Daughters of Necessity Post-Mortem

After three years of massive multiplayer asynchronous play-by-post domain gaming, I am ecstatic to declare DoN officially DEAD. *champagne pops* *cork crashes thru a window*

The Good

• Incredible players, one and all. The buy-in for Cath is annoyingly high, so I was very lucky to find a dozen freaks who love cultural anthropology and abstract mythopoeisis and time travel bullshit and so on.
• The PCs absolutely ransacked the setting. Soooooo much of Cath got explored, much more than I could have hoped to see with a smaller scoped game.
• Overjoyed the culture/tradition mechanics got so much play, huge win there.
• We almost avoided a peaceful supercoalition of PCs rolling the NPCs.
• The most intense possible stress test for the crucible wizard, and it worked (with a few tweaks)! Let none say my classes are imbalanced!
• A surplus of hype moments and aura. In no particular order:
• hunting a dragon with harpoon cannons
• public marriage to a goth war goddess
• freeing an apocalyptic anteater from the underworld
• dueling a skeleton warlord on horseback
• car bombing a fairy prince
• The vibes were really good. The sense of scale (spatial and temporal) was pretty close to what I hoped. (I think, idk, I didn't send out a google form or anything; I can only speak to how much fun I personally had)
• I got to draw a lot :> (see below) 

I can't stress enough, the highs of this game were VERY high. At the end of the day, DoN was probably my favorite game I've ever run.

The Ugly 

We started with ~12 players, which was the maximum I felt comfortable running for at the time. We ended up with ~8, which was more than enough. (I'll get into it.)

The TBDlike domain game format, as I ran it, has a few pain points. Read Archon's post first, my own experience mostly supports his--

• Adventure bandwidth. It takes a lot of time to write and run the crawls especially, including ease-in and ease-out time. A 10-person TBD is about as much work as 10 weekly solo games.
• Season rollovers (or, syncing up async gaming). When one adventure starts to go on for months, the other players end up waiting on them for time to move forward. I bridged the gap with time travel shenanigans (see below), but people hate missing out on domain actions almost as much as they hate missing out on dungeon loot, so it isn't a frictionless solution.
• Burnout. Never did figure out how to call a hiatus before burning out, but that's what I should have done. The game created too much social anxiety for me to acknowledge when I was tired or out of ideas. Skill issue i guess.
• Content exhaustion. Archon's description of "a sandbox stripped to the bones by a locust swarm" is just so true. And yet! I still don't have a procedure for generating random shrines, which show up when literally anyone goes literally anywhere by road! That's valuable bandwidth I could have used if I wasn't constantly rawdogging the creative process for no reason. Write a table and let the world build itself for once.
• The ending. This game really wanted a predefined endpoint to work towards and I didn't write one.

one day a gentler, more perfect breed of TBDlike will scrap these rules for parts

I tried to manage the bandwidth problem a few different ways. For each adventure, I had players ask me for an omen a season or two beforehand, to give myself time to write a proper dungeon. I also received multiple adventure site submissions from players, to be crawled by other players. My players were incredibly supportive throughout the whole process-- it takes a village.

Still, each adventure required a large dungeon (if you only get one adventure per season, why not go to a large one), hexes to traverse on the way there, and road encounters.

One thing I gained a greater appreciation for was when I got to reuse locations/encounters for multiple PCs. (Recurring merchants, half-looted dungeons, etc.) I wish I'd added a bit more funneling to the map to 1) shrink the workload; and 2) deliver on a looted-but-alive vibe for the whole City-- like one big megadungeon that keeps restocking itself.

[but that kind of defeats the point, right? would shrinking the sandbox damage the sense of scale? we've seen tbdlikes with high player-player interaction slow to a crawl in long standoffs; would a pvp race to first looting rights make the game even more unwieldy?]

As my real life responsibilities became more severe, the number and length of hiatuses increased. (About half of the game's runtime was on hiatus.)

