Thirteen Tongues (Making Languages Interesting)

This is a collection of languages for modification and use in your games, along with houserules to make languages more engaging.Language as it is typically used in TTRPGs is not all that interesting - in DnD and other systems that take cues from it languages often end up picked at character creation and then forgotten until some awkward moment when it is needed. Players are often not incentivized to make their characters linguistically useful or spend any downtime learning languages because they are essentially just a checkbox. This is a shame because human language is perhaps the most interesting thing we've ever made as a species - let's try to put the care that language deserves into TTRPGs.

Shout it from the rooftops, let the ignorant and the learned alike know the beauty of your mother-tongue.
By Ferenc Pinter

 First, some changes to how languages work mechanically before we get onto the list:

• Each language now comes with an attached ability. These abilities are often focused around information gathering and social interaction. Fun fact, there is some speculation that the language in which you speak affects the ways in which you think and interact with others (see the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, very interesting Wiki rabbit-hole)
  

• Languages are now marked on your character sheet as Written, Spoken, or Fluent. If you have a language with the Spoken tag but not Written tag, you may be able to speak conversationally in that language but be illiterate in its script - the same works in reverse. If a language is marked with Fluency you are able to detect subtle nuances in tone when that language is spoken, read the script at a very fast pace, and write with it in a way that is considered beautiful or poetic. When you take a downtime action learning you may now do the following:

• Add a new language to your sheet - mark it as either Written or Spoken.

• Add Written or Spoken to a language you already know - if you already have Spoken on a language you must add Written and vice-versa.

• Add Fluent to a language you already have Written and Spoken tags on. Fluency requires a tutor who is also has Fluency in that language - if you want to learn Goblin you need to delve into the dungeon and find a way to convince (or force) a Goblin to go to safety with you and teach you. This costs a downtime action for them as well

• Each language now comes with a flavor. This is just a description of how it sounds when spoken, what it looks like when written, and who it is primarily used by, along with other notable details. I recommend keeping these to roughly 3 sentences.
  

• You gain +2 to reaction rolls to those who share the same Fluent language as you. This is far truer to life than one would expect and is a great incentive to gain Fluency. This bonus does not apply to the one most common language in your setting. Some languages have extra bonuses for achieving Fluency.
  

Some extra notes - languages may be unable to gain the Written tag if they have no script - some may be unable to gain the Spoken tag if the language is purely written - some especially esoteric languages may only be able to get the Fluent tag. If a language lacks the ability to gain a certain tag it will be noted in its description. Even if you only have 1 tag on a language, it is enough to benefit from its ability.

You gain Fluency in your native tongue on character creation unless you come from a very strange background. Extra languages gained during character creation do not start as Fluent - instead gaining 1 tag per language you would normally add to your sheet during this stage. Both Written and Spoken are still required for Fluency at character creation, but a tutor is not.

 ---

The abilities attached to each language often pull from reaction rolls. As a refresher for those less familiar with this old-school mechanic, the GM may choose to make a reaction roll if the encounter/interaction's attitude toward the party is not immediately obvious. A reaction roll is done with 2d6:

2 or less: NPC is immediately intensely hostile.
3-5: Somewhat hostile and standoffish.
6-8: Neutral, uncertain, may be won over or turned against you with the right words.
9-11: Somewhat friendly and welcoming.
12 or more: Immediately very friendly.

Reaction rolls are often made at the start of the encounter/interaction with an NPC, but the GM may choose to make a new reaction roll if the situation changes in some very unexpected way or a very glaring social faux-pas / extreme gesture of friendship is made by the party. The GM does not need to roll individually for each NPCs reaction in a group - instead rolling for them collectively. The GM should actively apply bonuses or maluses to the reaction roll as would make sense and fit the situation.

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With that out of the way, let's get onto the list:

You cannot have a wholeness of knowledge without direct and earnest immersion.
By Ferenc Pinter

1. Common - The language of The Empire - it has a droning tone and a script that is overburdened numbers and expressions of equivalence. Common is more often written than spoken, as merchants from all corners of the world use the language in documents and ledgers. The concept of humor and irony has been slowly eroding from the language - to the wealthy and powerful these are tools that get in the way of business at best and can be wielded as weapons at worst.
   ---
   Any merchant or vendor you meet has a 4-in-6 chance of knowing Written Common no matter what corner of the world you may find them in. You can appraise the price of anything given a minute of observation.

2. Thanks - The language of the people across The Sea - it has a slow and beautiful cadence like auditory honey with a script that is so informationally dense that some entire sentences can be condensed into one character. The language is notably obsessed with politeness and decorum - spoken rudeness comes out like a retch. This language is often learned for its script, as quite a few accomplished authors have made poetry penned in Thanks that can bring even the strongest of men to tears.
   ---
   Given a minute of observation you can tell what habits and etiquette will serve you best in your current situation. Just by hearing someone's voice you can immediately tell if they conceal genuine hate or love in their heart for you if applicable.
   

3. Chuckle - The language of wandering Knights - it lingers in laughter of all kinds and has no Written component. The Knights often use Chuckle as a way to conceal short messages and warnings to fellow fighting-men. The more esoteric and experienced the Knight is, the more ominous and strange their laugh becomes.
   ---
   You can tell someone's HD and class by hearing their laughter. You can also tell the reason for their laughter - is it genuine, faked, nervous, hiding a message in Chuckle, etc.

4. Serpentine - The language of Exiles and reptiles - it sounds like hissing and has no Written component. In order to accurately speak Serpentine one must split their tongue down the middle. This will forever mark you as one who has business with criminals of The Empire at best or an Exile at worst.
   ---
   Gain +2 to reaction rolls with outlaws and -2 to reaction rolls with the law if you expose your split tongue to them. With Fluency you understand and speak with reptiles - even mythical ones.
   

5.  Skull - The language of lost Undead - it sounds like nothing save the occasional clatter of bone and has a thin, trailing script. Lacking the organs to speak clearly, the Undead who still cling to humanity developed Skull. Only the prideful Undead such as liches use written Skull.
   ---
   You have an uncanny anatomical knowledge and can accurately assess all humanoid's injuries or anatomical anomalies with a minute of observation. With Fluency this knowledge extends to beasts as well.
   No matter what, you will have a very rough time communicating in Skull without both hands free.

6. Arcane - The language of Wizards and Sorcerers - a mindbogglingly complex and delicate script of strange shapes with no Spoken component. Arcane is less of a language for casual communication and more a notation for casting spells, found in spellbooks and scrolls. Older Wizards view Arcane as a pure language only meant for the purposes of spellcraft - younger Wizards and other adventurers occasionally leave written messages in Arcane much to the chagrin and distaste of the old.
   ---
   You can tell if something is magical with a minute of observation if you are not a Wizard - if you are a Wizard you can tell at a glance. With Fluency you can get a hint of the nature of magic present and its intensity.
   

7. Oath - The language of starry-eyed do-gooders and esoteric orders of Paladins - it sounds something like rhythmic choking and its script is written in large, inky blocks. The concept of a lie is completely foreign in this language, as such it is impossible to communicate any untruths in it. In ages past The Church used this language, it now uses Common swearing that this shift it is just to reach the ears of more believers.
   ---
   You may reroll any reaction roll with +2 if you only use Oath for the rest of the interaction. If you go back on your word during this time, take the result of the reaction roll as nonlethal damage - your blunder will be very obvious and unforgivable to those who know Oath.

8. Jest - The language of contentious folk and birds - it sounds vicious yet rhythmic and its script can be easily mistook for chickenscratch. The choice to learn Jest is one born of strange circumstances - as the language has the capacity to be wielded in such a way where insults actively hurt others. There are tales of Jester-Kings of the hinterlands who would depose enemy warlords with one Jestful breath.
   ---
   If you purposefully insult someone who knows Jest with Jest, you deal 1d4 nonlethal damage to them with your insult - no roll to hit. With Fluency these verbal attacks can be lethal - completely crushing the victim's spirit and giving them a heart attack on kill. Increase the dice size a step (1d4->1d6->1d8->1d10) for each of the following the insult contains:
   
   An accusation which preys on the target's deepest insecurities or regrettable past actions.
   A rhyme scheme, kenning, or strict meter.
   Something which makes the GM and other players laugh or applaud.
   
