NPC taxonomy

Incidentally, I think this makes
quite a good holy symbol.

Back in the 80s, psychologists came up with what they call the Big Five Personality Traits model for describing people. Their feelings, motivations, methods, etc. I'm not sure it's a good enough model for describing a real-world person with all their complexities, but it seems fine for NPCs.

In this model people are described by where they fall on five sliding scales:

Openness to experience

A character high on the openness scale is going to be curious. A low score will make them cautious.

Conscientiousness

A high score means being prepared, a low score means being spontaneous.

Extraversion

A high score means being outgoing and sociable. A low score means solitary and self-sufficient.

Agreeableness

A highly agreeable character will go with the flow and co-operate easily. Low agreeability means being strong-willed and independent.

Neuroticism

A high score means always on the lookout for trouble, a low score means being confident. 

I don't think that low scores are necessarily a negative thing. I've tried to present them here as being advantages in their own way. The diagram below makes no such attempt:

You, in a nutshell

I use a 10-point scale for convenience. I'm always looking for new ways to categorise NPCs for solo play. Tools to give me an idea of how they're likely to react under pressure, which way they'll jump. I think this one hits the sweet spot in terms of usefulness vs complexity. It also has two other things going for it: 

It has a neat acronym, which makes it memorable. Openness, Conscientiousness, Extroversion, Agreeableness, Neuroticism: OCEAN. As noted before, I like to do my solo play tools-free. Anything that helps in memorising is a plus for that. (It would be better if the terms weren't  multisyllabic words, but that's not how psychologists work.)

It's also broadly compatible with Traveller's planetary qualities model, with a single, simple tweak of stretching the scale to 16 digits. That means that some day a Traveller character may speak the words "Yeah?! Well I colonised YER MUM last night!" and be (mechanically speaking) correct.

Most NPCs aren't going to fall at the extremes of the scale, so for each category I make a 3M10 roll. I roll 3d10, then remove the highest and lowest scores, leaving only the middle one. Charting these rolls would give you a nice smooth curve like the one below.

For the full array that's 15 dice a'rollin', so you could also just click here:

0 0 0 0 0

For my first test I got a result of 7 3 7 4 10. This NPC is curious, spontaneous, sociable, likes to have their own way and is confident to the point of narcissism. I think it's this guy:

I would have liked to see the episode where they 'let him at it'
and he gets punted into a canning machine

That 10 score is an extreme result, occurring in just over 2% of people. There has to be an interesting story in his background to explain how he turned out that way.

New spell: Urtell's Appropriated Abode

This spell conjures a house with bedrooms equal to the number of the party divided by two. If the surroundings are cold, a fire is lit and there is a an adequate supply of wood. If it's evening, hot food is set on the table. There's a pair of boots by the door. Coats hanging from the rack... children's toys scattered on the rug...?

Wait, did you steal someone's actual house?

Spells like Secure Shelter and Magnificent Mansion are useful, obviously. A safe haven in the wilderness when you need some downtime? Perfect. But there's so much interdimensional linkage to set up. Ethereal construction. Page upon page of calculations. Ugh. It's so much easier to just reach out across folded space and yank the nearest suitable dwelling to you!

And before it returns to its owners the following morning, you can loot it. 

Urtell's Appropriated Abode

3rd Level Magic-User Spell
Duration: 8 hours
Range: level x 10 miles from abode

The spell will bring a building, but leave anything it recognises as a sentient mind behind. That means the characters will sometimes find themselves responsible for a demented grandparent or a blackout drunk tavern patron overnight.

If there are no buildings in range of the spell, it brings the closest thing it can find. A large animal's lair, an overturned cart, two big rocks leaning against each other. It's a co-operative spell and it does its best.

The abode is not in its own pocket dimension. Lights in the windows are visible from a distance. If the building gets attacked, the characters will need to defend it or escape out the back.

Once the abode begins to show signs of returning to its place, characters have one exploration turn to gather their things and leave. Stay too long, and they risk being transported back to the building's original location (3 in 6). There are probably people there who will ask difficult questions.

Roll to see what kind of building the spell brings:

House table 1 (1d6)

1. Peasant cottage
2. Peasant cottage
3. Peasant cottage
4. Artisan's house/shop
5. Artisan's house/shop
6. Special. Roll on table 2
   

House table 2 (1d6)

1. Wealthy home
2. Military barracks
3. Stables
4. Tavern
   
5. Granary
6. Jailhouse
   

Loot tables

Peasant cottage

1. Old but sharp kitchen knife
2. Fresh apple pie
3. 2d6 rushlights (shed light like candle but go out if moved)
   
4. Woollen blanket
5. Corn husk doll (not haunted)
6. Fishing rod
   

Artisan's house/shop

1. Craft tools
2. Leather apron
3. Burlap sack
4. Grease
5. 2d6 planks
6. Coal sack

Wealthy home

1. 2d6 gold coins
2. 2d6 candles
3. Haunch of venison
4. Quality cloak
   
5. Soap
6. Saddle

Barracks

1. Boot polish
2. Poor-quality helmet
3. Horse barding
4. Sack of unwashed tabards
   
5. Bedroll
6. Training dummy

Stables

1. Harness
2. Liniment
3. Hay bale
4. 2d6 horses
5. Rake
6. Colic remedy (triple-distilled alcohol and some kind of herb)

Tavern

1. 1d4 sleeping drunk patrons
2. cask of good ale
3. Cookpot
4. Barman's friend (leather-wrapped oak club)
5. Ladle
6. Set of marked cards
   

Granary

1. Grain
2. Grain
3. Grain
4. Grain
5. Grain
6. Grain

Jailhouse

1. Leg irons
2. 1d4 wanted posters
3. Slops bucket (full)
4. Straw (soiled)
5. Filthy blanket
6. Oil lamp

Crown of cats

This crown allows the wearer to summon every normal non-magical cat within level x 100 yards/metres. Familiars, awakened cats and other beings of a feline nature feel the summons, but aren't compelled to obey it. The cats take 10 - 1D4 minutes to all arrive.