 

The Epilogue

Purple came up with this. To officially close out the game, we finally took a week to freeform rp the events of the near, far, and distant future of the City. Some highlights:

• The sun went out.
• The City's electrical power grid came back online. Invention of the lightbulb.
• The Profundal River became the Glittering River. 
• Decades long campaign against the armies of Hell.
• God-tree launched into orbit via antigravity demon corpse.
• New god-tree installed.
• Wizard-catalyzed self-perpetuating agricultural Cambrian explosion.
• East-v-West culture divergence.
• Surface-v-Deep City culture divergence. 
• Wall between the High and Low City broken. 
• Children sired. 
• Marriage achieved. 
• Sainthood achieved. 
• Wizard-king status achieved.
• Massive lore dump via incomprehensible poem.
• Horticultural literature written. 
• Violent ends met. 

And other juicy shit I'll riff off of for the next era of cathgames. One last week of excellent play before turning the lights out, for which I cannot thank my delightful players enough.

* * *

In the end I did actually accomplish what I set out to do: the setting got richer, the tradition system got a lot of use, and i got to run some primo Dee En Dee for my friends. It sort of feels like I got away with something, considering how poorly I managed DoN in its twilight years. I'm also glad I ran it when I had the opportunity, because I'm not sure when I'll have the time or energy to do something of this scale again.

Okay! All done! Time to do something different!

some doodles from the game

Quick & Easy Climbcrawl

for the Wall, and for my good friend archon who I love very much

Hexermap has been treating me well. Set Water to Landlocked in the Advanced Settings. Smaller maps tend to be more mixed.

• Plains are contiguous tin plating. On clear days, the sun's reflection is blinding, reducing visibility as you move into these sections.
• Grassland is also tin, but jagged and rusty. Any mishap carries a risk of infection (of you, or of your metal tools).
• Forest is metal scaffolding. Horizontal ledges mean you don't need to roll to move side to side.
• Dense Forest is damage from the last war (d6): melted metal; bristling spears; foreign banners; gouged-out craters (balcony); unexploded artillery; foxhole (dungeon entrance).
• Lakes are where roots break thru the wall (dungeon entrance).
• Rivers follow the roots themselves. Animals and Braids are surefooted when walking on roots. 
• Swamp is dense foliage, vines, fungi. Dangerous fauna and flora are more likely to hide here. (+1 climbing die size, random encounters on 6+)
• Hills are exposed concrete and stone. Moving upwards out of these sections means navigating an overhang. (particularly dangerous!)
• Mountains are sacred sites: vertical shrines festooned with gargoyles. (potential dungeon entrance) Any mishap risks a curse.
• Desert is a particularly hazardous section (d6): burning plating; electrified grille; caustic chemifall; dismembering machines; gravitational anomaly; a gap.
• Tundra is iced over by shivers. Cascades thick fog in poor weather.
• Roads are salmon-trails left by other climbers: ropes and pitons and clear indicators.

overhangs, potential routes, in-the-wall routes

These are very Cath-specific but hopefully illustrative. (I didn't even add the big plastic slide that takes you down a level for free.)

Short Campaign Pitch: The Wall

The High Tin Wall is 333 stories tall. Beyond it, Heaven.

You are... (d6)

1. a young psychopomp.
2. a fallen angel.
3. a questing knight. 
4. a pilgrim. 
5. an Orpheus-type bloke. 
6. a demon in disguise! >:D

There are two ways up the wall.

1. You can scale the face. Rusted plating and spiraling roots make firm hand-and-footholds, and climbing equipment is scattered about: remains of climbers before you, or spoils of an ancient invading force. (Long "salmon-trails" mark known paths up the wall; they all peter out before the summit.)
2. You can enter the wall. There is no place in the City where someone has not lived; peel back the plating and you'll find abandoned rooms, seeping tombs, and...! stairs!

The latter is a standard dungeoncrawl. The former is a loooooooong climb.

