DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 44A: Whorehouse of Terror

Agnarr flew into a rage. “Stay away from her!”

The serpent-men in the far hall had now thrown open one of the doors there. “Erepodi!” they shouted through it. “We’re under attack!”

Erepodi… The name was familiar to Tee. It took her a moment to wrack her memory, but eventually she alighted upon its source: The small picture locket they had found in Pythoness House.

And indeed, in the very moment that Tee remembered the locket, Erepodi herself strode into view through the door, scarcely changed from her picture.

“I know not who you are! Or why you have come! But none shall disturb my house!”

This is a moment where the player has forgotten something that happened during the campaign. This isn’t unusual. As human beings we forget stuff all of the time, and unlike our characters we aren’t living in these fictional worlds 24-7. (Or whatever the hours, days, and weeks look like in your fantasy milieu of choice.)

I don’t remember exactly how this precise moment was resolved, but it generally happens in one of three ways.

First, one of the other players does remember this bit of continuity and simply reminds the table what happened. It’s up to the player to decide whether that’s an in-character moment (e.g., Tee forgot and Ranthir reminded her) or not. (I’m pretty confident this isn’t what happened in this moment, as this happens all the time and I wouldn’t have recorded it in the journal.)

Second, the campaign journal is consulted. Creating a record of continuity is, after all, exactly why we’re keeping a campaign journal in the first place. In the case of the In the Shadow of the Spire campaign, one of the players has loaded the journal into the group’s private wiki so that it can be rapidly searched (along with digital copies of many of the handouts and other records the group has created).

Third, I’ll have the PC make a memory check. For my D&D 3^rd Editon campaigns, I simplified and adapted a rule from the Book of Eldritch Might 3 for this.

MEMORY CHECK

Whenever a character might remember something that happened to them either in actual play, from their own (pregame) past, or something that happened “off stage”, they should make a memory check. (This could also be to remember some minor detail that the DM didn’t point out specifically because it would have caused undue suspicion and attention…)

A memory check is a simple Intelligence check. Characters cannot Take 20 and retries are not allowed. (Characters can Take 10 in non-stressful situations, however.)

Characters also have access to the following feats:

• Excellent Memory: +5 to memory checks
• Photographic Memory: +15 to memory checks. (Requires Excellent Memory.)

This material is covered by the Open Gaming License.

THE GM’s ROLE

What about my role as the GM here? Shouldn’t I just tell the players when they’ve forgotten something?

Maybe.

This is a tricky bit of praxis, in my opinion. On the one hand, I don’t want the players stymied because they’ve forgotten something that their characters should remember. On the other hand, figuring out how things fit together is a deeply satisfying and rewarding experience, and I don’t want to be constantly short-circuiting that by spelling everything out for them. Conclusions are just infinitely more fun if the players figure them out for themselves.

And, in fact, it can also be fun when the players could have figured something out, but didn’t. That, “Oh my god! It was right in front of us the whole time!” moment can be really incredible, but none of you will ever have the chance to experience it if you’re constantly spoonfeeding them.

So if I can see that my players have “missed” something, the first thing I’ll ask myself is, “Have they forgotten a fact or are they missing a conclusion?” I may or may not provide them with a missing fact, but I will do almost anything in my power to avoid giving them a conclusion.

(This situation with Erepodi is an interesting example because it kind of lands in a gray area here: It’s partly about remembering a fact they learned in Pythoness House — i.e., the name “Erepodi” — and partly about drawing the conclusion that this is the same person. So it’s a little tricky.)

The next thing I’ll consider is, “Is this something that their character should remember?” The answer to that may be an obvious Yes, in which case I’ll provide the answer. If the answer isn’t obvious, call for a memory check. (This can usually just default to some kind of Intelligence or IQ check if your system doesn’t have a formal memory check mechanic.)

Tip: An advanced technique you might use, if you have a searchable campaign journal like we do, is to say something like, “You should check the campaign journal for that.” The disadvantage is that this consumes extra time. But it has the benefit that the players still feel a sense of ownership about “figuring it out.” Logically, it shouldn’t make a difference. In practice, it can be an effective bit of psychological finesse.

