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In Chapter 4 of Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden, as the PCs are climbing the mountain outside his fortress, the duergar tyrant Xardorok Sunblight releases a chardalyn dragon and sends it flying to ravage the ten towns of Ten-Towns.

The PCs are faced with a difficult decision: Continue their assault on Xardorok’s fortress or race back to Ten-Towns to stop the dragon’s rampage?

After posting Icewind Dale: Travel Times, I had multiple DMs and patrons ask me if I was also planning to look at this section of the book.

DRAGON’S FLIGHT

The chardalyn dragon flies from Xardorok’s fortress, which is named Sunblight, and targets each town in turn, flying from one to the next and razing it before continuing. On p. 188-9 of the book there is both a map of the route and this table:

The table, unfortunately, is not terribly helpful because it omits the time that the dragon spends destroying each town before leaving for the next. So let’s start with a replacement table, measured in hours from when the dragon leaves Sunblight:

BLIZZARD: A blizzard starts shortly after the dragon leaves Termalaine. (See Icewind Dale, p. 11.)

CHASING THE DRAGON

Now we’re going to look at how and how long it takes the PCs to catch up with the dragon. (An important first step in stopping it). There are a couple things to know before we jump in here.

First, no matter where you’re going, it turns out that it’s always faster to go straight from Sunblight to Dougan’s Hole and then follow the roads from there. This would be true even if you could ride in a straight line (which your usually can’t due the lakes). So we’ll be using that as our baseline assumption when looking at travel times.

Straight line measurements as the crow flies to other settlements (although most of these routes are impractical on land and, as noted, wouldn’t be faster anyway):

• Dougan’s Hole: 10.5 miles
• Good Mead: 12 miles (you need to cross Redwaters Lake and it’s not frozen over)
• Easthaven: 14 miles (you need to cross the river, but it might be frozen over)
• Caer-Dineval: 21 miles (Redwaters and Lac Dinneshere are in the way)
• Caer-Konig: 25.5 miles (Lac Dinneshere is in the way)
• Bryn Shander: 17 miles
• Targos: 20.5 miles
• Bremen: 22.5 miles
• Termalaine: 24.5 miles (you need to cross Redwaters Lake)
• Lonelywood: 25.5 miles (you need to cross the northern end of Maer Dualdon, which is not frozen over)

Although the amount of mountain travel differs slightly, in practice you can assume that each of the values above include 4.5 miles of mountain travel.

Second, even though the book features a scenario predicated on precisely timed overland travel, the travel times in the book are both inconsistent and imprecise. The first part of Icewind Dale: Travel Times sought to correct these problems, but I recognize that some people will still be using the values found in the book. So we’ll take the time to look at both scenarios.

BY THE BOOK

We’re going to assume that the PCs are traveling by dogsled, because the adventure contrives to make this true. In doing so, however, we immediately run into a problem: While the book gives a value for dogsled travel in the wilderness (1 mile per hour; ½ mile per hour in mountains), it doesn’t give a value for dogsled travel along roads. Instead, it inconsistently says “mounts and dogsleds can shorten these times by as much as 50 percent.”

For our purposes, we’re simply going to assume that dogsleds reduce these times by exactly 50 percent. And they do it along all roads.

Furthermore, for the sake of simplicity, we will also be assuming that the PCs make all necessary navigation checks (while traveling through mountains or in a blizzard).

Note: We’re still using the “by the book” times on the Travel Time Map from Part 1, which is still slightly modified to remove other inconsistencies in the book-given travel times.

ROUTE TO DOUGAN’S HOLE: If you go straight from Sunblight to Dougan’s Hole (see map above), there’s 4.5 miles of mountain travel (9 hours) followed by 6.5 miles of overland travel (6.5 hours), for a total travel time of 15.5 hours.

But if you take this route:

Then there’s 3.5 miles of mountain travel (7 hours) and 7.5 miles of overland travel (7.5 hours), for a total travel time of 14.5 hours.

Using the faster route, if the PCs immediately leave Sunblight to chase the dragon, here are the travel times to various settlements (assuming they go directly to that settlement):

• Dougan’s Hole: 14.5 hours
• Good Mead: 16.5 hours
• Easthaven: 18.5 hours
• Caer-Dineval: 20.5 hours
• Caer-Konig: 21.5 hours
• Bryn Shander: 19.5 hours
• Targos: 20.5 hours
• Bremen: 21.5 hours
• Termalaine: 22.5 hours
• Lonelywood: 23.5 hours

FORCED MARCH & EXHAUSTION: The other thing to keep in mind here is that, assuming they left from Dougan’s Hole, the PCs already traveled 14.5 hours to get to Sunblight. If you assume they traveled 8 hours yesterday, rested, and then traveled another 6.5 hours today… well, after just 1.5 hours they’ll hit their 8 hour daily limit for travel and have to start a Forced March. The dogs will need to make Constitution saving throws at the end of each hour (DC 10 + 1 per hour past 8 hours) or suffer a level of exhaustion. After just two failed saves, their speed will be halved and after five failed saves their speed will drop 0.

