The party, pointing to an NPC that the DM never intended to be a recurring character: That’s My Child Now
@caffeinatedwriters Now you gotta write them a quest where they get the chance to bring him back!!
The first dungeon-boss that my group was meant to just quickly kill at the end of their very first session, they saved from death. Repeatedly. She’s now a reoccurring character who despite the fact that she is defs evil and showing no signs of redemption (yet) they keep. Saving?? So I guess I’d better write a redemption arc?
I love your players so much. I’m imagining Local Villain turning good mainly out of confusion because why they save me tho????
We’ve adopted our first small villain to the party as a DMPC. During the interrogation he suddenly bursts into tears, says the villaining was his last desperate try to unfuck his life and now we can do whatever we want with him, cause he’s done. He’s out of ideas and his life is still fucked up. The whole party went all “aaaaww there there pat pat poor thing” and now he’s our token pretty boy and an in-game DM’s snarky voice.
We found a 20 ft cube of gelatinous acid in the underdark. He wanted to see sunlight. He was perfect. So he became part of our party. He’s slow so he always follows behind us and every now and again he has a few new skeletons inside of him of the fools that tried to sneak up behind us. He’s my favorite.
I love this. I support you and your sun-loving acid dog
We accidentally deafened a goblin and we inexplicably felt worse about that than we did about killing all his friends so now he’s librarian/curator for all the junk in our bag of holding
My super advanced mapmaking technique – a handful of dice makes the map nice
interesting method
My question is do the die affect topography any or just set the borders?
I imagine it’s up to the person making the map. But maybe the more dice in a single spot, the more mountainous or forested the area. Maybe choose a few dice to be deemed cities, and some dice for ruins.
Maybe let the dice choose, like a nat 20 would be the world capital, and 10’s would be mountains or something like that.
1-5: Plains and fields
6-8: Forests
9-11: Mountains
12-14: Tundras and snow covered lands
15-17: Farms and towns
18-19: Larger cities
20: Capitals and castles
what would happing if all the dice landed on a 20?
then you have a very busy continent
not all of those are d20s though, so you’d have to come up with another method for the other ones
Adjusted for all dice you might have
D20
1-5: Plains and fields
6-8: Forests
9-11: Mountains
12-14: Tundras and snow covered lands
15-17: Farms and towns
18-19: Larger cities
20: Capitals and castles
D12
1-3: Plains and fields
4-6: Forests
7-8: Mountains
9-10: Tundras and snow covered lands
11: Farms and towns
12: Larger cities
D10
1-3: Plains and fields
4-6: Forests
7-8: Mountains
9: Tundras and snow covered lands
10: Farms and towns
D8
1-4: Plains and fields
5-6: Forests
7: Mountains
8: Tundras and snow covered lands
D6
1-3: Plains and fields
4: Forests
5-6: Mountains
D4
1-2: Plains and fields
3: Forests
4: Mountains
Holy shit. Definitely using this.
I swore at how simple this motherfucking thing is. You’re all bastards and i love you.
A concept: An adventuring party made entirely of people of one race disguised as people of another. The disguises are really bad, like the “dwarf” is just a halfling with a fake beard, the “orc” is an elf with body paint and novelty teeth, and the dragonborn is just three goblins in a trenchcoat- but none of them have any experience with any of the races in question and are trying not to draw attention to their own disguises, so all of them are fully prepared to accept any oddity on the part of their party members.
The halfling, having just been caught taking off their beard in private so they can breathe: ….this is normal for dwarves The goblins, who were looking for somewhere private that they can crawl out of the trenchcoat: Acceptable, have a nice day
Halfling: Friend orc, I don’t mean to alarm you, but the green appears to be coming off of your skin. Onto my hand. Elf: I. Have a skin condition. Halfling, discreetly adjusting their beard: Acceptable, have a nice day
I one time did a campaign in DND where the entire party woke up in a trash heap, memories wiped, when a man in shining white armor approached them. He helped them up, healed them, and helped them escape what was essentially the dump and find their way into the sunlight. He told them of the tale of a wicked king of immense power who bargained for his abilities from a demon, hoping to save his kingdom, and succumbed to the evil after his wife died. The wife had a pearl necklace, and it was the man’s duty to find those pearls, because they held a magic in them that could defeat the king.