Another key consideration is how essential this information is to the structure of the scenario and/or the PCs’ current situation. If it’s just an incidental detail leading to a revelation that could just as easily simmer for a long time, then I might be a little more likely to let it pass and see if the players notice it or figure it out later. If, on the other hand, they’re in a middle of an investigation, are rapidly running out of leads to follow, and forgetting this detail will likely derail the investigation completely, I’m more likely to default to giving them the info.

A final factor here is if the players are directly asking for the info. For example, if they say something like, “Erepodi? That name sounds familiar. Justin, where have we heard that name before?” This is a very strong indicator, and I’m almost certainly going to either point them in the right direction (“check the campaign journal” or “do you still have that letter from the duke?”), call for a memory check, or simply give them the information.

Conversely, if they aren’t saying anything, players often know more than you realize. It’s not unusual for me to call for a memory check, have it succeed, and give them the information, only for the player to say, “Oh, yeah. I already knew that.” This is another reason why, in the absence of other factors, I’ll usually default to not saying anything and seeing how things develop through actual play.

If nothing else, when they realize their mistake, it will also encourage the players to keep better notes!

ADVANCED TECHNIQUE: DELAYED RECALL

Here’s a technique I haven’t actually used, but by sheer synchronicity I was reading through Aaron Allston’s Crime Fighter RPG this week and stumbled across a cool idea. In the introductory scenario “New Shine on an Old Badge,” the PCs are tracking down a criminal who turns out to be an ex-cop dressing up in his old uniform. When the PCs have an opportunity to catch a glimpse of this fake/ex-cop from a distance, Allston recommends:

As the investigation and paperwork continues, the characters will find that no one knows who the officer was. Let the characters make INT rolls. If anyone achieves a 17 or better, he’ll remember who the guy is — “Ray Calhoun — only that can’t be right, because he retired six or seven years ago; he used to visit the station pretty regularly, even after he retired.”

If someone achieves a fourteen or better, he’ll wake up in the middle of the night remembering who the guy is.

Emphasis added.

In this case (pun intended), this isn’t something the players have forgotten or would be capable of remembering. (Their characters met Ray Calhoun before the campaign began.) But the idea of taking a partial success and resolving it as, “In the middle of the night you wake up and realize you forgot something!” is, I think, a really interesting framing for this.

Along similar lines, you might decide, “Well, they don’t immediately remember encountering the name ‘Erepodi’ before. But the next time they encounter the name, it will all fall into place for them.”

CONCLUSION

Some of the issues you’ll run into with player memory vs. character memory will be very similar to the issues that can arise when adjudicating idea rolls. For a deeper discussion on those, you might want to check out GM Don’t List #10: Idea Rolls.

Campaign Journal: Session 44B – Running the Campaign: Adversary Rosters in Action
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

The sequel to Death in Freeport, Terror in Freeport brings the same strengths and weaknesses to the table.

Review Originally Published February 12th, 2001

Terror in Freeport picks up exactly where Death in Freeport left off (my review of the latter is available here) – which is only logical, since it’s a sequel.

In terms of its strengths and weaknesses, Terror is very similar to its predecessor: It’s picked up a few new flaws (weaker boxed text, repetition of material), but it’s also picked up a few new strengths (more adventure material, better lay-out).

PLOT

Warning: This review will contain spoilers for Terror in Freeport. Players who may end up playing in this module are encouraged to stop reading now. Proceed at your own risk.

A couple of months have passed since the events of Death in Freeport and the PCs are approached, once more, by Brother Egis: He’s sure that the serpent people are still active in Freeport, and has come to believe that someone is working behind the scenes to undo everything that the PCs have accomplished. The plot which begins to unravel from this simple seed is so delightfully convoluted that the author, Robert J. Toth, has included sidebars entitled “The Real Story” throughout the adventure to make it easier for the DM to keep track of everything that’s going on.

Things open with another round of investigation, starting with a secret residence that Milos (the main villain from Death in Freeport) kept under an assumed name. Investigating the rented room will not reveal anything (although if the PCs make some lucky search rolls they will uncover a set of documents which will be very important in setting up Madness in Freeport, see below). Shortly after they start investigating, however, they will attacked and – if they follow one of the would-be assassins successfully – he will lead them right back to the bricked up temple building from Death in Freeport.