Climbing Rules
(stolen from Archon's Court: he previously called these rules a "complete waste of time", and now uses these rules instead. I just think they're neat)

A climb is divided into three-story sections. Roll a d6 for each. (Skilled climbers roll d8; disadvantaged climbers roll d4.) 

d6	Omen	Mishap
1	No holds in reach. Turn back or fall.	Sudden collapse. Save or fall.
2	A handhold slips out from under you and clatters below.	Minor collapse. Everyone below you (including your belayer) must run away or take 1d6.
3	Your hands catch on your clothes.	Your hand catches in a hold. You're stuck.
4	Your gear loosens.	Drop a random item.
5	Your head swims.	You look down. +1 Exhaustion.
6	Random encounter spoor.	Random encounter.

If you've already rolled that omen today (doubles), you get a mishap instead.

If you've already rolled that mishap today (triples), you fall instead.

Falling deals 1d6 damage per story fallen (not per section). A rope, piton, and belayer can reduce the distance you fall. (A three-story rope will, at most, deal 6d6. That's almost survivable! if you're lucky!)

i dont know anything about climbing btw

 

Before you climb, you may force your long-suffering gm to create a full and proper hexmap of the climb ahead by surveying the route. This may include alternate routes, as well as high- and low- risk sections like overhangs, balconies, electrified walls, gaps, chimneys, unexploded artillery shells, etc etc

Smth I random rolled off Hexermap. Off the top of my head: the road is a well-marked salmon-trail (+ die size); the water is slick with chemical spill (- die size); the forest is horizontal ledges (no roll to move side to side); ivymere is an abandoned hanging village, anvilwood is a harpy nest, and granitepit is an entrance into the wall.

a 36 story climb

Inventory limits are much stricter than usual, so this would be a counting-rations-type game (perhaps even an eating-monsters-type game). Still deciding how gear-focused it should be.

Ideally, the dungeons break up the climbing, and the climbing paces out the dungeons.

The Table of Circumstances (for Dogs)

this image contains WARRIOR CATS SPOILERS

When you roll up a Doggerlands PC, you must roll on the Table of Circumstances.

1. You are betrothed.
2. You have a child.
3. You are disinherited.
4. You are inbred. 

 

Betrothal means a looming arranged marriage. Brides are bought and sold by their parents, sometimes at very young ages, sometimes even before conception; scions of lesser houses are very often born into bridedebt. (Thus, the overwhelming demand for fertility drugs, and the tyrannical parenting practices that safeguard against defaults.)

Betrothal can carry significant stigma-

• To a second- or third-cousin: you're upright and traditional. Dogs prefer to marry within their capital-H Houses.
• To a member of another House: you're transgressive and modern. These sorts of affairs were forbidden until recently by laws prohibiting miscegenation.
• To a twin: you're very important, mysterious, possibly a wizard. Self-marriages are rituals reserved for those with very high CHA, but some find the practice confusing or strange. (It's a bit like being an elf; people will think differently of you.)
• To a foreigner: you're deficient in some way, or else your family is in a lot of debt. Either way, they were pretty desperate to marry you off.
• To a fairy or spirit: you make people veeeeeery nervous. Nobody wants to touch a spirit's property. (Betrothals are not recorded in the laws of men, but in the ancient language of Contracts, to which even fairies are beholden.)

The betrothed rarely meet until their wedding day, except in dreams, which they share from the day of betrothal.

(An arranged marriage date can demarcate a hard stop to a game, which is always useful.)

A child is a valuable resource (and Dogs are not shy about terming it such). Betrothal sweetens any deal, entrenches any alliance. It is (sometimes literally) a get-out-of-jail-free card in Doggish society.

Better kids make better deals, so make sure yours is as close to the breed standard as possible: for Norburys, fat and tattooed; for Devinsens, tall and skeletally pale. (This is approximated by your child's natural CHA. Nothing a little make-up can't fix.)

Most parents aspire to join a kennel club: a high society organization dedicated to maximizing the genetic potential of their children.

(And it is known that betrothing one who is healthy to one who is sick can invigorate the latter. Young and old, rich and poor: this ancient folk magic is well known to the Dogs.)

Traditionally, legal inheritance passes by simulgeniture, to the child who most closely resembles the parent in all miens.

The proper legal method (when a will and testament cannot be found) is to directly compare their ability scores. Dogs have 8 ability scores, while foreigners only have 6. (Bastards sometimes have 7; especially inbred children can be born with as many as 10.)

