Places to Go, People to Be, a French RPG ‘zine, has finished posting all 16 parts of Structures de jeu, which is the translation of my series on Game Structures. (The original essay can be found here.)

You can check out previous PTGPTB translations of Alexandrian content here and here.

Adversary Roster from Infinity: Quantronic Heat

Adversary rosters are one of the essential tools in my GM’s kit. In 2016, I wrote that I considered them my greatest “secret weapon”:

They allow me to run dynamic scenarios of considerable complexity on battlefields that can easily sprawl across a dozen areas with a relative simplicity which still leaves me with enough brainpower to manage varied stat blocks and clever tactics […] permanently disrupting the staid rhythms of “kick in the door” dungeoncrawling in your campaign. Adversary rosters are also a great way for running stealth missions, heists, and covert ops.

Of course, I have no interest in actually keeping them secret. Since writing that essay in 2016, I’ve introduced them to an even larger audience through my remixes of Dragon Heist and Descent Into Avernus; taught them as an essential tool in the Infinity Roleplaying Game core rulebook; and used them prominently in Over the Edge: Welcome to the Island.

I’d first mentioned the concept of the adversary roster here on the Alexandrian all the way back in 2011, referring to them as a “monster roster” and using G1 Against the Giants as an example of how they could be used. But by that point I’d already been using them for years.

While discussing this history with Robb Minneman on Patreon, I ended up delving into my old game notes in an effort to figure out when I’d first used an adversary roster: I knew that Against the Giants had actually been one of the earliest rosters I’d developed (which is one of the reasons I’d used it as the example in my 2011 post). And I also remembered using them in Forge of Fury around the same time.

As I sifted through my notes, though, I discovered (or, I guess, re-discovered) a far more nuanced development process. Adversary rosters are, in many ways, such a simple concept that one might think they would have sprung full-blown from the brow of Zeus. That was even more-or-less how I remembered it happening, but it wasn’t true.

So I thought it might be interesting to take a detailed look at the actual development process to see how this concept evolved.

THREE DAYS TO KILL

Around 2000-02 I was running (or attempting to run) three D&D 3^rd Edition campaigns:

• The Quest of the Seals was a fetch-quest campaign using a mixture of original and published adventures. I launched the campaign with John Tynes’ Three Days to Kill (Atlas Games).
• Freeport was a heavily modified version of Chris Pramas’ Freeport Trilogy (Green Ronin), placed at the northern tip of the Teeth of Light (a chain of islands in my home campaign setting) and studded with some island-hopping adventures.
• The War of the Giants, was a campaign I wanted to run that would start with G1 Against the Giants, but rather than transitioning to drow-related shenanigans, it would have instead escalated into a full-scale humans vs. giants war on the northern frontiers. (This never really got off the ground and didn’t progress beyond Against the Giants).

If you’re familiar with the history of D&D, then you’ll know that Three Days to Kill and Death in Freeport were the first two third-party adventures published for 3^rd Edition, both being released on the exact same day the Player’s Handbook was released. It’s not really a coincidence that my first two full-fledged 3^rd Edition campaigns launched with those scenarios: I’d scooped them up at Gen Con 2000.

In terms of how adversary rosters developed, The Quest of the Seals was the most important of these campaigns.

I’ve talked previously about how John Tynes, in Three Days to Kill, boils down the essential elements of a raid-type scenario. As noted in that discussion, part of a raid-type scenario is that “the defensive forces should be designed to respond as an active opposition force.” This is what that looked like in Three Days to Kill:

Now, this is not an adversary roster. But what it does do is separate the bad guys from the room key and, once again, emphasize that they’re going to be actively moving around the place.

When I prepped the adventure, I created a cheat sheet for the villa:

You can see that this is also not an adversary roster: It’s just a brief summary of the information from the module. When I ran the adventure, though, I really liked this: I liked the dynamic foes. And I liked having this information all on a cheat sheet that I could easily reference.

THE SUNLESS CITADEL

Three Days to Kill ends with someone (probably the PCs) accidentally opening a portal to Hell. For the purposes of my campaign, I basically upped the ante on this. As I noted in the campaign journal:

Behind you, the Blood Temple crouches upon the side of the mountain, pulsing and screaming into the night. A fiendish red light floods the heavens, obscuring the pale stars which shine down upon your retreating forms. The maw of Hell has been opened, and if there is a power which can shut it… you do not know what it might be.

The Quest of the Seals was, in fact, a quest for the three seals required to shut the portal to Hell: I placed one in The Sunless Citadel, another in the Forge of Fury, and the third in a homebrew module called the Monastery of Light. I then positioned these locations at opposite ends of my campaign world, so that the PCs would have to criss-cross the map on their epic journey.

But I digress. The important bit is that the next adventure on the docket was The Sunless Citadel.