The temple is supposedly being cleaned out by Councilor Verlaine, but if the PCs successfully investigate they’ll discover that the Temple is still inhabited by serpent people – who are transferring the contents of the Temple into the basement of Verlaine’s mansion! A series of subsequent investigations and diversions will make it appear that Verlaine is in league with the Brotherhood, but – in fact – he’s being set up by his boss, Sea Lord Drac – the ruler of Freeport.

The Brotherhood then attacks Egis’ Temple, some more craziness ensues, and the PCs triumph. Along the way they finally get to talk with Thuron, the head of the Temple – but at the end of the adventure it’s suddenly revealed that Thuron is one of the serpent people, too! Fortunately, he’s one of the good serpent people. (Made ya look!)

Finally, the big whammy is laid on the PCs (setting the stage for Madness in Freeport): K’Stallo reveals that the diagram the PCs discovered way back at the beginning of the adventure are the plans for the Lighthouse which is being constructed in the harbor – a Lighthouse which is being carefully prepared for a demonic ritual which will see the Unspeakable God of the Yellow Sign reborn into the world once more!

LOW POINTS

Terror in Freeport possesses the same primary flaw as Death in Freeport: The links which hold the adventure together are far too weak. A missed die roll here, a failure to read the author’s mind there, and the adventure is hopelessly derailed without even a glimmering clue regarding how to get it back on track.

To this, a few other weaknesses are also added: The boxed text is generally much weaker than in Death in Freeport, and on at least two occasions it makes decisions for the PCs (something which I simply can’t stand). The pregen PCs from Death in Freeport are reprinted here and, although they’ve been advanced to third level, I consider this an even greater waste of my space and time. Finally, during a sewer sequence,  the map of the sewer fails to match the description in the text.

HIGH POINTS

The biggest advantage Terror in Freeport has is that it is a sequel to Death in Freeport. The same sense of lurking horror and hidden mystery lurks within these pages, and even as some of the mysteries left lingering in the shadows of Death are brought into the light, even more sinister mysteries are shown to lie behind them. Terror raises the stakes elegantly and naturally – drawing the PCs into higher circles of power, and showing that the corruption and horror they had so briefly brushed against before becomes even more terrifying as the full scope of its truth becomes revealed.

Other positives: Adventure seeds for getting players involved in Terror in Freeport are included (in case they didn’t run through Death in Freeport) – even though I can’t seriously imagine running a group through Terror that hasn’t been through Death. In general, Terror is a far meatier adventure than Death, although this is largely due two factors: First, Terror draws upon the background in Death (so that it has a larger number of actual pages in which to describes its adventure). Second, Terror is for higher level characters – so the PCs can handle a bit more breadth and depth than they could before.

CONCLUSION

If you liked Death in Freeport, you’ll like Terror in Freeport. If you didn’t like Death in Freeport, you probably won’t like Terror in Freeport. And if you haven’t read Death in Freeport, then you’re probably best advised to check that out first.

Support the reviewer’s plan for world domination: Click here to order Terror in Freeport through an affiliate link to Amazon.com.

Style: 3
Substance: 4

Authors: Chris Pramas
Company: Green Ronin Publishing
Line: D20
Price: $7.99
ISBN: 0-9701048-2-0
Production Code: GRR1003
Pages: 32

It’s been a long time since I cracked the cover on Terror in Freeport, but I have only the fondest memories of running this module. (Unlike Death in Freeport, I’ve only run Terror in Freeport once, but that has nothing to do with the quality of the module itself and shouldn’t be held against it.)

Taking a peek at my prep notes, it seems that I made virtually no adjustments to the module. It looks like I modified the hook to incorporate a patron who’d been established in my campaign; fleshed out the the tracking section with a Gather Information table; added a cool trap from the Traps & Treachery supplement published by Fantasy Flight Games; and modified Thuron’s story to align it to the cosmology of my own campaign world. Everything else is just stat blocks and handouts.

My point is that sometimes you can have fond memories of an adventure as you experienced it at the table that have little or nothing to do with the adventure as it was published, but that doesn’t seem to be the case here. Terror earns my nostalgic accolades.

Perhaps my strongest recommendation is that I hope to some day return to these modules and run them again.

Next Freeport Review: Madness in Freeport

For an explanation of where these reviews came from and why you can no longer find them at RPGNet, click here.

