patient's viscera rearranges into meaningful forms. Small objects nearby may transform into birds or comets.
2. Mano-a-manomania. An uncontrollable obsession with magical duels. Treatable with high dosage antimagic.
3. Sympathetic polymorph. The patient reflexively takes on the forms they magically impose on others.
4. Partial possession. Intermittently under the control of imps or quasi-elemental spirits. Contagious.
5. Cetaceanthropy. Transmitted by bite (usually a disease of krill). The patient swims amok on the night of the full moon.
6. Antimitosis. Sometimes called 'void disease'. Incurable reverse aging accompanied by disintegration of bodily tissues.
7. Clone narcissism. Obsession with the perfection of one's own form, growing in a vat.
8. St Belthin's Fever. Infection occurs during thunderstorms. Symptoms include glowing eyes, shivers, electrical discharge.
9. Intestinal bookworms. Ubiquitous parasitic reminder about proper hand hygiene while reading mouldering tomes.
10. Persistent featherweight. A lingering spell reduces the patient's mass. Prolonged affliction causes brittle bones and muscle atrophy.
11. Psychic papercut. Stinging pain in the mind brought on by telepathically reading recklessly fast.
12. Orb-gazer's wrist. Strain caused by the weight of an overheavy head resting chin-on-upturned-palm.
13. Oak gall stones. A solstice-time disease, thought to be caused by mishandling of galls during preparation of magical inks.
14. Chronic hubris. Pathological egotism characterised by challenges offered against the gods. However, see also early onset apotheosis for differential diagnosis.
15. Transitive curse. A tomb-hex heritable from mentors, yes-men, and ideological allies.
16. Wand splinter. Burrows deeper to get away from any tweezers not made of meteorite iron.
17. Petridermis. Overuse of protective spells leads to gradual stoneification of the patient's skin. Very bad for the pores.
18. Prophetic bones. Generally benign. Affected bones have a telltale ache on planes where the concept of weather does not exist.
19. Component magnetism. A lingering magnetic attraction to moss, sulfur, dried spiders, guano, and so on. Brought on by reckless overreliance on telekinesis.
20. Early onset apotheosis. A traumatic rupture in the godhead leads to total or partial deification.

I had been thinking about Discworld's magical afflictions (like 'planets'), and that made me wonder what sort of bedevilments the Thirty Wicked Wizards would suffer from.

 

For more build-your-own wizardly fever-dream content, check out my zine, Wiki Articles Are Wizards [citation needed].

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.

Blogwagon: The Transient Snowfields

Merry hexmas! Here's a weird hex I made for Prismatic Wasteland's end-of-year blogwagon. 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 highland region of magically-animated snow. It is home to a village of 'roblings', creatures cursed to compulsively steal. A dysfunctional team of researchers has travelled here in a gingerbread mecha, now broken down.

 

Hex terrain description

This hilly region rises out of the rich pastures to the south and grassy steppe to the southeast. Here little grows beyond a dark moss, with snow always blanketing the ground.

The snowscape is dotted with missing patches, each one beginning a trail of footprints, as if areas of snow were getting up and walking away.

The region otherwise appears devoid of villages, hamlets, or other habitation. It rises higher into tall mountains at the northwest edge.

Connecting hexes

• Northeast: Three Calves (see https://elsewhere-elsewhere.neocities.org/posts/2025-12-07-23.-hexmas)
• Northwest: The Valley of Eternal Cheer (see https://periaptgames.blogspot.com/2025/12/blogwagon-valley-of-eternal-cheer.html)
• Southwest: The town of Borsk (see https://coppershaman.com/merry-hexmas-babbling-baboon/)
• Southeast: The Silver Steppe (see https://www.fluoriteguillotine.com/blog/2025/11/08/blogwagon-broken-bronco-on-the-silver-steppe/)
• ➡️ Let me know if I should change any for organisational purposes.