And in my prep notes for The Sunless Citadel there’s this page:

Now, this looks a lot like an adversary roster. But this is only partly true. Do you see the entries for “Total Kobolds” and “Total Goblins”? That’s because this was actually a worksheet for tracking casualties.

See, The Sunless Citadel is occupied by a clan of kobolds and a clan of goblins at war with each other. As written, this conflict is kind of a cold war (with the kobolds occupying one set of rooms and the goblins occupying a different set of rooms). But I wanted to make this an ACTIVE conflict, with the goblins and kobolds actively feuding, raiding, and fighting. The casualty sheet was designed so that I could track this in real time.

This becomes even clearer with some stuff I designed for the group’s second session in the Citadel. The PCs had allied with the kobolds and fallen asleep in a side chamber. I decided to launch the second session with them being awakened by a major goblin raid on the kobolds.

I actually prepped the outcome of the entire fight if the PCs didn’t get involved. This was sort of like prepping a scenario timeline, but mostly misguided because it continued far past the point where the PCs were likely to intervene and change everything. (On the other hand, it was really four separate timelines — one for each room which had been assaulted — so this was mitigated somewhat: If the PCs intervened in Area 15, for example, I could use the timeline to easily keep track of what was happening in other rooms. Looking back with 20+ years of experience with 3^rd Edition, though, it would have made a lot more sense to reduce the number of rounds involved here by at least a third.)

In concert with this timeline, I also had a more specific casualty tracker:

In practice, that cheat sheet listing the locations of every goblin and kobold in the place did result in me beginning to haltingly use it like a proto-adversary roster (moving goblins and kobolds around to reinforce various areas), but the concept hadn’t fully gelled yet.

THE DEPTHS OF RAGE

As the PCs left The Sunless Citadel and headed west towards The Forge of Fury, one of the adventures they had along the road was “Depths of Rage,” a scenario from Dungeon Magazine #83 by J.D. Wiker that I combined with some material from Carl Sargent’s Night Below campaign.

Wiker’s “Depths of Rage” is a really cool scenario where the PCs delve into a goblin lair and then, when they’re at the deepest point of the dungeon, an earthquake hits and causes large parts of the dungeon to collapse. Now, with the dungeon completely transformed, the PCs need to crawl back out!

So this is a really cool, dynamic dungeon where the key entries and monster locations shift pre- and post-quake.

Night Below, on the other hand, includes notes in its key about how the monsters will dynamically react to the PCs’ presence and attempt to alert monsters in other locations (and also how the current location will be different if they have been previously alerted). For example

5. Thief Guards

[…]

If the wyvern watch at area 4 goes off, alerting them to the presence of intruders, Tinsley slips away towards area 10 to alert the fighter guards in the lower caverns (area 12), while Caswell hides behind one of the many columnar rocks.

I kind of combined these two ideas in an effort to make the dungeon even more dynamic and reactive. What I ended up with was an adversary cheat sheet that looked like this:

Which was… interesting.

No, not really. I mean, it worked. The adventure was great. But trying to program my prep notes like a computer game was a terrible idea — pure contingency prep instead of tool prep.

The last thing I prepped as part of this adventure, though, was a tracking sheet. Basically just a list of every area in the scenario so that I could actively track which goblins were where as a result of the various Alerts being triggered:

When I’d filled out this tracking sheet, what I had, of course, was something that looked a lot like the proto-adversary roster from The Sunless Citadel (i.e., Area 16 – 4 goblins), with the key difference being that this had been specifically developed to move the goblins around.

You’ll also notice that I had chunked the dungeon into sections: the Western Caves and the Eastern Caves. This was a natural division in Wiker’s design of the caverns, and breaking the goblin forces into these two separate chunks I kept each chunk to a manageable level of complexity.

THE FORGE OF FURY

Which brings us, finally, to my prep notes for a radically expanded Forge of Fury. It’s here that all of these ideas gel into the adversary roster. It looked like this:

Following in the footsteps of the goblins & kobolds of The Sunless Citadel and the east & west caves of “Depths of Rage,” you can see that I’ve chunked Forge of Fury into factions. This, obviously, is the adrak faction.

You can see that I’m still including a separate list of everyone in the faction. I did this for the purpose of tracking casualties, just as I had done in the previous two adventures. (Shortly thereafter I realized I could just track casualties directly on the area roster so that I wasn’t trying to do double-entry bookkeeping in the middle of a session.)

You might also note that I was indexing by AREA instead of by ACTION GROUP. (Compare to the roster from Quantronic Heat at the beginning of this article.) This is really a legacy of how the adversary roster evolved out of a traditional dungeon key (i.e., I’m literally going through the module and listing all the monsters in Area 15, then all the monsters in Area 16, etc.) and it persisted in my notes for many years even when I wasn’t adapting published adventures.

Reviewing my other campaign notes, it looks like I made the swap around 2009, probably as part of the In the Shadow of the Spire campaign.

