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There are a bunch of different ways you could categorize dungeons (function, geography, denizens, etc.), but what I’m specifically interested in taking a look at today are structural differences that affect the fundamental design and running of the dungeon.

Most of these categories end up correlating with the size of the dungeon, and so, as you’ll see, we’ll be using size-based labels for clarity and ease of use. But don’t let that distract you from the far more important structural distinctions.

Broadly speaking, these categories also aren’t limited strictly to “dungeons” (i.e., underground warrens), but rather apply to any location-crawl scenario: Abandoned malls in zombie RPGs. Haunted mansions. Ruined Transylvanian castles. That sort of thing.

EXPEDITION-BASED PLAY

To fully appreciate the different dungeon dynamics, we first need to understand the expedition-based play which lies at the heart of the classic dungeoncrawling experience.

Here’s an excerpt from So You Want To Be a Game Master describing expedition-based play:

The basic dynamic of expedition-based play is that the party gathers a set of resources and then goes forth to pursue a goal. (In other words, they plan the expedition and then go on the expedition.) This goal might be something generic (e.g., “Get as much gold as possible”) or it might be something terribly specific (e.g., “Get revenge by slaying Orok the Minotaur”).

Some of the resources gathered for the expedition will be mechanical in nature (e.g., hit points, spell slots, etc.), but it’s likely that the PCs will also gather other resources (e.g., magic potions, rations, ammunition, etc.). Either way, the PCs will expend these resources over the course of the expedition until they run out of resources, at which point they will have to withdraw to some form of base camp at which they can replenish their resources in preparation for their next expedition.

What makes expedition-based play interesting is that the players are trying to maximize the return on their investment. In other words, they want to achieve as much as possible—to get the most gold, to clear out the maximum number of Orok’s minions, to achieve as many milestones on the way to their goal—with the resources that they have. This creates a crucible in which their strategic and tactical decisions become extremely meaningful and, therefore, extremely interesting.

To make expedition-based play really work, you want a cost associated with abandoning the current expedition and starting a new one. This is often the money spent on new supplies, but it can also be the difficulty in getting back to the point where they left off (which can be achieved in dungeon scenarios with random encounters and restocking, as discussed later in this book).

Although expedition-based play can be baked into specific roleplaying game (like D&D), it’s a more fundamental dynamic that can — and will! — transcend any particular set of game mechanics unless you take specific action to negate it. The core dynamic of “gather resources and then try to use those resources to maximum effect” is basically just how reality works. In order to prevent that from happening, special effort must be made to negate it, such as:

• Preventing resources from being beneficial.
• Handwaving the acquisition and/or depletion of resources.
• Allowing one expedition to pick up exactly where the previous expedition left off without cost.
• Creating all encounters to have a standardized difficulty/cost, so that strategic decisions become irrelevant.
• Enforcing that standardized cost (e.g., by fudging the results until the “appropriate” number of hit points have been lost).

And if you do so, of course, the playing experience of your dungeons will be greatly flattened. It’s not just that this will strip the strategic element of play, it’s that stripping the strategic element of play will also greatly reduce the variety and stakes of your tactical encounters.

DUNGEON TYPES

I generally think of dungeons as belonging to one of four categories:

• micro-dungeons
• mid-range dungeons (or session dungeons)
• large dungeons
• megadungeons

Micro-dungeons have just one or two featured rooms. These are rooms which have a significant interaction, like a combat encounter or in-depth investigation. Micro-dungeons will likely have additional scenic rooms, in which there is only one minor interaction (e.g., “look at this cool mural on the wall”), but likely only a few of them. Most micro-dungeons won’t have more than five rooms in total.

A micro-dungeon should generally take less than one session to play through. This means that they will not feature expedition-based play or significant strategic decisions by the PCs, but it does mean that they can be easily incorporated as a single scene or node in a larger adventure (even adventures that are designed to be resolved in a single session).

Of course, a micro-dungeon can also be a complete scenario in its own right (with a scenario hook, rapid resolution, and payoff). One interesting mode of play (or change of pace) is to resolve multiple such quests in a single session, creating a huge sense of momentum and accomplishment for the players.

Mid-range dungeons or session dungeons, as the latter name suggests, can be played from beginning to end in a single session. In practical terms, this means at least five featured rooms and an equal number of scenic rooms. In other words, you’d expect a mid-range dungeon to have a total of 10-20 rooms.

In terms of design, these dungeons are now large enough that you can start employing basic xandering techniques.