However, the rules state that, “Sled dogs must take a short rest after pulling a sled for 1 hour; otherwise, they gain one level of exhaustion.” We could interpret this to replace the normal rules for forced marches, representing the legendary stamina of sled dogs. (This matches real world practices on the Iditarod Trail, so it’s not a huge reach.) This rest time is already calculated into the travel times listed above, so this largely solves the problem for us.

You’ll still want to give some thought to the effects this travel has on the PCs. 5th Edition doesn’t really have mechanics for being short on sleep and the relationship between the forced march rules and traveling in a vehicle are… vague. You might simplify this down to:

• 1 level of exhaustion for each missed night of sleep.
• A DC 10 Constitution check per 8 hours of dogsled travel, with 1 level of exhaustion on a failure.

SWAPPING DOGS: Once the PCs get back to the remnants of civilization, they might be able to periodically swap their dogs out for fresh dogs. Under ideal circumstances, this would allow them to run the dogs without a rest, effectively doubling their speed. The trick is that after two hours, they’ll gain two levels of exhaustion and their speed will be halved again. After five hours, the dogs can’t go any further.

Let’s assume that they can switch to fresh dogs in every town. (This isn’t a great assumption because some of the towns they go through will have been wiped out by the dragon. Plus, negotiating for dogs probably chews up some of the time saved. But for the sake of simplicity, let’s go with it.) We can re-calculate our travel times (these all assume they swap dogs in Dougan’s Hole; if no dogs survived there or if the town has already been abandoned in your judgement the numbers will have to shift):

• Dougan’s Hole: 14.5 hours
• Good Mead: 15.5 hours
• Easthaven: 16.5 hours
• Caer-Dineval: 17.5 hours (switch in Good Mead)
• Caer-Konig: 18 hours (switch in Good Mead, Caer-Dineval)
• Bryn Shander: 17 hours (switch in Good Mead)
• Targos: 17.5 hours (switch in Good Mead, Bryn Shander)
• Bremen: 18 hours (switch in Good Mead, Bryn Shander)
• Termalaine: 18.5 hours (switch in Good Mead, Bryn Shander)
• Lonelywood: 19 hours (switch in Good Mead, Bryn Shander)

BY THE BOOK – SCENARIOS

BEST CASE SCENARIO: By comparing the PCs’ best time (with dog-swapping) to the dragon’s arrival and departure times, we can look at a few likely scenarios.

The first thing to note is that it’s impossible to save Dougan’s Hole, Good Mead, Easthaven, Caer-Dineval, or Caer-Konig. The PCs literally can’t get to any of them fast enough. So the absolute best case scenario is that they head for Termalaine and get there about ninety minutes before the dragon does.

More generally, if the PCs choose any of the other five towns and head straight there, they’ll be able to get there before the dragon.

WILD GOOSE CHASE: The problem is that the PCs don’t know that. In order to accurately calculate where they can intercept the dragon they need to know:

• its route;
• how fast it’s going; and
• how long it will spend destroying each town

Although they might be able to learn or intuit the first two, there’s no way for them to do anything but guess at the third.

This can easily lead to a disaster if they try to chase the dragon from one town to the next: Leaving Good Mead they know it was heading to Easthaven, so they head there only to find that the dragon has destroyed the town and moved on. So they race north along the road, hoping to catch it at Caer-Dineval or Caer-Konig… but they can’t. And now they’ve wasted so much time that they arrive in Termalaine too late.

WORST CASE SCENARIOS: If the PCs go to Dougan’s Hole, travel by road, and are reasonably accurate in anticipating the dragon’s flight path (by questioning survivors, etc.) most of the scenarios broadly look like the above: They catch up to it in either Termalaine or Lonelywood.

Worst case scenarios start rolling out if they deviate from this approach. Obviously, it’s possible for them to unnecessarily write off cities that could have been saved (“Let’s bunker up in Bryn Shander!”). But they might also do something like:

• Ride to Bryn Shander to warn the largest city in Ten-Towns of the devastation. (They arrive at 17 hours, then spend an hour there.)
• Having warned the leaders in Bryn Shander, they decide to ride to Easthaven to try to stop the dragon there! (They arrive at 20 hours.)
• They ride north to Caer-Dineval and then Caer-Konig hoping to catch up! (They arrive at Caer-Konig at 23 hours.)
• Oh no! Let’s go save Termalaine. (They arrive at 29.5 hours.)
• Too late! To Lonelywood! (They arrive at 30 hours.)
• Too late! They ride back to Targos (arrive at 31.5 hours), but don’t stop because the dragon must be attacking Bremen!
• But they don’t get to Bremen until 32 hours, arriving just in time to watch the dragon fly over their heads back to Targos!