(Why is the swap important? Conceptually it puts the focus on the adversaries you’re actively playing rather than the area they’re currently in. More importantly it makes it A LOT easier to use advanced techniques like variable areas, patrols, and the like. It also makes doing roster updates easier. See Art of the Key – Part 4: Adversary Rosters.)

In any case, the pay-off for these adversary rosters in Forge of Fury was immediate and spectacular at the table: Things kicked off with a truly epic siege as the PCs sought to break through the goblin defenses at the Mountain Door. After getting through the door itself, the PCs were able to strategically test the goblin defenses, while the goblins were able to move their reinforcements around.

Later, the PCs became trapped in the depths of the dungeon, cut off by the movement of enemy troops on the levels above them. You can read the conclusion of those adventures in Tales from the Table: In the Depths of Khunbaral.

The whole thing remains one of the coolest and most memorable dungeon adventures I’ve ever run, and the experience immediately cemented the adversary roster as a technique for creating awesome games. Having run hundreds of sessions since then using adversary rosters, I have only become more convinced that this is the case.

ThinkDM recently wrote a blog post discussing the skill list in 5^th Edition called 5 Skill D&D. His two main points are,

First: The optional rules that allow you to roll any Skill + Ability combination should just be the way that the game works rather than an optional rule. I enthusiastically endorse this: Not only is it basically a no-brainer to take advantage of this flexibility and utility, but if you DON’T use stuff like Charisma (Investigation) checks then there are some glaring holes in the default skill list.

Second: Once you’re using these optional rules, it becomes clear that there are many skills that don’t need to exist. The most clear-cut examples of this, in my opinion, are Athletics and Acrobatics. One of these is Physical Stuff + Strength while the other is Physical Stuff + Dexterity. If you can just combine a “Physical Stuff” skill with the appropriate ability score, then you clearly don’t need two different skills for this.

Concluding that the game, therefore, has a whole bunch of superfluous skills, ThinkDM aggressively eliminates and combines skill to end up with a list of just five skills:

• Fitness (Athletics, Acrobatics, Endurance)
• Speechcraft (Persuasion, Deception, Intimidation, Performance (oration))
• Stealth (Stealth, Deception (passing a disguise))
• Awareness (Investigation, Perception, Insight, Survival)
• Knack (Sleight of Hand, Medicine, Animal Handling, Performance (instrument))

(Note: He eliminates the Knowledge skills – Arcana, History, Religion, Nature, Medicine – entirely.)

While I agree with the general principles here, I have some quibbles with the, in my opinion, overzealous implementation. So let’s take a closer look at some of these decisions.

I’M SOLD

I’m sold on Fitness, Speechcraft, and Stealth.

Stealth is fairly self-explanatory: Most of the conflation here actually happened before 5^th Edition was even published, which – as I’ve discussed in Random GM Tips: Stealthy Thoughts, among other places – is something I’m fully in favor of.

Lumping all the social skills into Speechcraft might initially seem too reductionist, but it’s another good example of how ability score pairings can be used to distinguish different uses of the skill and differentiate characters: Charisma + Speechcraft can be used for making a good first impression, seducing someone through sheer sex appeal, or swaying a crowd’s opinion through an emotional appeal. Strength + Speechcraft can be used for physically threatening someone. Intelligence + Speechcraft can be used for witty repartee. And so forth.

I’ve also found that this kind of conflation can sidestep the conceptual difficult of trying to figure out which skill is appropriate when someone tries to, for example, persuade the local garrison to join them by lying to them about the goblins’ intentions while subtly threatening to expose the garrison captain’s dark secret. (Logically the debate about whether this is Perception, Deception, or Intimidation should just shift to which ability score is the most appropriate; I’m just saying that, in my experience, this doesn’t usually happen. Don’t really know why, but people just seem more willing to let the muddy reality of most social interactions default to any appropriately invoked option when it’s ability scores. This also frequently flows in the opposite direction, with players moving away from one-note presentations of “this is my deception” or “this is me persuading her” to more nuanced portrayals within the broad rubric of a skill like Speechcraft. Your mileage may vary.)

I particularly like the name of Speechcraft. It has a nicely fantasy-esque feel to it; evocative, but not binding.

By contrast, I don’t like Fitness as the name for a skill. Fitness is not an action, but rather a state of being, and I don’t think it clearly captures the spirit of most such tests made at the table. I’d stick with Athletics.

AWARENESS

As I discuss at length in Rulings in Practice: Perception-Type Tests, I think there’s a lot of utility in clearly distinguishing between noticing things and actively investigating things. This becomes even clearer, I think, when you start combining them with different ability scores: Charisma + Investigation is canvassing information and rumor-gathering. Perception + Wisdom/Charisma, on the other hand, is reading body language and the like.

