Everyone Has 10 HP

 I think it would be fun to make a ruleset where everyone has 10 HP--dragons, PCs, everyone.

Nothing invigorates a return to blogging like slapping a few sacred cows.

Variant 1: Everyone Has 10 HP

Maybe we can have the actual range be 8-12 HP for the spectrum of unarmored wizards to armored fighters, but let's just assume 10 HP for now.

The trick that makes all of this work is that things deal more or less damage based on what level they are.

If you are attacking someone the same level as you, you'll deal 1d6 damage on a hit.

If you're higher level, you'll deal more damage.

If you're lower level, you'll deal less.

If your target is:

8 or More Levels Higher Than You: 1 damage

6 or 7 Levels: 1d2 damage

4 or 5 Levels: 1d3 damage

2 or 3 Levels: 1d4 damage

0 or 1 Levels Higher: 1d6 damage

1 or 2 Levels Lower: 1d8 damage

3 or 4 Levels Lower: 1d10 damage

5 or 6 Levels Lower: 1d12 damage

7 or More Levels Lower: 1d20 damage

This is bidirectional, so if you're fighting an enemy that is 3 levels higher than you, it'll deal 1d10 damage to you, while you'll only deal 1d4 damage to it.

A bunch of level 1 mooks attacking a dragon would only deal 1 damage per attack.

A dragon attacking them would deal 1d20 damage per attack.

The same dragon, attacking a level 4 knight, would only deal 1d12 damage, which the knight has a good chance of surviving.

Discussion

I picked 10 HP and 1d6 damage as the midpoint because then the average character takes ~3 hits to die.  If you assume that only 50% of attacks deal damage, then that is an average of 6 attacks from an equal-level foe.  If that seems too high or too low, you can easily adjust the baseline of 10 HP.

This also risks making low level enemies too durable (who wants to take 3 hits to kill a goblin?), so if you want your low-level enemies to die quicker, you could always rule that Level 3 enemies have 8 HP, Level 2 enemies have 6, Level 1 enemies have 4, and Level 0 enemies (like goblins) have 1 HP.  A statblock would look like: 

Goblin: Lvl 0, HP 1, Def leather

The advantages is that the world will always be scaled for you.  A fall that deals 1d6 damage will be equally threatening no matter what level you are.  Healing potions will always be scaled, and so on.  If you deal 6 damage to something, you know that it's lost most of its health.

There are plenty of disadvantages, though.  It's probably counterintuitive, in a few ways.  Players don't get the satisfaction of watching their HP go up every level.  Spells don't have an obvious way to scale (although if you wanted to keep using the GLOG dice, you could say that the spells function like an attack with a Level equal to character level + 3 for every MD invested beyond the first).

Variant 1.1: Replacing the d20 Roll with a Coin Flip

It's pretty easy to run a tabletop RPG using only a coinflip like I describe here.  (I've actually had the opportunity to playtest this since writing it.  If I could rewrite that blog post I would make it simpler.)

Marcia also collected some similar ideas here.

But, since we're simplifying the whole spectrum, we might as well strip out the d20 attack roll, too.

Armor gets abstracted into HP, with higher armored foes getting +1 or +2 HP.  

Attack bonuses are already baked into the Level vs Level consideration above.

If we want to keep fighters better at fighting, then we could always say that fighters fight as if they were 1 level higher, and get +2 HP relative to the wizard.  Alternatively, you could just give fighters 1-2 active abilities, which addresses that category of player who thinks that fighters are boring and have fewer combat options.

So a statblock now looks like: Owlbear, Level 5, HP 10

I've always despised fiddly +1 modifiers/improvements to d20 rolls, but one I thing I like about coinflips is that these little bonuses are impossible under such a system.  Good triumphs when evil has no place to take root.

(If you want to use a coin flip for things like skill checks, please see here.  As usual, Chris says it better than me.)

Variant 1.2: Removing Damage Rolls

Our little game engine is getting pretty fast, but we could make it even faster if we could remove all those stupid damage rolls.  There's some math involved here, but a good trade-off between simplicity and consistency is probably this:

Naked wizards have 15 HP.  Armored warriors have 21 HP.  The average PC has 18 HP.  

Enemies have 18 HP (or if you want to randomize, 2d6+10 HP or something similar).

Against a foe of the same level, you deal 6 damage if your coin flip comes up heads.  For every level lower, you deal -1 damage, down to a minimum of 1.  For every level higher, you deal +2 damage.

So level 1 PC attacking a level 2 orc will do 5 damager per hit.  The same orc will deal 8 damage per hit. 

A level 1 PC attacking a dragon will deal 1 damage per hit.  The dragon will deal a whopping 24 damage with a single hit.

If you would normally get bonuses/penalties to attack rolls/damage, this instead translates to increases in the effective level.

You might think that this would make combat predictable, but (1) if you are using randomized HP, enemies will still take an unknown number of hits, (2) players will have different levels and will deal different amounts of damage, and (3) situational bonuses/penalties add another layer of noise.

If you want to use GLOG magic, then just say that [sum] = effective level, and calculate damage that way.

I love AI-generated art.
I've been saying for years art needs more fingers per hand, but only the computers listened.

Variant 2: Removing HP

Holy shit, Break!! is looking good.  It makes me want to make a game with no HP, just hearts.