Assuming typical play, a mid-range dungeon will usually be resolved in a single expedition (i.e., the PCs will not need to leave the dungeon and then come back). In terms of 5^th Edition D&D, however, I would expect that managing short rests would begin to be part of play, as opposed to a micro-dungeon where it’s likely the PCs will clear the whole dungeon before needing to rest. (See Resting in the Dungeon.)

Large dungeons are roughly three times larger than a mid-range dungeon. They’re going to feature 30+ rooms and will require multiple expeditions and several sessions of play. At this scale you’re going to be able to employ more elaborate xandering techniques and you’ll also begin introducing expedition-based play along with the management of long rests in 5^th Edition.

This, of course, also means that you’ll likely start using restocking techniques, and so large dungeons will also change and shift during the course of play, becoming dynamic environments for exploration and strategic play. This is the point where simplistic “kick down the door” play is no longer sufficient… which is good, because that style of play can easily become monotonous and boring in a large dungeon.

Megadungeons, of course, are even larger. There are three key distinctions between a megadungeon and a very large dungeon:

• The megadungeon must have enough concept to support a full campaign. (This doesn’t necessarily mean a full 1^st to 20^th level campaign. For D&D 5^th Edition, we might say that it has to be able to support two full tiers of play.)
• The megadungeon cannot be cleared (because it is too large and filled with too much content for that to happen). This means that “clear the dungeon,” which so often serves as a default goal for dungeon-based scenarios, cannot be a goal in the megadungeon. This will require the megadungeon to support alternative goals.
• This also means that the megadungeon must, in some way, contain multiple “scenarios.” It’s not unusual for each level of the megadungeon, for example, to have a particular theme or faction. At this level — pun intended — you can actually reintroduce “clear (this specific part of) the dungeon” as a goal, but the key thing is that the megadungeon is home to multiple distinct goals that can be independently, or semi-independently, pursued by the PCs. (The complexity and rich depth — pun once again intended — of the megadungeon also makes it likely that the players will begin setting bespoke goals for themselves.)

A megadungeon is, therefore, also sometimes known as a campaign dungeon, although there’s no reason that a campaign featuring a megadungeon can’t also include other scenarios.

LAIR vs. BALKANIZED DUNGEONS

A tangential categorization of dungeons that I find useful is the distinction between lairs and balkanized dungeons.

Lairs feature a single faction or type of monster. Everybody in the dungeon is playing for the same team, so to speak.

Balkanized dungeons, on the other hand, feature multiple factions. These factions may be openly hostile to each other or exist in some form of détente, but the key thing is that they’re not working together. (At least, not at first.)

This is significant because the balkanized dungeon, obviously, makes faction-based play significant in the scenario. In its most complex forms, this might involve the PCs navigating a web of unstable alliances in order to turn factions against each other, create places of safe respite within the dungeon, do quests for unexpected allies, and so forth. But even in its most simplistic form, it means that the PCs can defeat the dungeon in detail rather than tackling the entire compound all at once.

The balkanized nature of the dungeon will also inform the design of the dungeon, with defenses, no man’s lands between the factions, and the like.

The larger a dungeon gets, of course, the more likely it is to be balkanized. A micro-dungeon, after all, doesn’t exactly have the space for multiple factions. (Although you could imagine a couple factions-of-one.) But there’s no direct correlation: You can have multiple factions in a session dungeon and you can have large dungeons that are mono-faction hypercorp installations, goblin fortresses, or the like.

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The noir detective, stymied in his investigation, returns to the scene of the crime. He paces slowly, lost in his thoughts. He must have missed something here. Some vital clue. But what could it be?

The PCs have been eating at Norma’s Diner every day since they came to the sleepy town of Everglade, gathering there every evening to compare their notes and brainstorm what their next steps should be. But then they discover evidence that corpses are being shipped from the county hospital to the basement of the diner. What exactly has Norma been cooking up this whole time?

This dynamic is a staple of the mystery genre. Another common variant is when a spy publicly approaches a target during daylight hours, socializes with the bad guys (or their staff) for a bit, and then comes back later after everybody has gone home to conduct a more thorough investigation. (James Bond does this in almost every film, for example.)

Structurally, at the game table, we’re talking about a situation where the PCs go to a node — a person, place, organization, event, etc. — and fail to find all (or possibly any) of the clues. Then, later, they return and discover what they missed.

This might occur for purely practical reasons: The PCs’ investigation has stalled out and they need more info, so they have no choice but to double back and try to figure out what they missed.