Lumping Survival in here doesn’t make any sense to me at all. The skill is a lot more than just following tracks and, in my opinion, should be important enough to most D&D campaigns to merit its own silo.

KNACK

Knack is all too clearly “here’s a bunch of skills I need to arbitrarily glom together so that I can hit an arbitrary clickbait title.” There’s little reason that the pick-pocket should also be the party’s best healer. Conversely, not everyone who is good at riding a horse should automatically be great at picking pockets.

So split those back out.

KNOWLEDGE

My personal proclivity is that not only should there be at least enough knowledge skills that everyone in the group can have a distinct expertise (which often means more knowledge skills than party members), but that there should be enough knowledge skills that it becomes quite likely that any given group will, in fact, have holes in their knowledge.

(Why? Because that forces them to either work around the gap in their knowledge, do research, seek out an expert, and/or set a personal goal to become the expert they need. And those are all interesting outcomes.)

As I mentioned above, ThinkDM eliminates all knowledge-type skills. He offers a contradictory hodgepodge of reasons for this (for example, “no one knows everything” but also “the GM should always just assume the PCs know everything”) which I could discuss at more length, but honestly I’m tired of explaining why failure is narratively interesting and delayed gratification is satisfying.

What I really want is for a knowledge skill list to completely cover the fields of knowledge in a setting. This doesn’t mean getting super granular in the distinctions (quantum mechanics vs. electromagnetics vs. optics). Often the opposite, in fact. When a question of knowledge arises in the setting, what I want is for there to be a clear skill check that can answer the question.

This is why I really dislike the incomplete fields of knowledge in 5^th Edition’s current skill list and much prefer 3^rd Edition’s comprehensive list. (3^rd Edition was also designed to let people custom-design knowledge categories, although a surprising number of people never understood that.)

If we want to slice down the knowledge-type skills, I’d say start by saying that Backgrounds should grant proficiency in any related Knowledge checks.

And then my list of knowledge-type skills would be:

• Arcana
• Religion
• Lore
• Knowledge: (Specific Location)

With Lore here covering the entirety of mundane knowledge.

Thus we broadly distinguish between mystic shit, god-stuff, and everything else. This gives the opportunity to spread Knowledge around the table (instead of just one guy who’s a smarty-pants) and gives players the ability to flavor their character.

We’ve also given people a chance to say, “I know this city or forest or whatever really, really well.” It’s a skill type I often reach for as a GM (regardless of system) and I think it can be very flavorful for players looking to define their characters or give them a unique niche.

THE BIG LIST

• Animal Handling
• Arcana
• Athletics
• Investigation
• Knowledge: (Specific Location)
• Lore
• Medicine
• Perception
• Religion
• Sleight of Hand
• Speechcraft
• Stealth
• Survival

If you want an even tighter list, you can:

• Merge Investigation with Perception
• Fold Medicine into Lore
• Drop Sleight of Hand into Stealth

To give you a nice, notable number with 10 Skills.

TOOL PROFICIENCIES

In 5^th Edition, of course, skills are only half the story. You’ve also got tool proficiencies.

You don’t have to muck about with these, but I think there’s definitely some conflation here that would be valuable, although it’s a lot more fidgety. (This is somewhat inherent in the decision to use tool proficiencies in the first place.) 5^th Edition already sets precedent for this, however, with things like Vehicle (Land) and Vehicle (Water) proficiencies which cover a multitude of specific tools/vehicles.

The question I have is why other obvious candidates likes Musical Instruments and Gaming Sets weren’t similarly grouped together into a single proficiency.

At a certain point in staring at this, though, you realize it probably makes more sense to just create a list of skills that require tools to use:

• Alchemy
• Art
• Craft
• Gaming
• Music
• Thievery
• Vehicle (Air/Land/Water)

With the following notes:

• Navigator’s and Cartography Tools would be conflated into Survival.
• Forgery Kit would be conflated into Stealth or Thievery.
• Disguise Kit would be conflated into Stealth.
• Herbalism Kit is conflated into Alchemy.
• Poisoner’s Kit is conflated into Thievery (although you could make a case for a separate skill).

To make this actually work, of course, you’ll have to do additional work on how characters gain skills. May not be worth the headache, so keeping this short list in a separate silo (which can be trained) may still make the most sense.

Go to Table of Contents

There are several different ways that the PCs can complete the Avernian Quest, but the most immediate (and the one they’re most likely to be pursuing as they leave Elturel for the first time) is the Sword of Zariel. The vision they receive from Torm and the shredded remnants of Lulu’s memories point them towards a pair of kenku at Fort Knucklebones.

THE HISTORY OF FORT KNUCKLEBONES

The kenku Lulu is looking for are long dead. Lulu actually came to Fort Knucklebones hundreds of years ago, shortly after Zariel’s fall (see Part 6D).

