Go to Table of Contents

Doing a deep pull from the archives today. Back in 2008, when the 4th Edition of Dungeons & Dragons came out, I did a remix of Keep on the Shadowfell, the quickstart adventure that was used to launch the new edition.

One of the things I did was expand the Kobold Lair. You can see my original map of the new version of the lair here:

John Leftwich has now created an impressive set of battlemaps which can be used with virtual tabletops or printed out for your home gaming table. You can click the images below to grab full-res images.

LIGHT

NO LIGHT

Back to Shadowfell Remix

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 30D: A Plague of Wraiths

“Tee!”

Turning around at the sound of Dominic’s cry, Tee spotted a lamia-shaped wraith and a minotaur-shaped wraith hovering nearby – held at bay only by the divine energy that Dominic was still channeling through his holy symbol. Tee started to move into a firing position, but as she did the wraiths slipped around the far corner and disappeared into the room with the iron cauldron.

Gathering the others they followed the wraiths into the cauldron room. The two larger wraiths were lurking in the shadows here, along with two smaller ones.

Elestra cursed. “It got all of them? We have to kill them all over again?”

Here’s a thing that I don’t think happens nearly as often as it should in a D&D game.

PCs have a habit of leaving big piles of dead bodies in their wake.

You know who loves big piles of dead bodies?

Necromancers.

(Also strange necromantic miasmas, unfathomable alien spirits from beyond our plane of reality looking for a body to inhabit, toxic chemical spills, experimental zombie viruses, etc. etc. etc.)

The point is that if you’ve got a setting where undead are common + the PCs are constantly killing people, it just makes sense that they’re going to see some familiar faces when the shambling hordes show up.

This isn’t just a great seed for restocking your dungeons or dynamically keeping your sandbox in motion: It personalizes what would otherwise be generic undead encounters, while also getting the players to think about the long-term consequences of their actions. (Do we really want to be leaving all these corpses lying around?)

Once you’re thinking in these terms, of course, it’s not much of a leap to realize that this doesn’t have to be limited to slain enemies. Dead friends and allies are an equally fertile field. (Or, since we’re talking about undead, I suppose it might be whatever the opposite of a fertile field is?) This trope — of a one-time friend or family member returning as an undead monster — is actually quite common in horror films, so it’s surprising we don’t see it more frequently at the game table.

(I suspect this is because published adventures generally have to either eschew this sort of thing or take considerable effort to contrive the outcome: The can’t just say “…and then Lord Harlech comes back from the dead!” because they don’t know whether or not Lord Harlech has died in your campaign. But at your own table, of course, you don’t have to worry about infinite possibilities: You know who ranks among the dead. But I digress.)

Regardless, this technique is a great way to ratchet up the stakes and emotional investment of the players in the bad guy.

There is no greater enemy than one who was once a friend.

Campaign Journal: Session 31A – Running the Campaign: When Players Reincorporate
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

SESSION 30D: A PLAGUE OF WRAITHS

September 20th, 2008
The 17th Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Sir Gemmell’s letter only affirmed what Tor had already been planning: In order to keep with his image of loyalty to the Order and to Rehobath he needed to attend his training that day as planned. On the morrow he would meet with Sir Kabel and find out the rest of the story.

But by the time he had saddled Blue and begun riding north into the Temple District, Tor began to be plagued with doubt. What if the letter purporting to be from Sir Kabel was a trap of some sort? Surely he wouldn’t have been so foolish as to sign his own name? Why had the two letters arrived at nearly the same time?

Without having reached any sort of firm conclusion, Tor arrived at the Godskeep. He was escorted to the office which had once belonged to Sir Kabel… and were now occupied by Sir Gemmell.

“Master Tor, I’m honored to meet you.”

Tor thanked him and exchanged pleasantries, but Sir Gemmell was quick to his business. “I know that you were squired by Sir Kabel. I don’t know what his intentions were. But you’re a companion of the Chosen of Vehthyl and so I know that you must be faithful to the Church and to the Nine Gods. Know, then, that Kabel has betrayed both the Novarch and the Gods. His treacherous plots have resulted in the death of many of our brothers.”

“All I have ever wanted is to be a knight,” Tor said truthfully.