   If the target does not know Jest, the insults fall on deaf ears and do nothing.

9. Haunt - The language of survivors of The Dungeon - with no Spoken or Written component - only Fluency. You can tell someone knows Haunt by their empty eyes. The natural way to gain this language is to get very lost in The Dungeon and stumble back to the surface. Tutors of Haunt are often uncooperative if the student is unwilling to take risks for their education.
   ---
   You can listen to messages hidden in notable dungeon architecture. The GM shall decide what counts as notable and what counts as a dungeon. What the architecture has to say is often strange - rock and stone thinks differently than flesh and blood. Given a minute of tracing a finger across your surroundings you can tell which way is North.
   

10. Tracks - The language of everybody - its script is written in bootprints and has no Spoken component. Everybody is not an exaggeration - you can leave messages in Tracks completely unknowingly. These uninformed messages often consist of random babble occasionally interrupted by very accurate tellings of your whereabouts when the message was left. You can very clearly tell someone Fluent in tracks by their unique gait.
    ---
    Given a minute of observation of footprints, you can tell what somebody was doing at the time they left them. The Fluency reaction bonus for those who share languages in Tracks is +3 instead of +2 - Tracks tends to attract lonely souls.

11. Screech - The language of Warlords and ghosts - there is only one spoken tone in the language (screaming your head off) and has no Written component. Speaking the language makes your throat raw and bloody, but it is very effective at making the ignorant tremble. If Screech is used in a conversation, someone is more than likely about to get killed or maimed.
    ---
    If you open an interaction with Screech whoever you're talking to must immediately test morale if they do not know Screech. There is no reaction bonus with Fluency, instead flip a coin. On heads, count the reaction roll as a 12 - on tails, 2 - Warlords and ghosts are a mercurial lot.
    

12. Abyssal - The language of the strange wretches in darkest depths of The Dungeon - it sounds like methodical tongue-clicking and snorting - its script is swirling grooves carved into smooth rock. Lacking light, the wretches have developed their language to serve as both a form of communication and navigation - it serves as a way to echolocate. Abyssal is incredibly difficult to learn for humans, as their ears are not as finely tuned to "feel the space" as the deep ones like to call it.
    ---
    You cannot be moved by fear or charm effects and are twice as resistant to the effects of cold and exposure in darkness. With Fluency, you can use Abyssal for the purposes of echolocation.

13. Absolute - The language of Gods - it sounds as it is called, absolute and terrifying and has no Written component. This language cannot be learned, only given or stolen from a God's divine lungs. It is a legend that eons ago the Gods demanded that the early mortals of The Empire develop writing to record their declarations in Absolute - but over the ages sinful mortals used writing to skew their declarations in their favor.
    ---
    You count as a God, with all that entails.

All names of places and people in the table above are generalized for ease of modification. Feel free (in fact, I encourage you heavily) to modify these as they fit your fancies and your setting - make your own languages now that you see the structure of one. Let your imagination run wild.

No little prose about language - I just find this painting hilarious.
By Ferenc Pinter, you can find the tarot set this belongs to here.

This has been a long post and it shall stretch longer. You can skip this if you don't want to hear my playtesting results and observations, there's no more mechanics or table entries beyond this point.

Now since the referenced rules and languages are out of the way it's time to be a little more casual and less organized. I playtest most of the things I write before posting to make sure they actually work at the table and not just in theory, when I was a fledgling GM I was pretty commonly lead astray by strongly worded advice and mechanics which only work in theory. Obviously for some things playtesting isn't all that necessary - see tables or more casual classes à la GLOG - but in terms of giving advice or large and unusual overhauls of classic mechanics I do think it's responsible to playtest at least a little bit. I don't include playtest notes all the time in my posts but the results for this bout of playtesting has been interesting, this post has taken a while to write and experiment with, and I thought I would share the fieldwork I have done. 

When I made this system of languages my design goals were really just to make languages engaging for players of all kinds, even ones less immersed in the world who may just want to have a good time with friends or kill goblins on a Saturday night. I am confident I was largely successful.

The game which this system was largely playtested with was an open table focused around exploration of a large dungeon I had constructed using a hacked version of OSE - you can find the SRD here if you are unfamiliar. We had 13 rotating players all of friendly and lovely temperaments but vastly different playstyles. In total, 23 different player characters were made as some characters died or retired.

In my less lore-brained players the ability incentive really encouraged them to at least dip their toes into languages that interested them mechanically. This sort of developed a fun feedback loop in these players that encouraged curiosity. They would learn a language for its mechanical benefit and all of a sudden they could gain more info about the world since they could read and write or simply speak the basics of Goblin or whatever, of course this is new knowledge is fragmented because they typically only took 1 tag in the language they were interested in so they could benefit from its ability without spending "unnecessary downtime" learning. They would become far more curious about the world when languages they partially understood were involved - I think this is largely because if you give the players nothing to work off of they will simply pass by things they don't understand, but if they have fragmentary knowledge it becomes a challenge and information can be actively interpolated.

My more lore-brained players also had a blast with this new system - it created interesting situations in which they would genuinely consider kidnapping befriending dungeon denizens to gain Fluency when normally leave these NPCs be. These players also seemed to get very excited and immediately drawn to certain languages based on their flavor and history behind the language. In a few cases characters would tie a lot of their identity around knowing some language and tie their short backstories (in this game all players would get 3 sentences to describe what your character's deal was before adventuring, no commas or dashes allowed) into why they know certain languages.

The games I typically run are centered around exploring very large dungeons as opposed to political intrigue or wilderness exploration or linear adventure or what have you. Languages fit a very awkward space especially in dungeons but I feel that this new way really grew to fit this mode of play quite well. The gameplay loop that developed became delve, downtime (possible new language), delve again and gain more information where you may have been unable to glean in the previous adventure. This said - I am unsure this system of language would be a good fit for a very laid back beer-and-pretzels style dungeoncrawl, which I also occasionally enjoy running.

During downtime when I would restock the dungeon I would also stock the starting town with 1d4-1 translators-for-hire along with the normal set of hirelings available. Each translator would be Fluent in 1 language, rolling 1d12 on the list above. I let all characters gain the ability of the languages they knew and NPCs such as translators were no exception. The times in which there were no translators in town often there were players vying to have certain PCs in their session that week which I found to be an incredibly interesting and enjoyable interaction.

Making 13 very unique languages was somewhat difficult with this new way of doing things, if you have a constructed setting you're comfortable in it's far easier - the playtest setting I ran had 17 languages because I was able to work with more specificity. I think I've said it before and I will say it again that you should really prefer smaller tables over larger ones if you wish to have the results be meaningfully different. It's a hot take, but I find d100 tables to be wildly overused in this space. If you wish to make a large table like a d100, maybe try creating 5 different d20 tables each with different themes. I do this with my equipment tables on character creation and it works wonderfully. Do not try to make a d100 table of languages in this style - it will take you forever.

I use +2 for many of the reaction bonuses that languages give because +1 did not give me the results I wished for. +2 made languages far more cliquey in-world which I again find very true to life and also leads to characters of certain languages fitting fun archetypes and finding themselves in more interesting interactions with those who share their language. It also makes Fluency far more worth it to pursue for the time, money, and potential risk spent getting a tutor. The bonuses allow for players to sort of live up a fantasy where they can be a roguish diplomat which I feel is rare in TTRPGs where the sort of lived fantasies are more focused on violence.

One group of players managed to kidnap a dungeon denizen, lock them in a cabin in the starting town, and then force them to tutor. I have no insight to give here - I just found this endlessly funny.

I tried to make all languages unique - I've always had issues with "Common" as it exists in TTRPGs, all languages have their quirks aside from being spoken a lot. The modern day Common would likely be English or Chinese - if you think of these two languages for even a moment you can find unique properties or associations with them. I made my Common unique by giving it mercantile associations and abilities - I'd suggest you find a way that suits your setting to make whatever is your Common-equivalent its own unique identity.