It also allows the cats to understand the wearer's instructions. Roll a D6 either for individuals or the group:

1 - 3: The cats, having seen what all the fuss was about, wander off.
4 - 5: The cats watch the summoner with interest, but make no move to obey. Eventually they get bored and wander off as well.
6: The cats obey the received instructions provided they aren't dangerous, tedious, undignified or too much work.

If the crowd of cats number more than six, assume that at least one is co-operative at first.

+1 to the outcome if the orders are something a cat is inclined to do anyway, like chase a prey creature, bat something around the floor, or knock something off a high place.

+1 if the summoner is in favour with the local cats - generous with titbits and scritchies and space in front of their hearth.

For the benefit of the table, the player using this item should be encouraged to roleplay their attempts to persuade a crowd of cats to do anything at all useful*.

Crown of cats

Usage: All characters
Charge: 1D10 charges
Appearance: A circlet of braided leather studded with white opals. At the front are a topaz and an aquamarine.

* a cat 'assisted' in the writing of this post.

Magic item: Forston's Excellent Terranautical Sailboat

Forston always enjoyed the romance of the sea in books and songs. It called to him in his dreams. Sometimes he woke thinking he could hear gulls. But the actual sea made him so sick he couldn't memorise spells. What's a wizard to do? Craft a boat capable of sailing on land, of course.

The sailboat is a small vessel, comfortably seating four or squeezing six. It has a single sail and a tiller at the back. One person can operate it. For movement, it treats land like water. It's the same for anyone touching the boat, as long as the contact is palm-sized or larger. You can even splash it, although it resumes its proper shape afterwards. Oars work.

All the magic is in the keel. You could remove it and fit it to another boat, so long as it would take a similar-sized keel. Too large and the magic won't trigger.

Using the boat

Level ground is like calm water. The boat moves at about 9/10 of the wind's speed. You can tack against the wind at about 1/3 speed. Broken ground is like choppy water. Features like trees are like sudden swells. The boat will go over them, but it's a strain on the timber. And the magic does nothing to keep passengers or goods inside. Forests or cities are like storms, packed with up/down inclines. You can tack against gravity and sail up a vertical surface. Once again, it's hard on passengers.

Forston only sailed his boat once. He passed over an unexpected ditch and lost his seat. He sank into the turf while gripping the sail line, but lost it - and the earth solidified around him. He was never found.

Usage: all characters.

Charges: permanent.

Appearance: a mahogany keel banded in copper and carved with runes.

The eye-mine of Dhurmak

The dwarven settlers at the holding of Dhurmak came to mine the copper veins. They made a modest living that way for years. An undistinguished minor clan with a small but tidy hall in the hills. But once they dug down underneath the ore, they found a surprise.There was worked stone down there. Crushed, as though the hill had shifted and sagged above it. And there were already-cut gems scattered in generous piles throughout the wreckage. 

Each was a green or yellow crystal, cut with facets by an expert. And each gem's centre was a flaw that resembled the slit-eye of a hunting beast.

Not being fools, the clan leaders had the gems examined by sages before allowing anyone to touch them. The scholars confirmed there was magic on them but it was old, weak magic. Made to hold something fast. That made perfect sense to the dwarves. They understood the difficulty of cutting flawed crystal without cracking it.

They stopped mining for copper and started mining for gems instead. Stones with eye-shaped flaws became fashionable. For a while Dhurmak enjoyed a brisk trade.

Disaster fell the first time they entombed one of their own with his jewellery on him. Left alone in the dark with a corpse, the gem liquefied. It spread over the body, dissolved the flesh and draped itself over the bones. Like a slime with an internal skeleton and an eye swimming at its forehead.

It spent half of that first night oozing between the debris sorting room and the mausoleum. Dropping eye-gems into the other coffins. Soon there was a squad of slime-skeletons. They quietly took over the hold entrances and the mine, converting living dwarves as they went. When traders arrived in the morning, they found it sealed tight. Dhurmak had been the victim of a silent invasion.

Now the dwarves are slaves. Driven by the slime skeletons to dig faster, uncovering more and more eye-gems. There are more gems than dwarves. So far, they've been content to share skeletons between them. Each skeleton has three to seven eyes, and a thicker layer of ooze as the number goes up. They've said nothing about their plans, giving orders and threats using hand-signals. Even so, the dwarves know that they live until they dig the last of the eye-gems from the underground ruin, and not a day longer.

AC 7 [12], HD 1 (4hp), Att 1 x slam (1d8) or acid (see special), THAC0 19 [0], MV 60' (20'), SV D12 W13 P14 B15 S16 (1), ML 8, AL Chaotic, XP (see special), NA 0 (3d4), TT -

Specials:
Acid: 1d8 damage + 1d4 per round until victim makes an appropriate save.
Immunity: Unharmed by piercing attacks. Half damage from bludgeoning, heat, cold. Broken bones halve movement speed, but don't affect the use of limbs.
Eye level: For each additional eye, the creature improves AC and THAC0 by 1 and gains 1 HD. It loses 5' from movement speed.