Most of these worst case scenarios seem to end up with them confronting the dragon in Targos. (The dragon spends 8 hours in Targos. That soaks a large margin of error at an intersection.)

IRRELEVANT CHOICE: One interesting conclusion from running these numbers is that the decision to attack or not attack Sunblight before riding back to Ten-Towns turns out to probably be irrelevant to the outcome as long as the PCs can clear the fortress without taking a short rest (which is likely).

RECOMMENDED TRAVEL TIMES

If you’re using the recommended travel rules from Part 1, there are two key differences to account for:

• Dogsleds move at 4 miles per hour on roads (instead of 2 miles per hour).
• You can also use the rules for fast pace travel from the DMG.

These benefits are offset to some extent if you’re using the optional rules for deteriorating roads, but I won’t be attempting to factor these into the calculations below.

Perhaps the most significant advantage is that by maintaining a fast pace, the PCs can get to Dougan’s Hole six hours earlier. These numbers assume that they maintain their fast pace on the roads and do not rest their dogs:

• Dougan’s Hole: 8.5 hours
• Good Mead: 9 hours
• Easthaven: 10 hours
• Caer-Dineval: 10.5 hours
• Caer-Konig: 12 hours
• Bryn Shander: 11 hours
• Targos: 12 hours
• Bremen: 12.5 hours
• Termalaine: 14 hours
• Lonelywood: 14.5 hours

RECOMMENDED TRAVEL TIMES – SCENARIOS

BEST CASE SCENARIO: We can see that Dougan’s Hole and Good Mead are still lost no matter what the PCs do, but it’s now quite possible for them to reach Easthaven while the dragon is only halfway through its destruction of the town.

DRAGON CHASE: The book actually recommends that the dragon leaves a town after it take 30 points of damage. Because the PCs are only slightly slower than the dragon under these rules, this arguably becomes a more interesting scenario (with the PCs able to readily catch up if they can intuit where the dragon is going next).

This also gives the players a reasonable chance to pull back, recuperate, and still be able to bring the fight back to the dragon.

POTENTIAL DRAWBACKS: These travel times make it significantly more likely that the PCs will be able to spare the bulk of Ten-Towns from disaster. Whether that’s a feature or not is probably in the eye of the beholder.

Personally, I like the idea that if Ten-Towns falls the PCs will feel responsible for it, rather than feeling that it was inevitable. On the other hand, maybe you’ve got some solid ideas for what post-apocalyptic Icewind Dale looks like and you want to put your thumb on the scales a bit for that.

AXEBEAKS

Axebeaks can match dogsled speeds on the tundra, but they don’t have the dogsled stamina we invoked above. Assuming the PCs use normal pace to ride to Sunblight, they ride 8 hours the first day and then 6.5 the next day.

This leaves them with only 1.5 hours of travel left on the day when the dragon heads for Ten-Town. They can take a fast pace back to Dougan’s Hole, but the axebeaks will need a long rest on the way. This means it takes 18.5 hours to get back (the dragon is heading for Termalaine):

• Dougan’s Hole: 18.5 hours
• Good Mead: 20 hours
• Easthaven: 23 hours
• Caer-Dineval: 24 hours
• Caer-Konig: 25.5 hours
• Bryn Shander: 24.5 hours
• Targos: 25.5 hours
• Bremen: 26 hours
• Termalaine: 28.5 hours
• Lonelywood: 29 hours

WAITING UNTIL MORNING: If they wait for morning before heading for Sunblight and triggering the dragon’s release, things get better: The axebeaks can get back to Dougan’s Hole with only a manageable forced march and no long rest:

• Dougan’s Hole: 10.5 hours
• Good Mead: 12 hours
• Easthaven: 15 hours
• Caer-Dineval: 16 hours
• Caer-Konig: 17.5 hours
• Bryn Shander: 16.5 hours
• Targors: 17.5 hours
• Bremen: 18 hours
• Termalaine: 20.5 hours
• Lonelywood: 21 hours

Swapping axebeaks (galloping them hard for 6 miles before they become exhausted and their speed halves) can improve these times somewhat. Swapping to a dogsled works better.

ON FOOT

What if the PCs go Sunblight on foot and can’t get Vellynne’s dogsleds there? If you’re just using the base travel rates from Rime of the Frostmaiden:

• It takes them 29 hours to get back to Dougan’s Hole.
• By that point, the dragon has destroyed Dougan’s Hole, Good Mead, Easthaven, Caer-Dineval, Caer-Konig, Termalaine, and Lonelywood.
• It takes them a total of 41 hours to reach Targos, which is too late to save either Bremen or Targos. So those towns are also automatically destroyed.

Basically, the ONLY thing they can do is go to Bryn Shander, arriving shortly before the dragon does. If they don’t realize how bad things are and go to Easthaven and then Caer-Dineval first before backtracking to Bryn Shander, they’re entirely too late and the dragon has already flown back to Sunblight.