The Houses typically eschew these rickety legalisms in favor of a written will and testament, which is to be politicized and weaponized against one's children as one sees fit. Being disinherited is a very big deal; a life of (relative) squalor awaits the failscion. (Many families have a parasite uncle or aunt, to whom much seething and scheming is attributed.)

 

Inbred PCs start with at least one mutation (I like this list). Gawking is impolite, but you're also at fault for not covering it up. The higher you climb in society, the more inbred people tend to be.

Dogs consider inbreeding a "strong, albeit eccentric, parenting decision"; they'll judge you for it, but won't argue with results.

THE GUEST STARS

For GLÅUGUST 2026, I asked 128 gloggers to write one room each for a community dungeon: no prompt, no theme, no rules. Of those initial 128, a whopping 82!!!!!! submitted rooms.

Thank you all so much for your submissions, and for your patience.

click here ^^^^^^^ for the dungeon

(the links may not jump you around unless you download the pdf) 

 

09/01/26 - Fixes to names and attributions, placeholder room references filled in. (if I messed up your name, let me know and I'll get it fixed asap)

No Stupid Names

bandwagon

First of all, throw out the common knowledge.

• False cognates are good. "Herpys" is an excellent elf name. Glancing at my list, I have "Odd" and "Snorri" on it; you best BELIEVE those bastards will be strange and sleepy respectively.
• Alphabet soup is good; the less vowels in a name, the better. I like how leaving out vowels forces you to fill in the gaps in mental pronunciation. (This is a setting-dependent theme.)
• Unintended cross-linguistic double entendres are good; use Google translate to seed more of them. The Spear Mountain, why, that must be Ben Gae, the gayest mountain on the continent.

"Don't do this, don't do that" Just DO!!!!!

Common wisdom says reusing an NPC is better than inventing a new one, since old NPCs come with baggage. Baggage is more fun than a blank! there's lots of straps and hooks to latch on to, lots of context to consider. Unspoken context matters because without it the only thing players have to riff on is what the gm tells them.

Using familiar words as names has the same effect: it loads up the character with preexisting connotations and expectations, it colors in the gaps. The alternative to a name that means something (like Herpys) is a name that means nothing. (This is also why it's good to use famous names, like Rhianna, and Jesus.)

[i mentioned themes earlier. What I'm really talking about is patterns. A name like Hdrf means nothing; two characters named Hdrf and Mdrf, are clearly brothers.]

All this to say, I don't believe in dumb mistakes, just dumb decisions, which we should all be making at industrial scale and speed.

What I Actually Do

Here's the Cath name list and the Doggerlands name list. (i do my own stunts)

They're mostly real historical names with some fake ass bullshit mixed in. Cath features a Nwnvyr, demonymic of the ambiguously pronounced realm of Nwn. The dogs sometimes get names like Nefermoor and MacHotep because they have a little egyptian in the mix. Mostly real, a little silly. 

For the 6 manors characters, I moved much faster. Bridget fixes the bridge. Cardwin gambles. Summers Daley is a gloomy freak. Sargasso-- you get the idea. (It's easier when you tell yourself they're just placeholders.) Once the easy ones were done, I filled in the rest based on the first letter of their closest relative's name.

I roll once on a list if I don't have a pun locked and loaded; twice and combine if I want the name to feel twice as important. (Celd names tend to agglutinate.)

I also make up arbitrary naming rules for certain character types to create the illusion of consistency.

• If I need a demon name, I say the name without closing my lips and transcribe whatever sound comes out. (because they have big tusks)
• My wizards are named after colors.
• My royals are named after their virtues, like Harmoneigh and Awesome Force.

Having a fairy rule and a demon rule and a princess rule leads naturally into having a rule for this and that kingdom or culture. Layering those rules on top of my existing lists helps keep things connected.

Otherwise I just do what Ro does so go read that

rudimentary insights memetically phrased

• Curate a list of real names/words. Use it aggressively.
• Make up arbitrary rules and follow them.
• Use names that make you smile, even if they're stupid.