Eyes	XP
1	16
2	30
3	65
4	175
5	325
6	775
7	1250

The rituals of the goddess of secrets

In the covert hours of the night, cut a branch from a tree you don't own. Saw a plank from that branch. Carve an empty circle on one side and an owl sigil on the other. Whisper a secret to it that you've never told anyone. Congratulations. Any table you place that board on is now an altar consecrated to the goddess of secrets.

Everyone has secrets they want to keep. You'd think the goddess of secrets would receive more worship. Truth is, not many people know about her. Those that do refer to her as 'our patroness' or 'our gracious lady' because they don't know her name. Most of them are thieves or assassins.

You can talk about anything at that altar. At the discussion's end, announce 'we dedicate these secrets to our lady' and let a drop of honey fall on your tongue. Spill the final drop on the carved board. Now no-one present can talk about what they've heard unless they're back together at an altar. Your voice will fail if you try. Sign language works, but she still might break your fingers for trying.

This is a obviously a tremendous boon to people who need to talk about their plans in private. It's good to know your partners can't spill the beans, even under torture. The lady might help them out there, by filling their mouths with acid or tearing their tongues in half to the root. She's serious about secrets.

But there's a price. The lady chooses one of the people at the altar to perform a task as her champion. It's usually an act of theft or violence. To keep something from coming to light, or shut a mouth forever. She sends her orders in dreams. Which are crystal-clear on the goal you've been set, but short on details like obstacles you might face. It's her nature to send you off, not unprepared exactly, but trusting you to work out the details on your own.

As you might expect, the penalties for telling anyone about this work are horrible.

If you succeed at several of these little tasks, there's a chance she'll select you for a great privilege. You'll become her priest. (No, you can't decline.) Then your job will be to move far away from everything you've ever known and found an organisation in her honour. A thieves guild or assassins lodge.

No need to tell the junior members why their order exists.

Chess set bestiary

A bestiary of creatures resembling slightly larger than man-size chess pieces. As always, a wizard did it.

The first generation of these beasts probably started their lives as farm animals. The unknown wizard warped them to resemble the pieces of a chess set. Perhaps as living decoration for some noble's lawn.

Now they run wild, nesting wherever they find croquet hoops, topiaries and lawn furniture. Not much of a threat to the seasoned adventurer, but commoners would be well advised to let professionals handle them. 

These creatures are hard to hurt, but don't do much damage individually.

Pawn

Pawns are the juvenile form of the chesspiece. They only grow as high as a human's eyes. As they get older they take the form of whatever piece is missing from the set. If the set is complete, they stay small and immature.

AC 4 [15], HD 2 (9 HP), ATT 1 x peck (1d4), THAC0 18 [+1], MV 120' (40'), SV D14 W15 P16 B17 S18 (NH), ML 8 (10 in pack), AL Neutral, XP 20, NA 1d3 (2d4), TT none

Rook

When surprised, threatened, angry, or even just bored, the rook will lower its battlements and charge. It prefers to charge enemies, but any moving thing will do.

AC 4 [15], HD 2+2 (11 HP), ATT 1 x butt (1d4), THAC0 17 [+2], MV 120' (40'), SV D12 W13 P14 B15 S16 (1), ML 10, AL Neutral, XP 25, NA 1d2 (2), TT none

Knight

Knights are the fastest of the chesspieces, but once they start a charge they can't easily stop it. If they need to, they'll attempt to leap an enemy and circle for another attack. They use their hooves as weapons.

AC 4 [15], HD 3 (13 HP), ATT 1 x trample (1d4), THAC0 16 [+3], MV 240' (80'), SV D12 W13 P14 B15 S16 (2), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 35, NA 1d2 (2), TT none

Bishop

Bishops scuttle around on crab-like legs, approaching a target obliquely. They attack with giant pincers, normally kept hidden under their robes.

AC 4 [15], HD 3 (13 HP), ATT 1 x snip (1d4), THAC0 16 [+3], MV 120' (40'), SV D12 W13 P14 B15 S16 (3), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 35, NA 1d2 (2), TT none

Queen

The most agile piece. The queen has six strong legs under her skirt, with gripping talons like an eagle's. She can run, jump and corner with grace. She also has a natural sceptre attack.

AC 4 [15], HD 3+3 (16 HP), ATT 1 x talons (1d4) or sceptre (1d6), THAC0 16 [+3], MV 180' (60'), SV D12 W13 P14 B15 S16 (3), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 50, NA 1 (1), TT none

King

The King can mimic speech like a parrot. He'll often repeat phrases he's been taught, like "reinforce the archers", "send the pikemen forward" and "at them, men!" In a fight, his movements are slow and ponderous.

AC 4 [15], HD 4 (18 HP), ATT 1 x shove (-), THAC0 15 [+4], MV 60' (20'), SV D10 W11 P12 B13 S14 (4), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 75, NA 1 (1), TT none

Herds of chesspieces appear in either black, white or red plumage. Their preferred targets are pieces of different colours. Even so, they're prepared to attack anything vaguely threatening they come across in their territory,

The why of inns

This inn is (1d6):

1. a tidy building at a crossroads
2. a rundown building on a trade road
3. a rebuilt ruin at a river crossing
4. the remains of a demolished larger building on the outskirts of a city
5. a grounded boat
6. a rich man's house, now converted to trade
   

with (1d6):

1. a decorative weather vane.
2. a brightly painted sign.
3. a fresh coat of whitewash.
4. a mildly scandalous name.
5. an outside fire pit and roasting spit.
6. a crane for loading and unloading carts.
   

