On Genie Magicks

 ON GENIE MAGICKS  

Written by Ijamar the Stupendous, Scholar of Upper Air.  

 

Of the four provinces of true majicks, those pertaining to the Domain of Air are of the highest order. Air in and of itself is the most plentiful element we observe; it can topple towers and trees; we cannot live without it. Does not drawing breath constitute “air” as literal life giving? 

            Certainly, the other three provinces of true majicks, those of earth, water, and fire can make similar claims, but these claims are spurious. “Bones” are of the earth as the scholar Ulyna claims (who also argues that mud magics are one of the highest arts of Primordialist spellcrafting - a claim surely absurd on its face). Tell me, where can one find bone in the earth, not placed there by a dying creature? “Fire” is the heartbeat, the living spirit is another common claim. This holds merit though a human in the presence of too much fire is destroyed. Lastly, those of the aquatic inclination lay claim to water in the blood. This holds merit as well, though I would regret drinking red waters -- save for wine of course. 

            Vaphiar the Scolded, in his Treatise of Clouds Vol III. makes clear the preeminence of the winds: “Other Primordial schools are composed of no pure things. Earth is the worst offender in this regard, being of both dirt and stone. Fire is both fuel and flame, leaving behind ash and soot. Water in its ideal form is pure, but is easily contaminated. Thus, air is alone in its ideal purity.” Therefore, the Domain of Air is the highest order of majicks workable in mortal hands (other schools of teaching such as astrology & demonology I reject out of hand). 

Edmund Dulac, 1914

 

            So too are the elemental creatures pertaining to the Domain of Air. Genies (sometimes Djinn in southern places) are the highest form of elemental being, save for the four Elemental Kings (Side note: as asexual beings, elementals only adopt gendered customs from mortals. Some scholars (typically females) assign the title of Elemental Queen or “Lord” to these entities. This is both confusing to novices and disregards the long tradition of naming. I reject this naming scheme for both its illogical presumption- elementals are naturally genderless not feminine - and contempt for scholarly tradition. This text will use the term “Elemental King”.) 

            Genies typically take the appearance of a mortal with blue skin, fashioning themselves with wind-drawn silks. Their faces are handsome and refined, and they keep themselves in perfect condition. Their society is arranged in royal courts, all subservient to the Elemental King of Airs, though the strata of these courts is near impossible for a mortal to fully comprehend. I refer curious readers to a secondary work, “On Genie Culture & Customs” scribed by yours truly under the tutelage of Vaphiar the Scolded. For the discussion in this book, it is suffice to say that genie society is deeply hierarchical with an emphasis on grandeur and luxury. They are more capricious than fiery and cruel Efferti and more commanding than the watery and relaxed Undines. 

            Genies enjoy their splendor through the usage of wind majicks. For one trained in the discipline of the Domain of Air, there is no greater teacher. (As you are no doubt aware dear reader, there is a contentious argument in the scholarly tradition on the origin of Wind majicks. This scholar, for his merit, believes Genies are the first to teach the Domain of Air to mortals, though other sides have convincing arguments as well). Genies can call and manipulate the upper airs at a whim, something I, a mortal, envy deeply. The skilled among them can also manipulate their appearance using wind-drawn scarfs & fabrics to blend in with their form.  

            Part of their art is being able to talk to the winds and ask them for their help. Speaking to a wind is a novice task - though dominating their whims takes a lifetime of mastery. Face the wind, so your hair is blown back and blow out from your lungs in a steady stream. When the wind pauses, speak and it may hear you. Genies do this naturally, able to naturally manipulate the air currents around themselves at will. They are naturally gaseous, while we mortals must rely on crystals cylinders of white smoke to achieve a similar effect. Of course, conventional majicks is not why so many wonder about Genie Magicks. 

            Indeed, the true majick of the Genie is their power to grant Wishes. A “wish” can be anything within the Genie’s power to give, which of course is almost anything as they are a being of the highest order of majick. Supposedly, other elemental savants, such as Effreti or Undine, possess similar powers, though scholars in this area are notoriously tight-lipped. Nor can I imagine an unruly Effrit or whimsical Undine ever deigning to grant a wish. Wish granting is a privilege of the Genie alone, a result of their nobility and royalty. 