Something for comfort's sake - I'd recommend only including Jest as an option with people you know or trust. It's a great language that opens up a lot of really fun gameplay although I can imagine that the insults would make people you don't know as well slightly uncomfortable if they are sensitive around this type of thing. I can give all the advice in the world but this shall always trump any words I can say - don't play with dickheads.

Many of the listed languages were heavily inspired (read, ripped and hacked to pieces) by friend of the blog Locheil's asynchronous domain game Ashes to Ashes and fellow friend Gokun's other asynchronous domain game Daughters of Necessity. Check out Locheil's blog here and Gokun's blog here, they're good people who have equally good ideas.

Fit For A King (50 Magical Wizard Robes)

This is an extensive list of magical robes. For how much the wizard's whole thing is wielding lots of magical knicks and knacks, I feel that robes are rarely on lists of magical items. Let's change that.

Three assumptions about robes first:

• They are flashy. No matter what form they come in, they make a bold statement - it's obvious that you are a Wizard. +1 to reaction rolls with other wizardly types and those of high society.
  
• They are worn over other clothing or lighter armors. This means that they are not concealable while worn in a way other worn items may be. 
• They are large, as such they take up an inventory slot but do not provide armor. They can be used as a full blanket in a pinch and can completely obscure your figure if you cover yourself.
  

Cloaks are for Thieves, who must blend with the shadows and pick people off with subtlety. Robes are for Wizards, who float five feet off the ground and shoot lightning out of their eyeballs. I tried to make most of these robes with this sort of very active and odd approach to problem-solving that Wizards tend to have.

One Could Argue Wizards Are Demons...
(By Jun Suemi)

1. Mauve with a leathery black winged pattern. Cover yourself and turn into a swarm of bats until you next touch sunlight.
2. Off-white with chalky red botanical patterns. Cover yourself and you will be disguised as a patch of mushrooms until you move.
   
3. Pure silver sheen, makes a sound like nails on chalkboard while touching the ground. The edges are serrated, whip the robes around and you can damage all nearby enemies (and allies, including yourself) with damage as a shortsword.
   
4. White with hideous brown blotches. Continually flap it for a minute and take flight - you look exceedingly strange while doing this.
   
5. Like a fabric mirror. Reflects any magic that hits its exterior.
   
6. Blue with a black tentacle pattern. While wrapped firmly over someone's head (successful grapple), you have control over their arms.
   
7. Black with glowing yellow fractures. Whip it at someone to shoot a lightning bolt at them. 1d6 charges, the last charge will hit you, let the player know the effect but keep the charge count hidden from them.
   
8. Countless shades of off-brown, pocket-laden and ugly. Store things in the pockets, whip the robe and all objects stored in the pockets will be launched in that direction at exceedingly high speeds.
   
9. Red with moving orange blotches. The exterior side of this robe is the temperature of a wildfire - heatwaves and ashes roll off your shoulders like dandruff.
   
10. A pale skin tone freckled with brown spots. The faces of anybody you kill with this robe on will appear on its inside, still conscious and able to talk.
    
11. Black with yellow stripes, vibrates uncomfortably. Tear these robes to unleash 10d100 angry bees from its threads and seams. The robes can be sewn back together and torn again for the same effect.
    
12. A pleasant blue with white blotches, inconveniently large. These robes always float to the top of water and can steadily support the weight of up to two people while resting on the water.
    
13. A finely woven tapestry fitted into robe form. The tapestry will rearrange itself to show the wearer's greatest achievements.
    
14. White, pocked with woven red mouths. The inside of these robes emanate a frightening choral scream, temporarily deafening anyone who witnesses its interior layer.
    
15. Bedsheet white with two circular holes round the shoulders. Throw it in the air and it animates, floating and causing as much mischief as it can. It does not listen to your commands but will fall back to the ground as an inanimate robe if you shout "ENOUGH!"
    
16. A scintillating blue interior and orange exterior. Lay it flat against a surface, step through, and you will arrive at the other side.
    
17. Gold with intricate silver floral patterns. This robe and its wearer are incapable of getting dirty - all filth within an arm's reach retreats.
    
18. Luxurious velvet with silver food patterns. The inside of these robes are lined with teeth that devour anybody and anything that dares wear it.
    
19. White with bronze clockwork patterns. Snap and the robe freezes in space and time, unable to be moved or damaged in any way until you snap again or let it out of your sight.
    
20. Yellow with orange sunbeam patterns. The inside of these robes shed natural sunlight with such intensity that anybody who peers at its interior layer is temporarily blinded.
    
21. Blue with pale swirling patterns. Whip the robes and produce a strong directional gust of wind that could blow down a wooden door.
    
22. Orange with brown hexagons. Lie down and cover yourself, the robes will harden like iron until you next move. The robes do not allow any harm or air inside.
    
23. Aggressive poison-frog red. Throw these robes and shout "BEGONE!" - the robes will turn into a high-level Fireball aimed at the direction you threw them. The robes are incinerated in the process.
    
24. Grey with spots of orange, black, and white. Shake the robes and 1d6 cats fall out - they do not have any affection toward you whatsoever. Tear the robes and a lion claws its way out of the seams.
    
25. Brown with dripping golden yellow streaks, a patchwork pelt hood. When the hood is up, your head becomes that of a random animal sewn into the hood.
    
26. Blue with shifting black splotches. Limbs that these robes are wrapped firmly around fall asleep. Wrap it around a head and the entire person falls asleep.
    
27. Solid silver sheen. The exterior is VERY magnetically attractive, the interior layer is VERY repellent.
    
28. Disgusting - a tan skintone with a large mouth on the exterior and a large mouth on the inside. The robes are sentient and very knowledgeable in topics arcane - one side always lies and one side always tells the truth. The robes cannot see and have little patience for trivial questions.
    
29. A pleasant green with verdant blue blotches. If you are knocked unconscious while wearing these robes, the robes will control your body and clumsily try to flee any danger.
    
30. Silver like tinfoil. These robes and their wearer are unaffected by gravity. Secure the robes to something lest they float away unsupervised.
    
31. Rich purple with smirking cherubic faces. Sleep with these robes on and you shall perish. The next person who wears these robes will be possessed by you. If the robes are ever removed from them, they perish too.
    
32. Imperial blue with golden cornucopia patterns. Soak the robes in something and wring them out. The robes will never dry, continually producing whatever material you soaked them in. Wringing is slightly disgusting and extremely physically taxing.
    
33. Tan with frayed white threads. With a whistle the robes will tie themselves into whatever configuration you desire.
    
34. Pale red with tan stripes. While the sleeves are rolled up, your hands turn to hammers. It is hard to roll them back down with hammers-for-hands.
    
35. Pale white with cloudy purple blotches. The insides of these robes pour out a slow but constant stream of fog, a minor hallucinogen. When torn, produce a massive cloud of fog, all inside save or hallucinate.
    
36. Blue with pleasant brown swirls. Twirl in these robes and disappear, arriving back home (wherever that may be). The robes do not travel with you.
    
37. Jet black. While wearing the robes you are invisible - the robes are not.
    
38. Green with thorny brown patterns. When thrown to the floor these robes instantly turn into a patch of thick grasping vines. When it touches its owner it reverts back to its original state.
    
39. Baby blue with ridiculously long 6' sleeves. While wearing the robes, your arms temporarily grow to fit the length of the sleeves.
    
40. Crimson with silver wineglass patterns. The insides of these robes leak a constant trail of blood. Besides the blood type being O negative, no other magical properties.
    
41. Orange with red triangles. Attempt to smother a fire with this and it will grow twice the size and intensity. The robes are flameproof.
    