Since the average PC can survive three hits from an equally leveled foe, why not just give them 3 hearts and be done with it?  It's very similar to "everyone has 10 HP" except less granular and much cuter.

We probably can't use coin-flips anymore (since that removes too much granularity from the game) so we'll have to go back to d20 rolls.

In this version, you have an attack bonus equal to your level.  Whenever you make an attack, you roll d20+[attack bonus] and need to equal-or-exceed 11+[enemy level].  Fighters can have a bonus to both their attacks and their defense.  Critical hits and fumbles exist.  Environmental hazards like poison gas and falls need to have levels assigned to them.

This shares the same problem as above, where goblins take too many hits to kill, so perhaps monsters have hearts equal to their level.  This keeps it closer to D&D--but you could also create a maximum number of hearts (e.g. 6 hearts) and find other ways to differentiate your high-level dragons and liches.

Up to you if you want this to apply to PCs or not.  "A Level 1 PC should die in 1 hit" is very fun and old-school, but I've been slowly moving towards "A Level 1 PC should die in 2 hits" and that is also a cool and valid school of thought.

A valid criticism of this is that it is essentially the opposite of bounded accuracy.  A low level party attacking a dragon is going to be missing a lot, and when everyone spends their turn without any progress towards their goal (enemy HP decreasing), it feels bad.  So you may want to limit effective enemy level and simply give your high level monsters more hearts and additional attacks instead.  It might still take the same average* number of attack rolls to kill the lich, but it feels better.

*the variability is also lower this way, too.

There's some risk of dissonance if a level 10 dragon can't kill a level 1 adventurer in a single round, but if the dragon has 3 attacks, it can still shred someone fairly quickly.

Discussion

All of these are cool, but they change the basic math of D&D.  They are no longer perfectly compatible with published adventures.  (One of my goals with the GLOG was the ability to pick up an old published B/X module and be able to run it on the fly.)

They are all mostly compatible when dealing with similarly-leveled foes, but will scale differently against higher- and lower-level ones.  As a DM, this means that you can no longer rely on your instincts that say "yeah, I can put 20 goblins in this room for a level 3 party".

Another big difference is that these methods effectively scale your damage with your level, which is something that doesn't really happen in normal D&D.  Your HP scales as you level, but your sword doesn't deal more damage.  (I mean, it does in 5e, because your abilities do, but not in most OSR games.)  So if you use the stuff on this page, be aware that fighters are more powerful at higher levels than you would normally expect.

Most of them are faster than regular OSR play, although it may get tedious looking up weapon damage every time you attack a new PC (in method 1.0).

Out of everything above, I'm probably most interested in 1.2, which dodges the damage-lookup I complained about in the previous paragraph and looks like it might be worth a playtest.

Scarabin, the Beetle Knights

Knights

From a distance, a knight clad in plate.  Your torchlight glints off his dusky armor.  But his footfalls are quiet, and his gait peculiar.

Closer now, and your error introduces itself.  There are no eyes behind the eye slits of that darkly oiled bascinet.  You behold not a mouthgaurd but mouthparts, a vertical scowl stamped between them.  His dusty antennae curl over his nape like pennants.  You may notice a handkerchief tucked into its belt.

This is an enormous insect, but a noble one.  Although they can only communicate in pantomime, they behave in similar ways to knights.  They always accept surrender.  They are gracious in victory, and honorable in defeat.  If you are in dire need, they will assist you.  If you appear to be strong, they will challenge you, blocking your way until you acquiesce to a duel.

Their primary business is the slaying of monsters.  They may help you in this task, or you may help them, but they always seek the corpse afterwards.

They care nothing for money, but will be impressed by gifts of weapons, women's jewelry, and horses (with home they prosper).  The jewelry is meant to be a gift for their princesses (who always appreciates a prismatic bauble in addition to the monster corpse).

And while they are excellent horse riders, those who are encountered in the Underworld (and there are many) typically eschew the beasts in favor of giant snails.

Squires

The a knight scarabin will be accompanied by 1d6-2 (min 0) squires, which are pale and pudgy and a little adorable in a grubbish way.

While some squires may remain with their knight, eventually replacing them, most squires venture out alone when they feel that their final instar is imminent.  They will seek out a new princess and a new tower, and start their own adventure.

The most noble of adventures is to seek out a dragonfly dragon, and best it.

Princesses

Each princess lives atop a tower, built from saliva and stone.  Her youngest sons build it for her.  Little, tottering things, they will eventually molt and become squires.  But until then, they are simply little scullery bugs, toddling back to the tower with stones balanced atop their flattish heads.

The princess lives atop the tallest room of the tallest tower.  Unlike the knights, the princess is capable of speech (which the knights can readily understand).  When she favors a knight, she drops a "handkerchief" to the knight, who then carries it.  This token of her favor binds him to her, and he thereafter quests in her name.

When she is brought a slain monster, she lets down her "hair" and gratefully accepts it.  Later, the scullery bugs will throw a great feast for the knights, for each princess has 1d20 knights that serve her.  They will typically meet inside the castle that comprises the base of the tower.  

The castle is large enough for the knights, the squires, the scullery bugs, as well as any guests that visit.  Princesses always welcome priests, pilgrims, ladies, and other types of knights.  Roguish types are always turned away.

Priests are especially welcome, since they are all believers in the Church, but alas, the princess is not able to travel to mass. 