            In most folklore, Genies can grant 3 wishes after being freed from a lamp. This folkloric tradition is sadly filled with misconceptions. Genies are naturally capricious, and thus only grant a number of wishes pertaining to their station, a form of “noblesse oblige.” Soldier or servant Genies typically grant a singular wish before departing; these are the most common Genies found by mortals, as higher ranking nobles do not travel into mortal realms often, whereas soldier and servant Genies frequently have tasks (fetch quests, conquering of lands, petty revenge, etc) that collide them with mortals. If an upper ranking noble Genie is captured, their status requires them to grant multiple wishes. 

            It is also said friendly Genies can grant as many wishes as they are willing to, though this requires a deep friendship between a mortal and an immortal creature, which has a forbidden allure. I know of one such case. 

            Genie can grant anything in their majicks can provide for. Being of the utmost highest magical being, this can be near anything your heart desires, though some things are more expedient than others. Traveling great distances is easily done through wind-walking. The gathering of a fortune of coins can be done in a moderate fashion by sweeping up all lost coinage in great gusts. Moving mountains can be accomplished, though only after a good deal of time and strength from the Genie. 

            The Genie’s disposition matters a great deal during this transaction. A friendly Genie will do their deepest to grant the soul of your wish, while an angered Genie will twist your words into the cruelest interpretation of your request, as a scorned lover may. Captured Genies are typically angry, though their haste-filled need to escape may lessen their inflicted torment. They are most enraged at their capturer, though they demand of everyone else “Why have you not freed me sooner?” Once free and having satisfied their wish obligation, Genies will flee back to their courts and cloud pillows. Particularly vengeful Genies may plot against their masters, especially if they were harsh task-givers. 

            I have heard some sorcerers have devised ways to permanently entrap a Genie, though even if such an outlandish heresy were true I would not pen it down. 

            Most folklore depicts Genies are trapped in lamps, and this is commonly the case, though not any lamp will suffice. Genies have a refined eye and a sophisticated taste; thus, finely polished bronze is the most common material to attract a Genie's attention. (Wind commonly whirls around bronze statues and artifacts to gather information and observations for a nearby genie. This is why certain sections of bronze statues are worn down.) For a bronze lamp, inscribe within the runic symbol for “Air,” the runic symbol for “Chain,” and the runic symbol for “Desire,” before submerging the lamp in an urn of oil. Light the oil aflame and let it burn down. Now, the lamp can capture and hold a Genie, if it is encountered. Leaving the lamp where the wind bows most often is most likely to attract a Genie; the winds may tell a Genie an interesting bronze artifact is nearby. 

            In short, us mere mortals have developed our own understanding of Genies and their magicks, though this understanding will always be merely superficial. If you are fortunate to find yourself in the presence of a Genie, offer riches and velvet silks and spiced wines - perhaps you will find a mentor and maybe something even more. For further reading, I recommend the works of the aforementioned Vaphiar the Scolded, as well as Bernghast whose treatise on the geography of the Plane of Air was of considerable help. 

--- 

My players were recently tasked with kidnapping the Genie from Fabien's Atelier [1] and were debating what to do. They did some research for what to expect from a Genie's wishes, so I wrote up this document as an in-world document. 

 [1] Quick review: Excellent puzzle dungeon.  

 

 

 

Against the Odds: Incentivized Play

 For this month's Blogwagon, hosted by Prismatic Wasteland, on randomness[0], I think it's worthy to discuss randomness from a player perspective, more specifically an optimizer's perspective. I'm going to divorce any discussion of "fun" from this post (randomness is fun, it keeps both players and GM engaged at the table). This'll lean more into game theory and trying to "win" (there's no "winning" at make-believe, but you can definitely lose a fight and TPK). In essence, randomness is antithetical to optimization, and skilled, goal-focused players should try to limit randomness.[1]  Id est, when you only roll dice when there is a risk of failure, then removing dice rolls removes failure. 