Cargo Cult, Cottonmouth, Cath Celdaenn

i had this banger metaphor about strangler figs and domain game rules but there's nowhere to put it rly

Cath Celdaenn is my pet setting about *gestures vaguely*. Qal Ashen is Loch's setting about *gestures provocatively*.

The two games in these two settings use the same rules. This is because I was directly inspired by Loch's A2A, and scaffolded my game over theirs in the frantic energy of the early-2020s domain game cambrian explosion.

The cathgame has trundled along brilliantly on its stolen tires. This is just for GLÅUGUST, and a potential hypothetical future cathgame.

Languages

Loch loves archaeology and linguistics so much they wanna marry em. Consequently, one choice you can make in A2A chargen is which languages you speak, with plenty of exciting and esoteric options. The dead languages are relevant because the world is post-apocalyptic AND necromancy is everywhere (lots of dead civilizations who speak dead languages).

In Cath, the City is the world, and the monoculture looms large: who's a real Celd, who's a pretender?

• Citizens speak the Citizen language.
• Translation spells work by making the creature(s) you are speaking to a temporary citizen.
• Citizens can't become fluent in other languages. (unless they're urbanists)
• You can learn short phrases in any language with a native speaker's help. (in downtime, see below)
• You can learn an additional language by incorporating it into your traditions/cultural identity.

One thing the language list does that I do like is it introduces the constituent cultures of the City. (and if important worldbuilding isn't in the chargen rules, people won't read it) I'll find a way to slip allat back in, probably.

Clan Creation

Clans have four stats.

• Cows is how many cows you have. (4d20? i dont want to do the math rn)
• Cows determine how much surplus downtime you have. You spend downtime on training or research. You also need downtime to support your specialized professions (see below).
• Warriors is how many warriors you have. This is an exact count. (d3-1)
• Getting more warriors requires setting aside downtime for training. Getting good warriors requires finding good teachers.
• Sages is how many sages you have. This is also an exact count. (d3-1)
• Sages are experts who maintain clan traditions. They can maintain as many traditions as they have HD, except for skalds, who can maintain twice as many.
• Braids, Skalds, and Saintmakers are almost always sages. 
• Freaks is how many antisocial freaks you have, like wizards and swordwives. (d3-1)
• You can comfortably support as many freaks as you have warriors and sages combined. Excess freaks hurt your reputation with other clans.

You can roll +warriors/sages/freaks when their expertise would be relevant. Cattle raids, for example, are +warriors rolls.

hopefully the [budget downtime for experts] idea is less bookkeeping than it looks. I like the idea of setting out on an adventure thinking "we should bring back a sage and a freak"

Marriage is very high-stakes because it can mean trading skilled people from one clan to another.

Traditions

The cathgame's biggest success, in my eyes, is how traditions work. You spend your domain action to enforce a cultural norm or memory, and gain XP each Spring based on how many people buy in to your vision of Celdic culture. One player took an immram into fairyland to rediscover a lost God; another pieced together a whole gender system from ancient gnomish texts.

In A2A, all players serve the God of Greed, and so all paths to power are paved in gold and blood. (thus, xp-for-gold)

xp-for-traditions has some issues who cares??? I'm king monkey, I make all the rules

• Your clan can support as many class templates as you have traditions.
• Each tradition is understood to empower a specific clan member as long as it is maintained.
• If the tradition is in crisis, the clan member is fey. (0HP = death)
• If the tradition is lost, the clan member may choose to abandon the template OR the clan. (They become a rootless NPC.)
• If the clan member is lost, the traditions that empowered them can be passed onto another clan member.

I've joked about how in Cath 10 coins = 1c = 1 cow. The cows still matter here, I think: you need a herd to support sages to maintain traditions, you need warriors to guard them. It's just a bit indirect.

(There is a full Gloranthoid hack somewhere here where class templates just aren't a thing, but I choose to be weird about it.)

also some of the traditions are just straight up magic.