See, there has always been a flock of kenku at Fort Knucklebones. For as long as anyone can remember. Longer, actually. The people in charge come and go, but the kenku are always there. The current boss is Mad Maggie, but before that there was:

• Lord Fauxen, a human warlock
• A flock of vrock, who secretly used the fort as a forward supply base in the Blood War
• Xartemug, a pit fiend

And so forth.

Although no one remembers Lulu here and no story of her original visit has been passed down, there is a vestige of her to be found among the local kenku: Kenku speak by mimicking words that they have heard. Flocks of kenku have small, unique collections of word “performances” that are collectively shared and passed down from one generation to the next. One such “word of the foreflock” in the Knucklebones flock is Lulu saying the word “love.” For generations, when these kenku have said that they love each other (or anyone else), they have spoken it with Lulu’s voice.

The kenku will recognize Lulu’s voice and become quite excited about this.

FORT KNUCKLEBONES

Fort Knucklebones is a trading post; a sort of Port Royal for the Avernian warlords where they come for supplies, recreation, and repairs. This also makes it a useful hub of operations for the PCs.

Mad Maggie is the current potentate of the fort. Although not a warlord herself, she is seen by them as an equal and the neutrality of the fort is (generally) respected.

The fort itself, based around an outcropping or red rock shaped like a clawed hand, is somewhat described in Descent Into Avernus, p. 80:

• There’s a rampart of rock, bones, and metal debris with a gatehouse.
• The outer court, roughly the area that lies between the rampart and the knuckle gates.
• There are four courtyards located between each of the knuckles. These courtyards are fronted by the knuckle gates, which can be shut for an additional line of defense, but are generally left open.
• There is a fastness within the outcropping, with access caves from most of the knuckle courtyards. The fastness includes various storehouses and also Maggie’s demesne.

Note: Fort Knucklebones is also likely to be the PCs’ first introduction to soul coins as a form of currency. Take the opportunity to push home the “you’re not in Kansas any more” moment. Check out Addendum: Soul Coins, for a more detailed look at how the coins can be used in Descent Into Avernus.

BETWEEN THE KNUCKLES: There are four courtyards located between the “knuckles” of the outcropping.

• The tinker’s shed, a service station for war machines run by the kenku. A large cave at the back of this courtyard serves as a garage. The kenku live in a number of smaller caves that line the fingers to either side of the courtyard. A number of these caves are quite high, and the kenku have to climb ladders carved into the rock. (According to the flock’s oral tradition, before their entire species was cursed, the kenku of Fort Knucklebones could simply fly up to these caves. That’s how long they’ve been living here.)
• The Well, a bar built up around a rare natural spring of clean water. This spring is the reason Fort Knucklebones has been so constantly occupied. The barkeep at the Well is named Natasha the Dark; she claims to be a “cloned daughter of Baba Yaga.” (This would imply that she’s the clone-sister of Iggwilv. She’s probably making it up. But who knows? Maybe she’s the real Tasha who invented Tasha’s hideous laughter and Iggwilv stole her)
• The arcade is filled with market tents. Maggie’s infernal bank, run by an imp named Sarcasia, can also be found here. (It houses her stockpile of soul coins, acts as a moneychanger, and offers loans of various sorts.)
• The hostel, located in the broad space between thumb and index finger, is more of a public campground. No fees are charged. Anyone can grab a slab of space and pitch a tent. (Maggie figures that if people are staying here, they’ll be spending money at the arcade and that’s where she gets her cut.) The imps love to play practical jokes on people staying here.

Note: “Tinker’s shed” is the generic term on Avernus for war machine repair shops or service stations. They take the name “shed” because they’re usually rather small. The kenku’s facility here at Fort Knucklebones is expansive, but still referred to as a shed.

INHABITANTS: For ease of reference, here’s a list of NPCs at Fort Knucklebones. Also arranged as a random table just in case:

If the PCs do end up making Fort Knucklebones a hub for their operations in Avernus, I’d recommend adding a few extra characters to this list and working it up with a Tavern Time™ structure. This is a good example of where smart prep means waiting to prep something until the players have started wading into it and you know you’ll need it.

KNUCKLEBONES ENCOUNTERS: Don’t use up all the encounters in the first fifteen minutes the PCs are at Fort Knucklebones. Or even their first visit. This stuff can build over time.

• Chukka & Clonk: Help repair war-machine (DIA, p. 83)
• Mickey: Limping from injury (DIA, p. 83)
• Imps: Play a practical joke (DIA, p. 84)
• Imps: Want PCs to kill Wazzik (DIA, p. 84)
• Barnabas: Find the flameskull’s missing tooth (DIA, p. 84)
• Redcaps: Offer PCs a severed finger as a friendship gift (DIA, p. 84)

If you rework Fort Knucklebones using the Tavern Time™ structure, you can pull these encounters into the NPC “topics of conversation.” (You’ll want 2-3 per NPC.)