Description

The landscape is not-quite-beautiful. The sparkling white snow is thoroughly dotted with missing patches and criss-crossed with tracks. The wind gently sighs, except for when it's howling.

Transient snow can be found covering the hex. The large hilly snowfields look quite mundane, but are home to intelligent creatures who fall as snow during the night and collapse into quickly-dissolving piles of slush by the following afternoon.

The transient snow creatures all have names, personal stories lining up with hazy false memories of the world, and often relationships with each other. They have a dull understanding of the broader world, but only come to comprehend their own immediate mortality through the course of the day. Each has a unique appearance, as if bespokely made by a snow artist. They have equipment, clothing, and skills, all of which dissolves as the sun descends.

 

 

Locale: The village of the roblings

Roblings are part mischievous goblin, part red-breasted robin, although they joke that there's more magpie than robin. Something in the genetic mix gives them tails and claws, too, and makes them taller than most humans. They're muscular and very quick, and with the aforementioned claws, each one is about as dangerous as a bear if it comes to a fight.

These folk are all covered in long fur. Apart from a touch of red at the chest, they are dark green shading to black, the same colour as the moss and lichen under the snow. The roblings harvest those tiny plants, and hunt the reindeer that compete for it. They supplement their diets with small river fish and with sugared oranges of unclear origin.

Their village is two hundred roblings, of all ages. They hatch from knobbly hairy eggs, and their yurt homes have a nest-like look to them, low communal structures made from reindeer hides stitched with sinew, huge mammoth tusk struts, dried moss, and goose down.

The roblings are hospitable, but seem a little concerned that they are receiving visitors. A village elder will explain their circumstances:

• Background: The roblings as a species are cursed with kleptomaniac episodes. They are individually compelled at random intervals to go to the nearest place where they think some valuable objects might be, taking a big sack, and loot it all in a mischievous frenzy. They then return to wherever they live and find they don't care about the things they've taken, feeling fairly embarrassed about it (but not inclined to give anything back).
• Community: Because they are otherwise normal, the roblings don't like the outcomes from this behaviour. Their attempts to sublimate the urges failed, so a couple of generations ago they formed this community, leagues away from anywhere. A big part of their local culture consists of stealing from each other and the attendant little customs of going around to find their stuff again. Relatively few robling robberies now take place outside the village, but they have a big collection of things they stole in the past.
• Transient snow: Because the ancestral curse is about stealing valuable things, the roblings can safely live here amongst the transient snow creatures. The creatures' snow equipment (which evaporates daily) is largely worthless, so the robling instinct never targets them.
• History: The roblings were created in vats as an arcane experiment. Oral history says their creator was a genius archwizard whose hobby was thievery. She was betrayed by her apprentice who killed her, stole her powers, and abandoned the roblings for a new project, making some kind of huge mechanical baboon (see https://coppershaman.com/merry-hexmas-babbling-baboon/)

The roblings are smiling. Self-actualised. Happy with the niche they've carved out for themselves. They only admit to two worries:

1. In the distant future, population growth could have them brushing up against regions with other kinds of people, with friction as a result. They'd like to find a way to lift their curse if they could.
2. More immediately, some big, pricy, well-defended target could come along, prove irresistible, and the village would suffer some violent retaliation after robbing it. (They don't know about the W.A.I. gingerbread mech yet – see below)

If you could somehow alleviate either fear, you'd have the gratitude of a lot of interesting people.

Notable items stolen from the outside world by roblings (1d10):

1. Mrs Clause's rocking chair. She probably wants it back, but it's pretty heavy and unwieldy.
2. Treacle hourglass. Ornate ceremonial timepiece. The dark liquid very slowly flowing through it has almost finished counting down a decade.
3. Sack of large rubies and sapphires. Used as 'practise gems' by an apprentice gnome lapidary, they are all quite misshapen or in some cases have been split in half. Still valuable.
4. A set of telescope lenses once belonging to the Snow Miser (see https://tbr.bearblog.dev/merry-hexmas-blog-bandwagon-snow-misers-houseboat/)
5. Two large golden rings, from a set of five. A recent political intrigue is said to have revolved around them. Sounds like a tall tale to you.
   