If a knight does her a great service, she will implore her knight to return the "handkerchief" so that she may gift him a new one.  She will transfer the "handkerchief" to her ovipore, and the next generation of scullery bugs will be sons of that knight.

A princess is very large.  The diaphanous "woman" who appears in the tower is merely her head.  Her true body occupies her entire tower.

When a princess has grown to full size, she will allow her favorite knight to marry her, in a ceremony conducted by the most eligible priest nearby.  (Without anyone to officiate the wedding, she will never progress.)  Once married, she will invite the knight up into her tower--the first time anyone has ever been allowed into her personal chambers.  Once their, the pair will copulate with their proper genitalia (princesses have vaginas in addition to ovipores) and the princess will eat the knight.

Then the princess will molt, emerging as a dragonfly dragon and destroying the castle.  The entire household will be driven away.  Any that remain will be eaten by the newly matured queen, who is always hungry after a molt.

Dragonfly Dragons

Huge and monstrous.  They dwell in ruins, where they keep one of their daughters--a princess nymph.   Each princess nymph is clothed in finery and gold, those same gifts from knights, long ago.

Dragonfly dragons kidnap princesses.  They do this because they must have someone to teach their daughters courtly behavior.  (Although this is the traditional method, there are plenty of more modern mothers who simply hire tutors.)

And so it is that scarabin knights who hear of imprisoned princesses invariably ride to their rescue.

Against most foes, a dragonfly dragon fights to devour.  Against a scarabin knight, she fights only to test them.  If the scarabin knight is strong and brave and noble, she will retreat, and allow the knight to rescue his prize.  If the scarabin is unworthy, he will be eaten.  If the dragonfly dragon is hungry, the knight will (probably) be eaten.  If the princess is deemed to be a disappointment, she will also be eaten.

But if the scarabin knight rescues the princess nymph, they will ride off to start their own tower, and their own story.  The young couple will exchange handkerchiefs, and a new generation of sons will start to be born.

A dragonfly dragon may have more than one ruined castle, and more than one nymph at a time.  And since dragonfly dragons are intelligent and capable of speech, the challenges they give may include tests of virtue (if outside agents can be recruited).

In a way, this is not so dissimilar from other species, except the male must impress the female and her mother.

Psychology and Culture

The scarabin are all aware of this life cycle.  However, it would be unspeakably rude to speak of it in plain terms.  Not only is it boorish, but it is nearly sacrilegious--to speak of a knight's lady in terms of sperm and impregnation and such.  

Nor is there any squeamishness about marriage.  It is the highest honor to be devoured by one's wife (and the fact that human wives hardly ever eat their husbands is proof of their baseness).

Although nearly all scarabin cultures in Centerran are members of the Hesayan Church, there may be others who follow some other doctrine.  However, as a rule, scarabin are deeply religious.

Although the males are nonverbal, they understand spoken words perfectly well.  They're capable of speech, it's just considered very uncouth to do so.  If they have anything to say, they'll write you a letter.  Not to be read in front of them, of course.  They may leave it with you before departing (much to the surprise of an adventuring party that assumed that they were unintelligent).  They may also have a traveling companion who speaks for the knight.

In all other respects, they behave like chivalrous knights.

Stats

Scullery Bug: Lvl 0, Armor none, Bite 1d6

Squire: Lvl 1, Armor leather, Dagger 1d6, Sling 1d6

Knight: Lvl 3+, Armor plate, Damage as weapon, Can fly up to 30' once every minute, reflect any spell that they successfully save against.

Princess-Nymph: Lvl 2, Armor leather, Damage as weapon, can glide as feather fall

Princess: Lvl 8, Armor leather, Bite 2d6+swallow whole

    When bloodied: thrashes, which causes the ceiling to begin falling (obvious to players).  One round later, everyone except for the princess takes 2d6 damage from falling stones and the arena becomes difficult terrain.

Dragonfly Dragon: Lvl 8, Armor plate, Claw/Claw/Sting 1d8/1d8/1d6+poison(1d6), Fly as dragon, Poison breath 1/day: 50' cone poison 1d6 (recurs until successful Con save--same as sting poison).

    When bloodied: same as Princess.

How To Use Them

The scarabin are another underworld culture.  They're also a good way to put knights into deep underground areas without worrying too much about where they come from.

Because they help you if you're hurt, and block your path if you're not, they self-regulate the difficulty in a dungeon, preventing it from being too easy or too hard.

A princess can also serve as a local quest giver, or a safe haven in the Underworld.

If the party spends a few sessions with the scarabin, it can be fun to puzzle out their biology/culture.  (The scarabin will not speak of their own culture in blunt terms.) The marriage and final molt would serve as a nice capstone for a particular arc.

A princess could even send you out on a quest to "rescue" a princess-nymph from a dragonfly dragon.  

Dragonfly dragons are ravenous monsters, but they aren't bigots, and anyone who seems noble & strong & brave is likely to be deemed worthy of rescuing a princess-nymph.  They'll probably help her set up a little tower somewhere, and a knight can come by later.  Besides, it's no great loss to lose a princess-nymph, since she can always birth another.

Discussion

This post is a tribute to the Trilobite Knight, which Patrick wrote about almost exactly a decade ago.

These are the oldest notes* in my slush pile and I figured its time I finally forced myself to write something.