42. Black with white accents. While the hood is up all noises you make are magnified ten times. While the hood is down they are reduced by the same amount.
43. Extraordinarily plain white, extraordinarily comfy. Sleeping in these grants advantage to all tests of willpower the following day. Sleep in these three times and you will become a copy of the robes.
44. Purple with blue hand patterns. While laying back and lounging, you float 5' off the ground. Any violent or quick action sends you plummeting down.
    
45. Purple with yellow gradient. Anyone who wears this can disguise themselves at will as anybody else who has ever worn these robes in the past.
    
46. Green with off-white diamonds. Wring the robes and they turn into a large snake under your control. Wring the snake and it turns back into robes.
    
47. Green with vomit grey-yellow blotches. Shouting "SUFFER!" shall make the robes turn into highly corrosive acid. Shouting "RISE!" shall make them re-materialize back into robes.
    
48. Purple with black snake-tongue patterns, many pockets. On command all stored liquids in the robes pockets will shoot out of the cuffs as solidified darts.
49. Black and white zigzags. Lay these robes across a wall - you and the robes shall become two-dimensional as if painted on the wall.
50. Black with a strange red emblem. Cover a body with the robes and wait - in one night the body will disappear, robes still present over the site of disappearance. Nobody knows where this goes, only one way to find out.

Human After All (20 Ways To Achieve Immortality)

This is a list of ways to become immortal. Not in real life (probably) just ones that you can nab for your games that may spark some adventure hooks or characters.

By Daniel Martin Diaz

Instead of Lichdom, this wizard has achieved immortality by:

1. Cuting their skin from their bones, their bones from their organs, and their organs from their nervous system - then animating them all to act under their will and separating far from each other. Death cannot effectively locate all layers of the wizard's body before one animates the other again.
2. Carving intricate grooves into their throat and airways then turning themself into a statue. Gusts of wind passing through the grooves sounds like their voice and communicates their will.
3. Minting themself. They cast a spell that allows them to speak and see through all visual depictions of themself.
4. Inventing True Darkness. This comes in the form of paint a shade of very intense black - cover a room with it and not even Death can see you. They intend to cover the world with it.
5. Bribing the Ferryman to Hell with an indescribably lavish boat. This has soured relationships between the Ferryman and Death.
6. Eating a body part of a God. Death registers them as immortal as long as the body part is inside of them.
   
7. Keeping their entire home in a time loop. Their schedule consists of waking up, reading for a few hours, and then conducting an incredibly unstable experiment that breaks them out of the time loop so they have control for the rest of the day.
8. Forming a fertility cult and transferring their soul and spirit into a pregnant cultist's child. The child will grow up to become the wizard .
9. Cheating on Death with a succubus. Out of petty revenge, Death will not claim the wizard - for if Death does then the two lovers may be reunited.
10. Being so repulsive that not even Death wants to be in the same room as them. They hate how filthy they've gotten, but the wizard does not clean themself for it is their only shield against Death.
11. Becoming a fate vampire. They suck the fates out of people and leaves the victims as wandering husks. When they suck a fate out of a person, they discard the old way they were going to die for a new one that will likely happen later than their previous fate.
12. Stealing children from local villages and intensively training them to be exactly like themself. If the children grow older and show insubordination, the wizard turns them into goblins to serve in stealing more children.
13. Turning themself into a summoning spell with a hivemind. There are many copies of the wizard out there - all of their summoned copies waiting for the moment to turn on their unsuspecting masters.
14. Animating their house to walk when they were still living. Now a ghost, despite being stuck to haunting the house they can still have the house travel where they wish.
    
15. Turning themself into an alchemic ooze. With various molds they built, they are able to assume different forms for a time before they collapses into shapelessness again.
16. Freezing themselves in a block of ice. They mentally command a pair of golems to slide them around and follow other orders.
17. Being an incredibly competent duelist. They have won every single duel they've been in, including one against Death. Death does not wish to return to claim them.
18. Reversing their magic polarity. Damaging magic heals them and vice versa. They get into many fights with unsuspecting wizards to keep their health.
19. Trapping themselves in their reflection. Their body is gone, but they can travel between mirrors where Death cannot get them and interact with objects shown in mirrors.
    
20. Creating a catchy song - secretly a ritual. When sung, it increases the wizard's lifespan by a negligible amount - with many people singing it this turns into a massive increase in life.

This was massively inspired by Archons March On's post about alternative methods of immortality. I find many of the scenarios and dungeons I create center on immortality in some way - so it's useful to have alternative methods for it - even if it's just for flavor.

We Evaporate (30 Spells & Designing Interesting Spells)

This is a collection of many spells from different thematic schools, along with some notes about spell design. First, a bold statement that leads into some context for how the upcoming spells are designed:

Eldritch Blast is the worst spell. Ever.

Since many here (including myself) do not play 5th Edition, here's a refresher - "a beam of crackling energy streaks toward a creature within range (120 ft). On hit, the target takes 1d10 force damage," Its lack of description other than these two primary sentences give it no wiggle-room to be used in any capacity outside of combat. Its only redeeming quality is that it is a cantrip, meaning it can be used an unlimited number of times - but this just serves to make it a better tool in combat and nothing more. It arguably makes combat less interesting since its unlimited use will mean that your warlocks and whatnot will be encouraged to immediately use this every turn. Arguably a greater sin, it has no thematic trappings. When I hear the name "Eldritch Blast" I expect it to make people's head explode with forbidden knowledge or shoot a ball of tentacles from your hand or something, literally anything that connects to the thematic spring of the eldritch. Instead we get just a crackling beam of energy - apparently the poor souls who pay for the 5th Edition books do not even deserve a color for their d10 damage beams of energy. 

A good spell should be everything that Eldritch Blast is not - thematic and interactive.

Thinking about Eldritch Blast
By Gigi Cavenago

 

To make a thematic spell, I make spells in groups consisting of a primary, secondary, and tertiary theme.  An obvious example of this would be the School of Pyromancy - with the themes fire, ash, and revenge. For extra credit, I typically like to include a taste (I allow players to identify if something is magical by tasting it), founder, and who uses each spell group. These "schools" of spells can instantly say magnitudes about your world and serve as a jumping-off point for more spells (by pulling from any of the themes). They can also serve as sort of a guide to who should be typically wielding these spells. The list in this post is split up by 5 schools of 6 spells each. Additionally, do not underestimate the ability of a great title to a spell. "Fire Grant Me Strength!" is far better than "Fire Protection", even if both have the same effect.

To make a more interactive spell, I often add a physical element to the spell where there is none. For instance, a spell that sends a single target into a state of bloodlust is already pretty interactive, but it can have a more interesting texture if it summoned a physical shield that, let's say all that struck it will be affected by bloodlust. You can now hand the shield to an ally or make a shield wall of this if you are a particularly strong wizard, it opens up many more possibilities. Eldritch Blast fails in its intractability but can easily be expanded upon if it defined what energy it blasts. If it were, say, electric energy (despite not fitting to the theme it is already too cowardly to stick to) it opens itself to more use cases like electrifying a pool of water, a weapon, etc. Generally if you can think of more than two use cases for a spell than it is interactive enough. Often times theme will enhance interactivity, do not be afraid to expand spells you find boring by tapping into its theme.

There is additionally an element of GM interpretation to making spells more interesting as well. I try to be generous when players come up with ideas for how to use spells in ways I hadn't thought of. If it's a risky gambit they're trying to pull off, I'll warn them that there is a risk (perhaps not the exact nature of it) as well if it's all in the name of experimentation.

I didn't know Vivisection would do that, I swear.
By Gigi Cavenago

House of Flames

Fire, Blood, Vengeance. Their magic tastes of cinnamon. Founded by Rishloo IV the Bookburner. Practiced by vigilantes of an incestuous royal bloodline.

1. Bloodflame Jelly. Leave a [LEVEL] * 10 sq-ft puddle of gelatinous blood that ignites and dissipates on your command.
   
2. Beginning Of The End. Conjure a talisman that stinks of magic and stick it on a building or other manmade structure. In exactly one week it shall be devastated by a great fire.
   
3. Brothers By Blood. Knight a target - their blood turns to fire as soon as it leaves their body for the next [LEVEL] hours. From now on all will recognize the target as noble blood, for better or worse.
   