(Reality check, though: None of those calculations include forced march exhaustion or the need for sleep. So, basically, if they’re on foot, Ten-Towns is automatically razed. This is why the necromancer ex machina is waiting for them at the bottom of the mountain to drive them back to civilization.)

RECOMMENDED TRAVEL TIMES: Things look a little bit better if you can set a fast pace and travel roads at speed.

• Dougan’s Hole: 14.5 hours
• Gold Mead: 16 hours
• Easthaven: 19 hours
• Caer-Dineval: 20 hours
• Caer-Konig: 21.5 hours
• Bryn Shander: 20.5 hours
• Targos: 21.5 hours
• Bremen: 22 hours
• Termalaine: 24.5 hours
• Lonelywood: 25 hours

These numbers, though, still don’t factor in rest. A particular problem is that the PCs are likely to have arrived at Sunblight late in the day (having traveled 8 hours one day and then 6.5 hours the next). Let’s assume that they do a few hours of forced march the first night and a few more the next day, allowing them to arrive at Dougan’s Hole at just 22.5 hours. (At this point the dragon is already in Termalaine.)

The problem is they now need another long rest before traveling again. By the time they get up, the dragon is in Bremen (30.5 hours). With perfect information, they can reach Targos while the dragon is still there.

SWITCHING TO DOGSLEDS: But wait! What if they switch to dogsleds in Dougan’s Hole? With perfect information, they could get to Lonelywood just in time to see the dragon flying away. But in this scenario, saving Bremen becomes plausible.

Moral of the story? Walking is for chumps.

The concept of an RPG sandbox campaign often gets mixed up with a lot of other things. Some of these are common structures used for sandboxes (like hexcrawls). Others are just misnomers (like sandboxes being the opposite of a railroad).

(Quick definition: A sandbox campaign is one in which the players are empowered to either choose or define what their next scenario is going to be. Hexcrawls are a common sandbox structure because geographical navigation becomes a default method for choosing scenarios, which are keyed to the hexes you’re navigating between.)

Other conflations are subtler. A particularly common one is to conflate simulationism with the sandbox structure. One major appeal of the sandbox can be that it allows players to feel as if they’re “living in the world” because they’re free to do “anything,” which has a fairly large overlap with what people enjoy about simulationism.

But simulationism is not required for sandbox play.

A good example of this is the chardalyn dragon from Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden.

SPOILER WARNING!

When the PCs approach a particular location on the map (Xardorok’s fortress), this triggers an event in which the dragon flies away to cause some havoc. In discussing this as part of a sandbox scenario, I was challenged: How could it be a sandbox if it was dramatically triggered by the PCs’ approach?

(Note: I’m just talking about triggering the dragon flight here. Shortly thereafter Rime of the Frostmaiden ALSO has an NPC show up to trigger a linear plot that ends the sandbox. I’m not talking about her. Just the dragon.)

The confusion here is due to the conflation of the sandbox structure and simulationism. A simulationist wouldn’t trigger the dragon based on the PCs’ approach. They’d probably do something like have Xardorok’s construction of the dragon be on a schedule with the dragon being released when Xardorok completes it, regardless of whether or not the PCs have found Xardorok’s fortress yet. (There are also other simulationist techniques that could be used here.)

But a sandbox isn’t dependent on simulationism. There’s nothing about dramatically triggering an event which is incompatible with the players remaining empowered to choose and define their scenario.

Go to Icewind Dale Index

Go to Part 1

An idea we’ve sort of been flirting with here is that node-based design is fundamentally fractal: You can “zoom in” on a node and break it apart into more nodes. Or, conversely, you can “zoom out” of the local collection of nodes you’ve been adventuring in and discover it’s all part of just ONE node in a much larger web.

For example, let’s consider the Lytekkas vampire hypercorp:

• At the highest level, we map their activity across seven cities: Chicago, the Old Angeles arcology, Shanghai, St. Petersburg, Reykjavik, Cheltenham, and the Lytekkas-Auberjonais L1 colony.
• Pick one of those and open it up: Now you’ve got nodes representing all of Lytekkas’ major projects in the Chicago metroplex. (These would also have connections to the other cities.)
• One of these involves the development of experimental blood-nannies (probably derived from the vampiric virus to mass-Renfield the population; or maybe an effort to control the negative side-effects of being a vampire).
• Look inside that node and you find the half dozen or so people and facilities involved in the program.
• The PCs identify and target a Lytekkas warehouse. This node is a heist scenario. There are elements of a heist scenario that are node-like, but it’s really a different structure, so this is the end of the road.
• … or is it? Part of the heist scenario is the opportunity to secure blueprints of the target. We could resolve that with a skill check, but we could also design it as a micro-node-based scenario.

But you can also flip this whole thing around and see that the Lytekkas hypercorp is just one of the immortal corporations which can track their secret history from the 22^nd century back to the Dutch East India Company in the 17^th century, with each one of those immortal corporations being a separate node.