“Yes. And with Kabel’s treachery it is more important than ever that your training be completed as quickly as possible,” Sir Gemmell said. “It’s very likely that you will be contacted by Kabel. If that happens, you should alert us as quickly as possible. As long as he remains at large, we’re all in danger.”

“You think I might be harmed?” Tor asked blithely.

“Not as long as he thinks that he has some use to you. But after that? Who can say.”

Tor was given over to Sir Lagenn – a knight of the Order that he had not previously met – for his training. Sir Lagenn was burly and heavy-set, with a shaved head and a vicious, purple scar running from his left temple down to his jaw. Despite his brutish temperament, Sir Lagenn proved to be a competent and able teacher.

But as he trained, Tor’s thoughts were distracted by the two letters he had received. By the time Sir Lagenn called a halt to their exertions he had reached his conclusion: The letter from “Sir K” must be a fake. His loyalty was being test by Sir Gemmell.

Tor returned to Sir Gemmell’s office and gave the letter to him.

After reading it through, Sir Gemmell looked up at him. “Why didn’t you give this to me before?”

“To speak truthfully,” Tor said. “I felt torn in my loyalty between the Order and someone who had quickly become a mentor to me.”

“Well, your loyalty in this matter will no longer be tested. We shall attend to things from here. And do not seek any contact with Sir Kabel.”

“Of course,” Tor said.

Sir Gemmell looked back at the letter. “Why would he ask for the Chosen of Vehthyl?”

“I don’t know,” Tor said.

“Should Dominic’s trust in the Novarch be doubted?”

“I would never question it,” Tor said truthfully. (There was no question about it: Dominic didn’t trust him.)

A PLAGUE OF WRAITHS

Tee, meanwhile, had returned to the Banewarrens.

While fighting the wraiths the night before, Kalerecent had suffered a wound. At first he had thought it a small and inconsequential thing, but it wasn’t healing properly. In fact, it proved to be beyond the healing skills of both Kalerecent and Dominic combined. As a result, Kalerecent was forced to leave the Banewarrens to seek more powerful healing from the Church.

This proved fortunate, however, when Tor arrived before Kalerecent returned – giving them a chance to converse privately.

“I need to tell you what’s happened,” Tor said.

“Should we sit down again?” Elestra asked.

Tor nodded emphatically and then began his tale.

“And you’re sure the letter from Kabel was a fake?” Tee asked.

“It had to be,” Tor said.

Before they could discuss it further, Dominic heard Kalerecent returning down the tunnel and silently signaled the others.

With Kalerecent back on guard duty and Tor returned they were free to go back to the Banewarrens and continue their explorations.

But Tee had only barely emerged into the first chamber of the Banewarrens when she spotted two purplish wraiths trying to get past the warded door they had shut the night before. One of the wraiths might have been the one they had encountered before, but the other was larger… and shaped like the half-leonid lamia they had slain the day before.

Tee crept back to where Dominic was waiting and told him what she’d seen.

“That’s bullshit!”

“I know,” Tee agreed.

Tee led them back into the chamber. Dominic was considerably less stealthy than Tee had been and the wraiths heard his approach. But it didn’t matter: Raising the cross of Athor, he banished them into nothingness.

Tee went over to the warded door and locked it securely (which proved difficult to do without a key).

“Tee!”

Turning around at the sound of Dominic’s cry, Tee spotted a lamia-shaped wraith and a minotaur-shaped wraith hovering nearby – held at bay only by the divine energy that Dominic was still channeling through his holy symbol. Tee started to move into a firing position, but as she did the wraiths slipped around the far corner and disappeared into the room with the iron cauldron.

Gathering the others they followed the wraiths into the cauldron room. The two larger wraiths were lurking in the shadows here, along with two smaller ones.

Elestra cursed. “It got all of them? We have to kill them all over again?”

Agnarr took the lead and Ranthir took the opportunity to demonstrate how he had used his arcane arts to duplicate Dominic’s feat of divine infusion: He enlarged Agnarr to twice his normal height and girth.

Elestra and Tor worked the corners, keeping the wraiths from circling around Agnarr’s massive shoulders. But most of the damage was actually coming from Tee’s dragon pistol: Agnarr’s blade passed through the wraiths again and again, but frustratingly couldn’t seem to find any purchase in their semi-ethereal forms.