 Before talking about TTRPGs, let's look at other games. Chess is a game with no randomness, and thus the better player should always win. No matter how many games I play, I will never beat Magnus Carlsen. Conversely, in rock-paper-scissor, I've got a 50% chance of beating the world champ RPS player, statistically. Variance levels out the playing field, shrinking the gap between novice and expert. 

I've played too much Magic: the Gathering for my health. But one thing I've learned is when you're winning, you want to take safe, conservative lines. If you're 80% to win a game, why do something risky and give your opponent a chance to get back into the game? Alternatively, if you're losing, you need to shake things up and make risky plays. Maybe you'll get lucky.[2] 

How does this relate to DnD?

Let's divide combat into two categories: Orcs & Dragons. Orcs always do 4 damage. Dragons always 6 damage. Your adventurer has 5 hit points. You can always beat an orc, but never beat a dragon. 

Let's say the Orc actually does 1d6 damage. Suddenly, despite the average damage (3.5) being lower, this is a much more lethal encounter. The Orc has a 33% chance of felling the adventurer. 

If the dragon does 2d6 damage, the average is a 7 (higher than previously) but the adventurer only dies 72% of the time, instead of 100% before. 

So against weaker foes, players want less variance (how many groups have TPK'd to a random group of goblins due to unlucky dice rolls?). But against a stronger foe, players want more chaos. (The times players use their unidentified potions or scrolls is almost always when they're under pressure). 

Except this is all white-box hypotheticals where both sides mechanically attack each other. The joy of TTRPG is agency and as a free agents, players can (often) chose to subvert stronger foes. 

Going back to the dragon example, if the players know they need to fight it, they can stock up on fire-resistance potions prior to facing it. Suddenly the 2d6 dragon is much more deadlier, as it can high-roll past the resistance of the potions. If a party can plan and strategize optimally, randomness is only detrimental. Thus, it behooves the players to minimize variance so they can apply their skills and not leave things to chance.[3]

Six HP Dungeon exemplifies this. When you first encounter monsters, their weakness & strengths are random, making them potentially deadly. But once you figure these out, the fights become trivial. 

Random Encounters

This is almost clearest in random encounters, which are a cornerstone of OSR play, dating back to the beginning of the hobby. They keep things tense due to uncertainty. Consider the opposite of a random encounter: every 6 turns, 6 goblins show up. If the party can figure this out, they can plan appropriately. On turn 5, they spike the door, put a bear trap down, leave an enticing sack of gold in the opposite direction, etc. 

Even outside of the "optimal play" argument, plays want to minimize encounters as they are typically a drain or a tax on resources. Players quickly realize they cannot dawdle and waste time, as more and more encounters are rolled.  

Rolling the Dice

It's been said that combat in OSR games is a fail state. (It has also been called "My Balls"). Regardless of if combat is sport, war, a fail state, it is where players lose control of the game to the roll of the dice.  Since OSR games are deadly, players are incentivized to create plans outside of combat, where they retain control. 

This extends to most dice rolls. If you're rolling dice, you're taking on risk as you can fail. Sometimes there is no other way around this, but optimal (read: skillful) play finds ways around. For OSR games this comes from diegetic scheming, whereas in more trad games this might be stacking bonuses and advantages to minimize the chance of failure. Regardless, the outcome is the same: optimal play reduces chances.[4] 

Meta Narrative

If I've convinced you that players should strive against randomness, there's a meta-narrative that might arise between players and their characters. "Law vs Chaos" is a common theme, especially in older modules, like B2 with the Caves of Chaos. Just as the characters try to enforce order and fight the minions of chaos, the players strive likewise. The GM, then, is the ultimate force of chaos, not the Orcs you face in game. There is a mirror between the characters and the players, and the GM and the world. While the players can plan as much as they'd like, the GM should recall, "No plan survives first contact with the enemy."

For GMs: Your need to roll dice and make the players roll dice. Randomness is your lifeblood. 