6. A taxidermied chimerical denizen of some nightmarish realm. This particular chimera has the glassy-eyed head of a reindeer, body of a giant penguin, and feathers of a turkey, duck, and chicken combined. It also has human arms, holding a knife and fork.
7. Trunk-sized golden key to the city of Sniffleheim, fortified ancestral home of the frost giants. Etched on one side with the Sniffleheim coat of arms (a stylised scowl) and on the other with "Property of Jarl Keith".
   
8. Tongs of the Heat Miser. Magically room-temperature kitchen tongs. Once used by this mysterious figure to manipulate objects without melting them into white-hot blobs, before he learned a measure of control over his eldritch power.
9. Bottomless Pouch of Sugared Oranges. Vital to the roblings, who use it to supplement their moss-based diet with extra calories and vitamins.
   
10. Single-use doomsday device stolen from the Red Lord (see https://magnoliakeep.blogspot.com/2025/11/blog-bandwagon-orcish-toy-factory.html). Ugly pear-shaped mess of steel pipes, loose wires, and warning symbols. If activated, it instantly tinselifies all organic life in a six-league radius, leaving nothing but glittering strands and a mass of fused slag at the epicentre.

 

 

 

Locale: A curious expedition

A campsite huddles around the legs of a massive gingerbread mecha. The five-storey-tall delicious biscuit robot is currently immobile.

Houses a research party from the Weather Advancements Institute (W.A.I.), here to study the magical properties of the snow. They are competing with the North Pole Ironworks and the Hannukademy for funding, and would offer trade tips and small favours for news about either group or for leads on new sources of private equity.

The gingerbread mecha is a quadrupedic walking vehicle constructed from pastry, icing, spun sugar, high-tensile marzipan, and rolled steel. The inside smells like a holiday drink made from hot machine oil. The mecha broke down slightly short of its destination two leagues further into the snowfield, so the expedition has set up camp here while mechanic Grace tinkers with it.

The mecha is armed with a devastating heat ray and six pop-out autocannon turrets which lob chocolate shells at an unbelievable rate of fire. Part of an experimental fleet belonging to the Heat Miser, who contracted the design out to the W.A.I., funded the construction, and leased it back in a sweetheart deal.

Weather Advancements Institute team members (1d8):

1. Dr Margrit Blithely. Principal investigator. Stressed out. Really needs this expedition to work. Has only just found out about the roblings and is worried there could be a violent clash. The mecha has autonomous defences which can't be deactivated.
2. Thab Xnox. Research assistant. Hammock enthusiast. Has raised laziness to an artform. Motivated by nothing but new excuses not to do his job.
3. Magus Kaleb Baiseen. Academic wizard. Fascinated with the elements. His life's work is the construction of a periodic table partitioned along the lines of which elements can or cannot be animated or summoned.
4. Jennet Jensdottir. Meteorologist. Seven feet tall, platinum blonde, glittering celebrity smile, mind like a steel trap. Sociopath. Prolific writer. Managing editor for a journal of sorcerous metereology.
5. Dward Blue. Former jolly postman. Current grouchy mech driver. Chain smoker. Mood made worse by the expedition's limited stock of booze and their current inability to get out of here on a moment's notice if anything goes wrong.
6. Grace Isthmus. Gingerbread mechanic. Green-skinned and covered in warts. Wears black overalls, bright red sequinned shoes, a permanent grin. Omnidirectionally overoptimistic. Very confident. Loves her job. Currently trying to work out why the gingerbread engine in Knee #3 won't start.
7. Snid Kipper. Dogsbody. Young, anxious, splay-eared. Self-consciously amateur bagpiper and even more amateur poet. Very earnest.
8. Chunk. Team mascot. Salamander. Little salamander collar with her name on it. Sleeps in the main boiler. Eats coal kibble. Very fat.