With the battle largely stalemated into one of stark attrition, Tor eventually got daring. Pushing his way past Tee he plunged through one of the wraiths, ripping it apart on the tip of his electrified blade. From there he raced behind the minotaur-shaped wraith, providing enough of a distraction – and a few wounding blows – for Agnarr to finally finish it off.

With the larger wraiths dispatched, the two smaller ones were quickly driven back up the stairs on the far side of the room and overwhelmed. But even as they were finishing off these smaller wraiths, four more of the goblin-spawned wraiths drifted up from behind them. In fact, they were nearly taken by surprise – only Dominic’s wary eyes saved them.

Ranthir hurried up the stairs and away from the wraiths, while everyone else headed down the stairs to face them. But the wraiths – perhaps sensing weakness – passed directly through the walls and emerged to assault Ranthir. Their spectral limbs plunged through him, and Ranthir felt the living breath and warmth of vitality fleeing from his limbs.

Tor dashed back up the stairs and, half shoving Ranthir out of the way, interposed himself between the staggered mage and the wraiths. But in the process, he, too was struck by their soul-icing touch.

Their tactical control of the situation was rapidly deteriorating. They had been flanked, separated, and badly wounded. But Dominic, having barely ducked away from the wraiths’ assault himself, raised his holy symbol again and called upon the power of his faith.

The wraiths fled. As they turned away, Tor destroyed one of them and Agnarr cut down another.

Two of the wraiths escaped and they cursed their luck, knowing that they would almost certainly be troubled by them again.

But perhaps it was for the best. Several of them could still feel the cold, cloying miasma of the wraiths sapping their strength and vitality. Knowing that, as with Kalerecent, only a more powerful channeling of divine energy could alleviate the pall, they resolved to abandon their current explorations and return to the surface.

Running the Campaign: The Undead Sequel  – Campaign Journal: Session 31A
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

There are a lot of GMing skills that transfer seamlessly between systems. But as you move out from whatever your first RPG was and begin exploring other games, it’s useful to remember that this is not universally true. Games are mechanically different from each other, and what works in one system — whether you’re talking about prepping scenarios or running at the table — can fail spectacularly in another. Perhaps even worse is when it doesn’t fail spectacularly, but just quietly degrades the experience. It can be surprisingly difficult to notice when a habit which is “obviously” the way something is done is actually wrecking your game.

A subtle example of this is how you call for a skill check.

Some RPGs, of course, don’t even have skill checks. If you’re used to running systems with skill checks, that’s a big ol’ tip-off that you’ll need to run skill checks differently in this game.

But RPGs that have skills can be broadly broken down into two categories: those with discrete skills and those with overlapping skills.

In a system with discrete skills, each task will clearly fall into the purview of a single skill. This means that the GM can call for a specific check: “Give me Knowledge: Science.”

In a system with overlapping skills, on the other hand, there might be multiple skills that could apply to the current task. For example, a PC might be able to use Knowledge: Science, but they might also be able to use Quantum Mechanics, Stellar Lore, or even Organic Chemistry (depending on exactly what strange phenomenon they’re attempting to analyze).

If a GM familiar with discrete skill systems calls for specific skill checks in a system with overlapping skills, it will either create a much muddier interaction or even end up needlessly neutering PC abilities (if, for example, no one realizes they should actually be making a Stellar Lore check because that’s the skill they actually have). In a system with overlapping skills, what the GM should generally be doing is describing what the skill check is for and then letting the players identify what skill they can use for it.

GM: I need a skill check to identify a weird space rock that’s glowing with some kind of bioluminescence.

Player 1: Can I use Stellar Lore?

GM: Sounds good.

Player 2: Bioluminescence? Could I use Organic Chemistry?

GM: That works.

I, personally, have a weak preference for systems with discrete skills. I like the clean clarity of “give me Skill X,” and it also makes it easier to call for skill checks without first telling the player exactly what the check is for.

But there are definitely advantages to overlapped skill systems. Such systems tend to be used in games with a lot more detail in their skill systems (e.g. GURPS, which has skills for Biology, Chemistry, Naturalist, Paleontology, and Physiology), allowing players a lot more control in describing and distinguishing their characters. Such systems also require players to think about HOW their character is going to approach a particular task or problem, and they can also encourage players to think fiction-first (and discourage GMs from preemptively describing a mechanical solution).