4. Fire In The Mind. Enchant and item and give it as a gift to a target. As long as they keep it, their dreams are haunted by horrible nightmares of your choosing. They cannot benefit from a full night's rest.
   
5. Bloody Aegis. Conjure a shield that turns to bloody slush in [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. Whoever views it must save or be driven to insatiable bloodlust.
   
6. Flickering Form. Swap places with a source of fire that you can see. Whatever fire you swap with grows to your size briefly. 

---

Circle of Spiders

Spiders, Grace, and Moonlight. Their magic tastes of bile. Founded by the heretic Indigo Dubois. Practiced by a circle of witches who live in the attics and basements of unsuspecting nobles.

1. Behold, Me. Conjure a cloak that turns to spiders in [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. The wearer's bottom half turns into a spider the size of a horse.
2. Join Me In Song. Scream. Everybody in earshot vomits spiders and screams as long as you hold the scream, including yourself. 
3. My Eyes, For You. Conjure an eyeglass that turns to spiders in [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. Whoever looks through it sees through the moon's eyes and anything the moonlight touches with perfect accuracy.
4. My Bond, Unbreakable. Shoot [LEVEL] ropes of webbing. These form knots on your command and can only be destroyed by magical weaponry or fire.
   
5. Join Me In Dance. Touch something and dance. It will mimic you as long as you are touching. Nonliving things will animate clumsily and attempt to copy your dance as well.
   
6. My Light, My Beloved. Every inch of your skin glows with moonlight for [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. During this time, all who view you must save or begin sobbing uncontrollably.

---

Scholars of the Grounding Flesh

Anatomy, Death, Relief. Their magic tastes of everclear. Founded by the disgraced Doctor Nygarde. Practiced by medical school dropouts and war criminals.

1. Munchausen By Proxy. Name a disease you know and conjure a ring that turns to bile in [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. The wearer will display all superficial signs of this disease to a dramatic extent.
   
2. Marfan Syndrome. Conjure a bracelet that turns to bile in [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. Whatever limb the bracelet is put on grows to quadruple its normal size.
3. Locked-In Syndrome. Touch someone. As long as you are touching them, both you and the target cannot willingly move.
   
4. Post-Mortem Eruption. Conjure a satchel that turns to bile in [LEVEL] days and place it on something dead. If removed, the dead thing (whether human or otherwise) explodes.
5. Pica. Conjure a tapestry that turns to bile in [LEVEL] days. Whoever gazes upon it feels the overwhelming need to eat anything they can put in their mouth for [LEVEL] * 10 minutes.
6. Stoneman Syndrome.Wave your hand over [LEVEL] * 2 sq-ft of living matter. It turns to bone for [LEVEL] * 10 minutes.
   

---

School of the Ancestors

Spirits, Lineage, Honor. Their magic tastes of bourbon. Founded by nobody in particular. Practiced by a loose collection of oracles and occultists who call upon the same magical spirits.

1. Catherine. A ghost in aristocrat's garb appears for [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. She obeys the requests of the most polite person in the room. Nonviolent and extremely knowledgeable in etiquette, politics, and poisons.
   
2. Takeshi. A ghost in warrior's garb with a long spectral sword appears for [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. He obeys the requests of the most masculine person in the room. Extremely violent and justifiably brave given his status as a dead man.
3. Cristobal. The ghost of a horse appears for [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. It obeys the requests of the most sinful person in the room. Stubborn, no matter where it is it knows the lay of the land.
   
4. Robin. A naked ghost appears for [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. They do not obey anybody, simply floating around and making small talk about ancient art. They are exceedingly beautiful - anybody in their presence cannot be roused to violence.
   
5. Tim. The ghost of a child appears for [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. He does not obey anybody and will cause as much mischief as he can in the time he has. Horrible, dreadful, completely unreasonable demon child.
6. It. An indescribable ghost appears for [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. It is clingy toward a random person in the room. Nobody can bring themselves to view it willingly, and take mental damage for each minute they stare.
   

---

Table of Dolls

Dolls, Wood, Silence. Their magic tastes of sawdust. Founded by Nagel the Craftsman, maker of the first automaton. Practiced by his Nagel's loyal apprentices, and the lonely who have gotten hold of his magic from his less loyal apprentices for a price.

1. Magnum Opus. A [LEVEL] * 10 foot tall idol of wood rises from the ground. You decide on its appearance.
2. Muse's Tongue. Conjure a horn that turns to mulch in [LEVEL] hours. If you speak through the horn, plants and wood will understand you. If you listen through the horn, you can understand them.
   
3. A Small Gift. Conjure a ring that turns to mulch in [LEVEL] hours. Whatever vaguely humanoid thing wears the ring is given sentience and the ability to ambulate as long as it wears the ring. It is aware of its own mortality, roll reaction.
4. Mine Own Form. Create a wooden doll clone of yourself at any point you can see, at any size up to twice as big or small as you. It turns to mulch in [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. It copies your exact movements and your voice.
5. Ideal Form. Become a primitive wooden form (sphere, box, pyramid, cone, cylinder, torus) of [LEVEL] * 5 sq-ft for up to [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. 
6. Magician's Flute. Come up with a sound and conjure a horn that turns to mulch in [LEVEL] * 10 minutes. The horn blares this sound at the volume of a scream on command.

Asking The Right Questions (Worldbuilding By Bibliomancy)

This is an intuitive method of building a setting based off asking questions and interpolating answers with the help of literature. First, something I suspect many of us suffer from - the need to be utterly unique. I often find myself being overly precious in the planning phase when making a setting, be it a smaller dungeon or a wider world. I fear that if I were to carry out the thoughts that come to my head on first instinct they would be trite garbage not worth the labor of execution.

When I sit here and type it out, it all becomes quite silly. Ideas are cheap, especially if you have nothing to show for it because you spent all your time mulling over new, better ideas. But as children of a culture that puts so much weight on the value of ideas the fear still persists and can be paralyzing. As a person building a world, this paralysis becomes worse when you can visualize what may be the starts of a good idea but cannot justify it in a way that has a level of verisimilitude or connection to other things within the world. There is no greater disappointment than coming up with something you think would be iconic, having no clue how to slot it into the setting, and then casting it aside. There's the initial rush and passion of an idea, but then the logistics anxiety sets in on if it will work or be worth it.

Often I've combated this feeling by worldbuilding with friends with systems like The Quiet Year and Microscope. The collaboration between multiple minds can really affirm that an idea stands on solid ground, and the prompting of one person may take the world in a direction that reinvigorates your interest in the world and makes you feel that everybody at the table is a genius. Of course, this comes with three primary disadvantages:

• You need friends. I am lucky enough to have them, but all of us are students with very little time to spend.
• These systems have rules that every player must understand. You can only really depend on yourself to arrive knowing the rules and what you want to get out of this experience.
  
• It is often done in one session. It is quite hard to pick up where you left off in a worldbuilding game. When I worldbuild it tends to come in inspired sprints, it's not like I can call up my friends to play Microscope at 1 AM. The ability to worldbuild with prompting while on a bus or in insomnia-riddled fits is incredibly valuable but hard to achieve.
  

The question remains, how do we handle this irrational but still very influential feeling of idea paralysis?

Art by Alariko

Despite being too busy to worldbuild with friends, I've been suffering from this feeling less and less. A month ago I got my issue of KNOCK #4 (check it out, I'm in it) and read a post by Jens Turesson at The Acorn Afloat that changed the way I approach building settings almost entirely. It's an older post, but I did the digging for you and you can find it here. I will sum it up in a simple and generalized manner:

1. Start with what elements you want in the setting. Jens does this in the form of a map, but you can describe it as well. Statues of a strange God looming over the horizon, a glowing lake, spider-dogs, etc. Go crazy, go wild.
   Visual thinkers will shine here. For those who are less attuned to visualizing, come up with a main element (a lake, for instance) and then place something that doesn't belong within that element (it's glowing, it's made of blood, there's a cabin in the middle of it, etc.)
   