This fractal quality can be seen not just in the nodes themselves, but in the connections between those nodes: There’s functionally no limit to how many leads can be placed in a single node, nor in how many leads can be created that point to a node. There is always an opportunity to increase the complexity and interconnectedness of your node map, particularly if we’re talking about an ongoing campaign which is developing over time (and, thus, features connections being formed and broken over time).

At this point the pedants may point out that this isn’t truly fractal because there is a limit to how far we can take this: At some point we’ll end up with a node which is a person; which is a sole entity that cannot be subdivided.

But it’s more true than you might think: Even individuals can be reconceptualized as a node-based scenario consisting of their job, connections, family, etc. The question is not whether you can do this, but whether it is interesting to do so.

MANIFESTING & MANAGING COMPLEXITY

This fractal nature of node-based scenario design, as we’ve seen, allows us to manifest an almost limitless amount of complexity. That can be quite daunting.

But it also allows us to manage this complexity. One of the functions of node-based design is specifically to chunk information into manageable nodes so that you don’t have to try to juggle or keep the whole thing in your head at once.

If you’re getting overwhelmed by trying to handle all seventy nodes of the Lytekkas hypercorp, figure out how to categorize those nodes into manageable groups: By city of operation. Or secret projects. Or corporate division.

The “right” division is going to depend on your own personal preferences and the details of the specific scenario. You’re looking for the clear conceptual chunks that will allow you to keep on top of incredibly complicated campaigns, while ideally only needing to think about one chunk of the scenario or campaign at a time. (I talk a bit more about what the manageable limits for this are in Advanced Node-Based Design – Part 4: The Second Track.)

For a rough-and-ready example of this, let’s consider the Bangkok node in the Eternal Lies Remix. In my prep notes, you can see that I identified five nodes:

1. Lowman’s Townhouse
2. Phikhat Hwan
3. Ko Kruk Island
4. Sirikhan Estate
5. Savitree Hunts the Investigators

The first two nodes are pretty standard node-based design: They’re distinct locations with (at least) three clues pointing at each.

But Ko Kruk Island is then broken into three separate nodes: The island itself, the Sirikhan Estate (a mansion on the island), and Savitree hunting the investigators (on the island).

Why?

To manage the complexity.

While the Sirikhan Estate is located on Ko Kruk Island, if the PCs are exploring the island (Node 3) I don’t need to think about every individual room inside the Estate (Node 4). And vice versa: if they’re in the mansion, I generally don’t need to worry about the whole island. Just like separating the individual rooms of a dungeon into separate keyed entries, separating this information lets me clearly focus on (and find!) what’s important RIGHT NOW.

(Speaking of fractal prep, of course, the rooms of the Estate are prepped as a location-crawl. So it’s individual rooms within a node (the Estate) within another node (the Island) within another node (Bangkok). You can really see how the prep structure lets me precisely narrow my focus.)

Node 5 was actually a late addition to my prep notes. I was originally trying to include that material in Node 3 — it’s stuff that happens on the island, so logically it should be in the “Island” chunk of information.

But the complexity of that particular event sequence was bloating the material to a point where I was finding it difficult to organize and reference it. If this is happening to your prep, it’s usually a warning sign that you need to break the material apart into more discrete chunks!

On the flip side, if the players become particularly fascinated by some aspect of the scenario or game world, it becomes relatively trivial for you to zoom in on it and explore it in more detail. Keep this in mind even when running the game: Zoom in on the node and/or add connections to it in response to the PCs’ actions. Slap in a simple node-template like the 5-Node Mystery and you’re good to go following the players down their rabbit hole. Who knows where it will take you?

Go to Part 4: Nodes Aren’t Everything

The PCs kick in a dungeon door.

Description #1:

With the sharp crack of splintering wood, the door smashes open, revealing a room about forty feet across. The high, curved walls are lined with built-in shelves of cherry wood filled with books and warmly lit by a crystal chandelier that hangs from the middle of the domed ceiling. Five goblins are ripping books off the shelves, but their heads whip in your direction.

Description #2:

With the sharp crack of splintering wood, the door smashes open, revealing five goblins who whip their heads in your direction. The room is about forty feet across. The high, curved walls are lined with built-in shelves of cherry wood filled with books and warmly lit by a crystal chandelier that hangs from the middle of the domed ceiling. The goblins have been ripping books off the shelves.

Which description is more effective?

What we’re broadly looking at is whether it’s better to describe the monsters in a room FIRST or LAST.

(Disclaimer: Descriptions are an artistic expression and the given circumstances of any particular moment at the game table are limitless. So there will be a bajillion-and-one hypothetical exceptions to any general principles we might discuss. Think of anything I advocate here in the same way you’d interpret “don’t cross the line when shooting reverse angles” in film or “sentence fragments are bad” when writing fiction. Know the rules so you can break the rules.)