Outside there is (1d6):

1. a farrier working in the courtyard.
2. a barber-surgeon using a shed as a surgery.
3. a wheelwright repairing carts.
4. a carpenter making barrels.
5. a blacksmith repairing a horse harness.
6. a group of tiny stalls selling to passers-by.
   

 The proprietor is (1d6):

1. an ex-soldier who bought the place with his pension.
2. a no-nonsense alewife from a brewing family.
3. a young gambler, well out of their depth, who won the inn in a card game.
4. a fat and bustling cook.
5. a dour man who says little.
6. a cheerful gossip, who sells rumours to law enforcement.
   

It offers (1d6):

1. ale flavoured with local herbs*
   
2. strong beer brought by cart from a township miles away
3. dark beer from a nearby monastery
4. spirits brought by sea
5. wine, sort of
6. an alcoholic concoction of the owner's, which locals seem to like
   

and (1d6):

1. a stew of nameless meat, with black bread.
2. mutton stew with brown bread. 
3. pickled pork with bread and cheese.
4. a selection of pies with dried fruit for dessert.
5. grilled river fish.
6. barley soup with cabbage. So much cabbage.
   

Entertainment is provided by (1d6):

1. a girl who sings folk songs.
2. a bard who plays lute.
3. an old man who can whistle any tune.
4. a juggler.
5. an arm-wrestling contest.
6. a skittles game in the courtyard.

Tired customers can (1d6):

1. sleep under their cloaks near the common room fire.
2. pay for a straw pallet in a sleeping hall.
3. pay for a cot in a dormitory.
4. pay for a bed in a shared room.
5. pay for a good bed in a shared room with a few amenities.
   
6. hire a private room with its own fireplace and a maid to empty the chamber pot.**
   

An unusual feature is (1d6):

1. a high stockade wall, in good repair
2. boards across windows facing the sunrise
3. an obscure holy symbol over the door
4. a cellar bigger than the building
   
5. a bricked up room
6. 'decorative' weapons mounted on every wall
   

and an unusual quality is (1d6):

1. a ghost. It wails in the common room at midnight. 
2. a writ from the local lord. It empowers the proprietor to keep customers inside after dark on the night of the new moon.
3. a forest spirit who comes in for a drink every summer solstice.
4. a fireplace that won't light unless everyone present asks it to. Politely.
5. the rent. The proprietor leaves a beer barrel in a nearby stand of trees once a month. It's empty by morning.
6. that several times each year, a party of riders leaves with one riderless horse. No-one seems to notice.

Click here to randomly generate: 

(Thanks to Spwack of the Slight Adjustments blog for the generator code.)

* Modern beers are usually flavoured with hops. Earlier beers were flavoured with whatever the brewer thought would make a good addition.

** Beds in medieval times were a Big Deal. If you had one, it meant you could afford the material and labour for someone to build and decorate one for you. In fact, if you had one, it was probably on display where guests could see it. Not something you slept in! Want realism in your game? Shorten this list to "you share a pile of straw and a blanket with two strangers. Make a saving roll vs fleas."

The why of noble families

A set of tables for figuring out the local rulers and what their deal is.

These nobles are (1d6):

1. the last scions of a fading dynasty.
2. a small and tight-knit crew.
3. an extended clan of half-siblings, cousins and adoptees.
4. multiple branches at odds over the family money and land.
5. an obscure distant cousin and blood relatives who inherited from the main line.
6. a recently-elevated fighter & family, trying to act respectable.

Their family head is (1d6):

1. a stolid warrior, experienced in war and administration.
2. a second son who inherited when his brother died. Possibly mad.
3. a disciplinarian grandmother who rules her descendants with an iron fist.
4. a scheming uncle, always looking for ways to increase his family's fortunes, and therefore, his.
5. a weak-willed figurehead with a cunning spouse whispering evil plans to them.
6. a brash and impatient hunter who prefers entertainment over business.
   

Their realm is mostly (1d6):

1. farmland.
2. riverland.
3. forest. 
4. rocky.
5. marshy.
   
6. mixed (roll twice).

It sometimes suffers from (1d6):

1. drought.
2. flooding.
3. heatwaves.
4. freezing winters.
5. crop blight.
6. plague.
   

Their income is from (1d6):

1. collecting rent.
2. investment and moneylending.
3. mining on family land.
4. timber and sawyering.
5. charging tolls on a trade route.
6. sources they don't talk about.

A notable family accomplishment is (1d6):

1. victory in a historic battle.
2. victory in an honour duel.
3. ridding the district of a dangerous monster.
4. cultivating a new wine grape.
5. pacifying a warlike people.
6. draining a swamp to create arable land.

A family misfortune is (1d6):

1. madness in the bloodline.
2. no suitable heirs.
   
3. a rivalry with another noble family.
   
4. a debt to a supernatural creature.
5. declining finances.
6. a generational curse.

An advantage they have is (1d6):

1. an alliance by marriage to a more powerful family.
2. a sturdy and well-provisioned keep.
3. a busy trade route through their land.
4. a local religion which venerates their ancestors.
5. a powerful knight sworn to them.
6. a wise and loyal advisor.
   

Their current biggest problem is (1d6):

1. unrest among the peasants.
2. evil cults gaining a foothold in their territory.
3. monsters killing people at night.
4. banditry.
5. a dismal prophecy.
6. omens and portents.
   

In their lands, adventurers are (1d6):

1. expelled.
2. barely tolerated.
3. watched, but allowed to work.
   
4. ignored for the most part.
5. encouraged.
6. celebrated.

Click here to randomly generate:

(Thanks to Spwack of the Slight Adjustments blog for the generator code.)

The Shaldon prison

A prison which polymorphs its prisoners into forms more suitable for selling into slavery.