One of the inaugural products of the D20 license, Death in Freeport is possessed of some wonderful strengths… and some disappointing weaknesses.

Review Originally Published February 12th, 2001

When the 3rd edition of D&D was released in August 2000 at Gen Con, everyone in attendance knew that the rules of the game had changed: Not just because the line for the Player’s Handbook stretched around the Castle and out of sight (that was expected). Not just because it was the steadiest, loudest buzz of the con (that was expected). Not just because the words “D&D” dominated every program and announcement (that, too, was expected).

No, people knew the rules had changed because Atlas Games had released Three Days to Kill (reviewed here) and Green Ronin Publishing had released Death in Freeport — the first two modules produced under the D20 System Trademark License.

As an inaugural product of sorts, Death in Freeport has its share of rough edges. But it’s not distinguished only because of Chris Pramas’ good sense of timing. It also contains some laudatory gaming material which you might want to take a couple of minutes to check out.

PLOT

Warning: This review will contain spoilers for Death in Freeport. Players who may end up playing in this module are encouraged to stop reading now. Proceed at your own risk.

Death in Freeport takes place in the City of Freeport, an old pirate den which has since become a bustling island metropolis. The first six pages of this module are, in fact, dedicated to describing Freeport’s history and background – sketching in the broad outlines of an interesting gaming venue which can be thrown down along the coastline of any traditional D&D fantasy world.

The story itself involves a priest named Lucius. Six years ago, Lucius’ body was taken over by a mysterious power. Four years later, Lucius awoke to find his body returned to him – in his absence though, the power had done all sorts of strange things of which Lucius could remember nothing. Despite this, Lucius was still able to resume his former life, up to a certain point.

Then the dreams came.

Lucius would wake every night screaming in strange tongues after seeing visions of bizarre rituals. As a result, he began investigating what “he” had been up to during those years of possession. Two nights ago Lucius disappeared.

Which is where the PCs come in: Brother Egil, a friend of Lucius, wants to know what happened to him – and the other members of the order, uncomfortable with Lucius’ strange behavior of four years ago and his new inquiries into that time period, don’t really seem to care. Egil asks the PCs to investigate.

THE INVESTIGATION

This is the core of the module: The PCs will investigate Lucius’ house. If they make some successful Search checks here they will turn up a “to do” list which will lead them to the Bloody Vengeance, an orcish pirate ship. If they manage to work their way through to the captain of the Bloody Vengeance they will learn… absolutely nothing of consequence.

But eventually they may think to check out the church where Lucius and Egil work. If they do so, they’ll meet with a guy named Milos who will stymie their attempts to learn anything else. Shortly thereafter, they’ll be attacked by some mercenaries and, if things play out the right way, they’ll get the address to a tavern. If they stake out the tavern they might spot Enzo, who will lead them back to a bricked up building. (They might also find the temple if they decide to follow Milos for some reason.) The conclusion of the adventure takes place here.

Frankly, this is the biggest problem Death at Freeport has: The structure of the adventure is tenuous at best. If the PCs miss a die roll, the adventure is derailed. If the PCs don’t make a questionable leap of logic, the adventure is derailed. If an encounter goes just slightly wrong, the adventure is derailed.

A successful investigatory adventure requires multiple paths of inquiry to be present: You can’t expect every player group in existence to perform like Sherlock Holmes. Death in Freeport makes the assumption that the players are capable of reading the author’s mind – and that’s a bad position to but the DM in.

AN ANCIENT EVIL

What lurks in the bricked up building? Nothing less than a temple dedicated to an ancient god whose last appearance upon the Material Plane nearly destroyed the world. (You ever notice how evil cultists never worship the gods who make your socks disappear from the drier? It’s always World Destroying Evil™ they go after. Why is that?)

Years ago, before the humanoid races settled upon the world, a vast continent spread over the area where the Serpent’s Teeth islands exist today. (That’s where the City of Freeport is located.) This continent was known as Valossa, and was home to a race of serpent people whose magical sciences and natural sorceries were vastly advanced compared to those of today.

However, the serpent people was brought low by the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign, who summoned forth their nameless dark god. This Great Old One tore Valossa asunder, and forever destroyed the civilization of the serpent people.