God Creating Order from Chaos, Wolfgang the Elder 1665

For Players: It falls to you, the player to rout this chaos, chase it from the land! The GM is a tyrant, and the collective of your play group must burn the torches of rebellion! Once the GM is deposed and you rule instead, get rid of dice rolls entirely! Everything that happens is expected to happen! Sure, you won't have much of a game to play, but you'll have order and isn't that much better?

 

[0]  [4] June 4, [9] any length, [4 of spades]. 

[1] Goal focused is an important caveat - we assume the players want to earn gold, level up, vanquish a foe, etc. If the players are interested in "telling a good story" or being surprised at the table, randomness is good! But in these cases, they are not optimizing. 

[2] There's a good discussion of this here (12:30). An analogy LSV draws is football teams down 20 points are much more likely to run the ball on 4th down. 

[3] This does assume some competency from the players (both diegetically and non-diegetically), as well as lots of information, and a fighting chance. Inflate the monster's numbers enough and no amount of planning can surmount it.  

[4] Again, this is not the same as "fun" play. Rolling dice is fun! Optimizing dice out of your game is not. Personally, I find that executing  a flawless plan is intellectually satisfying, it is not exciting. 

Class: Pine Eaters & Skill Trees

   

Pine Eaters

When the Monarch waged war on the Old Gods, the people of the forest sided with the Old Gods over humanity. The Monarch won victory after victory, and the people of the forest fled deeper into the woods, gnashing their teeth and wailing as the world’s caretakers were slain. The last of the Old Gods fell, and where steel parted divine flesh, corruption and poison flourished. The wood turned rotten and the people of the forest starved. Their descendants’ descendants are the Pine Eaters.

In cities, Pine Eaters carry a bad reputation, due to their stench and affinity for affliction. Their homeland, on the wastes outside the Rot Wood, has an odious decay ground into its fetid soil. The Red Wood is cursed, and those infected with this curse experience symptoms similar to leprosy before their death. Pine Eaters wrap themselves in bandages and carry everything they own on their person, as “grave goods” they frequently joke.

Despite their ill repute, Pine Eaters are highly sought after as mercenaries, trackers, and naturalists. Their harsh up bringing and seeming lack of ethics makes them effective, if undesirable, to keep as company. Groups outside of the Rot Wood seemingly have one master: gold.  

Wood grouse, sketch for “Hunting for wood grouses” (circa 1890) Jozef Chelmonski

Starting Skill: Nature, and 1) Military 2) Tracking 3) Religion 4) Jewelry

A - Resistance, Skill Tree I

B – Skill Tree II

C – Skill Tree III

D – Skill Tree IV, Plague

 

Resistance: The forest’s decay is seeped into your skin. You have resistance to poison, disease, rot, and decay.

 

Plague: Wherever you linger, pestilence follows. Every week you spend in a town or city has a 1-in-6 chance of starting a plague from little seedling that pop out of your sores. Victims’ limbs turn to wood and fall off, leaving villages into sickly forests.

 

Skill Tree: At each template, you gain an advancement on the skill tree. You must have the previous skill on a path to take a new skill. You can take Slug Keeper, Mercenary, or Naturalist to start (you can take these later too). 

From the Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind manga

A.     Slug Keeper. You carry a great slug in a basket (1 slot). It’s like a bloodhound that can digest anything. You would be ostracized if others found out how many you’ve bred in your room.

a.     Combat Training. You can command (free action) your slug to either bite (1d3) or spit sticky goo (DEX save or be stuck in place, melee distance).

                                               i.     Slug Spit. Your slugs can spit at a short range (as sling).

b.     As One. You can store your slug in your stomach (no slots) and vomit it up. If your slug is killed, another will form in your body after 1d6 days.

                                               i.     Gastropodification. Your skin now sweats a thick mucus, and your eyes bulge out of your head slightly. You can eat anything and know what it’s composed of. You can also psychically communicate with your slug.

1.     Grand Slug. You have transformed into a human-sized slug with pseudo-pod like appendages that approximate limbs. You cannot speak but can psychically communicate with any creature. You can spit acid (1d6 & DEX save or be stuck), crawl up walls, and squeeze through narrow passages, but salt burns you like fire.

c.     Two’s company. You can carry around two slugs with you (normally slugs are incredibly jealous of your attention and will cannibalize each other to be the sole recipient).