Bonus Encounter: Natasha the Dark wants someone to cast hideous laughter on her. It reminds her of her sister.

THE 1-TO-10 SCALE: This is briefly described on DIA p. 80-81. It’s basically a mental shorthand for tracking what an NPC’s attitude is towards the PCs. You can actually track this sort of thing for all NPCs, on your campaign status document if it seems useful to you.

ARRIVING AT FORT KNUCKLEBONES

When the PCs come to Fort Knucklebones for the first time, we don’t want the kenku they’re looking for to be the first thing they see. Looking for the kenku will mean exploring the fort, pushing and pulling them into encounters with the various locations and characters here.

REDCAP WATCHPOST: There’s a watchpost in the fort’s ramparts manned by redcaps. Use the encounter described in DIA, p. 81.

OUTER COURT: As the PCs pass through the watchpost and into the outer court, describe three specific people (or groups of people) doing things around the courtyard. (One of these might be an encounter, but that’s probably not necessary right now.)

Note that you want to be specific. You don’t want to just describe a generic mélange of activity (e.g., “The courtyard is full of strange-looking creatures. There are horns and tails and a faint smell of sulfur.”). You want specific stuff they can choose to interact with.

None of these should be kenku. I recommend including a warlord gang (maybe hanging out around their war-machines outside the Well) as a way of foreshadowing or, if the PCs choose to interact with them, introducing this aspect of the campaign. (More on these gangs in Part 7E.)

FUTURE VISITS

On future visits to Fort Knucklebones I recommend having:

• 1d3 or 1d4-1 NPCs in the Outer Court and the Well.
• Having 1d2 or 1d3-1 NPCs in the other courtyards (plus whatever NPCs would logically be there, like the kenku in the garage).

If you expand the cast of characters here, you can probably bump those numbers up a notch.

Have one or two encounters on each visit. (If you haven’t gone for a full Tavern Time™ structure, in which case they’ll be keyed to the NPCs as you generate them.)

QUEST OF THE DREAM MACHINE

In the published book, Mad Maggie uses her dream machine to unlock Lulu’s memories and then Lulu’s memories guide the PCs as they journey across Avernus (through the twin railroads).

We are more or less going to invert this structure:

• The PCs come to Fort Knucklebones.
• The kenku explain that they can’t help, but maybe Mad Maggie can.
• Mad Maggie is intrigued (in large part due to her obsession with Zariel lore and Lulu’s presence in the rare tapestry she owns, see Part 6D). She has a machine that she thinks could be used to recover Lulu’s lost memories.
• Just one problem: The machine doesn’t work. It’s missing four key components. The PCs will need to find these components in order to make the machine work.

To find these components, the PCs will need to explore Avernus (as described in Part 7). Once they have the components, the dream machine can be repaired and Lulu’s memories recovered (as described in Part 6D-I).

Homework: How did Mad Maggie get the dream machine?

THE FOUR COMPONENTS:

• Nirvanan Cogbox. Used in a variety of infernal machines, these cogboxes come from Mechanus.
• Heartstone. Used by night hags to infiltrate the dreams of their victims. It’s used as a prism or beam-splitter in the dream machine.
• Phlegethosian sand. Obsidian sand pounded from the jagged, rocky plains of Phlegethos, the fourth layer of Hell.
• Astral pistons. Another component used in various pieces of infernal machinery. The pistons are actually extruded into the astral plane, maximizing their mechanical output. It’s an outdated technology and rarely used these days.

MAGGIE’S LEADS

In addition briefing the PCs on the parts she needs, Mad Maggie can provide them with some initial leads on where they may be able to find some of them. The alphanumeric hex references below are map coordinates from the hex map in Part 7B, which you can use to quickly identify where these leads can potentially take the PCs.

Astral Pistons: She’s heard that an oni named Malargan — the forgemaster of Kolasiah, a local warlord — has a set of astral pistons in his forge. (Hex A5)

Astral Pistons: Uldrak the Tinker, whose shop is based out of a titanic helmet located in the western end of the Plains of Fire, had a set of astral pistons in stock a few years back when one of Maggie’s riders (now dead) needed repairs for an antique war machine. It’s possible he might still have a supply. (Hex D5)

Heartstone: Mad Maggie and Red Ruth (Hex B4) were part of a coven along with a third night hag named Gaunt Gella. Mad Maggie believes that Red Ruth killed Gella and stole her heartstone. Maggie suspects that Red Ruth is still located somewhere in Avernus, but she doesn’t know where. However, she has heard rumors that Red Ruth has been seen at Mahadi’s Emporium from time to time, and the PCs might check there for a lead to Red Ruth’s current location.

Note: “Gella” means “the one with the golden hair.” Consider having a quiet, emotional moment for Mad Maggie where she remembers the beautiful hair of her fallen friend. It’s up to you whether or not Red Ruth was actually responsible for Gella’s death.