• Pilgrim Orthodoxy - Strict monogamy. When two people are married, they pool their HP. Thus a husband can feel when his wife has been cut by a sword, and vice versa.
• Servant Tongue - Your clan can speak Palace, the language of the diminutive Royals.

Character Creation

This comes after clan creation, of course.

Your character has three attributes. (3d6, take the middle result, subtract 3) (or just do whatever, fuck)

1. Fortitude - The number of lazy cows you can drag behind you simultaneously.
2. Reflex - The number of weapons you’re proficient in.
3. Will - The length of the longest omen you received in a dream.

Choose your folk and class.

Speaking of folk-

Folk

People keep getting tripped up on how to play skeletons, quite sensibly, because I don't define in the rules what it means to be undead.

• Skeletons don't need to eat or drink, but if they don't get any calcium in their diet their bones become brittle. (Milk, cheese, quicklime, etc.)
• They can't smell, taste, or speak. They don't feel hot or cold. They can't drown.
• They aren't citizens and communicate via Skullsign, which requires two free hands and a working jaw. (Skullsign has an audible component in the form of chattering teeth.)
• If you're missing a hand, you can only "speak" in one-syllable words.
• If you're missing your jaw, you can't inflect or use punctuation.
• If you have your jaw but no hands, you can only speak in punctuation.

Carmines and Royals aren't citizens and can't speak the language, so playing as one makes for a very different kind of game. Crabs are citizens.

Holiers have a host of finicky mechanics that are difficult to adjudicate. I personally love difficult to adjudicate things, but maybe it would be better if i just

jesperish

HOLIER

Start with:
 At least one direct worshiper
+1 Will per template

A - Domain, Clout
B - 
Domain Expansion, +1 Aspect
C - 
Domain Improvement, +1 Aspect
D - Shrine Maiden, +1 Aspect

A: Domain
Somewhere in the City is a thing or place you represent. (A river, a tree, an elevator.) 

While you are in good health, so is your domain, and vice versa. If you are injured, your domain is damaged. (A flood, a bad harvest, a mechanical breakdown.) You cannot regain HP until it is restored.

You are not a citizen, but you are City, and can therefore speak Citizen.

A: Clout
You have a number of clout dice (CD) equal to the number of people who directly worship you. (Individual shamans and/or civil engineers do this for their entire community.)

You can roll your CD to…

• …reroll a first impression or reaction. (2CD)
• …recruit a [dice]HD shaman or engineer to help with a task. (-1 if it's out of the way; -1 if it's dangerous)
• …deal [sum] damage to your worshipers.

CD that roll 4, 5, or 6 are expended until the start of the next season.

At the beginning of each season, roll all your CD. For each doubles result, one of your worshipers is in need of a miracle. For each triples result, one of your worshipers is in dire need of a miracle.

B: Domain Expansion
You can project your domain onto another location or object. Roll CD: [highest] properties of your domain are projected. (For example, a stick can be made strong and sharp if a jagged peak is projected onto it.)

You can exercise fine control over your domain to produce minor spell-like effects. (For example, sending a message in a bottle up or down a river.)

Aspects
Gods have many faces and names, which comprise their many aspects.

Roll a new set of stats and skills. Then, you may roll d6.

1. They speak another language, but not Citizen.
2. They have +d6 to hit, and are bloodthirsty.
3. They are beloved by (d6) cats/centipedes/fish/ghosts/knights/smth else.
4. They are the size of a sparrow.
5. They are a monster. (fr! open the monster manual!)
6. They are a psychopomp.

They are one of your aspects. They may differ in name, appearance, and even personality, but they are all you.

You can swap between your aspects while you sleep, or with a sufficiently dramatic costume change.

Temples and statues built in your honor belong to one of your aspects and not the others. You cannot enter a temple belonging to a different aspect. Additionally, you can be forced into another aspect if someone shouts their name three times at you.

C: Domain Improvement
You can add a numinous property to your domain by enshrining a magic item within. For example, enshrining a flaming sword in the roots of an ancient tree may cause the tree to bleed burning resin.

(Negotiate the effect with your gm. As a guideline, the result should roughly answer the question, what if everyone had access to this magic item?)