*basically just "Beetle Knight > Trilobite Knight, CHIVALROUS LIFECYCLE!?!?"

Links

Cool video about why dragonflies are cool.

Cool video about nymphs molting into dragonflies.

The Wives of Barago

Another post about Lon Barago, but also a continuation of Forms of Government.

History

King Barago was the first king of Lon Barago.  After his death, his son ruled, and his son after that.

But with each generation, the wisdom of Barago faded, and his bloodline thinned.  Anabriss, the second wife of Barago, was wise in the ancient arts of the earth, and knew of a method by which the bloodline may be restored. She was the first Wife of Barago. The old widow orchestrated all that followed.

The current king of Lon Barago (the grandson) was led out into the woods. His tongue was cut out and he was fed leshy grapes, so that he would live out the rest of his days as a beast. From then on, he was given to the royal swineherd for keeping. (Although he would recover some of his faculties at the Isle of Pigs, much later.)

A princess of Asria was selected to become the next Wife of Barago. Her name was Immidia. The royal tombs were opened, and Immidia lay with the corpse of Barago. When she was discovered to be pregnant, it was declared that she would be the steward of the throne until her son was old enough to rule.

Other women were married to Barago in the same way. Some were of noble birth. Others were of common birth, elevated quickly and secretly by Anabriss. The new wives lay with the great patriarch in the same way, and concieve in the same way. There are many Wives now, and many Sons.

Thus was the bloodline restored.

Present Day

In the highest tower of the Aurubel, you will find the Wives of Barago. They meet in a green-carpeted room. There are nine of them. A new Wife is selected at intervals known only to the Wives. Sometimes a decade may elapse without any new Wife. Other times a two are selected in a single year. New Wives may be selected from the political elite. Or they may be selected from among the common folk.

The King of Lon Barago is always a Prince of Barago, selected by the Wives from among their children. (On a several occasions, a Princess of Barago was elevated in a similar way. In the most famous example, Princess Heliota was crowned King Heliota, and later took a wife from among the dukes of Hawkwind.)

The Kings of Lon Barago do not need to worry about producing worthy heirs, or educating them. That is all taken care of by the Wives. And at any given time, there are several Children of Barago in the green-carpeted tower, being educated and appraised by the Wives. Only the most exceptional are even given this honor.

So great is the power of the Wives, that they have even commanded the current king to step down, in order that a favored son may be installed.

The authority of the Wives is the authority of Barago. The women are all necromancers of no small talent. They have conjured Barago on at least three occasions in order to reinforce their decisions.

The offspring of Barago are pale, which befits their unnatural conception. During full moons they fall into deep slumbers, and cannot be awakened. They suffer from seizures and are predisposed to suck their thumbs when they are thinking. Those who are not selected to become king are often given positions in the king's cabinet. Several are sent to the White Temple or the (now destroyed) Red Temple. Most are infertile, but some have gone on to have children of their own.

The Wives are intensely private, and their inner workings are closely guarded. It is known that seniority and necromantic ability play a role in a woman's authority within the Green Tower. The Wives are not commonly seen except at holidays and festivals, where several of them occupy ceremonial roles.

One Princess of Barago is Barileah, who is an accomplished bard. She has published a small book of poetry called The Silver River Songs.

Fia, from Elden Ring

Discussion

The commonly accepted opinion is that Wives are a cabal of necromancers who have established a way to perform post-organic conception, and that everything is as it seems. Their children certainly seem to share many features, which supports the possibility.

The alternate theory is that the Wives are deceiving the whole city. Women are indoctrinated into the Green Tower as needed. The wives spend an uneventful night sleeping in the tomb. Pregnant women are fed certain herbs to ensure that the child is born with pale skin. The necromantic events are falsified or exaggerated--certainly no great necromantic demonstrations have occurred in the last living generation. In this respect, they would be no different from any other oligarchy, being the center of power in a system that includes the Church, the nobility, and the even the king.

[sidebar] Necromancy is not considered immoral by the Church. What is immoral is the raising of the dead, since it requires unclean spirits to be invited into a corpse.[/sidebar]

If it is all true, however, there is one last agent who has not been well-considered thus far: the first king himself.  Is he well-represented by the Wives?  They were created to address a current political need.  Or is the old king frustrated by the Wives, his true wishes twisted by their machinations?

And of course, the Church already takes a dim view of necromancy under the best circumstances.  Their acceptance of royoal necrogeniture in Lon Barago was a necessary concession made to secure peace at the end of a war.  If the Church grows strong enough in Lon Barago, they may succeed in breaking the Green Tower entirely.

The Cult of Flesh (and the Three Great Gifts)

The Third Age 

In the Beginning was the Authority, and his house was the Throne. In the First Age he created the stars, but their songs disappointed him. In the Second Age he created the Holy Mounds, but they also were found to be lacking.

In the Third Age, he created Man.  And Man was given eyes, so that he could see the Authority, whose light pierced through all things.  All other things were not visible. 

And Man was given a voice, so that he could praise the Authority, his sole purpose.  No other words were possible, or even conceivable.

And the Authority was pleased.

The Fourth Age

In the Fourth Age, the Three Great Gifts were given to the race of men.

The first gift was the Gift of Light, so that they could see all lesser things.  The Authority was always visible and bright, but now he created Light, which illuminated the lesser things–the mountains and valleys and the other First Men. 