The argument for Monsters First is that it mirrors the crisis perception of the characters: If you opened a door and saw a slavering beast, all of your attention would be immediately focused on the monster. You wouldn’t take your time inspecting the rest of the environment and only THEN look at the monster!

It seems like a logical argument. The problem is that it ignores the actual experience of the characters: If you opened a door and saw a slavering beast, you would immediately want to REACT to that slavering beast. That’s the adrenaline-pumping crisis response (fight or flight!), and it’s why Monster Last is the correct technique. You want the player to be able to immediately react to the monster just like their character would. You don’t want to blunt that reaction by forcing them to wait until you’ve finished the rest of the description.

Note that this isn’t just a matter of associating the experience of character and player. It’s also about effective dramatic presentation: A director of a horror film, for example, wouldn’t follow up on a jump scare with an establishing shot that slowly pans across the scenery before showing the main character’s reaction to the monster!

Okay, but can’t we resolve this dilemma by just not describing the room? The character’s focus would be entirely on the slavering monster. If they’re not focused on the rest of the room, we just won’t describe it to them!

Description #3:

With the sharp crack of splintering wood, the door smashes open, revealing five goblins! Their heads whip in your direction.

Unfortunately, this approach ignores the limited bandwidth by which information about the game world is transmitted to the players (i.e., the GM’s voice).

Although the character may be fixated on the monster, their peripheral vision is immediately processing the environment: Where are the exits? Where can they hide? What are the defensible position? How can they attack? Not only can they take in the totality of their sensorium, they’re also capable of taking action while simultaneously continuing to observe their environment.

The player can’t do that: When they communicate their intended action to the GM, they’re monopolizing the same channel that would be used to give them a description of their character’s environment.

Two outcomes become likely:

First, the player will recognize the problem and ask clarifying questions to obtain the understanding of setting they’re lacking. (“Are there any obstacles that would stop me from charging them? Do I see anything I can dive behind?”)

Second, without understanding the environment, the players will take nonsensical actions. (You didn’t mention the giant chasm that runs across the room between them and the rabid mammoth, so now they’re charging straight into it even though that would be a ridiculous thing for their character to do? Whoops.) This, of course, will force you to stop and correct them, explaining the important context they didn’t know (even though their characters would have).

In either case, you’ve reverted to interjecting an environmental description between the revelation of the monster and the reaction (Monster First). Only it’s actually gotten worse because the presentation is now awkward and frustrating.

WHAT ABOUT A BATTLEMAP?

If you’re using a detailed battle map couldn’t you just reveal it to the players to provide essential environmental information? And then just verbally announce the five goblins in the room?

Sure thing! You could also use other visual references. Pictures are worth a thousand words. In terms of technique, though, this is still Monster Last: You’re use using the visual presentation to handle the room description.

(Or, at least, to make that presentation more efficient: I’ve found that even the best visual aids usually benefit from additional verbal details. The great thing is that you can multitask, usually delivering the additional details at the same time that you’re drawing or revealing the visual reference. The usual single channel of information at the game table briefly becomes multi-channel, which is great!)

WHAT ABOUT INITIATIVE?

Wait a minute. What about initiative?

We’ve been talking about that moment of instantaneous response as if it looked like this:

GM: Five goblins are ripping books off the shelves, but their heads whip in your direction. What do you do?!

Player: I yell, “Fire in the hole!” and throw a fireball in the room.

But doesn’t it actually look like this?

GM: Five goblins are ripping books off the shelves, but their heads whip in your direction. Roll initiative.

(rolling dice)

Player: 14.

Player: 8

Player: 21!

Player: 15.

Player: 16.

GM: (also rolls dice and does math) … okay. Looks like Bob is first. What are you doing, Bob?

This is actually something I addressed in the very first Random GM Tip I posted to the Alexandrian:

Have your players roll their initiatives at the end of combat. Use this initiative for the next combat. (Initiative modifiers essentially never change, so it doesn’t really matter when you roll the check.) When it looks like the PCs are about to encounter something, roll for its initiative and slot it into the order. If they don’t encounter it for some reason, no big deal.

Using this method, by the time combat starts, initiative is already completely resolved. As a result, there’s no delay while you ask for initiative, the dice are rolled, your players tell you their results, and then you sort the results into order. This allows you to start combat off with a bang and keep the ball rolling with that same high intensity. It means that when the players are ambushed, you can maintain that adrenaline rush of surprise instead of immediately undermining it with the mundane task of collecting initiative.

This method also means that initiative results are generally being collected at a time when other bookkeeping chores are being done anyway: After the heat of battle, wounds are being healed; corpses are being looted; equipment lists are being updated; and options are being discussed. Juggling a few extra numbers does not detract from that moment.

And you’ll notice that the reason for moving the resolution of initiative is the same reason for using Monster Last scene description: To capitalize on the moment of reaction to drive the players’ excitement into launching the new scene.