But it can also be played for dramatic effect: What seemed innocent is revealed to be sinister. The twist villain reveals themselves. The irony of discovering that you were standing on top of Captain Adachi’s treasure the whole time.

If you’re using node-based scenario design in concert with the Three Clue Rule, this will often occur organically: The PCs don’t realize that a clue means they need to look UNDER the apartment building, so they stake it out for a bit, come up empty, and decide to pursue other leads. Then, later, they find a new clue, realize their mistake, and rush back to the apartment building for some clandestine excavation.

In this sense, it’s kind of like red herrings: You don’t need to prep this dynamic; it will just emerge during play. It’s just a natural consequence of missing or misinterpreting clues, and we know the PCs will do that (which is why we’re using the Three Clue Rule in the first place).

But you can also prep some variants of this dynamic deliberately.

For an easy example, the PCs may visit a location for reasons that aren’t investigatory — their friend invites them; they have a seemingly unrelated appointment; etc. — and then later clues point them back to the earlier location with investigation on their minds.

More complex versions may have one set of clues which point the PCs to a node and then another set of clues that they’ll likely encounter later in the scenario that will point them to a completely different aspect of the node. For example, they find clues suggesting that they need to talk to Miles Duverney, who lives in the penthouse of Central Park Tower. They question him there and then continue their investigation… only later discovering the clues that reveal a secret satanic temple was built beneath the building.

In either case, you need to be mentally prepared for a clever or insightful party to make an intuitive leap that uncovers the “hidden” aspect of the node they first time they explore it. (“Wait a minute… Why did Duverney help design Central Park Tower? I’m going to go check out the architectural plans on file with the Department of Buildings.”)

JUST ONE MORE THING…

This is a dynamic that the GUMSHOE system, used in RPGs like Trail of Cthulhu and Esoterrorists, actually struggles with because the PCs in that system are supposed to automatically find every clue in every scene. As a result, it can’t emerge organically and instead has to be arbitrarily forced by the GM.

GUMSHOE recognizes it has a problem, however, and attempts to rectify it through another structure which can be conceptually useful in a wide variety of investigation games: leveraged clues.

A very common form of the “revisit a node and learn new information” dynamic is questioning suspects: It’s bog standard for a detective to talk to a suspect (or witness) early in their investigation and then question them again later and gain new information.

But in GUMSHOE, this doesn’t work because you’re supposed to get all the information an NPC has when you talk to them! Rather than having all of the social dynamics of a mystery story flatten out, therefore, GUMSHOE patches over the issue with the leveraged clue: In order to get certain clues from an NPC, you first need to obtain a different clue — the prerequisite or leverage clue — and then invoke it while talking to the NPC.

Columbo, for example, is basically this conceit injected with steroids and then turned into a procedural formula where every episode is just him repeatedly re-engaging with the same NPC node, but with new leveraged clues each time.

And, as Columbo demonstrates, this concept can be quite useful for organizing dynamic NPC interactions that evolve over the course of a scenario.

FAILING SCENARIOS

In some cases, however, the PCs revisiting nodes they’ve already investigated can be a sign that the scenario has gone awry: They’ve missed enough clues that they don’t know what to do next, and so they’re being forced to retrace their steps and try to dig up clues

Most of the time, though, this is still just fine: The players have already identified the problem and are taking action that will likely solve it. (Unless, of course, they’re still missing all the clues for the same reason they missed them the first time through — e.g., they just aren’t thinking to check the cult members’ computers and that’s where all the information they need is.)

What’s more problematic is when the players have become stuck and aren’t going back to find the clues they missed.

When this happens, one technique described in Three Clue Rule for getting the scenario back on track is to use a proactive node to give the PCs a new clue. This might be a clue directly pointing them to a revelation they need, but it could also be a clue pointing them back to a node where they’ve been but missed a clue at.

Note that it’s not enough to just point them back at the node. (This can be too easily dismissed with, “Well, we’ve already been there and didn’t find anything.”) Instead, the new clue must specifically indicate how they’re supposed to investigate the node in order to find the clue they missed (e.g., “the note in his pocket is written on Linustech stationary and appears to be the user name and password for System 42” or they get a phone call from an informant who tells them to “follow the money”).

WHILE YOU WERE GONE

Another variant of this technique is when the PCs return to a former node and discover that it has changed in the interim: The apartment has been ransacked. The NPC has been murdered. The laundromat has burned down.

This can create all-new clues for the PCs to find, or make the clues they previously missed more obvious.