2. Pick an element of the world and ask yourself, "Why is X there?/Why is X this way?"
3. Take a book and flip to a random page, read the first sentence that catches your eye.
4. Use the sentence as a prompt for an answer.
5. Repeat until satisfied.
   

This method is brilliant for multiple reasons. Mostly, you can focus far more easily on establishing iconic encounters and elements without having to immediately worry about how these fit into the world. Also, through asking enough why's you can easily establish more ideas that aren't necessarily thematically related to the idea that made you start this method of worldbuilding in the first place but are still related diegetically.

Art by Alariko

This being said, rules as written the method can produce underwhelming results sometimes because you are trapped into asking "why". Sometimes "why" is not the question. The full potential of an idea can more easily be tapped by knowing the right questions to ask. So, I have changed the process with some notes that have worked in my time using this:

1. Start with what elements you want in the setting.
   Be sure to arrange elements with contrast in mind to give yourself enough questions to ask about these elements (i.e. "Why is this lake made of blood" is a far more easy question to answer (and therefore has less potential as an idea) if the lake is located in Hell or wherever else you may reasonably find a lake of blood)
2. Pick an element and ask yourself one of the following:
   
   • Why, if you're looking for a reason or motive behind why an element is there or the way it is.
     
   • How, if you're looking for the logistics behind an element or what means it may have.
     
   • Who, if you're looking to add an NPC related to the element.
   • What, if you're looking to add another element related to this current element.
   • When, if you're looking to mention the past or a prophesied future, and add that time as a new element (this question is not often used)
   • Where, if a part of the element is present somewhere other than here, and add that place as a new element (also rarely used)
     
3. Take a book and flip to a random page, read the first sentence that catches your eye.
   
4. Use the sentence as a prompt for the answer. One to two sentences is often a good length. Do not be afraid of reaching or using an answer that you feel is unrelated to the prompt. This is not a standard to hold your world to, simply a method to help you build a world in an intuitive way.
   
5. Note down any new elements established through this line of questioning. These will come in handy to remind you of where you left off and further possible elements to develop.
   
6. Repeat on new elements or this element until satisfied. I find that three questions asked about one element is often enough to define it pretty well before moving onto an element related to it - but play to your taste.
   

And, some design notes: 

• Avoid asking Do/Does/Are/Is questions. These can often be answered with a simple yes or no. They are still important to define, but a coin is the correct tool for that, not a book. Yes is typically the correct answer.
  
• Books don't need to be the only media used in this exercise. Song lyrics work as well as long as your taste isn't limited to ambience. For books, I recommend poetry, but I've had a friend who got good use out of a coding textbook as well - so anything will do. If you do use a book, the best ones for this are those not heavy in short bursts of dialogue.
  
• Limiting yourself to one book or similar songs can help in getting a more consistent tone of answers if that is what you seek. 
• This method can also be tried on defining NPCs! This does not need to just be reserved for spaces and settings. Ask questions on why they wear certain clothes or how they got their weird gear.
  
• This does not completely replace the usefulness of a friend's help. I frequently vent ideas to Archon of Archon's Court, who aside from being an excellent writer is lovely for listening to my ramblings. This is a good method for still maintaining the surprise of your world to your friends, but I think any GM would go insane if they couldn't talk about what they were working on to somebody.
  

Art by Alariko

And finally, an example with a few more notes: 

A RUINED CABIN IN THE WOODS, A DRIED RIVER RUNS CLOSE TO IT.

• Why did someone build this cabin here?
  
• "Like winged stars the fire-flies flash and glance, / Pale in the open moonshine, but each one..." - Letter to Maria Gisborne, Percy Bysshe Shelley
  
• This cabin was built to harvest firefly-liquor, also known as Sunshine. The low trees and fertile insect-breeding grounds make this a good place to collect the mass amount of fireflies needed for this.
  
• What caused the cabin's destruction?
  
• "Close by the waterfall, the column slants, / And feels its ceaseless breeze. But what is this?" - The Picture, Samuel Taylor Coleridge
  
• A water elemental ruined the shack.
  Hm, a fine start. Perhaps it's a liquor elemental! Yeah, that's fun, it's a liquor elemental. Never be afraid to reach if another answer that comes from this questioning seems more fun or thematically appropriate!
  A barrel of firefly-liquor became an elemental and trashed the place, causing its previous inhabitants to flee.
  
• Who lived here before the cabin's destruction?
  
• "Titan! to whose immortal eyes / The sufferings of mortality," - Prometheus, Lord Byron
  
• A 12 foot tall immortal man, with the red puffy face of an alcoholic - locals report his name was Noryb.
  If you're out of ideas for NPC names, use the author's one scrambled or backwards!
  
• Where does the dried river start?
  
• "Can Ariel ever find his own. / From Prospero's enchanted cell, [...]" - With a Guitar, to Jane, Percy Bysshe Shelley
  
• An abandoned prison.
  Another fine start, but with the prompt "enchanted" and the information we have, we can easily attach this to more context. You may start to see how the order in which you ask certain questions can play out in forming a location!
   An abandoned prison for immortals, meant to keep them from committing crimes out of disdain for mortal men.
  
• How did Noryb the Immortal defend himself from the nearby prison?
  
• "But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet / Wherewith the seasonable month endows." - Ode to a Nightingale, John Keats
  
• The shadows within the cabin's confines are magical. If you slip into one, you turn invisible - which allowed Noryb to hide from prison patrols and scare off intruders.
  I could have easily said that Noryb is able to turn invisible in shadows, but tying this effect to the location instead of just one NPC makes it more interesting and allows you to use it as a springboard for more questions.
  
• When did the cabin become abandoned?
  
• "Ten thousand saw I at a glance, / Tossing their heads in sprightly dance." - I wandered Lonely as a Cloud, William Wordsworth
  
• During the Ousting Of The Immortals, when peasants from hamlets all round came to burn anybody accused of Immortal Practices.
  Giving anything a proper name is an easy way to establish it as a new element you can explore later!
  

Look at that - just by asking a few questions we have got a place with a fun background and connection to the world around it while still having more elements to prod at if we so desire! I could easily see this all as a hexcrawl or something similar. Let's list those elements established in this line of questioning so we may prod at them later if we ever want to pick this back up:

• The Dried River
  
• Firefly-liquor (Known as Sunshine)
• The Sunshine Elemental
• Noryb the Immortal
  
• Abandoned Immortal Prison
• Magical Shadows
• Ousting Of The Immortals
• Nearby Hamlets
• Immortal Practices
  

For the sake of example I relied pretty heavily on using every different type of question and using the books quite often. Typically I'd do around 3 questions before feeling satisfied instead of 6, and use duplicate questions if need be (I really wanted to ask Why did the elemental destroy the cabin but I restrained myself). I'm also completely fine with leaving some questions unanswered - not everything needs to be detailed out.

But remember that your instincts are not as bad as you think they are. If you are confident you know the answer to a question, you don't need a book to tell you otherwise. The goal of this procedure is to reinvigorate your surprise and wonder in creating a setting. To get you more excited and confident in your own ideas because now they are shared between you and an author of the past. To encourage some healthy spontaneity and make you take guided steps toward making the damn thing!

Beginning Of The End (How To Finish A Campaign)

These are a few methods to help end a campaign in a way that satisfactory toward everybody at the table. If you've been a player or a GM in more than one long-running campaign, you've likely experienced the fizzle. Simply, the game dies with a whimper and not the bang we all envision when we picture a game's climactic end. The fizzle happens most commonly in three different ways:

• Things are going well, then slowly scheduling problems occur. Nobody seems able to remedy them. The game dies in stasis with empty promises to pick it up again before it is abandoned.
• The players meander around for a few sessions. Player interest begins to die down. The GM's interest dies down as well. The game is abandoned to move onto the next great thing while this world and its characters are left to be forgotten.
• The GM cannot bear the weight of their own ambition when they started this game. They put it on hiatus. It never starts again. It becomes a sore point of conversation.