The fishermen of Shaldon always enjoy a plentiful catch thanks to the town's good relationship with nearby merman settlements. The aquatic creatures guide their fishing boats to shoals where they can spread their nets. In return, the town maintains the prison and uses it to jail criminals and other unwanted visitors.

The cells are short of amenities - there's no point putting bedding down when it'll just wash away. The cliff-side prison is built so that the lowest level, where the cells are, is below the high tide line. 

The cells have spells built into their very bricks. First Sleep, to keep prisoners from panicking as the waves start to splash into their enclosures. Then Polymorph, to change them into mermen. When the tide reaches its peak, The Shaldon mermen swim in to collect their new slaves. A life of cultivating kelp awaits them.

Prisoners who make their saves and resist the Sleep spell aren't as lucky. If they're not asleep, Polymorph doesn't trigger. They're likely to drown when the air pockets at ceiling height turn stale.

There are three cells the guards don't use. They may never have been used. Instead of polymorphing the occupants into mermen, they change them into sharks. Each door is closed from the outside with a handle that must be twisted upward to open them. Each handle has a wooden float secured to it by a cord, so the doors unlock by themselves when under water. The guards don't talk about these cells.

The soul-cleansing pool

A device that drains the evil out of a person and stores it unsafely.

The abbey at Mospid town owns a curious device, a shallow pool connected by underground pipes to a man-sized glass globe. Anyone who enters the pool while it's active has all their evil thoughts and impulses sucked down the drain and into the globe forever. Once in the water, the suction applied to their contained evil keeps them from stepping out until the transformation is finished and the evil is gone. 

People who have been through the process are placid, cooperative, and completely unable to make decisions for themselves. Perfect for cloistered monks. They work the abbey's fields and dairy herds, producing the famous Mospid cheese the abbey earns so much of its income from. The abbey also accepts a small fee from the local magistrate for every malcontent they turn into a productive member of society. As the abbot himself would say, the order is doubly blessed. (And any rumours about converts working themselves to death while their careless minders sleep or gamble are vile lies and perilously close to blasphemy.)

If there's one fly in his ointment, it's the glass globe. During the first year the pool was used, the evil it contained was just a thin haze. Now it's a roiling dark cloud crackling with electrical discharges. Sometimes the globe rocks on its stone base. The abbot has it strapped in place with ropes and nets while the pool's not in use. While it is, and there are visitors watching, he has men standing around it ready to steady it as needed. They don't like touching it. It feels like doing something shameful.

Clearly the amount of evil being stored now is a problem. The abbot has been experimenting with draining evil into pilgrims. These pilgrims come to the abbey for hospice care while they die, conveniently wiping out the burden of second-hand evil. The process is difficult. Like trying to take a cupful of water from a high pressure hose. Excess evil has been leaking out into the surroundings. It causes nightmares, sickens livestock and sours milk. The abbot suspended the experiments when hostile half-human creatures started to appear in nearby forests.

The obvious solution is to close the pool down and pay someone to lose the globe out past the edges of civilisation. The abbot vetoed that idea. Mospid Abbey depends on on the money and workforce the pool generates. Instead, he's been paying wizards and sages to secretly travel to Mospid and examine the globe. None of them have had any useful suggestions yet, so he has them processed through the pool to keep the secret.

The problem is coming to a crisis point. It's the perfect time for a party of adventurers to make things better worse different.

Magic item: Mini-iceberg maker

A pair of magic skates that freeze water to ice under your feet and are completely impossible to use safely.

When Robert Griffensmere, the youngest scion of the Griffensmere family, fell in love with the youngest daughter of the rival Dunbridge family the heads of both houses were furious. Both teens were confined to their respective households and forbidden to communicate.

The houses were separated by a wide bay which routinely froze over during winter. Robert was a strong skater and looked forward to gliding to his lover over a path of ice. But he didn't want to wait until winter. He had the household conjurer make him a pair of ice skates that would freeze the water under him as he moved.

When he tried them, he discovered that it's much easier to balance on a solid sea of ice than on two square feet of it, rocked by waves and his shifting weight. He tipped into the water and found to his horror that his skates were now frozen to an ice boulder. He was floating, but head-down. Unable to free himself quickly enough, he drowned.

The first people to investigate the floating patches of ice in the bay on a warm spring morning were a privateer crew on their way to harass shipping lanes. The captain immediately recognised the potential of what he found. He had the body lifted aboard and coated in tar to preserve it.

Now the ship drags Robert and his magical skates behind them to create a wall of mini-bergs to damage or delay small target ships.

Mini-iceberg maker

Usage: All characters
Charge: Permanent
Appearance: Two skates attached to a tar-coated corpse. When dropped in water it floats upside-down and forms ice on the skates.

Magic item: Spoons of revealing

A magic item that can tell you where you food came from.

This item consists of three wooden spoons, each with a hole bored through the handle halfway along its length. They come with a tapering ivory rod. If the spoons are slipped onto the rod, they sit at different heights and turn easily.

If you've eaten a meal or ration using all three of the spoons, they swing to point at:

• The field or pasture the main ingredient came from
• The oven where it was cooked
• The water source used in preparing it.

If the meal was prepared without one of those things (eg. dried meat or pickled vegetables), the spoons rotate but can't settle on a direction.

Duke Buckley took a lot of pleasure in being a food snob. He squeezed his peasants for taxes to pay for the best of everything. Spices from far-away lands, meat from animals bred for tenderness, vintage wines. He had a wizard craft the spoons so he could boast that he knew every step of every meal's preparation.