Alternatively, Gaunt Gella was bald, but collected the heads of blonde mortals. (Maggie can still fondly remember how beautiful the hair was.)

Nirvanan Cogbox: Nirvanan cogboxes are a modronic technomancy. Maggie has heard that a modron ship crashed on the shores of the Styx contra-Dis from Fort Knucklebones. (The ship is located in Hex H5, but it’s actually an elemental galleon from Eberron and does not have a cogbox.)

Design Note: At least three instances of each component have been seeded into the Avernian hexcrawl. (The Three Clue Rule waves hello.) In Part 7I: Avernian Rumor Tables, you will find additional rumors that can lead the PCs to these disparate sources.

Mad Maggie gives four leads, and she should give them all at once. She gives two different sources for one component, one possible source for a second component (although she doesn’t exactly know how to track that source down), and an incorrect location for the fourth component.

This spreads four experiences across these leads:

For one component, the PCs have two leads and can choose one. (Establishing the idea that they have multiple options for finding the components.)

For another, they’ll have to follow up their lead to figure out where they can actually find the component. (Establishing the idea that they’ll need to actively investigate to find these components.)

For the third component, they’ll discover a dead end and need to find a different way.

For the fourth component, they’ll have no lead at all. (Establishing the idea that this isn’t just a “do what Mad Maggie tells you” fetch quest; instead, they’ll be in the driver’s seat for figuring out how to obtain these components.)

With no additional explanation, simply receiving these four leads from Mad Maggie will teach the players a lot about the form, structure, and expectations of the Avernian hexcrawl.

Go to Part 6D: Lulu’s Memories

Go to Part 1

Almost certainly the most famous sequence featuring traps is the beginning of Raiders of the Lost Ark. So, bearing in mind The Principle of Using Linear Mediums as RPG Examples, let’s take a look at what makes the sequence work.

TRAP 1 – COBWEBS. The first trap we see are the cobwebs filling the entrance. This an example of a naturally occurring trap (as opposed to one that was built). It’s also, perhaps surprisingly, a dynamic trap. Rather than simply dealing damage, it instead releases monsters for Indy to deal with. In this case, the monsters are spiders:

In D&D we might imagine swapping these out for giant spiders, but it’s really not necessary: What you have here are a bunch of spiders crawling over the PCs and they need to figure out how to get them off before getting bitten and poisoned.

TRAP 2 – SPIKE TRAP. Next up is a spike trap that shoots out from the wall to impale its unlucky victims. Somehow triggered by interrupting a beam of sunlight, this is clearly a magical trap and you’ll need to use your Intelligence (Arcana) skill to detect it.

Indy “disables” this trap by triggering it in a controlled way. (Player expertise trumps character expertise and bypasses the normal mechanic.)

The spikes contain the corpse of a former explorer, telling the story of what has happened in this dungeon before.

The spike trap also has an ongoing effect: We know it has a delayed reset because Satipo, Indy’s companion, triggers it while running back down the corridor later.

TRAP 3 – PIT TRAP. Next up we have a classic pit trap. This is actually an open pit, demonstrating that a trap doesn’t necessarily need to be hidden in order to pose a dilemma for the PCs to overcome. (This conceit is probably underused in D&D. It’s obviously not a one-true-way thing, but it can also be a self-diagnostic tool: If it would be pointless for a trap to exist if the PCs automatically spotted it, that may be a good indicator that the trap isn’t interesting enough.)

Instead of somehow disabling the pit, of course, Indy solves the problem by using his whip to swing across it. He easily makes his Dexterity (Acrobatics) check, but Satipo flubs his. Rather than immediately dropping him in the pit, however, the hypothetical GM uses fortune-in-the-middle to leave him dangling helplessly. Indy has to leap in with a Strength (Athletics) check to haul him in.

TRAP 4 – DART TRAP. Next we have the (probably poison) dart trap. Indiana Jones succeeds on his Intelligence (Investigation) check to find the trigger. Once he’s identified one trigger (camouflaged with a covering of dirt), he can easily recognize the other triggers in the room. This is somewhat compressed, but still demonstrates a local theme.

Jones once again decides not to disable the trap and instead makes a Dexterity (Acrobatics) check to make his way across the room.

TRAP 5 – THE IDOL’S PEDESTAL. Everyone knows this one, right? Even if you haven’t actually seen the movie, I feel like you already know this one: Indiana Jones tries to replace the idol with a sand-filled bag of equal weight to avoid triggering the trap.

(And if you haven’t seen Raiders of the Lost Ark, I really can’t emphasize enough how you should immediately stop reading this article and go do that. Not because of spoilers – we’re just discussing the first scene here – but because you’re missing out on something awesome.)

Something to note here is that Indiana Jones very specifically filled the bag with sand outside the temple. He knew this trap would be here. Remember when I said that you’ll know you’ve gotten the balance right when the PCs start actively trying to collect intel on the traps they might encounter? And the pay-off will be memorable problem-solving (that, in this case, will resonate through a bajillion homages)?