You can also, as seen in our example above, easily end up in situations with people rolling different skills for the same task: Five different people all making the same skill check just skews the probability of success. But successes with different skills can be used to provide different insights into the problem.

The drawback, of course, is that negotiating/identifying which skill(s) to use can be awkward of belabored. There’s not a One True Answer™ here, just different techniques that have different strengths and weaknesses. Understanding those strengths and weaknesses, however, will let you steer towards the strengths and minimize the weaknesses of whatever system you’re currently using.

THE SPECTRUM

Of course, in practice, many RPGs won’t fit perfectly into either the “discrete” or “overlapped” categories. Even systems with heavily discrete skills will likely still have some situations that fall into a gray area. Other systems may have mostly discrete skills, but then a few skill areas with a lot of overlap.

D&D 5^th Edition is an example of this: Most of the skills in the game are very discrete, with the exception of Athletics and Acrobatics, where the distinctions of which physical activities fall into which box can get really hazy. (This is particularly true if you use the, frankly superior in every way and it should be the standard rule, method of allowing skills to be used with multiple ability scores.) And D&D 5^th Edition also has tool proficiencies, which largely operate as a secondary skill system with a ton of vague overlap.

It can be useful to identify these specific features of a skill system and resolve skills appropriately: For example, I tend to call for specific skill checks when running D&D 5^th Edition, except when it comes to Athletics and Acrobatics where I’ll generally say something like, “Give me an Athletics or Acrobatics check,” acknowledging the huge overlap between those skills. And I’ll also say things like, “Give me any appropriate tool proficiency for trying to repair the broken device.”

PLAYER-DEFINED SKILLS

Many RPGs, like Numenera or Dresden Files, have begun using player-defined skills: Rather than having a specific skill list that players choose from, players are free to make up any skill that feels appropriate to them. Such systems encourage fiction-first character creation, and can also create wonderfully evocative character sheets: Lore of the Northern Hills, Greatest Avadrakai Flyer in Parloun, Savage Brawler, etc.

Depending on your predilections, you may find it useful to compile a list of the skills your players have created for their PCs, which you can then often use as a discrete skill list.

On the other hand, I often find it convenient to just treat these systems as being massively overlapped, always calling for skill checks by describing the task and letting players propose which cool skill they’ve created could best apply.

SKILL TREE SYSTEMS

Some RPGs feature skill trees, allowing for characters to purchase both broad skills and then hyper-specialize. For example, a skill like Science might have sub-skills below it on the tree like:

• Physics
• Biology
• Chemistry
• Astronomy
• Quantum Mechanics

And so forth. It’s not unusual for a skill tree system to feature multiple levels, so Chemistry, on the list above, might have additional specialties like Organic Chemistry, Biochemistry, Geochemistry, etc.

Skill tree systems, by their very nature, are overlapped skill systems. (Physics, Biology, etc. all overlap with Science.) But when correctly designed and used they can offer a lot of the advantages of an overlapped skill system, while also smoothing some of the potential awkwardness of calling for skill checks.

For example, a GM can call for a top-level skill check — e.g., “Give me a Science check” — and players can then, with focus, ask if their specific specialty applies. (“Can I use Biology?” “Yes.”)

Alternatively, the GM can call for a more specific skill — e.g., “Give me a Quantum Mechanics check” — and the player can immediately know that they can default to their general Science skill.

What defaulting to a less specific skill means will often be defined by the mechanics of the system (e.g., it’s made at a penalty), but that also serves as a convenient transition to…

PENUMBRAL SKILLS

In addition to gray areas where a particular task could be covered equally well by two or more skills, and therefore you could make the check with either, you can also end up with a situation where a secondary skill could apply, but clearly not as well as whatever the primary skill(s) for the check would be.

In other words, a task that exists in the penumbra of a particular skill. For example:

Player 2: Bioluminescence? Could I use Organic Chemistry?

GM: It’s not exactly your area of expertise, but I’ll allow it.