He should have paid the wizard for a Detect Poison spell. Or been willing to share his meals with a poison taster. He might have lived to enjoy more of them. His last meal of braised game hen with saffron contained enough hemlock to kill a bull. Squeezed peasants sometimes squeeze back.

The assassin took the spoons as loot and sold them back to the wizard who made them. The wizard suspected that a delivery of eel fillets came from further away than the seller claimed, and was the cause of his stomach gripes.

Usage: All characters
Charges: 1d10
Appearance: Three ordinary wooden spoons and an ivory rod. A heavy mahogany base slotted to hold them.

Orchestral bestiary

The orchestra went mad while struggling through the Sequenzas. They turned feral and fled into the formal gardens. They live there now, eating whatever they can hunt or forage. You can hear them late at night, playing strange and discordant requiems.

It's only surprising it didn't happen sooner.

Flautist

A skinny woman in a tattered gown, dirt streaked under her wild eyes like war paint. She taught herself to fire darts from her flute. They're smeared with toxins she collects by milking plants in the poison garden.

AC 6 [13], HD 1* (4 HP), ATT 1 x dart (1d4 + poison), THAC0 19 [0], MV 120' (40'), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F1), ML 10, AL Chaotic, XP 13, NA 1 (1d3), TT R

Specials: Poison. Death in 1d6 rounds, death save negates.

Tuba player

A tremendously fat man, his shirt buttons strain to contain him. He stalks, barefoot, like a predatory building and uses his tuba to fire actual cannonballs. Where did he get them?

AC 5 [14], HD 6 (27 HP), ATT 1 x cannonball (1d10, full round reload), THAC0 14 [5], MV 120' (40'), SV 10 11 12 13 14 (F6), ML 10, AL Chaotic, XP 275, NA 1 (1d2), TT T

Cymbalist

This one was probably a bit loopy even before that fateful day. His tuxedo is stained with blood. He's filed the edges of his cymbals and teeth to razor-sharpness. He giggles and whispers to himself while he uses them both.

AC 6 [13], HD 3 (14 HP), ATT 2 x cymbals (1d6) or 1 x bite (1d6), THAC0 17 [2], MV 120' (40'), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F3), ML 12, AL Chaotic, XP 35, NA 1 (1), TT S

Triangle player

No-one's afraid of the triangle player. His only job is to go ting! No-one respects him. Even the other musicians push him around. Maybe that's why he ditched his triangle and picked up an axe. 

AC 5 [14], HD 2 (9 HP), ATT 1 x axe (1d6), THAC0 18 [1], MV 120' (40'), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F2), ML 10, AL Chaotic, XP 20, NA 1 (0), TT P

Cellist

If a wandering martial arts sage saw this guy fight, they'd immediately adopt the cello as their clan's signature weapon. He can swing it like a mace, stab with the end spike or fire arrows from the strings. I think he's been secretly planning to murder the brass section for a long time.

AC 7 [12], HD 4 (18 HP), ATT 1 x swing (1d6) or stab (1d4) or arrow (1d6), THAC0 15 [4], MV 120' (40'), SV 10 11 12 13 14 (F4), ML 10, AL Chaotic, XP 75, NA 1 (1d3), TT R

Violinist 

The orchestra's diva. Everything is done with a little flourish. Even swinging that violin bow at you like a sabre.

AC 5 [15], HD 5 (23 HP), ATT 1 x bow (1d6), THAC0 15 [4], MV 120' (40'), SV 10 11 12 13 14 (F5), ML 10, AL Chaotic, XP 175, NA 1 (2d3), TT T

Conductor

Wild-haired, twitch-eyed, muttering in German. He hates his musicians as much as he hates you.

AC 3 [16], HD 7 (32 HP), ATT 1 x baton (1d6), THAC0 13 [6], MV 120' (40'), SV 8 9 10 11 12 (F7), ML 10, AL Chaotic, XP 450, NA 1 (0), TT T

The why of Witches

A set of tables for rolling up a witch's situation and motives. She could be ally or antagonist. 

This witch is (1d6):

1. A girl barely in her teens
2. A young woman
3. A middle-aged woman
4. A crone
5. An ageless creature cloaked in illusion
6. Just a voice from a shadowed corner
   

Who specialises in (1d6):

1. Potions
2. Protective charms
3. Reading the future in a glass
4. Curses
5. Spells to soften the heart and lull the will
6. Controlling animals
   

And lives in (1d6):

1. A hut
2. A tidy cottage
3. A ruined castle
4. A tree
5. A swamp hovel
6. A cave
   

She turned to witchcraft because (1d6):

1. Every woman in her line passes the knowledge to a daughter
2. She wanted to harm an enemy
3. Her community needed a wise woman
4. It gave her the power to control her fate
5. She had the gift from birth
6. A family member needed supernatural healing
   

Her customers are (1d6):

1. Followers of a suppressed religion
2. Local town-folk
3. Criminals
4. Adventurers
5. A high-born family
6. Unseen things of the forest and field
   

And they want: (1d6):

1. Visions of the future
2. Protection for a hidden enterprise
3. Revenge on a third party
4. Advice on personal problems
5. Health tonics and herbal remedies
6. Spells to ease their way to a goal
   

Her biggest problem is (1d6):

1. A demon suitor
2. A paranoid official
3. A zealous priest
4. A rival magic-user
   
5. A corrupted spell
6. An evil fate
   

Her biggest advantage is (1d6):

1. A protective amulet
2. A hidden sanctuary
3. A rich customer's secrets
4. A way of travelling that can't be followed
5. The good will of the land itself
6. A chest of gold
   

Her ally is (1d6):

1. A forest spirit
2. A fierce familiar
3. A grateful community
4. A minor demon
5. A skilled criminal
6. A fellow witch
   

Her interest in adventurers is (1d6):

1. Obtaining magical components
2. Delivering magical items
3. Protection
4. Acquiring 'servants' who won't be missed
5. Cleaning up a magical accident
6. Because sometimes a stab wound is the best curse there is

Click here to randomly generate:

(Thanks to Spwack of the Slight Adjustments blog for the generator code.)