He took from them their eyes--the eyes of the Third Age. In their place, they were given the Eyes of the Fourth Age.  And the First Men looked around and saw that the world was beautiful, and they gave new praise to the Authority.

The second gift was the Gift of the Word.  The Authority had always spoken to them, but now the words were given to them.  Their minds were open, and they could speak of lesser things, not just of the Authority’s grace and majesty. 

They spoke of new things, food and animals, and gave these things names.  And from these Words came new poetry and praise for the Authority, and He was pleased.

And the third gift was the Gift of New Life.  The First Men were unchanging and undying.  The world had become stagnant, and their praise unchanging.  They had been allowed to create sons, but there was no place for them in the world.  The sons would always be servants, never allowed to grow or to inherit.  And so the third gift was mortality.  The First Men would live long lives, but they would grow old and die eventually. They would pass from this world and into the next, where they would sit beside the Authority, and dwell in his House.

And as the First Men realized that they would someday die, they began to love the world more the world more. Sunsets became more beautiful because they were temporary. Loves became deeper because they were fleeting. Gone was the cynicism of a timeless world. And the First Men found that Life was more beautiful to their new mortal eyes, and they gave praise to the Authority for His wisdom.

Their sons would inherit, and eventually go on to rule.  They would have their chance to become their own masters.  They were no longer condemned to be eternally subordinate.  And women were created, to ease the process of creation.  And as the sons grew and inherited, they gave new praise to the Authority, as was deserved.

Thus with wisdom was justice met.

The Cult of Flesh

Eons passed.

In the city of Sennerva, there arose a great blasphemy.

The third “gift” was no gift of all.  The “Gift of New Life”?  It was Death, and to call it by any other name demonstrated nothing but slavish blindness.

It was Death, and it was Sickness and Decay and Old Age.  All of the things that had been “gifted” to the race of man in the fourth age.

And so the city of Sennerva went about the process of curing all of these things.  Sickness was cured.  Old age was seiged.  And in the end, even death was conquered.

Marmoth later spoke of the process.

The only surprising thing about Immortality, he said, was easily it was achieved.

It was as if some vast conspiracy worked tirelessly to keep it from us.

The natural state of man, he said, was not mortal and sickly and failing.  We were meant to be strong, tireless, and immortal.  

These were shackles that had been placed on us by an Authority that feared us.  (The vaults of Heaven had already been breached once.  The Authority was wise to fear what He had created.)

Marmoth had achieved his goals.  He was strong, tireless, and immortal.  And then the city of Sennirva began to sell these things, or to gift them to their allies.

And it was that the Fourth Emperor of Man led his armies to Sennirva.  The towers were toppled, and the city was cast into the earth.  Its cursed corpse now lies beneath the Ratskin Gap.  The people that could die were put to the sword.  The people that could not die were neutralized in other ways.

And in the passing of long years, the Fourth Emperor of Mankind did pass from life, believing the whole time that he had extinguished the cult beyond memory.  He was wrong of course.

There are many other parts to this story, but I do not have time to tell them.

I do not have time to tell you of the Mountain of Blood, nor the Mountain of Flesh.

I do not have time to tell you of the creation of the dopplegangers.

I do not have time to tell of how the god Elcor was killed and was reborn, or where the 16 women simultaneously gave birth to Elcoroth.

But the Cult of Flesh exists still, and the heart of it is Elcoroth, the Infinite Pillar of Flesh.

Elcoroth

Those who are unfamiliar will often assume that the Cult worships Elcoroth, but this is not the case.  The cult gave flesh to a slain god–they were able to craft him as they wished.  And so it is that Elcoroth worships them.  Its ten thousand eyes gaze at the cultists with love, and its three thousand mouths gratefully licks up their spilled blood.

Elcoroth is stronger than you, a twisted spiral of blended flesh that arcs across the sky like a rainbow.  And Elcoroth is more intelligent.  It has many brains–perhaps all of the brains of those that it has ever devoured.  And Elcoroth is more loving than you, because it was born pure, from the blood of those who had mastered their craft long ago.

The love of Elcoroth extends to all of those who accept his teachings and who drink his blood.  They are bound to each other, then.  

It is not clear if the Cult has centralized leadership, or if Elcoroth is merely the common link between several separate cells.

It has also been said that one of the First Men was involved in the creation of Elcoroth, pining for his lost immortality, but it is hard to believe that.  Still, if true, such an individual would possess all the powers of mankind in the third age, and would be central in the innermost circles of the Cult.

Healing

Zala Vacha is a (very loose) collection of all of the evil organizations antithetical to the Church.

Within Zala Vacha, the Fleshcult is the most well-known, most respected, and (debatably) the most powerful.  This is all because they are the richest.

The cult sells healing and youth, and there are no better healers in the world.  

The Church may be better at healing diseases (as each disease is, in fact, a type of demon) since it lays closer to their specialty, but when it comes to healing injuries, disabilities, and missing limbs, the Fleshcult cannot be beat.

They also do cosmetic improvements.  They can cure old age.  According to them, immortality is only of a middling difficulty, among the various services they offer.

And for these services, they charge a fortune.

They cannot cure death, although they can shape newly dead flesh into something new.  (And in fact, they do this thing often.)  They can create beauty, as well as monstrosity.  Their power is in their blood.