                                               i.     Three’s a crowd. You can carry around three slugs.

d.     Wurm Whistle. The hole in your cheek makes a noise that is oddly soothing to most insects; they are pacified by its song.

B.    Mercenary. You are skilled with firearms and gain an arquebus (2d6 damage, ranged). Melting lead makes simple bullets.

a.     Steady Aim. You have perfect aim if not under pressure.

                                               i.     Bullseye. Whenever you aim perfectly or Crit, you can maim part of your foes body (e.g. shot out their eye, blow off their sword hand).

b.     Smoke Screen. The pores in your skin can release a dense green smoke cloud. You can do this [template] times per day.

                                               i.     Acid Cloud. While in your smoke, breathing creatures must STR save or begin to choke, taking 1d6 damage. Rudimentary gas masks (e.g. a tightly wrapped scarf) prevent this.

c.     Gold for Blood. For each piece of jewelry you wear worth at least 200 gp, you gain +1 to any roll against your job’s target. If you’re not on a job (i.e. there is no offered reward) or you are doing something tangential to the job, this bonus does not apply. 

                                               i.     Gold for Life. You can sacrifice at least 200 gp worth of jewelry to reroll any dice check you make.

d.     Fight Dirty. The first time you make a Stunt (i.e. mess with your foe without damaging them), you succeed automatically.

C.    Naturalist. When in the wilds, you can spot anything unnatural or out of the ordinary. You leave no trace. Plants you nurture and grow can speak the common tongue.  

a.     Earth’s Calling. When you rest in the wilderness, you can learn a spell related to your environment. You have 1 Magic dice (MD) for casting this spell. (Ex: Volcanoes give you Fireball, woods give you Entangle, etc).

                                               i.     Old Gods Linger. While in a place of unbridled wilderness, you can spend your MD does not deplete.  

b.     Bark skin. Your skin turns wood-like, giving you armor like Chain.

                                               i.     Green Man. You become a plant. You do not eat, instead must spend 1 hour under sunlight each day. Weeds grow on your body, which rapidly kill off other flora if planted.

1.     Corridors of Time. Your ancestors in the future, when man is extinct and green men rule, have revealed to you the corridors of time. Once per adventure, you can restart a scene as if you had rewound time.  

c.     Extant Decay. You keep a jar of diseased dirt. Anything (or anyone) you spread the dirt on will begin to rot in 24 hours. If the jar breaks, you must spend downtime in a place of disease to craft a new one.

                                               i.     Wither. Up to [template] times per day, you can link yourself with another object / creature and rapidly age them (CHA save to resist). You can stop or reverse at any time, but you are linked with the target (so if you de-age they de-age as well). If your target is destroyed or killed, you cannot reverse.  

d.     Venator. When you slay a monster, you can harvest twice as many monster guts (for potions and the like). By tasting the blood of a monstrous creature, you know it and its kin's whereabouts within 5 miles.

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A short digression on skill-trees.

Secretly, every class with “sub-classes” has a skill tree. The approach here is very video-game-y, but players like unlocking things and having options. GLOG already does this by letting you mix and match templates; this is an extension of that, but keeping it constrained to one class. A party of Pine Eaters can look very different despite being all the same class.

Also, one space to interrogate is keeping options hidden until their unlocked. Unlocking “Grand Slug” is way cooler if you (as a player) didn’t know it was coming. 

 

The Ferric Hills

The Ferric Hills

So named after the Ferropine, iron bark trees which grow on rocky knolls. The region has unique weather: electric rain. Charged raindrops electrify anything metallic, discharging large amounts of energy. While this is dangerous for an adventuring party (a full plated knight caught in electric rain would be completely fried), the flora and fauna of the Ferric Hills have adapted.

Ferropine

These grey, iron-bark trees grow in clusters atop barren hillocks at their highest points. They are functionally plant-based lightning rods, and draw lightning to them during electric rain storms. They flower during storms, blossoming beautiful rust-red buds. These flowers fetch quite the price; salves made from ferropine buds can infuse objects with electric potential but harvesting them is hazardous.