This particular NPC was startlingly overpowered at first, right a long the levels of 6 while everyone else was just starting out, and he helped them along in the most dire situations, healing, defeating, and even resurrecting for them. There would be periods where he would be gone, and the party would have to face a crypt full of mummies together, or dive into the deepest parts of the ocean and retrieve these milky white pearls that would give them the ability to help their friend and defeat the wicked king. Slowly, their memories came back to them, and that was a stark comfort for them, but the entire time, there seemed to be a piece missing.
After they retrieved 5 pearls (they broke the 6th one), they journied with the man to the wicked king’s castle, and fought their way through endless ranks of guards, undead, demons, and even a lich, until they made their way to the sacred bed chamber of the king, that they all remembered the story of from before they had awoken in that garbage pile. They opened the doors, only to find it empty, save the usual furniture, marred by scratches and the ancient scrawl of demons. The man in the white armor sighed and walked into the bedroom.
And his armor changed from white to pitch black, and the whole party remembered suddenly. That was the face of the wicked king, the face that smiled at them whenever he healed them, the face that looked stern as they suggested stupids things to find the pearls. Apparently, in lapses of the demon’s control, the king had found a way to set him self up for defeat, by bringing his wive’s pearls along with brave, powerful warriors. Every absence he felt was where he had to return to the demon’s control and become the wicked king again, but he was determined to fight himself, to rid his own evil from the world, to end this curse of immortality and see his loved one again.
I made the party fight the final boss, and they saw the eyes of a friend.
They all cried, and I am no longer allowed to DM for them.
Once upon a time, I was running a DnD game for some friends. The player characters were checking out reports that a local town had been having trouble with monsters. They’re informed that it was true, a few years ago, but a copper dragon set up a lair in the mountains and chased all the awful creatures out. A dragon slayer showed up shortly thereafter and neither dragon nor slayer were heard from again. Players are disappointed at first, but then quickly perk up when some other plot threads become apparent.
A few sessions later, the place they were staying burned down (their fault), forcing them to check out the more expensive tavern in town. There, they meet Allie Cohol, a half-elf woman with red hair that owned and ran the tavern. She was cheerfully greedy, but still helpful and always ready with a cheesey joke… And after only the third joke, one of the players, Bill, froze and locked eyes with me. “You fucker. She’s the copper dragon,” Bill says.
That reveal was supposed to be a big thing later, so I’m kinda on the spot. Fortunately, another player, Fran, pipes up and says, “nah, that’s stupid. The dragon in the mountain is a red herring. We’re here for the cultists.” The cultists were in the sewer and the PCs were actually working for the cleric Big Bad without them knowing.
“No, listen,” Bill continued. “Red hair. Greedy. Bad jokes… Her name is Allie Cohol.”
Everyone around the table gives him a fairly blank look, but I’m sweating bullets. Threads that I had spun oh so carefully were half a heartbeat away from unraveling. Bill is getting this real wild look in his eyes and pounds a fist against the table. “Allie Cohol. HER NAME IS ALCOHOL.”
Fran then slowly pans over and looks me dead in the eyes. “The deadly joke ability. She’s a goddamn dragon.”
Guys did I ever tell you about the time I completely accidentally ruined a professionally made campaign for Dungeons and Dragons thanks to a single roll
Please explain
Ok so we had to fight our way to the bottom of a castle to stop a group of cultists from summoning an Orc god to the world and we got there and the ritual was already going so I ran up to the god, who had already begun to manifest, and cast Finger of Death, which kills any target I touch if they fail a Fortitude roll. Since he was a god, he had a good constitution and would have certainly survived
KayjsCage 
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