Unknown to the younger races which have grown strong upon the world’s surface, the remnants of the serpent people remain: Barbaric degenerates still live beneath the surface of the earth, while an immortal upper class of sorcerors still cling to the old ways in forgotten corners of the world.

Worse yet, however, the serpent people walk among us: They have the power to assume human form, and they are out in force in Freeport.

The bricked up building the PCs will, hopefully, reach is none other than a temple of the Brotherhood of the Yellow Sign – still worshipping the ancient god who was once responsible for the downfall of Valossa. At this point you have a fairly standard, if abbreviated, dungeon crawl through the Temple of the Unspeakable One, at the end of which the PCs rescue Lucius.

This, in short, is the greatest strength of Death in Freeport: A rich gaming environment, with a backdrop of ancient mysteries, strange magicks, forgotten races, and arcane gods. Fans of H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard should get a special kick out of all this, and anyone who enjoys Kenneth Hite’s Suppressed Transmissions should feel right at home.

OTHER NOTES

A handful of miscellaneous notes to wrap this review up: Death in Freeport also contains four pre-generated characters, presumably for use by play groups who don’t want to generate characters. In my opinion, these are a waste of space and the two pages they took up could have been dedicated with far better purpose to just about anything else.

The new stats for the Serpent People, on the other hand, are very much appreciated (and surprisingly accurate, given the fact that Death in Freeport was developed before the release of the Player’s Handbook or Monster Manual).

On the other hand, Death in Freeport demonstrates its pioneering spirit in the fact that it takes up a page and a half with the licensing agreements – something which later D20 releases quickly learned to work around (by shrinking the type size considerably).

It should be noted, in closing, that Death in Freeport is the first in a trilogy of modules (to be followed by Terror in Freeport and Madness in Freeport, in that order). Several minor details of “local color” in Death in Freeport acquire a sinister significance in the later adventures – a nice way of balancing the necessities of a trilogy’s continuity with the autonomy of a stand-alone product.

Style: 3
Substance: 4

Grade: B+

Author: Chris Pramas
Company: Green Ronin Publishing
Line: D20
Price: $7.99
ISBN: 0-9701048-0-4
Production Code: GRR1002
Pages: 32

“A successful investigatory adventure requires multiple paths of inquiry to be present: You can’t expect every player group in existence to perform like Sherlock Holmes.”

What you’re seeing here is very nearly the origin point of the Three Clue Rule. The specific formulation of Three Clues and the refinement of the technique was still in the future, but it was while remixing and running Death in Freeport that I very specifically identified the problem

I used Death in Freeport to launch my second D&D 3rd Edition campaign. It’s a campaign that still lives fondly in my memory, and that may or may not color my opinion of the adventure (which remains quite high). I liked it enough to run it again as a one-shot, also to great effect. When I attempted to use it to launch a second campaign, however, the results were not so satisfactory. (You can read about that in Bumbling in Freeport.)

The adventure itself has been reissued several times, including a 20th Anniversary Edition compatible with 5th Edition and the most recent version, which is compatible with Shadow of the Demon Lord. (I haven’t checked out these specific versions, but have no reason to doubt their faithful rendition of the original. Although I will note that, for whatever reason, 5th Edition versions of the sequels were never produced.)

Next Freeport Review: Terror in Freeport

For an explanation of where these reviews came from and why you can no longer find them at RPGNet, click here.

DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 43E: Snakes in a Whorehouse

They found a secluded corner on the northern side of the building, well-shielded from prying public eyes, and drilled through. They found themselves in a long hallway that looked to run almost the entire length of the building. On the long opposite wall of the hall were roughly a dozen secret doors – or, rather, the back-side of secret doors. Although their construction clearly indicated that they were designed to be lay flush with the wall on the opposite side, from this side their nature and operation were plain. The hall was capped at either end by similar doors.

They had finally breached the walls of Porphyry House.

“The Porphyry House Horror” is an adventure by James Jacobs published in Dungeon Magazine #95. I scooped it up when I was looting scenarios from Dungeon during my original campaign prep: I skimmed through 40-50 issues, looking for stuff that I could incorporate into the campaign. While the PCs ended up skipping several adventures I’d pulled for Act I of the campaign, there’s a bunch of cult-related adventures that I used to add depth to Wuntad’s conspiracy/gathering of the cults in Act II.