When lightning hits a ferropine, it is discharged throughout the tree. Ferropines convert most of this energy into sugar via electrosynthesis. The remaining energy is dissipated into the root system, which blasts residual charge into the rocky soil. Given enough time, this energy will charge a rock sufficiently to cause it to “think” (much like how modern computers are thinking rocks). Thus, a stone elemental is born. The stone elemental will tunnel out of the hill, leaving a vacant cave below the root system. The ferropine roots continue to grow here, often creating impassable mesh-like barriers in the tunnels. Kilkalar birds frequently use these caves as nesting sites, their magnetic feathers allowing them to bypass the root barrier.  

From Scavengers Reign

Kilkalar Birds

Kilkalars are large, flightless birds with a flat, shovel-shaped head and an inverted ribcage that sticks out of its back. They scoop up prey with their head, throwing them into its ribcage, which closes tight and prevents escape. With prey captured, the birds then run into their nest, where they use the electric discharge of ferropine roots to kill and cook their prey. Eating cooked meat has given these birds unusually high intelligence (for a bird at least). Kilkalars have an extremely high tolerance to electricity when grounded.

Their black, magnetic feathers are of meager value in the market but make for reliable compasses (their tips always point north). In large quantities (i.e. a coat of feathers), they repel other ferrous objects, such as ferropine roots. Attempts to domesticate Kilkalar birds as mounts or as prisoner transport systems have largely failed due to the creature’s extreme reliance on ferropines; few farmers want lightning rods in their fields.

HD 2, AC as chain, ATK: Beak 1d3 or Scoop: DEX save to avoid or be trapped in the Kilkalar’s ribcage.

Stone Elemental

Boulders made animate. They wander the Ferric Hills as gentle giants, as they have no natural predators. Watcher lizards frequently ride Stone Elementals, as Elementals are both ideal sunspots and relatively safe transit.

HD 5, AC as plate, ATK: Slam 1d10

 

Voltic Leech

A small parasite, with ochre-white skin. Its circular mouth wriggles into its host’s flesh and attaches. The leech drains the electricity from its host, rapidly de-energizing it. Maybe useful if you’re about to be struck by lightning, but recovering from a voltic leech’s attachment requires long bed rest and plenty of electrolytes. (Blue Gatorade is basically a potion in real life, right?) Commonly found under the feathers of Kilkalar Birds.

 

Watcher Lizards

Appearance as a monitor lizard but with a third eye on their tail. Always watching, always alert, this third eye can see through all types of magic and other mundane forms of trickery, like disguises. (Some scholars argue that Watcher Lizards detect the soul or spirit of a thing, which cannot be disguised. Others retort that this cannot be the case as first, animals don’t have souls and secondly, why would a dumb lizard be granted such a gift?) This tail adaptation is the only reason these lizards survive; Watcher lizards are supremely lazy and love sunbathing.

Their tails can be brewed into potions of True Seeing.

 

Woolwhorl

An ovine with large swirls in its wool. Staring at its swirling patterns for long enough first causes headache, then confusion, then unconsciousness. This effect is amplified in herds or during electric rain storms: the static in the air causes their wool to stand on end, making their patterns larger. When attacked, Woolwhorls will just stand there and wait for their hypnotic swirls to take effect. Their predators frequently turn on each other in confusion, though solo hunters, like the Kilkalar Birds, have no issue.

Due to their disorientating pattern, most farmers prefer regular sheep, though Woolwhorl’s excrement makes for superior fertilizer.   

 ---

Post Script 

There's been a lot of very cool blog posts (here and here) on creating realistic ecosystems / food chains. Having another system with logic to it gives players another puzzle they can figure out and exploit; if the animals can survive in this dangerous landscape, so can they. Additionally, if these creatures have some resource (magnetic feathers, eyeballs for potions), players might pay more attention to the environment. 

I've also just finished watching Scavenger's Reign, which I've liberally stolen from. Highly recommend.  