 

 

 

Random hex encounters (1d10):

1. Jessica Bonechill. Transient snow creature in the form of an axe-wielding skeleton. Mercenary for hire, briefly. She wears a windbreaker and complains of the cold.
2. Magus Glace von Zephyrous. Transient snow creature in the form of a pretentious floating wizard. Capable of casting up to fourth level spells, but will thoroughly indulge his fondness for riddles before being any help at all.
3. Mister Hiphup. Transient snow creature in the form of a snowman. Hiking through the snow, eager to explore this new world he has found himself in, unaware he will live only a few more hours
4. Megafrosty. Transient snow creature in the form of a gigantic three-headed snowman. Sings in a robotic voice. Has false memories of having lived thirty centuries. Dislikes solemnity and may attack the maudlin.
5. Ia Snowhorn. Transient snow creature in the form of a fearsome ice centaur. He is struggling to traverse the snow on icicle legs which sink knee-deep with every stride.
6. Kel Brittlegrasp. A young wandering robling, curious about foreigners.
7. A small team of gnomes wearing piping hot steamsuits for warmth. They are crossing the snow on coal-burning sledges on a long journey to the big city. All of them are accomplished builders and interior designers, absolutely desperate for work (perhaps at a place like this).
8. 
   Three roblings (Bok, Twik, and Winston) armed with spears and big empty sacks, stalking a small herd of reindeer across the snow.
9. A small herd of reindeer.
10. Snid Kipper from the W.A.I., looking for a bit of solitude to practise the bagpipes. He keeps bumping into slightly simple-minded transient snow creatures and is finding it hard to shake them.

 

 

Rumours about this hex (1d8):

1. There's a whole town of grinning demons out beyond the steppe, dark green like the algae-slick walls of an old well. They live to steal.
2. A privately-funded research group has sent an expedition armed with gingerbread technology after something valuable out in the deep snowfields.
3. There's a place where the snow gets up and walks around, asking confused questions.
4. There was a string of odd thefts a couple of decades ago. Mrs Clause's rocking chair. The key to the city of Sniffleheim. The Tongs of the Heat Miser. Things that have never been fenced.
5. Some strange naive chap walked down from the hills. He was white as snow and dressed in strange baubles. He got drunk enough at the public house to cause problems, and couldn't pay his tab. When they opened up the gaol cell the next day there was nothing left of him but a puddle.
6. The Red Lord has been furious about a break-in which he was never able to avenge. He's put a big bounty on the head of something called a 'robling'.
7. If you find a place where odd folk are birthed from the snow itself, the flowering lichen there should be cut under a full moon, dried, powdered, and burned as incense. You'll have oracular visions.
8. Up beyond the snowline there's an orc spawning pit that went wrong and all the orcs there are obsessed with theft.

 

 

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.

The illustrations incorporated here are by Alderdoodle (alderdoodle.co.uk), Joe-Austin Flynn (www.patreon.com/c/u95234086/), Evlyn Moreau (www.patreon.com/c/evlynmoreau/), Steven Colling (https://stevencolling.itch.io/), and Jeffrey Koch (https://legacy.drivethrurpg.com/browse/pub/26533/Jeff-Koch-Stock-Art). Used with permission.

'Consume alien': Reviewing Encounter Critical

...You ever hear of Encounter Critical by Riley and Ireland? A long-forgotten piece of amateur RPG design from the 70s, originally published "on a school mimeograph" and sold through hobby stores, and now available only as a scan.

It's one of those early masterpieces in which fantasy and science fiction tropes collide. And yes, that does mean the currency is "gold credits".

Quest into the slaver kingdoms or hurl yourself into the galaxies of space to find wealth and destiny. Your tactics and your character are yours to control as you undertake ENCOUNTER CRITICAL.