The Tower by Ferenc Pinter

These are largely symptoms that come from the intersection of wildly overestimating the mortality of your game and not having a clear objective for the players to fulfill. As much as we in the OSR community tote the phrase "run situations, not stories" (or variations thereof), as a storytelling species we naturally crave a narrative and it's disheartening to see the fizzle rid a game of a fulfilling ending. But, there is a principle we as GMs can apply to prevent the fizzle:

When beginning a game, have a planned end condition. This can be anything from "this game will end when the semester ends" to "this game will end when you have collected a certain object in the dungeon or die trying". Choose a timeframe or objective that works best for you and your group's circumstances. Discuss it openly with them.

Tie the end condition into the world. "This game will end when the semester ends" is not exactly a graceful way to end a story and does not complete the objectives we are looking for. Try to tie this timeframe into the world. For instance, spinning it as "The dragonfire bomb will consume the world in flame when the semester ends" immediately says a lot about your world and gets players interested. It does not always have to be the end of the world, though, even if that is the easiest way to tie the timeframe of the campaign into the world. "The last boat leaves off this island by semester's end" and "your debtees will have your kneecaps come semester end" are lower stakes but equally as valid. All that matters is that it ties into the world and affects the players to where it'd feasibly be an end.

Be very transparent with players about this end condition. Don't keep the end condition a secret from them, even if it feels like it should be because of how it is tied to the world. Knowledge of the game's mortality will make players act in more brave ways that leads to more interesting gaming and storytelling.

Have the player's starting conditions be influenced by the end condition. If the game ends when the players escape the megadungeon-prison of Cath-Dunn, it makes no sense to have them roll 3d6x10 gp and buy their gear from the equipment list. Once the players are informed of the end condition and are comfortable with it, be unafraid to throw them into their situation with nothing but rags, loose manacles, and a skewer of cooked rats. Specificity like this adds flavor to the game and verisimilitude to the world and the situation your players are in.

Foreshadow the end condition through the world, give it a focus. The dragonfire bomb ticking deep beneath the earth, increasing in volume as the end approaches. Ships slowly leaving port, the town becomes less populated until it is just you and the last boat. Increasingly threatening letters from your debtees. Remind the players of the game's mortality from time to time to increase pressure, remind them of their circumstances, or add a grim ambiance.

Let the players define their own victory. Listen to their plans and encourage their own exploration of the world in the time they have. If their original goal was to pay off their debts but now they want a final confrontation with their powerful debtees, let them have it, even if it was not in your original vision. This tip is more for games that end over a timeframe rather than games that end when a certain objective is met (i.e. retrieve the Sword Of The Holy Wyrm from the dungeon or die trying). Games that end on an objective already have a defined victory condition - completing the objective. As a note, generally objective-based end conditions require more talk between players and GM beforehand to confirm that everybody is okay with the premise.

I have personally been using these principles for a long while and I've found them to be successful. There's been a significant drop in the amount of times the fizzle occurs. Scheduling problems still happen, gathering three to six adults in one room for several hours is a surprisingly difficult task as any GM knows - but the knowledge of the game's end motivates people to schedule more purposefully, encourages player exploration in the limited time they have, and limits the GM's scope. All of this leads to a more smooth and complete game experience.

Before utilizing these principles, I have found myself being influenced by the expectation that is rampant in Fifth Edition circles (despite not even using 5e), that a campaign should last until players naturally wander into the climactic encounter the GM was planning all along. This expectation is nigh-impossible to live up to, as herding players toward a planned climax and having them believe that this was actually what they wanted all along leads to the player's choices feeling obsolete and the world being flattened. This expectation often requires a lot of scope creep, as players naturally want to explore the world and waltz away from your climactic encounter or are simply not ready to handle it yet. The limiting of scope creep has helped me become a happier GM and get more restful hours of sleep.

Acknowledging the mortality of a campaign is uncomfortable and strange, but ultimately beneficial to how the game pans out. The times you have with your friends are limited - the times you spend together in worlds of collective imagination even more so - it is best to spend these times in a way that offers closure and completeness to you, your friends, the characters, and your world so you may speak of them with fondness instead of regret.

The Fool by Ferenc Pinter

Now for some informal additions to this post. I got carried away writing this post and wrote a small table of example end conditions, some I've even used in the past. Remember if you use these that the end conditions should influence the player's starting conditions. I hope you enjoy these:

1. When the semester is over, the dragonfire bomb deep beneath the earth will explode bathing the world in spectral green fire.
   
2. When Spring is over, your mage-debtees will come to take your organs as payment.
   
3. When the sunlight touches your flesh and you are free from the labyrinth, the game will end.
4. When the weekend is over, the archpriest shall leave the county and the heist shall have to be called off.
5. When Winter is over, Immortal Deustresses will cast judgement upon you and either smite you or make you living saints.
6. When you have found a way to the moon, the game will end.
7. When we return to campus, the Golden Rot will turn your bodies to brilliant golden statues.
8. When Fall is over, the dungeon will collapse.
9. When Summer is over, all magic loses its potency, and as mages your legacies will end.
10. When tax season arrives, if you have not paid 1,000,000 gp to the King you will be beheaded. If successfully paid, you will be freed from your knightly servitude and retire. Either way the game will end.
    

Additionally, some final design notes:

• End-conditions set within a timeframe are FAR easier to pull off than ones based around an objective. I recommend you start with timeframes if you are unfamiliar with these principles. It immediately adds pressure to the players to act in interesting ways in a way that pursuing an objective does not. Although, objective-based and timeframe-based end conditions can be mixed for fun and profit. Number 10 on the example table is a fine example of this.
  
• I cannot stress enough the importance of being transparent about your end conditions with your players. A game can be something that people get incredibly emotionally invested in, and to rob invested players of the game with an end they did not see coming can cause even more sour feelings than the fizzle. Additionally, you must remember that you can only make meaningful decisions as a player when given enough information about your situation. I believe that the game's end conditions fall into that set of information that is critical to decision-making.
  
• Remember that these are end-conditions. Start them with When, not If. The game's end will always come, this post is about ending it on terms everybody is happy with.
  

Knots (A Procedure For Elegant Jaquaysing)

This is an approach to automatically Jaquays your dungeons while building them. For those unfamiliar - Jaquaysing is a term popularized by Justin Alexander, named after the late Jennell Jaquays. It refers to a specific set of tricks you can use to make your dungeon (or any space, really) have a greater sense of interconnectivity and nonlinearity. Jaquaysing is important because to Jaquays your dungeon is to make it a more playable space that allows for player freedom.

Labyrinth II by Erik Desmazières

The principles of Jaquaysing are generally to:

• Add loops to your dungeon. Loops provide the players multiple options to tackle their problems, and the ability to approach problems from behind. For instance, rooms 14 through 17 in the imaginary Loathsome Frog Caverns form a loop (14 connects to 15, which connects to 16, which connects to 17, and 17 connects to 14). 17 has a Frog-Curse Blade in a glass display case, but the way between 14 and 17 is blocked by a punji pit. Meanwhile 15 is home to a Froghemoth. Here players who enter 14 are presented with two different problems - but because 15 leads to 16 leads to 17, players can still get the Frog-Curse Blade if they are feeling down to fight the Froghemoth instead of traverse the punji pit.
  
• Add multiple entrances/exits to your dungeon. Each entrance/exit can have its own difficulties and level of obviousness. For instance, the main entrance to the Loathsome Frog Caverns is well known but is frequented by bandit patrols looking to shake up adventurers for taxes. There is a secret tunnel a half mile away but it is only known by guides and slime harvesters, but it can also be discovered in a strange side-path within the dungeon.
  
• Add multiple ways to traverse the levels within your dungeon. Most dungeons of a considerable size to be Jaquaysed have multiple levels of increasing danger - and just the same way that multiple entrances helps players find easier (or just different) paths to approach new environments, so to does having multiple paths between levels. For instance, the most obvious way to Level 2 of the Loathsome Frog Caverns is by a grand stairwell guarded by a council of Croaking Ghosts who demand tribute. If players do not have appropriate tribute (or enchanted weapons), room 21 is host to a large snail-pit that descends to room 49 on Level 3.
  