(For some reason I started referring to the adventure as “Porphyry House of Horrors” in my notes. I had a real Mandela Effect moment when I went back to reference the original magazine for this article.)

I thought it might be useful to take a peek at how I went about prepping this adventure.

The original scenario was 30 pages long. My prep notes for the scenario, on the other hand, fill a 45-page Word document. That might sound like I completely ripped the module apart and put it back together, but that’s not really the case.

• 25 pages of my notes are actually handouts I designed for the players. (I’ll talk more about these later.)
• 10 pages are stat sheets for the adventure. This was partly so that I could use the stat sheets for easy reference (instead of needing to flip around in the adventure), and also because I wanted to adapt the stat blocks to an easier to use format.

So you can see that only about ten pages of material was actually making substantive changes to the module. And most of that was mostly dedicated to adding stuff. “The Porphyry House Horror” is just ar really great adventure. There’s a reason why I snatched it up.

LINKING THE ADVENTURE

After making a list of all the cult-related scenario nodes in Act II of the campaign — some pulled from Monte Cook’s Night of Dissolution, others from Dungeon Magazine, a couple from Paizo adventures, several of my own creation — I went through and made a revelation list with all the leads pointing from one scenario node to another.

While getting ready to prep Porphyry House, I went through this list and wrote down all the clues that needed to be available there, forming a clue list for the adventure:

• Porphyry House to Final Ritual.
• Porphyry House to Temple of Deep Chaos.
• Porphyry House to Kambranex (Water Street Stables).
• Porphyry House to White House.
• Porphyry House to Voyage of the Dawnbreaker.

(Actually, a couple of those may not have been on the list yet. I may have discovered them while prepping Porphyry House and then added them to the list afterwards. If so, however, I don’t recall which ones were which.)

At this point, these connections would have been almost entirely structural. They represent my broad understanding of the macro-scale connections between the various cults — i.e., Porphyry House is using chaositech that would be sourced from Kambranex — but I don’t know what the specific clues actually are yet. This is functionally a checklist of blank boxes I need to fill while prepping the adventure.

INTEGRATING THE ADVENTURE

With these links forged, I made a copy of “The Porphyry House of Horrors” and slid it into an accordion folder along with other adventures I had sourced for the campaign. I then didn’t touch the adventure two years. There were, after all, a bunch of other adventures for the PCs to tackle before they would get anywhere near Porphyry House.

According to the file info, I began prepping my notes for Porphyry House at 7:56 PM on August 15^th, 2009. This makes sense: That’s also the date that I ran Session 41 of the campaign, during which the PCs decided that they wanted to go to Porphyry House. I would have written the campaign journal that session, and then begun prepping the scenario.

(It’s likely that I had actually reread the original adventure after Session 40, when the PCs first heard about Porphyry House. At that point they would have clearly been just a couple sessions away, and so I would have begun preparations.)

The first thing I did was figure out how to integrate the background of Porphyry House into the campaign. In this case, it was pretty straightforward:

• Porphyry House is a whore house.
• Wuntad’s first chaos cult was based out of Pythoness House, another whorehouse.

Sometimes integrating a published scenario into an ongoing campaign is tricky. Sometimes it’s more like drawing a straight line.

• “The Porphyry House of Horrors” is set in the town of Scuttlecover. I just dropped that material and picked a location for Porphyry House in Ptolus.
• I also dropped the entire original adventure hook. (I knew that the players would be getting hooked in to the cult’s activities there via the leads from other cult nodes.)
• The original Porphyry House cult was dedicated to Demogorgon. I simple palette-shifted that to a Galchutt-focused chaos cult.
• Erepodi, a minor background character from the Pythoness House adventure, was made the founder of Porphyry House. (I knew I would need to add her to the scenario.)
• Wulvera, the cult leader from the Porphyry House adventure, was given a tweaked background that synced with the lore from Ptolus and my own campaign world.
• I also knew that I wanted Wuntad to keep a guest room at Porphyry House. (This would be a useful vector for clues, and also be in accord with the Principles of RPG Villainy.)

With those details determine, I put together a very brief (roughly half a page) timeline summarizing the canonical version of events for my campaign. The original adventure also included a Gather Information table, and I adapted this to fit the new lore. (This filled the other half of that page.)