...Of course, it's a joke. This "forgotten gem from 1978" was created by S. John Ross in 2004, with flourishes such as advertisements for an official Gazette (a newsletter in four supposed issues), as well as a reference to "a forthcoming line of Encounter Critical miniatures" and a search for a book deal.

Originally it was cast back in time 26 years from the true 2004 publication. Now 21 years have passed in turn.

How does the hoax hold up?

🛸 The aesthetic is perfectly on point: typewritten; amateur; hand-crafted and hand-drawn; retro; photocopied

🛸 The prose is breathlessly earnest, and preoccupied with its own relationship to conventions of war gaming

🛸 The game is full of sci-fi plagiarism and the kind of dated sexism obsessed with 'seduction' and 'doxies'

🛸 It's the classic nine-stat system we all know and love: Adaptation, Dexterity, ESP, Intellect, Leadership, Luck, Magic Power, Robot Nature, and Strength.

Um

The insane retro creativity of Encounter Critical

You roll for character race. Possibilities include, on the fantasy side, 'Amazons', 'Frankensteins', and Hobbits I mean 'Hoblings'. The purloined sci fi IP includes 'Klengons', 'Planetary Apes', and 'Vulkins'.

You can also play as a 'Wooky' and be penalised for wearing armour, although of course 'a Wooky will seek out magical rings or energy armor when it is available'.

You also have a chance to end up as...

You also may be a mutant, and therefore suffer from character traits such as Cannibal Urges, Allergy to laser, Unusual Sexual Gifts, or Self-Consuming Brain.

The writing mostly serves the "lost 70s indie game" in-joke, but also has its genuine funny moments:

 

Amateur indie design 

The mechanics, while harking back to OD&D, very much like they're just being felt out.

🛸 Warriors get followers and/or animal companions, and an underdetermined number of multiattacks.

🛸 Hit points, damage, and number of monsters appearing, are given as ranges instead of the underlying dice codes.

🛸 The nine stats barely interact at all with the (percentage-based) class abilities, only underpinning the general character abilities.

🛸 Instead, a class's key stats give xp bonuses or penalties. So does Intellect, which means it'll stack for the classes with Intellect as a qualifying stat (pioneer or warlock). If they roll maximum Int they will get +20% experience as well as "a 10% chance at experience bonus", i.e., 10% chance of doubling.

🛸 The terminology is slightly inconsistent.

🛸 The game is stuffed with percentage tables.

In these ways and others, it's all deeply connected to OD&D (while taking sniping pot shots at that game).

The book is laid out as if you pull out the middle pages to use at the table. Pages 23 and 27 are ("mistakenly"?) transposed, breaking the table of monsters.

Which includes extremely compelling types such as: Asteroid Worm, Bee Girl, Dragon of Wisdom, Rogue Robodroid, Sky Piranha, and:

(The entry for the Phasic Wolf helpfully notes that it is "phasic in nature".)

The intended 70s style rings true, IMO

An incautiously designed disease table gives you a chance of getting a brain disorder from sex work. Or you could get the "Pestilence of Dark Withering" or "Curse of Seven Hundred Minds" from a rusty nail.

There is a combat system which somehow combines simplicity, percentage rolls, underspecification, and assuming an understanding of how OD&D did things.

Does the ranged weapon table have "sling", "musket", "tommy gun", and "phasic sniper rifle" on it? Yes. Is it possible to do more damage with the sling than said rifle? Yes.

The text is very persnickety and period-appropriate, with pot shots at house rules and gaming styles, etc. It describes its spells as "correctly balanced", snubs spell levels, and says the authors prefer "a more science fiction approach where a spell is a spell".

(Speaking of spells, I love that a science fiction game has a spell that lets you travel... 500 miles.)

The inscrutably-named abilities are pretty great. Consume alien, Ensorcel, Illicit, Machine friend, and See the future all on one character sheet!