You can, of course, rarely go wrong by defaulting to yes in these situations. But it may also be appropriate to allow the check, but only with:

• A penalty (“make your Organic Chemistry check at -25%”),
• Disadvantage (or similar mechanic if your system offers it), or
• Limited results (a success with Organic Chemistry just won’t reveal everything a Stellar Lore check can about this weird asteroid)

In the case of offering limited results, you don’t necessarily need to tell the player that this is the case. If your system offers something like a critical or exceptional success, it might also be appropriate to use those outcomes to boost the limited result back to a normal result for our hypothetical organic chemist.

Go to Part 1

The finale of Call of the Netherdeep is, of course, the Netherdeep. It culminates the sequence of excellent, varied dungeons that form the backbone of the campaign — the cerulean neon of Emerald Grotto, the gothic horror of Betrayers’ Rise, the ruined grandeur of Cael Morrow, and the haunted existential terror of the Netherdeep. It also continues the underwater theme which has marked Call from its beginning.

Like the other dungeons, the Netherdeep is filled to the brim with a flavorful key and great map. (Not just visually great, but great in its design.) So there will actually be very little for us to do here.

MEMORIES OF THE APOTHEON

The basic concept is that the Netherdeep is an extraplanar extrusion of a demigod’s traumatized mind. Alyxian the Apotheon’s memories are made manifest within the layrinths of the Netherdeep, and the PCs have the opportunity to interact with these memories and affect what his emotional perceptions of them are. The outcomes of these interactions — and what the PCs learn during them — will then shape the final confrontation with Alyxian, who appears in three different forms representing the different coping mechanisms he used in mortal life.

These toxic behaviors are made mythologically epic, and ultimately the PCs will need to literally and emotionally grapple with them.

The basic structure of this is built on two tracks:

Track 1 features experiences geographically keyed to the map, which the PCs discover by exploring the dungeon. These experiences are generally interactive.

Track 2 takes the form of twenty short visions drawn from moments in the Apotheon’s life. These are triggered by various stimuli or actions, and the idea is that the PCs will be able to “piece together the Apotheon’s whole story.”

This all works great.

There are two things I would do to juice this up.

First, as we’ve already discussed, you should pull some of the lore surrounding Alyxian’s biography back into the rest of the campaign so that (a) the PCs will be more invested in puzzling out the enigma and (b) major beats will land with more recognition and emotional significance.

At this point, though, all that work is done.

Second, the book recommends that the twenty Track 2 visions should be played out in a strictly linear order. I strongly recommend ignoring that advice: Having the visions appear out of order will force the players to puzzle out the underlying sequence, which will invest them more deeply into the narrative. This is Good Actually™.

Plus, the twenty visions are already on a conveniently numbered table. Just roll a d20.

RIVALS AT THE FINALE

The finale of Call of the Netherdeep is structured around the fundamental choice of how Alyxian should be handled: Should he be killed? Unleashed? Redeemed?

This is also the culmination of the Rivals and their relationship with the PCs. If you’ve been using the Principle of Opposition, as described in Running the Rivals, then this all-encompassing rivalry reaches its ultimate conclusion in a debate whose consequences are literally world-altering in their scope.

But, again, the work to set this up has been done. All you need to do is close the deal by playing the Rivals hard and true in these final moments. Really challenge the players and make them feel the momentous stakes of their choice by forcing them, through their Rivals, to justify and think about that choice and all of its implications (ethical, practical, and otherwise).

CONCLUSION

In short, if you’ve done your groundwork, then the Netherdeep will sing.

I’m hoping that you have a couple of take-aways from this series.

First, that Call of the Netherdeep is a good campaign. There’s a lot to love in what James J. Haeck, Matthew Mercer, Christopher Perkins, Makenzie De Armas, LaTia Jacquise, Cassanda Khaw, Sadie Lowry, Dan Dillon, and Taymoor Rehman have created.

Second, that the work required to turn Call of the Netherdeep from a good campaign to a great campaign is quite reasonable and well worth your time.

I’m not sure that I, personally, will ever have the chance to run Call of the Netherdeep. There’s just a lot of stuff competing for my limited gaming time right now, and no gap in the foreseeable future. But if you have the opportunity to do so, then I am quite jealous for you and your players.

Let me know how it goes!

ADDITIONAL READING
Review: Call of the Netherdeep
Call of the Netherdeep: Running Betrayers’ Rise
Call of the Netherdeep: Running the Rivals

COMPLETE PDF COLLECTION