Hex'd about Hexes: Keep up the pace

 [Reviews of classic hexcrawls in Part 1 and newer hexcrawls in Part 2]

In part 1 of this series, I posited that procedure influences hexcrawl maps and hexcrawl maps should influence procedure. Largely, this is I also mentioned some core questions the hexcrawl should answer. Let's look at those more in depth. 

1. Is the crawl a "mini-game" to get to one location or meant to sustain multiple sessions?

Some adventures have a hexcrawl to fill space between the town and the dungeon where the real meat of the adventure is. The GM might handwave the return trip to town, skipping a repeat hexcrawl. This is a perfectly fine way to use a hexcrawl, but this means the hexcrawl procedure should be light; essentially a question of "which way do you go next?" similar to how you handle moving between rooms in a dungeon crawl. 

If you're planning on using this type of approach, the core design constraint is pacing: How can players get from point A to point B without it being a slog? 

You can calculate pacing pretty easily - if each hex has a 1-in-6 encounter chance, and you typically get through 3-4 encounters in a given session, if you put your dungeon ~15 hexes away from the town, you should be able to get there in a single session (maybe a little closer to let players explore more).[1] Don't let players aimlessly wander, searching for the dungeon. Give them vantage points, a treasure map, monster tracks, etc. 

Most hexcrawls I've discussed thus far are meant to sustain multiple sessions of play. For these, you need to consider navigable paths, vantage points, and key location placement more specifically. 

2. Are hexes being used to solely measure distance or is there play to travel?

Sprawling, world-sized hex maps would be impossible to fully key unless you're a psychopath. For extremely large maps, such as Middle Earth, it's more helpful to use hexes as measures of distance. Procedure-wise, have the players draw a route on the map they wish to take. Calculate time required and resolve encounters as appropriate. At a large enough map, this is functionally a point crawl with added steps. [2] 

Smaller maps allow for more options for travel. While players move from hex to hex, can they Search a hex? Can they hunt? Can they get lost? If so, it's important for there to be visible landmarks to orientate direction. Can these landmarks help travelers see other locales? Here, you must consider if hex information is automatically discovered or only if time is spent via Landmark, Hidden, Secret doctrine. 

3. How many hexes should a group get through in a session of play?

My main complaint about Isle of Dread and Tomb of Annihilation was those adventures had rules that made traveling a single hex arduous (multiple encounter checks per day) and expected players to travel dozens of hexes to reach points of interest. These two design goals are at complete odds with each other. If you want players to traverse dozens of hexes, make resolving travel at the table fast in IRL time. 

On the other end of the spectra, you can slow down hex completion by either using crunchier rules or by creating dense hexes. More travel options (crunchier rules) take longer to resolve at the table and should feel meaningful. If players can search hexes, there should probably be something in every hex, even if it's minor. If players can hunt, food must be important. In short:

The more compact a hexcrawl, the crunchier your rules can be.  

What about making really dense hexes? Well... 

4. How much time should they spend in 1 hex? 

 Again, this is a pacing question and directly relates to the previous one but relates more to what you put in a hex rather than the procedure around it. If you put interesting, interactive things in a hex, the players will spend more time there. If all hexes are the same endless jungle, then players should be able to move quickly through all of them.  

I've already complained about these two modules, but if Isle of Dread or Tomb of Annihilation had every hex fully stocked, I think those adventures would still be a slog because they would take forever because the ultimate goal or "plot" is getting from Dungeon A to Dungeon B. The stuff in between is just slowing you down.[3] 

Conversely, with a compact hexcrawl, you can have every hex stocked. Your players can spend ~30 min poking around a random hex and still feel like they accomplished a lot during a session. Of course, not all hexes are created equally. Dungeons, towns, and faction headquarters will eat up more playtime than the hexes between them. But it might feel less satisfying if the journey wasn't interesting either. 