...And Seduce, of course. I've draw a veil over all the gendered stuff, but it's there – doxies, amazons, succubuses, etc. While it's clearly intended as a send-up of the 70s trappings, and works as such, the benefit of another 20 years makes it feels awkward and unnecessary. Rather than making a lot of content actually hinge on it, it could have been presented as a one-note joke.

 

The world of Encounter Critical

In the accompanying adventure, goblins are stealing the brainwaves of abducted girls to fuel up a spaceship in a warlock's lair.

This takes place in the game's setting: "Vanth, a fantasy world of adventure". (Is Vanth just Xanth, but different?)

It comes, of course, with a map:

 

It feels delightfully like the kind of thing I would have been making as an early teen.

My copy of Encounter Critical is from almost twenty years ago. These days you can find it for free on DriveThruRPG. Apparently there's an updated version.

To me, this game reads like a how-it-could have been of the original D&D, like an alternate history Dalluhn Manuscript. The game that resulted from Arneson watching some slightly different films.

Well done.

Review: Secret Party House of the Hill Giant Playboy

It's Reviewn June! Revebrewary! Octobereview! Janreviewary!

It's August, and here is a quick review.

The adventure 

Secret Party House of the Hill Giant Playboy (hereafter SPHotHGP) is a location-based adventure for Swords & Wizardry, BX, OD&D, etc, released by Jason Sholtis in 2013.

You may know Sholtis from adventures like Operation Unfathomable, as well as blog The Dungeon Dozen. From the latter, years of incomparably high-density weird ideas got fleshed out into a book and then into a sequel. I consider those two of the best books in the entire TTRPG space when it comes to inspiration.

SPHotHGP is 20 pages, released for free. To an extent, it's a pastiche of the classic 1978 module, Steading of the Hill Giant Chief. Some of the set-up is the same, and there are several little nods. For example, in the 1978 module, the hill giant's name is Nosnra (that is, almost Arneson backwards), whereas in SPHotHGP it's Sadrox... who crudely disguises his identity by calling himself Lord Xordas.

Sadrox/Xordas is the Hill Giant Playboy of the title, and his party pad is a den of iniquity and a hoard of much treasure.

As well as giving adventure hooks, Sholtis writes a great background story about how the evil Xordas acquired his huge wealth and party house, although it's not clear how this would become known to the players.

The content 

SPHotHGP is absolutely full of tables. Find the type, nature, extent, and progress of the party. Determine how the PCs are received. Roll to see what kinds of brawl break out, and what giant-sized and gruesome banquet foods are being served: Megatherium done 5 ways. Sweagledactyl, a swan stuffed in a giant eagle inside a pterodactyl.

There's a fascinating array of evil VIP guests and regulars:

• Raver Ylyach the Swamp Hag and her putrescent servitors
• Zogorion, the surprisingly scheming Lord of the Hippogriffs
• Zhemorna, caterpillar-headed high priestess of the Worm Sultan
• Glurt “Beef” Wellington, possibly the world's handsomest hill giant
• The Piper from Beyond Comprehension
• etc 

And Xordas has a very weird treasure hoard indeed.

The presentation 

SPHotHGP is semi-professionally put together. There's a keyed map, and this being for an oldschool game, inline stat blocks for each key being.

I noticed one unfinished page reference, some stray punctuation, and Glok the ogre captain seems to be incorrectly statted. Content-wise, I liked everything except that the characters and complex are largely reactive, with only a few VIPs having guidance for active agendas. I certainly can't complain about getting a good adventure for the low low price of free.

Sholtis's description is terse but evocative. You can practically hear and smell the place.

A few illustrations by Sholtis also help to really tie it together.

 

Normally I'd leave a link for you to take a look yourself. I found SPHotHGP a while ago on Sholtis's blog, but the download has sadly succumbed to bit-rot. I hope the author will repost it some time, because this is great stuff!