Yeah. Like that.

The idol’s pedestal also features a delayed onset. This is another technique you can use for fortune-in-the-middle resolutions.

This is also the first trap-related skill check Indiana Jones has failed. Notice that the failure doesn’t zap him for damage!

Instead, we then have one of the greatest dynamic traps of all time as the entire temple begins to collapse! A whole new problem that prompts both Satipo and Indy to flee back out of the temple, retracing their steps through the same traps they came through to get here.

This is where the specificity with which the previous traps were detected and dealt with pays off a second time. This is why you want to avoid the simplicity of “a successful Disable check = the trap no longer exists.” For example, if Jones had taken the time to disable the dart triggers as he entered the temple, he’d now have a clear path to exit. But he didn’t, and now he doesn’t have time to carefully pick his way through the traps.

His only option is to try to run out of the room so quickly that the darts can’t hit him. We might model this as a Jones taking a Dodge action (so that the darts make attack rolls at disadvantage). Or maybe it makes more sense for Jones to make a Dexterity (Acrobatics) check at disadvantage to see if he can move fast enough.

(Notice how the same trap can be dealt with in different ways – both in the fiction and in the mechanics – because, once again, the nature of the trap is specific.)

We return to the pit. Because Jones specifically left his whip in situ, Satipo can use it to swing across. This time he makes his Dexterity (Acrobatics) check, but pulls the whip after him.

Now things get interesting, as Satipo demands that Indy throw him the idol before he’ll throw him the whip. This is an example of how traps can be incorporated into non-combat scenes: This is a social dilemma and negotiation which is entirely predicated on the presence of the trap!

(We might ask ourselves how often this sort of thing really happens. But in pulp fiction? It happens all the time. When in doubt, dangle a loved one over a cauldron of boiling oil. Or negotiate a terrible price for the antidote to a poison dart.)

Satipo reneges on the deal, drops the whip, and leaves. “Adios, señor.”

Indy takes a running start and makes a Strength (Athletics) check to just leap across it.

(What’s that? 5th Edition uses flat jump distances instead of making you roll a check for it? Well, that would certainly make this moment incredibly boring. But it’s not like D&D is based on pulp adventure stories, so I’m sure perilous leaps won’t come up that often and it therefore makes perfect sense for that to be the rule… Anyway, I digress.)

Indy fails his check, but the GM once again uses a fortune-in-the-middle technique (possibly prompted by a partial failure) and has him land on the far edge of the pit. He’s going to have to try to climb up by grabbing a vine.

Another partial failure on the Strength (Athletics) check! He manages to grab the vine, but it’s not secure and he nearly slides back into the pit before catching himself!

Here we see multiple traps being brought together for a combinatory effect: Not only is Jones trying to get past the pit trap, but there’s a wall descending that will cut him off from the exit. He’s only got 3 rounds before his exit is cut off, and he’s burning through them with these failed checks!

Indy, of course, finally makes his Strength (Athletics) check and scrambles under the door, managing to grab his whip at the last minute. Running down the corridor he discovers that Satipo has, as we mentioned before, (a) made the strategic decision not to search for traps because the temple was collapsing around him and (b) failed to remember (via player expertise) that the spike trap was there.

(Once again, if they had disabled this trap instead of simply bypassing it on their way in, this would have played out very differently.)

This, of course, brings us to the other great iconic trap from this sequence:

TRAP 6 – BIG-ASS BOULDER. This may or may not be a new trap, actually. It’s quite likely that the boulder is triggered by the idol’s pedestal, being an example of a trap having a non-local effect in the dungeon and just one more step in the trap’s wide-ranging “seal the temple” schtick.

Alternatively, it’s possible that Indy did something to trigger the boulder as he was exiting. If so, this trigger probably only becomes active as a result of the trap on the idol’s pedestal being triggered. (We didn’t specifically discuss triggers that are only conditionally active, but it’s a subset of trigger uncertainty.)

Indy then leaps through the spider webs (which have apparently not reset with more spiders) and hurtles out of the temple.

End of sequence.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

Is this an example of a good D&D dungeon?

Probably not. It’s too linear even for a short dungeon, in my opinion. (Although if you do have a relatively linear sequence with a lot of traps that you’re going to force the players through, the fact that so many of the traps are immediately obvious or already known to Jones before he enters the dungeon – the webs, the pit, the idol’s pedestal – may be a good tip: Put the interest on what the PCs do about the traps instead of whether or not they find the traps; and if there’s no interest to be found there, then you probably need to fix that.)

But the point of the exercise, of course, is not the totality of dungeon design. It’s about how we can bring cool traps to our tables. In this, I think, Indy has successfully given us some insight.

Back to the Art of Rulings