ADVERSARY ROSTER

The next thing I did was the adversary roster.

The first step was simply reading through the adventure and listing the location of every denizens. Sometimes this is all I need to do to have a ready-to-use roster, but in this case there was a lot of tweaking and adjustments that were made as I was developing the scenario. (For example, I was adding Erepodi to the adventure.)

The most significant change I made here was deciding that Porphyry House would have a different adversary roster during the Day than it would have at Night. This sort of major shift in inhabitants can be a huge pain in the ass with a traditionally keyed dungeon, but is incredibly easy with an adversary roster.

The roster was quite large, so I put the Day Roster on one page and the Night Roster on another.

PREP NOTES

I then worked my way through the location key, making diff notes as described in How to Prep an Module. In an adventure with 46 keyed locations, I made changed to 15 of them. These were almost entirely:

• Adjusting lore (e.g., shifting the original Demogorgon references)
• Adding handouts (see below)
• Making the adjustments required for integrating the adventure (as described above)
• Adding clues to flesh out the adventure’s revelation list (mostly relating to the horrific ritual Porphyry House is making preparations for)

For example, in the original module there are four rooms all keyed to Area 16:

16. DOCUMENTS AND LIBRARY

These rooms store both idle reading material for the yuan-ti to relax with, as well as exhaustive records of their guests. None of the records have any indication that Porphyry House is anything other than a well-managed and profitable brothel, although the documents make for interesting reading; it seems that the yuan-ti keep records on everything their customers ask for…

I took advantage of this by re-keying these rooms as 16A through 16D:

• 16A was the Customer Records
• 16B was a Dark Reading Room
• 16C was Wuntad’s Guest Quarters
• 16D was Erepodi’s Quarters

In re-keying these chambers, I did things like:

• Flesh out the customer records to (a) add clues to some of the central revelations in the scenario and (b) add leads pointing to other cult nodes (e.g., sums being delivered to the Temple of the Fifty-Three Gods of Chance and “Illadras at the Apartment Building on Crossing Streets”).
• Add a selection of chaos lorebooks to the Dark Reading Room.
• Add some of the items Wuntad took from the PCs at Pythoness House to his guest room.
• Added a handout depicting a mosaic floor (with chaos cult symbols).

And so forth.

One other interesting change I made here was greatly increasing Porphyry House’s size through the simple expedient of changing the map scale from 5’ per square to 10’ per square. (I liked the slightly more grandiose dimensions this gave Porphyry House, and it also better fit the dimensions of the building I’d selected on the Ptolus city map for the location.)

HANDOUTS

Anyone familiar with the Alexandrian Remix of Eternal Lies knows that I love props. (I created over 300+ of them for that campaign.) I love handing stuff to the players because the players love it when you hand stuff to them.

For Porphyry House this included:

• A map showing the location of Porphyry House.
• Magic item references. (I frequently write these up — often including an image of the item — for any magic items the PCs find that aren’t from the DMG. It’s a fun way to make the loot feel extra special, and it’s a super useful reference the player can use for their new items.)
• Graphics depicting various NPCs and monsters. (Got a cool picture in your adventure? I will not hesitate to rip it out and give it to my players, including Photoshopping it if I need to.)
• Various bespoke lorebooks, such as Wuntad’s Notes on the Feast of the Natharl’nacna and Wilarue’s Flaying Journal. (As noted above, there were also chaos lorebooks — copies of which were spread around throughout the campaign — to be found here.)
• Various correspondence, such as Letter from Shigmaa Cynric to Wuntad and Instructions to the Madames.

Prepping handouts like these is often the most labor-intensive portion of my scenario prep, but it can also be the most rewarding.

WRAPPING THINGS UP

In practice, of course, a lot of this work is iterative: I’m updating a room key, taking notes on the handouts found there, and then bouncing back to work on more room keys. Or maybe details in one of the letters I’m writing will cause me to go back and add additional details to the background notes and timeline.

But, ultimately, this is pretty much all there is to it. At the end of this process, I had a really fantastic adventure that felt as if it had been custom-written for my campaign and my players.

Campaign Journal: Session 44A – Running the Campaign: Recalling the Lore
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index