Now that the basics are out of the way: among writers in the OSR space, this topic has been talked about a lot - although I always have a problem with the way it is talked about. Good tips, talk, and examples from other modules are often given, but I am a big fan of procedure, which these posts often lack. The ways to execute upon these ideas requires very active thought or renovating a dungeon you already have made - and sometimes I just want to spontaneously make a dungeon and have it work well in play.

Jaquaysing may sound easy to do in the moment - just add more exits to rooms. This pitfall leads to a few issues:

• The players get analysis paralysis and spend hard-scheduled game hours arguing in the 10-exit room you made about which door to go through rather than doing anything fun or exciting. Choice is great and integral to impactful play, but giving too many choices in a constricted environment (like the dungeon where Jaquaysing is most commonly applied) can be meaningless if it leads to  paralysis that makes players freeze or just pick a random door because they feel that they are all the same and they should keep the game moving.
• It confuses systems which are integral to dungeon travel. Things like torch usage and dungeon turns rely on the traversal of many rooms instead of just two rooms (the 10-exit monstrosity and one of its branches). By making your room 2 connect to rooms 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9, you've pinched travel that could have happened if you instead had room 2 connect to rooms 3 and 4, and 3 connect to 5, and etc.
• It's harder to get players to care for where in the dungeon to go next. This may be my own personal preference, but I find that describing what may come in the next room via sounds, sights, and smells at a room's exit is just as important as the upcoming room itself because sensory information like this allows for players to make informed decisions about their travel. For instance, the way between rooms 2 and 3 is described as having "an overwhelmingly earthy scent, audible noise of squelching footsteps frolicking." Clues like this both reward players for immersing themselves and investigating the world while giving them some things to suspect about the upcoming room without giving the game away. If you have a 10-exit monstrosity and you're taking this sensory approach, you've both put much more work onto yourself and more information to process for the players, which they may get exhausted from.
  

Needless to say - we don't want these issues. We want to Jaquays elegantly. 

With this in mind, I've made a procedure that you can use in the process of creating your dungeon to ensure that it is Jaquaysed without running into the issues above. This procedure is purely for dungeon layout and composition, and assumes that you already have themes/trappings decided for your dungeon (as any good dungeon ought to have).

The procedure is a series of questions you should ask yourself with each room placed on the map. The questions are as follows:

1. Does this room connect to more than three other rooms? If so, remove exits until you have two or three. For the purposes of this procedure, entrances/exits to the dungeon itself count as a room as well, and will be the only valid dead-ends on the map.
   
2. Does this room only connect to one other room? If so, add another exit until you have two or three. If you cannot think of an exit to the room, you can always add an exit to the dungeon. Additionally, you can add a more obscure way of traversal (a secret door that loops back to another room, a pit that leads down a level, etc)
3. Does this room have more than one exit on any given wall? If so, rearrange exits until there is a maximum of one exit per wall. This is for the sake of clarity for both yourself and the players. Having three exits on the north wall can quickly get confusing if players return to the room (which they will often do at least once if the dungeon is Jaquaysed properly). 
4. Define each connection this room has as either obvious or obscure.
   Obvious connections are things players will immediately see as a simple, safe way to exit this room. For example, a wooden door, an archway, a stairwell, etc. These will likely be most exits in the dungeon. The only interaction they often offer is passing through them or forcing them open.
   Obscure connections are where you can get creative with travel and cater to different player styles. They can be exits that players don't immediately see and reward investigation (i.e., a secret door, a sliding bookshelf, etc.) They can be exits that are dangerous (i.e., a wall of fire, a trapped door, etc.) They can just be exits that are thematic to the dungeon (i.e. vents, sewers, chutes, a pit, etc) Whatever the obscure connection is, have fun with it and allow for interesting player interaction with it.
   

I typically make the map in this fashion before I define the contents of the rooms, because a critical advantage of this procedure is that it lets you know what rooms will be important to further exploration of the dungeon. Players are likely to return to rooms with three obvious connections if they want to explore the full dungeon. These junctions are ripe opportunities for you to place visually striking, or setting significant room contents - because the players will more likely than not return to this room to explore the other branch the dungeon has to offer at this point. This is not to say that all rooms should have three obvious connections - use your better judgement.

 I have been using this procedure for a while now and it has quite a few benefits:

• It guarantees a Jaquaysed dungeon. Because the only dead-ends on the map are entrances and exits to the dungeon complex itself, if you use this procedure to its full potential the connections between rooms form large loops and junctions that always present the players somewhere to go without having to rely on rooms with too many exits. Even if you get criminally lazy and make a dungeon that is a straight line with entrances at both ends, it still follows one principle of Jaquaysing.
• It's simple and allows for spontaneous creation that can lead to pleasant surprises. When using this procedure I've occasionally had to abandon obvious design conventions that first come to mind in favor of something more interesting. For instance, there's been a few times I've had to add exits to the dungeon complex near the center of the map because the only valid dead-ends are exits and the dungeon geometry won't allow for me to expand further in one direction or another
• When you break the rules, it heightens the significance or weirdness of a specific room.
  

La Tour De Babel by Erik Desmazières

With the notes about the procedure done, I can't lie, I got a bit carried away with the examples and made a table of obscure connections. I hope you enjoy them.

D12 Obscure Connections:

1. A sewer - a slimy cramped crawl into the next room.
2. An electrified metal gate - hums threateningly.
   
3. A mouth - if you taste too good it may close after you enter.
4. A metal door with a slot - requires appropriate offerings in the slot to be opened.
5. Cracked glass - easily broken and allows vision into the next room.
6. A hidden door behind torture implements - smells awful.
7. A trapped staircase that has already been activated - its stairs now a slope downward.
8. A sheer drop downward into darkness.
   
9. A well - bucket and rope still intact.
10. Wind tunnels - industrial fans still spin and threaten to bisect those who aren't careful.
11. A blabbering wall of flesh - must be bargained with for entry and exit.
12. A sheer ascent - with only overgrown vines and the occasional foothold to assist your way to the next room. 

Edit After Post:

I mention it only briefly, but knowing when to break the rules of the procedure deserves a little more talk. The procedure definitely makes dungeon layouts have a few quirks, most notably that there are no dead-ends outside of entrances/exits to the dungeon complex itself. This is not always a good thing, as this kind of layout can be at odds with the themes or setting of your dungeon. I like to use the procedure listed above as a way to sort of lay out a map before I know its specifics - with the layout and themes in mind then I find ways to break rules where it would benefit the dungeon. Use your best artistic judgement when breaking the rules, but I find that these are cases where you may want to ignore parts of the procedure:

• If the verisimilitude of the dungeon would not benefit from the procedure. For instance, a prison cell is not likely to have at least two ways to exit it, otherwise that would be a poorly crafted prison. A dead end in a room like this would benefit how believable the space in your dungeon is, and your players' immersion. The procedure is still good to use as a baseline to generate a map - but once you figure out the exact identity of an area in the dungeon (for instance, rooms 20-32 of the Loathsome Frog Caverns are a prison for the human sacrifices) remember that your first draft is not your final draft and you can always edit the layout to support these themes.
  
• If you want to keep your players on their toes. While on a zoomed out level the procedure generates organic structures, there's a certain order to the whole procedure. When you insert a carefully crafted room that has many exits or a complete dead end, it highlights the weirdness of that room and serves to throw off player navigation if they are getting used to the order of the dungeon's layout. Rooms like these should be done with a purpose, though - as too many rooms like these can threaten the Jaquaysing of the dungeon or mess with player navigation too much and run into the issues of analysis paralysis.
  
• If you feel like it deep down. At the end of the day, dungeons are an artform - from mapping to keying to the table. The procedure is here to serve as a nice default way to guarantee a well-Jaquaysed space, but don't let that get in the way of your own vision or satisfaction. While not true of real life, in art, rules like these are made to be broken.