Magic item: Latimer's ring

A hand-sized ring that creates an illusory pathway ahead of it.

The wizard Latimer was a secretive and suspicious man. His tower had many defences you wouldn't recognise until too late. The local ferry was one of them.

The river Vonne is narrow but deep and the water flows fast. The township is on one side, the tower on the other. Latimer never said he didn't want any one to build near him. But that's how it worked out.

The ferry was owned by a local named Merrick. He or one of his children operated it. They carried strangers across the river for a silver piece each. The boat was an ordinary dinghy, with space for four passengers. There was a thick rope strung over the water. The boat was secured to it by a second rope, with a metal ring woven into the end. The first rope was threaded through the ring and kept the boat from being carried away by the current if the ferryman stopped hauling.

But if Latimer didn't want visitors, the boat would reach the centre of the river and the far bank would recede into the distance until it vanished completely.

Latimer had a deal with Merrick and provided him with the metal ring. It's the physical component of the spell. If Merrick was bringing unwelcome guests, he touched it with his left hand to prepare. As the boat reached the river's midpoint, the far shore and the tower on it retreated faster than the ferry could chase them. No amount of hauling ever brought them closer.

This is all illusion, and anyone watching would see people in the boat hauling in different directions so the boat stayed where it was.

Latimer's Ring

Usage: all characters
Charges: 1d10
Appearance: 6" wide iron ring with a band of copper inlaid on the inside circumference. Has a thick frayed rope attached.

When held in the left hand, causes an illusion of the way ahead receding into the distance. Any creatures heading in that direction are confused by the magic and turned back toward the user. They never get more than a few steps away. Any number of people can hide by stepping into the illusion, but the user remains visible.

Save vs devices negates the part of the spell that hides the way, but not the part that makes people turn back to the user.

Magic item: Crystallised fruit voices

High calorie magic

You're delving a dungeon and come across a plate of crystallised fruit, good as the day the door was sealed. Do you A) avoid it, B) loot it, or C) eat it right there and then? I think the games with a C player at the table are the most fun.

(This post was originally entirely about magic crystallised ginger, but there's always someone who will tell you that ginger's awful and they don't like it. Those players are... moderately fun, in a very specific set of conditions.)

The fruit is a treat for children. It's imbued with a whimsical magic that changes the voice. For 1d6 hours after eating, the eater can only make the noise associated with that fruit. And they can't make it quietly, it's at top volume. They can eat another piece to change the sound. The only way to get their own voice back is to wait for the spell to wear off. Save vs cavities No saves. If you put this thing in your mouth and chew it, you get what you ask for.

1. Apple - roar like a lion
   
2. Pear - chatter like a monkey
   
3. Lime - hoot like an owl
   
4. Apricot - quack like a duck
   
5. Plum - bark like a dog
   
6. Ginger - screech like an eagle
7. Peach - grunt like a pig
8. Cherry - meow like a cat
9. Mandarin segment - neigh like a horse
10. Mandarin peel - honk like a goose

Some advantages are obvious. An eagle screech can be heard miles away. A roaring lion on the other side of a closed door is intimidating. You can stop someone from communicating effectively by forcing them to eat a piece.

(I left out oranges, lemons and pineapple because a lot of us like to play this game in a faux-medieval setting. Europe wouldn't have had access to those until the last century of the medieval period. Although something like pizza has existed since prehistory and popes have eaten it since antiquity. Isn't history mad?)

Magic item: Wizard in a bottle

Photo by Brent Moore, cropped.
Released under Creative Commons license.

"Friends, have you ever delved a dungeon and had to run for you lives because you didn't have magic support? Of course you have. And have you ever taken a wizard with you, only to have him claim first pick of the loot because he helped you out of a tight spot? I thought so.

"Well worry no more! Wizard-in-a-bottle™ gives you magical backup when you need it and not when you don't! Wizard-in-a-bottle™ supplies the esoteric knowledge and good advice you rely on without eating your food or grumbling about foolish hobbits*! And Wizard-in-a-bottle™ will never lay claim to a single hard-won gold piece**!"

The bottle contains an illusory wizard with real spell slots. The illusion has weight and solidity and follows instructions, making it perfect for trap-seeking or as a meat shield. Once uncorked, it has a 1d6 usage die (roll per exploration turn) or lasts until disrupted by something that would subtract HP.  Uncorking is a full-round action.

Naturally, it's expensive.

The bottle wizard has three level 1 spells, two level 2 and a single level 3. All chosen at random from the arcane spell list. It cannot memorise new spells. It's fearless, but may dispel itself early if treated with disrespect. While in the bottle it stays fresh indefinitely, but should be used quickly. The wizard that created it loses access to the spell slots they've invested in the bottle until used. They can also reclaim them at will.

Bottle wizard

AC 9 [10], HD 5* (1 HP), Att by spell only, THAC0 14 [5], MV 120' [40'], SV No saves, ML 12, AL Neutral, XP -, NA 1 (0), TT None.

Specials: Immune to all mind-affecting magic.

* Not guaranteed.
** Also not guaranteed.

A bestiary of cheeses

The trap is the second most dangerous thing.