Legitimacy

For a long time, the Cult of Flesh and its Biomancers struggled mightily against the Church.  Like all of Zala Vacha, they searched for a way to overthrow the Church, and free mankind from its shackles.

But now, such a thought is widely considered impossible.  If a century of effort couldn’t do it, why would future attempts be any different.  Even Shadoom couldn’t achieve it, a man who was more powerful than most of the things we call gods.

And so most of the machinations of the Fleshcult are now bent towards diplomacy.  They need allies.  They need good public relations.  They need patrons and sponsors among the aristocracy.  They need a respected member of the Church to become their advocate.

This last desire is one that will probably never happen.

The Cult of Flesh is heretic.  Immortality is a sin–it mocks the Authority’s rightful judgment of the soul.  Seeking immortality is sinful.  So is tolerating immortality.

This new approach has already created tension within the Cult.  If the followers of Elcoroth achieve the legitimacy that they desire, what exactly will happen to Kormok, the God Butcher, and the Eater of Elephants?  They made themselves into weapons against the Authority.  They are utter monsters, no matter what bit of poetic drivel the Eater likes to whisper to his elephants before he swallows them whole.

The New Cult is opposed by those monsters, and monsters like Grandfather Oshregaal, who still seek the old goals.

But Elcoroth loves them all.

Spells

Regenerate Missing Body Part, Cosmetic Transformations, Eternal Youth, Immortality

These are all services that can be cast on allies of the Cult of Flesh.  Eternal Youth and Immortality are only available to full members, whoever, who have sworn the Vows and eaten the Blood.

Elcoroth’s Trick

R: 50’  T: creature  D: [sum] rounds

Pick a body part.  You control the target’s.  The target controls yours.  Targets take 1 round to figure out what has happened (or 2 rounds if they fail an Int check).

Elcoroth’s Harmony

R: touch  T: creature  D: special

A willing creature of the same species as you fuses into your body.  Your mass increases by ~10% of theirs.  You are now a combined creature.  Use the best of both ability scores and HP.  The combined creature cannot take more physical actions per turn (although you can take two mental actions per turn, since there are two minds in the brain).  You must act in harmony.  If there is a disagreement about what to do, one mind can assert dominance with an opposed Cha check.  If someone wants to exit the fused body, they can attempt it 1/day with an opposed Cha check.  If you attempt to add more than 2 creatures into a single fusion, the one with the lowest Charisma must make an Easy Charisma check or “dissolve” into the other personalities, essentially dying but with fragments of their memory and personality assimilated into the others.  The duration of this spell varies based on MD invested.  1 MD = 30 seconds.  2 MD = 10 minutes.  3 MD = 1 day.  4 MD = permanent.

Monstrose

R: 50’  T: creature  D: [s] ends

Target creature becomes a monstrous version of itself.  Its level increases to at least [dice] and its maximum HP to [sum], unless those numbers are already higher.  It gains a natural attack based on how many its level are spent.  1 MD = 1d6.  2 MD = 1d8.  3 MD = 1d10.  4 MD = 1d12.  It loses its previous biologic abilities (unless the DM wants to keep them), but gains new abilities based on this chart:

At least Lvl 2: 1 ability

At least Lvl 4: 2 abilities

At least Lvl 6: 3 abilities

Potential random abilities: regeneration 1, breath attack (random: fire/acid/lightning), flight, compressible body, second head (and a second natural attack).  However, if the creature already has an iconic ability, the first ability it gains should be a reflavored version of the same ability, per the DM’s discretion.  (For example, a dragon would lose its fire breath but gain fire blood, bursting out in a cone whenever it takes physical damage.)

The monster is only able to take violent actions, although it retains an animal-level version of its memories and objectives.  After 10 minutes, the creature must make an Int save.  If they fail, they lose themselves, forgetting their prior memories and becoming a true monster.  If they succeed, they retain their memories and objectives, although they remain at animal level intelligence and become an NPC (if they were PC prior).  If they caster succeeds on a Fleshcraft check while they cast this spell, they can make the Int Save Easy or Hard (their choice).

Give Life

R: touch  T: object  D: permanent

Target object comes to life, gaining both flesh and blood.  1 MD is enough for a teapot, 4 MD is enough for a wagon.  If you fail a Fleshcrafting check, things tend to gain bodyplans similar to either snakes or starfish.  For example, you might make an extremely detailed clay horse and then bring it to life, but it will still move like a starfish, eating and excreting from its basal mouth/anus.

Note that humanoid corpses brought back in this “failed starfish” fashion are called slithermen by the Cult.  Humanoid corpses successfully brought back as humans (essentially a whole new person with no memory) are known as triumphs.  They are appreciated within the cult, but many suffer from defects.

Monsters

Slitherman

Lvl 3  Def leather  “Tentacle” 1d4 + Grapple

Move slow  Str ogre  Int starfish  Dis hungry

Bite - Grappled opponents are automatically bitten each subsequent turn for 1d10 damage.

Stench - The first time each day that a slitherman is injured, it releases a stink cloud.  All within 30’ must make a Con save or take 2d6 nausea (non-lethal) damage.  (Instead of killing you, this damage makes you unable to take any actions besides vomiting.  Lasts until you exit the stench cloud and make a Con check, attemptable 1/round.)