Personally, I wouldn’t spend a lot of time prepping this type of thing ahead of time unless there’s a separate set of clues specifically indicating that the PCs should revisit a location. (Or if there’s some other structural reason for them to do so.) But if a mystery scenario has derailed, the players are feeling lost, and they double back to a location they’ve already been, improvising such changes in order to get them back on track is a solid option.

Next: Enigma

Thanks to the members of the Alexandrian Discord, particularly bobamk and Alberek, for suggesting and inspiring this article.

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Character Backgrounds by Chris Malone

I originally designed Left Hand of Mythos as a convention scenario for Gen Con 2017. It rapidly metastasized beyond that purpose and had to be rapidly abridged to fit within the four-hour convention slot.

My compatriot, collaborator, and co-GM at Gen Con that year was Chris Malone. To facilitate convention play, Chris designed four fabulous pregenerated Trail of Cthulhu characters. Following the best practices we had learned during the Cthulhu Masters Tournament, these included fully developed backgrounds for each character, including tightly knit relationships with each other to empower the players to seek strong, powerful roleplaying choices.

We ended up using these same characters for several other sessions at our local tables, including an adaptation of the classic “Edge of Darkness” scenario for Call of Cthulhu, which was restructured to feature the death of Father Rand.

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JAKE CONNOR, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR

Age: 29

Jake was born in Minneapolis to a Protestant family of Irish and English immigrants.  The eldest son (his sister Mary is the eldest of the family), expectations were set high for Jake and he constantly struggled to meet the expectations of his parents. While life was never easy for Jake as he was growing up, he never experienced true poverty.  Jake left school early to work a pair of jobs to support the family, and found himself struggling with the monotony of toil without the promise of something greater.  At the onset of The Great War Jake joined the Army in hopes of making a difference.  His parents were furious, and all but disowned him as he headed off to basic training.

Initially trained as an infantryman, Jake showed a flair for writing and photography and was detailed to the press corps where he served primarily as a cameraman, documenting the events of the war.  He was frequently detailed to create propaganda images and write messages to encourage the purchase of war bonds, as well as improve enlistment.  During one such assignments he was matched with Maxwell Bruener, the son of a wealthy young German industrialist who had “enlisted” to help improve recruitment among German-Americans.  A quick friendship was formed, and although they only spent several months together.

Through the detachment of the camera, Jake could distance himself from the horrors of the war and returned home afterwards plagued only by infrequent nightmares and a mild case of claustrophobia.  Upon his return to Minneapolis he worked for a short stint at the Minneapolis Tribune as a beat writer and photographer.  With the onset of prohibition, Jake wrote several scathingly critical anti-Prohbition articles which ultimately cost him his job, but endeared him to certain elements of the Twin Cities underworld.  With these connections beginning to form, Jake found himself able to find work investigating minor offenses in the criminal underworld and solving crimes that people would rather not bring to the police. He now runs a private detective business, making use of his excellent photographic skills to further his business.

Jake’s reputation has taken an odd turn after he solved a missing persons case several years ago.  Two seemingly separate instances of a young man and a young woman disappearing led Jake and his companions to a secretive cult operating within the Freemasons that was engaging in human sacrifice in the name of some esoteric and foul deity.  Jake and company acted quickly and rescue one of those who had disappeared (the other, sadly, was long dead) and bring the perpetrators to justice.  Now the local police come to Jake occasionally with queries or leads into strange or occult cases.

RELATIONSHIPS

Maxwell Bruener — Max and Jake have remained close friends after the war, and frequently spend time together.  Jake doesn’t always understand Max’s philosophical ramblings, and often argues with him over Prohibition (Max is a staunch advocate for the Volstead Act and Prohbition), Jake does appreciate Max’s enthusiasm and kindness.  Max proved himself to Jake during the Freemason investigation, as when the chips were down in the hidden sanctum, Max threw himself into the fray, fighting to stop the murder of an innocent.

Father Gustav Rand — Max introduced Jake to Father Rand some months prior to the Freemason as a good friend.  Unlike the clergy Jake had grown up with and met during the war, Rand showed himself to be a friendly, easy-going sort with a great deal of intelligence and wisdom.  During the Freemason case, Rand provided valuable insight into several clues linking evidence from the victim’s residences to the inner cult at the Masons.  Jake has grown to respect Rand’s input and value his council, even if he is a Papist.