A bestiary of cheeses.

No, you didn't read that wrong. If you're a repeat reader, you know I treasure nonsense. Mine and other people's. It's entirely in character for me to write a bestiary of cheese-based monsters and never stop to ask myself why. 

A wizard did it. Why? Well, if I was a wizard, I would. Wouldn't you? If you're a wizard, who's going to tell you not to enchant cheese?

Emmental

A yellow, mild and nutty monster.  Recognised by its holed and pockmarked surface.

AC 9 [10], HD 3* (14 HP) Att 1 x touch (see specials), THAC0 16 [3], MV 120' (40"), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F3), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 65, NA 1 (1d4), TT U

Specials: Swiss me - holes make it more powerful. For every 4 HP Emmental loses to melee weapons, its to-hit bonus increases by 1.
Swiss you - if an Emmental touches a character, the character develops holes. 1d3 damage per round. Save vs paralysis negates.

Bleu

A sharp and salty muscular creature shot through with blue veins. Its smell is strong too. Even when using stealth, its smell gives it away.

AC 9 [10], HD 4 (18 HP) Att 1 x slam (1d10), THAC0 15 [4], MV 120' (40"), SV 10 11 12 13 14 (F4), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 75, NA 1 (1d4), TT U

Mozzarella

A mild, white and stretchy monster.

AC 9 [10], HD 2* (9 HP) Att 1 x wedge (1d6), THAC0 17 [2], MV 120' (40"), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F2), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 25, NA 3 (2d6), TT U

Specials: Bloop - Mozzarella is immune to impact weapons like clubs and maces.

Cheddar 

A sharp-tasting off-white beast. Cheddars become sharper throughout their life-cycle. Found commonly.

AC 9 [10], HD 1 (4 HP) Att 1 x spikes (1d6), THAC0 18 [1], MV 120' (40"), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F1), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 10, NA 8 (3d8), TT U

Aged Cheddar

A sharper and slightly crumbly version of a regular Cheddar. Not many Cheddars make it to this age. They're too tasty.

AC 9 [10], HD 3 (14 HP) Att 1 x spikes (1d6), THAC0 16 [3], MV 120' (40"), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F3), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 35, NA 3 (2d4), TT U

Brie

A pale, soft monster with a waxy skin.  A Brie is liquid enough to squeeze through cracks and spaces the characters can't use.

AC 9 [10], HD 2* (9 HP) Att 1 x fondue fork (1d6), THAC0 17 [2], MV 120' (40"), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F2), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 25, NA 2 (1d4), TT U

Specials: Spread - on 4-in-6 a Brie can enter a blocked or barricaded space by oozing under doors or between loose-fitting stones.

Halloumi

A squeaky creature with a cracked and burned exterior. The stiff charred layers give it some extra armour and make it smell absolutely mouth-watering.

AC 6 [13], HD 2 (9 HP) Att 1 x grater (1d6), THAC0 17 [2], MV 120' (40"), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F2), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 20, NA 2 (1d4), TT U

Casu marzu

A soft monster with cheese mites crawling on and inside it. I dare you to eat this one. Hold your breath and close your eyes.

AC 6 [13], HD 2* (9 HP) Att 1 x sharpened cracker (1d6), THAC0 17 [2], MV 120' (40"), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F2), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 25, NA 2 (1d4), TT U

Specials: Mite bites - melee attacks knock mites off the cheese. They swarm the attacker and bite for 1d6 damage that ignores armour. Save vs breath negates.

Peripheral beasts

A bestiary of creatures only visible out of the corner of your eye.

Just like you need water, these creatures need attention. But too much will drown them just like too much water will drown you. They generally live in abandoned places where unwise magic was practised in the past. They're used to surviving on very little attention.

But when unwary adventurers visit... it's like rain after drought.

Peripheral beasts are immune to all weapons. They wither if looked at directly. In battle with a peripheral beast, Wisdom bonus replaces Attack bonus. All attacks do 1d6 damage. They carry no treasure and have no other special qualities.

Eyer rose

Beautiful flowers with vicious thorns. They can grow up in seconds and entangle an adventurer completely. They vanish instantly if looked at directly. But try looking at the back of your own head where they're tangled in your hair. 1d4 damage minus AC from armour.

Squiggel

Flying things. They bounce, jump and glide at the edges of an adventurer's vision. Often mistaken for birds or bats. Numbers build up quickly, because they breed and grow to independence near-instantly. Basically harmless, except as a distraction or making you complacent about things you half-see while you're busy.

AC 9 [10], HD 1 (4 HP) Att -, THAC0 -, MV 120' (40"), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F1), ML -, AL Neutral, XP 0, NA 0 (10d10), TT -

Bogle

Bogles will poke you in your unconscious mind. They make vague threatening shapes. When a character swings their head to look, they swing too. So they're always behind you. Their method is to make a character believe there's a threat, when it's only the bogle soaking in their attention.

AC 6 [13], HD 1 (4 HP) Att -, THAC0 -, MV 120' (40"), SV 12 13 14 15 16 (F1), ML -, AL Neutral, XP 0, NA 0 (2d4), TT -

Hungry wisp

The predator of the group. The other beasts are satisfied with attention. This one wants a bite of you as well. They often resemble wolves, bears or apes. They favour hit-and-run tactics, rushing a character to deliver a bite or slash, then darting away out of view.

AC 3 [16], HD 4 (18 HP) Att 1 x claws (1d6) or bite (1d6), THAC0 15 (+4), MV 120' (40"), SV 10 11 12 13 14 (F4), ML 8, AL Neutral, XP 350, NA 0 (1), TT -