Memories - Captured slithermen can be “interrogated” by subjecting them to things that may remind them of their previous life.  Phrases, objects, locations.  At this point, they may say things related to their past life–typically things that they would normally think but now say out loud: secrets and outrageous opinions.

Elder Doppleganger

Lvl 5  Def leather  Natural Attacks 1d12 or special

Move fast Str ogre  Int human Dis varies

Doppleganger - All the basic powers of a doppleganger.

Monstrose - At the beginning of each of its turns, it selects two creatures it can see. It can make attacks identical to their attacks, including weapons and unused weapons (so if you have a bow in your backback, it can attack you with the same bonuses and damage as if you were attacking it with the bow). At the end of each of its turns, it selects two damage types (e.g. slashing, fire, etc) to be immune to for 1 turn. At the end of its turns, it also selects one ability from the following list: +4 defense, flight (as vulture), regeneration 1.

THE UNDERCLOCK: Fixing the Random Encounter

For a long time, I had the same random encounter table rules as everyone else:

Every 3 rooms (or 30 minutes of exploration time), roll a d6.  If a 1 comes up, a random encounter happens.

After a couple of years, I even added

If a 2 comes up, the players get an Omen--a clue about an upcoming encounter.

In practice, this . . . never quite felt the way that I wanted it to.  And it's taken me a decade, but I think I know why.

by Peter Mullen

First, look at the math.

This works out to 1 random encounter every 18 rooms, and one omen every 18 rooms.

We probably got through 4-10 rooms per session, so random encounters don't pop up very often.  (I don't use a lot of empty spaces.  Most of my rooms have something to interact with.)

Some people roll a random encounter every room (including every long hallway).  This feels a lot better, but it also means that back-to-back encounters are not infrequent, and it feels too unpredictable.

Second, look at how omens are supposed to work.  You're supposed to find the omen, which (a) builds suspense and (b) lets the players prepare themselves, prior to the encounter itself.  Omens weren't happening with enough frequency.

Third, consider the stated goals of random encounters.  (Time pressure, versimilitude.)  Random encounters are not the best way to achieve either of those.  Often, when random encounters occurred, they felt disruptive.

Anyway, I am giving up on:

• tracking torch durations
• random encounter checks

I think I have something better.

Design Goals

Time Pressure

The four most vital currencies in a dungeon crawler are:

• Time
• Information
• Hit Points
• Expendables (potions and spells)

It doesn't feel like a dungeoncrawler to me unless all four of those things matter.

The reason why we track torch depletion and random encounters is because we want a source of time pressure.

I like games where time a critical resource.  Players can't read every book and tap every brick.  They need to be tactical in where they spend their attention.  

This is good!  It raises the skill level for dungeoncrawling and makes players scrutinize my dungeon for clues.  Do they have reason to think there's a hidden door in this room?  If so, they'll spend some time searching.  If not, I'll keep moving.

But I don't think random encounters are very good at this task.  Random encounters don't put much time pressure on players unless they're very frequent, and at higher frequencies (1/room or greater) they feel too uncontrolled to me.

Suspense vs Surprise 

Surprise is when the alien suddenly attacks.

Suspense is when you know the aliens are getting closer.  You are running out of time, and you are running out of ammo.  I think that most DMs want their players to feel suspense, more than surprise.

A truly random roll (a flat 1-in-6 chance) doesn't offer much suspense.  Surprise, but not suspense.

To increase suspense, you want the players to feel like they're running out of time.

Versmilitude

I'd also argue that random encounters don't do much to make a dungeon feel like a living, breathing place.  Random encounters frequently feel out-of-place (especially when they're not well-localized to the story and the rooms around them).

Time Pressure

Random encounters are meant to be a tax on character time--don't dawdle in the dungeon or you'll lose HP--but they often feel like taxes on player time--don't dawdle in the dungeon or you'll be stuck in some pointless combat for 45 minutes, when everyone would have more fun with 45 minutes of exploring new rooms.

If the only goal was to put time pressure on the players, you could replace all random encounters with a cold wind that deals 1d6 damage to everyone (save for half) then moves on.  The players are still penalized for taking too long, and then everyone can get back to dungeoneering.

(These last two points are really just complaints about how the random encounters are written, rather than the mechanic that produces the events.  I'm including them only out of a sense of completion.)

by Peter Mullen

The Underworld

The Underworld is not just a basement or a cave.  The Underworld is a place that hates you.  It is hostile architecture.  It hates you in a way that only the blind tonnage of stone and cold air can have.  It hates your lively blood.  It hates the sunshine warmth still lingering on your skin.

Live there long enough, and the Underworld can learn to tolerate you.  You will grow pale and cold and strange, like the other inhabitants of that place.  The long years will render you smooth and inoffensive, like a pearl held in the mouth.  The Underworld's irritation fades and scabs over.

But this doesn’t apply to delvers.  They dig greedily and they dig fast.  They are hated the most, and this hatred is felt as soon as the Underworld is entered.

Explorers have a myriad of names for this feeling of supernatural dread.  The Claws of the Underworld.  The Black Rat Whisper.  The Fosydra.  But only one name suits our purposes here:

The Underclock

It starts at 20 when you walk into a dungeon.  When it reaches 0, an Encounter happens.