Margaret Pearson — Maggie is Jake’s cousin, come over from Boston to get her doctorate in the Sciences from the University of Minnesota.  Looking to reconnect with his family and get back into their good graces, Jake has taken it upon himself to protect Maggie and ensure that she is not abused.  Against better judgement, Jake asked Maggie to help with examining some of the evidence during the Freemason case.  She was able to identify a unique sedative used during the abductions, and link it to a crucial suspect with access to it.  You find her forensic skills and apt mind invaluable in difficult cases.

MAXWELL BRUENER, DILETTANTE

Age: 35

The son of a rich German manufacturing magnate, Maxwell Bruener grew up in Minneapolis in relative ease and luxury.  His father, Jurig, was an overbearing and demanding man.  He detested Maxwell’s adventurous spirit and gentle heart, and was a strict disciplinarian, often resorting to physical punishment, especially when he was drunk.  Maxwell thrived despite his father’s frequent beatings and denouncements, and spent most of his youth and early adulthood exploring literature, the arts, and sports.

When America formally joined the War Jurig forced Maxwell son to enlist, hoping to either toughen him up and turn his mind to more serious matters or kill him off.  This idea was not kept a secret to Maxwell, as the last letter from his father during training read “come back a man in my own mold, or as a corpse to be buried”.  Despite his father’s insistence to Max’s commanders of fair treatment, Max was seen by elements in his command as a recruitment opportunity.  He had a member of the press corps, Jake Connor, assigned to him to document his time in the Army to drive recruitment of the somewhat reticent German-American population, as well as facilitate war bonds.  Jake and Max became fast friends, and spent many evenings sharing stories and ideas in good company.

Max avoided significant action in the War until he took part in the Third Battle of the Aisne in defense against the German Spring Offensive.  Ten days of shelling, gas attacks, mud, and death almost broke Max’s spirit.  Without Jake’s reassurance and strength, Max is certain he would have either died or come out of the war a much different man.  Max survived the Battle physically untouched, but was scarred by the experience.

In an ironic twist of fate, Max was called back home mid-May following the battle due to the death of his father, whose days of drinking had finally caught up to him.  With the affairs of the estate quickly put into order and business well-managed with little demand from Max, he found himself melancholic and desperate.  Max began filling his time with philanthropy and personal growth.  Home in time for the political machinations around the Volstead act, Max strong supported the temperance movement and the outlaw of liquor, pledging money, support and influence to the cause.  In addition to his altruistic and political engagements, Max began to participate in theosophical societies and delved into philosophical texts, even dabbling into the occult.  These explorations brought him into contact with Father Gustav Rand, a catholic priest who talked of religion in a way that encouraged Max’s exploration, without condemnation or proselytization.

At times Max helps Jake out with his private investigation work as a diversion into more exciting occupation.  Several years ago, you, Jake, Father Rand, and Jake’s cousin Maggie helped him clear a case that was most unusual.  Two seemingly separate instances of a young man and a young woman disappearing led Jake and his companions to a secretive cult operating within the Freemasons that was engaging in human sacrifice in the name of some esoteric and foul deity.  Jake and company acted quickly and rescue one of those who had disappeared (the other, sadly, was long dead) and bring the perpetrators to justice.  During the fray, Max found strength and purpose, charging into the fray and fighting the cultists with vigor.  Now the local police come to Jake occasionally with queries or leads into strange or occult cases.

RELATIONSHIPS

Jake Connor — Jake is Max’s closest friend and confidant.  While Jake is disinterested in Max’s spiritual and philosophical musings, and they disagree vehemently on the matter of Prohibition, Max cannot imagine a better ally.  Max rarely feels more useful or competent than when he is working a case with Jake.

Father Gustav Rand — Father Rand is Max’s intellectual and spiritual mentor, allowing Max to explore the world of the unseen without prescribing his Catholic dogma or suggesting a right way of things, merely saying “I know you’ll come around to the right way of it sooner or later, they all do…”.

Margaret “Maggie” Pearson — Maggie, Jake’s cousin, is like no other woman that Max has met.  Her high-spirited nature, quick wit, and vast knowledge have intimidated Max at times, and she seems to enjoy stumping Max.  Regardless, Max is thoroughly taken with her, and has been spending time perfecting a poem that he plans to deliver to her to begin courting her.

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The very best roleplaying campaigns aren’t about plot. They’re about characters. So don’t leave your group up to random chance: ENnie Award-winning RPG designer Justin Alexander gives you not one, not two, but THREE different techniques, ranging from quick to indepth, for creating your best adventuring group.

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