THE REACTION POINT

I’ve been talking about the initiation of combat, but there’s a general principle here:

1. Identify the reaction point (the point at which your players WANT to react);
2. Focus your description to that point; and
3. Clear away any detritus that gets in the way of the players immediately reacting.

The stronger the players’ desire to react, the more important this becomes.

You can also think of the reaction point as being literally the point where you’re asking the players for a response: You want that point to be as interesting as possible because you want to provoke a strong response from the players. Because that’s what will drive the action forward in interesting ways, which will let you easily frame the next reaction point to be as interesting as possible.

Examples outside of combat might include:

• Even though you just rolled the random wilderness encounter, make sure to set up the terrain first before describing the merchant’s wagon coming over the hill.
• Noticing that the eyes of the painting in the haunted house are following you should probably be the last thing described in the room.
• A beautiful, blue-haired man blows you a kiss from across the tavern’s common room.
• They notice someone following them.
• The Federales warchief demands the ship’s instant surrender.

Now, here’s the dirty secret that sort of inverts the idea of putting the most interesting thing at the reaction point: If you instead want the players to preferentially react to something in an otherwise undifferentiated list, put it at the reaction point. Psychologically this is due to recency effect. (The other strong position is to mention something first due to primacy effect. But for immediate choices – i.e., a direct response to a described scene – Miller & Campbell, 1959 identifies the last position as the stronger preference.)

For example, if there’s a pit trap under the fancy tabaxi rug in the middle room, drop the description of the rug in the middle of the room’s description and mention the shelves covered in knick-knacks on the far side of the room last: You increase the odds that a curious PC will cross the room (and the rug) to check out the shelves first.

Go to Part 1

When talking about node-based design, I’ve generally used examples of single scenarios (and usually quite simple scenarios). This has the advantage of keeping the examples relatively uncluttered, but can also be inadvertently deceptive by masking the true power of node-based design.

For example, nodes can be locations, characters, organizations, and so forth. But conceptually they can also be entire scenarios.

This is usually how I design campaigns: I start by brainstorming the major scenarios that are part of the campaign. I think of each scenario as a node and I connect these nodes with clues, following the standard Three Clue Rule, Inverted Three Clue Rule, and all of that. For the sake of argument, let’s call these campaign nodes.

Once I’ve sketched out that broad plan, I can look at each individual scenario and work it up in detail. Many of these scenarios will also be node-based (featuring scenario nodes), although it’s easy enough to mix in other scenario structures (like dungeons or raids or parties or whatever) as appropriate.

The 5-Node Mystery essay has an example of this process. The 5-Node Mystery itself is a basic node template for creating a simple mystery scenario with five nodes – an initial node, three locations/people, and a finale arranged into a simple pattern. You can whip up five of these simple mystery scenarios and then arrange them in the exact same pattern as campaign nodes to form a full campaign.

You can also invert this process, starting with a single scenario, linking it to other scenarios, then linking those scenarios to still more scenarios, organically building up a node-based campaign. (This can obviously work well as a way of building an active campaign week-to-week as you play.)

Note: Not every campaign node necessarily needs to be a full scenario. You might have a bunch of campaign nodes that are full scenarios (unfolding into much greater specificity) connected to another node that’s simply “Admiral Dawson” (a single NPC).

THE CAMPAIGN BINDER

My campaign notes generally live in a binder. The first section of this binder contains all the campaign-wide details — lists of campaign nodes, revelation lists, etc. Then each additional section is an individual scenario or similar chunk of information.

To keep the individual scenarios / campaign nodes organized, I’ll frequently number them. They’re usually also sorted into conceptual bundles. You can see an example of this in Part 7 of the Dragon Heist Remix:

0.0 Campaign Overview
1.0 Finding Floon
2.0 Trollskull
3.0 Nimblewright Investigation
3.1 Gralhund Villa
4.1 Faction Response Teams
4.2 Faction Outposts
5.0 Heist Overview
5.1 Bregan D’Aerthe – Sea Maidens Faire
5.2 Cassalanter Estate
5.3 Xanathar’s Lair
5.4 Zhentarim – Kolat Towers
6.0 Brandath Crypts
6.1 The Vault

To briefly summarize:

• The 0.0 document is the campaign-wide material.
• Node-based design mostly kicks in with Part 3.0, which is a node-based mystery in which the solution is going to Part 3.1 (which is a raid scenario).
• The 3.1 raid contains a bunch of leads pointing to other scenarios. I’ve broadly organized these into Part 4 (faction-related stuff built as a sort of node campaign inside the node campaign), Part 5 (the major heists, which the PCs are pointed to by leads in Part 4), and Part 6 (the final scenario, which is built as a dungeon crawl and further broken into two parts for convenience).

Sometimes this conceptual structure is literally just the nodes themselves in a simple list. Masks of Nyarlathotep and Eternal Lies use a globetrotting structure to similar effect: Each major city visited by the players is treated as a separate scenario (i.e., a campaign node) with links between them.