You will periodically roll a six-sided Underworld die and subtract it from the Underclock whenever the party expends time or noise.  Examples of actions that provoke an Underclock Roll:

• Exploring a new room (including long hallways).
• Moving through 3 already-explored rooms.
• Lingering or searches.
• Making noise (e.g. kicking down a door).

NOTE: the noise of combat doesn't normally contribute to the Underclock.

Some more facts about the Underclock:

• The Underworld Die explodes.  If you get the maximum value (e.g. a 6 on a d6), immediately roll it again and subtract the result from the Underclock.

• If the Underclock drops below 0, an Encounter is triggered.  After the Encounter resolves, the Underclock resets to 20.

• If the Underworld Clock equals 0 exactly, it resets to 3.  The Underworld's attention is elsewhere, momentarily.

• If the Underworld Clock equals 3 exactly, a Shadowing Event occurs.  So the clock reaches 0, it bounces up to 3 and a Shadowing Event occurs.  (These are just omens/spoor/clues, more or less.)

Rests

You can rest at any time.  You'll get all of your HP back after you do.  There are 3 prices.

1. The first cost is time.  You’ll have to roll some Underclock Rolls.

• If you are resting in the middle of a well-traveled location, make 3 rolls.

• If you are in a secret room that no one else knows about, you don’t need to make any rolls.

• Everything in between is either 1 or 2 rolls (defaulting to 2 rolls if you aren’t sure).

These rolls explode normally.  If you are interrupted by an encounter, you’ll need to start over.

2. The second cost is a ration.  Cross it off your inventory.

3. The third cost is attention.   Each time you rest in the dungeon, increase the size of your Underclock Die.  d6 -> d8 -> d10 -> d12 -> d20.  Each time you spend a night sleeping on the surface, decrease the Underworld die by one size, down to a minimum of d6.

Everyone knows that you shouldn’t eat anything in the Underworld. 

Degeneration

The Underworld hoards its treasures.  It hates the idea of its gold returning to the surface.  Far better that the treasure remain in the possession of one of its inhabitants.  Someone who will carry the gold until it dies in another dark corner.  

Whenever you leave the dungeon, the dungeon degenerates.  Things may change, the dungeon may restock, but most critically, the treasure depletes.

Every time the players exit to the outside, the biggest treasure pile in the dungeon loses 20% of its value, stolen away by agents of the Underworld.  (Sometimes this is an elder dungeon spirit, sometimes this is just a goblin with a boot full of loose coinage.)

Integration with Other Systems

The Underclock replaces torch depletion and other random encounters. 

The party still needs 1 lit torch for every 3 adventurers.  Everyone gets -1 Initiative for every person not sufficiently illuminated.

The maximum Underclock value is reduced by 1 for every point of Encumbrance held by any member of the party.

The Underclock replaces regular durations of spells, etc.  30 minutes = 3 exploration turns = 10 points on the Underclock.

Discussion

It takes an average of 5.9 Underclock Rolls to generate an encounter.  There is a 0.3% chance of the Underworld clock generating an encounter in a single roll (really a series of exploding d6s).

This is roughly comparable to the old "1-in-6 encounter chance every 10 mins".

Encounters are Shadowed approximately 33% of the time.  The other 67% of the time, they are not preceded by any Shadowing.

I do love that it is countdown, which makes the time pressure feel much more palpable at the table.  I would say "you've been in this dungeon for 3 hours now" and no one would care.  I would roll a random encounter check and players would glance over.  But people pay more attention to the Underclock.

"But Arnold, doesn't this allow players to game the system?  If the Underclock gets down below 6, won't they just hunker down somewhere safe until it goes below 0?" - You, probably.

Yes, of course the players will be more cautious when the clock is low, and slightly bolder when the clock is fresh.  That's kind of the point.  There's a texture to time that didn't exist before.  The players are supposed to be fully aware of it because it's a tangible-and-fluctuating measure of risk.  And the characters are supposed to be fully aware of it because they all develop heart murmurs when they draw the Underworld's attention.

If the players hunker down somewhere safe to let the clock expire, consider it an organic replacement for the Exhaustion mechanic that you see on overloaded encounter die mechanics.  (I like overloaded encounter dice.  I like the Underclock more.)

The integration with rests and HP is also something I like.  You can get all of your HP back easily, but at the cost of making the dungeon more dangerous.  There's an interesting decision here.  Should the players press, their luck?  Or break for lunch?

Similarly, there's another tension when deciding when to return to the surface.  The thought of a goblin walking off with 20% of their loot is very motivating.  The decision should be interesting and impactful (like most of the core decisions in an OSR game).  (Of course, if your game sessions are bounded by leaving the dungeon, this extra motivation is not needed.)

I'm also trying to simplify torches and encumbrance to the point where they are still important, but I want to move them out of the spotlight.  Players shouldn't spend much time or thought on them.  (I don't think I've ever had an interesting, impactful gameplay moment arise from torch depletion.)

Simple Mode

The Underclock counts down from 20 to 0, losing 1d6 every exploration turn.  An encounter happens at 0.

If you want to add some version of "the dungeon gets harder when you rest" or "treasure vanishes when you leave for the day" feel free implement your own version, or not.

Math Discussion

I wrote some Python to roll dice for me.  (Feedback welcome.  I've never shared any code before.)

Here are the numeric results.  

Here are the visualizations:

These are almost exactly the results I wanted when I started looking at candidate mechanics.