---

I believe the core problem with hexcrawls is the interface between Backend and Runtime as described here. Hexcrawls largely struggle because the map & procedure (backend) do not support good pacing (runtime). I'm an advocate for each hex map having slightly different rules, size of hexes, etc. because that encourages slightly different styles of play, even if it is annoying to mentally switch from 6-mile hexes to 3-mile hexes. Hopefully thinking through these questions and understanding how map design and procedure influence actual play at the table will better support hexcrawl design. 

 ---

 

[1] This is actually pretty similar design to a 5-room dungeon, though with more freedom of exploration. 

[2] An aside. Really large hex maps require random generation to stock or absurd amounts of prep time. Random generation can be done in play with good random tables but removes intentional map-design. I'm an advocate of Blorb principles and lean on the maximal prep side of things.  

[3] Especially in 5e where resource management isn't a huge issue. If resting overnight completely restores you, then combat encounters with no stakes are an IRL time waste.  

Top 20 INSANE (!!!) Wizard Pranks!!!

Or mostly harmless ways to trick your players using common wizard spells. 

 

1. The wizard flies on a rug, his feet strapped down. After admonishing the party from afar, he will offer to sell the rug to them. The rug is mundane. The wizard has cast “Fly” on himself. 

 

2. The wizard invites you into his study, furnished with a big shag rug. Stepping on the rug causes you to fall into the pit it was concealing. The wizard has cast “Levitate” on all the furniture in the room. 

 

3. The wizard dips a dry brush into a palette as he finishes a painting. He offers to sell it for a discount. The canvas is real but the wizard has cast “Illusion” to mimic a painting. 

 

4. The wizard offers to race the party down an open corridor. The wizard has cast "invisibility" on a door  half-way in the hallway and wants the party to run into it Wil-E-Coyote style. 

 

5. The wizard boasts of his great power. He is level 5 with 8 hit points and is extremely reckless. He carries nothing of value on him and is always prepared for a comedic death.

 

6. You catch the wizard while he casts “Sending.” The recipient of the message? Your hot, single mom. 

 

7. The wizard frequently casts “Scrying” on your party and watches you like TV. He’s developed a parasocial relationship and will humorously quote your iconic phrases back at you when you meet. 

 

8. The wizard has cast “Continual Light” on a silver ball he hangs from the ceiling. He claims it is an ancient relic from the age of disco, (or the age of learning to scholars). By completing a ritualistic dance beneath its beams of light, the wizard can learn “soul” magic. 

 

9. The wizard likes to cast “Enlarge” on himself to always be the tallest in the room, though only by an inch or two. 

 

10. The wizard needs to get rid of a pesky monster/cursed artifact/experiment gone awry. He pretends to be dead and uses “Ventriloquism” to have the object he wants disposed of loudly declare its ill intentions in the hopes the party takes care of it. 

 

11. After bringing chili and beans for the potluck at your house, the wizard casts “Hold portal” on your bathroom door. 

 

12. The wizard sends letters in ancient tongues to the party, only discernible via “Read Languages.” The letters are ads for various language classes. 

 

13. The wizard casts a foul curse of poverty against you. The “curse” is just him casting “Locate Object” to find your treasure and steal it while you’re not looking. 

 

14. As above, but the wizard casts a curse of death. Using the money he stole, he hires a bunch of mercs to gank you. He also buys them cool Nazgul costumes to really sell the curse thing.

 

15. The wizard will offer to swap spellbooks for mutual study. He casts “Erase” to destroy any spells he already knows and then offers to sell you those spells back from his own spellbook. 

 

16. When resting, the wizard insists on casting “Sleep” on himself to take a nap. Its area of effect will hit the party as well. 

 

17. The wizard has an “Unseen servant” or “Mage Hand” that pulls down your pants at the most inconvenient. 

 

18. The wizard challenges you to a game of dodgeball. He will cast “Invisibility” on the ball right before he throws it. 

 

19. The wizard casts “Fly” and soars above the party before pelting them with eggs. He’ll fly with the sun behind him so they can’t see who it is. 

 

20. The wizard bores of these japes and jaunts. He offers to apprentice a party member, for a “small” fee. The prank? Student debt. Alternatively, the wizard treats his apprentice like a graduate student, I think that’s another appropriate sick joke.