Act II of my Ptolus: In the Shadow of the Spire campaign has forty-two different scenarios. In addition to conceptually breaking the campaign into acts, I have further divided this act of the campaign into three sections, using prefixes to distinguish them. (So this campaign features adventures with organizing codes like NOD4, CC3, and BW09. Which may sound confusing, but is perfectly clear in context.)

My big point here is that there’s not necessarily a “one true way” here. It’s what works for you and it’s what works for a specific campaign.

USING NODES TO MANAGE PREP

The conceptual separation of a campaign into separate nodes is also a great way to manage prep and, in accord with the principles of smart prep, minimize wasted prep.

Basically, you can set up the essential elements of a campaign node (in terms of how it connects and interacts with other campaign nodes) without fully prepping the scenario that lies “behind” that campaign node. Therefore, you don’t actually need to prep that scenario until the PCs move to engage it.

For example, when I originally laid out Act I of Ptolus: In the Shadow of the Spire, it featured thirteen scenarios. Because of the choices my players made, however, I ended up only needing to prep seven of those scenarios.

The high-level view of the campaign gives enough detail to have a complicated web of interrelated content, while also conceptually firewalling the campaign in a way that prevents you from pouring a bunch of extra detail into areas where it turns out you don’t need it.

Note: As you design and expand individual campaign nodes, you’ll often find new opportunities to link the node to other nodes arising naturally out of the material. Do so. As a corollary of the Three Clue Rule suggests: More clues are always better. (Make sure to list these new connections in your campaign-wide documentation, too.)

ADDING NODES

The modular nature of node-based design, however, also makes it easy to integrate new nodes into your campaign structure.

In fact, it’s not unusual in the slightest for the actions of the PCs to generate new nodes by either creating leads out of whole cloth (by pursuing methods of investigation or a strategy of action that I hadn’t anticipated) or following leads that I didn’t realize were leads when I made them. I discussed one example of this in Ptolus: In the Shadow of the Spire here, as the unexpected actions of the PCs added two completely new nodes to Act I (even while they were, as noted above, ignoring six other nodes I had planned).

Something similar happened in the Eternal Lies Remix, with the players choosing to go to the Severn Valley by following information that wasn’t explicitly designed as a lead, but which they nevertheless interpreted as such.

As the GM, you may also find yourself proactively creating new nodes that arise logically out of the evolving circumstances of the game. The Shipwrights’ Ball in my Dragon Heist campaign is an example of that.

As you’re adding these nodes to your campaign, don’t forget to link them to other campaign nodes just like you would with any other node. You don’t need to worry about making sure to include three clues pointing to the new node (you’re designing the node because the PCs are heading there; you don’t need redundancy to make sure they do the thing they’re already doing), but seize the opportunity to add new leads pointing to other nodes. (For example, when adding the Laboratory of the Beast to In the Shadow of the Spire, I added several new links to Act II of the campaign.)

These connections will often arise naturalistically in any case. If the PCs become interested in a mobster’s yacht or lawyer or ex-wife because of their connection to the mobster, it just makes sense that those things could be potentially connected to the mobster’s other affairs (i.e., the other nodes connected to the mobster in the campaign).

Note: There are plenty of exceptions to prove this “rule.” If the PCs go haring off on a wild goose chase, it’s perfectly fine for them to discover that it’s a dead-end in terms of their wider investigation. (Of course, this doesn’t mean that they won’t find something interesting there. The Manse of the Red Dragon sounds pretty exciting even if it doesn’t have any connection to the conspiracy of Elf Lords.)

In some cases, you may find that the PCs have blasted open a whole new multi-node section of the campaign. That’s great! Just remember not to prep more of those nodes than you immediately need to.

META-SCENARIOS

I spoke earlier about the two prongs of mystery design: That there are leads which point to other nodes where you can continue investigating things and clues that point to other types of revelations (like the solution to a mystery). Furthermore, the latter can be spread out over the course of an entire scenario, with the PCs slowly accumulating the clues they need to piece things together.

This same principle can hold at the campaign level: You can take a big mystery, break it down into separate revelations, and then spread the clues for those revelations out over the entire campaign (perhaps dropping only one or two in a given scenario).

This is a meta-mystery, and it’s an example of what I call a meta-scenario.

Although the design principles here, like much of what we’ve been talking about, are the same as they would be for an individual scenario, in some cases a difference in scale is a difference of kind. Largely, this is a matter of organization: I usually find that meta-scenarios require their own section of the binder. I find them easiest to both design and manage if I think of them as a distinct entity that’s kind of being “draped” over the top of the campaign’s primary structure.

Meta-mysteries are not the only sort of campaign-spanning meta-scenario. Other examples might include:

• Collecting the specialized components for performing a ritual.
• Making allies for the Prophecy War.
• Being hunted by an intergalactic cabal of assassins.
• A countdown to the apocalypse as the Stars Come Right.

Go to Part 3: The Fractal Node