D: Shrine Maiden
By rituals revealed to you in dreams of deep earth, you bind another to your domain. This takes a season of mutual fasting in complete silence and complete darkness.

You may turn them into a shrine maiden, an ageless guardian unable to leave your domain. If you die or are injured, one of your shrine maidens dies or is injured instead.

Alternatively, you may turn them into one of your aspects.

The Game Ends
when the omens come true, in ?? years. (← ask the PC with the highest Will)

Postscript
I sometimes hesitate to post Cath because I fear disappointing my lovely players. I will remind myself: This setting is a living document. Pinning it down and enshrining it will kill it. I shouldn't be afraid of playing with my toys.

slitherbop

 

Man-Shaped Things

arboreal fellows (aren't we all)

lemure
HD 1
a restless shadow

Caught like curses on jungle treks. Hides in your shadow and eats your dreams. (You cannot read omens, spoors, or written warnings.) Cutting off its tail breaks the curse. Travel in tight-knit nuclear families.

 

grandfather
HD 2
a lone hitchhiker

Lopes along roads at night, seeming a wrinkled old man. Traveling with him improves your reaction rolls with everyone. Slowly replaces your own grandfather in your memories; after a month of this, your real grandfather unravels, wherever he is.

fetch-life
HD 3
an unpolished reflection

Hirsute body doubles, unwise and curious. They learn procedures quickly and language slowly. Often exploited and abandoned, spawning cargo cult enclaves in the aftermath. Their stone bodies are extremely heavy; they won't cross deep water.

howler
HD 4
named for its contributions to the City-by-night

Encountered in brachiating platoons of exactly twelve. Persistence hunt travelers by depriving them of rest and luring wandering monsters. They can do both from miles away. Preferential sapiovores.

mandrill
HD 5
once, a man laid with a tiger

Dagger-fanged half-men, dressed in dogskins, iron lanterns held aloft. In torchlight, they are suave and gentlemanly, their tiger souls turned by fire. If the light goes out, they lose all sense of restraint and kill everyone. Of all the man-shaped things, they are the only ones who make and use gunpowder.

gorilla fighter
HD 6
a knight apostasia

Kitschy tombac soldiers alloyed against the world. Abandoned their oaths for the strength of abomination. Sweat metal and recite poetry. Their hide turns every weapon except the gun. After sufficient chivalric effort, they'll move into an old fort and fill it with an army of man-shaped things.

 

You'll rarely encounter man-shaped things in daylight. One day, they will bring down the sun.

The JAR

This is not a heartbreaker.

I default to g20 for pickup games, but I keep missing certain house rules. This will be my default going forward (living document, obvs). The jar is there to contain the scope. (easy to share, read, remember)

The only "new" idea is the partial offloading of encounter and morale rolls to the players. Ideally this makes my life easier by reminding everyone that the rules exist and are fun to interact with. (fortune should probably give bonus xp)

I can already see bits I need to fix- I'll try to wait until I play with them before tinkering more

bad worldbuilding advice // fractal worldbuilding

All worldbuilding advice falls into three categories.

• procedure
• slushpile
• categories

The good ones do one category very well. The rest can't pick a lane.

 

Procedures are ordered lists of tasks, ideal for when one has too many ideas to write down.

A good procedure is specific and arbitrary. No room for questions or hesitation or reasoning, nothing to distract from the numbered list. Compromise is the enemy: you get a drill sergeant dragging you thru the muck towards the finish line.

And waiting for you at the finish line is a satisfying result. Maps, random tables, stats, pretty pictures, published blog posts: these are the dopaminergic rewards for doing the work. This is essential because I deserve a little treat for doign a good job

(Morgan "Horse girl" Dungeonfruit is very good at these.)

Slushpiles are the opposite of procedures. These are for when one has lots of drive but no ideas.

A good slushpile is all vibes. It's shapes and colors, sounds and smells. It's dragon sex on the moon. It's poetry and rabbit holes and dyks. It's fun to say (makes you smile when you mouth the words). It's not wasting your fucking time.

A great slushpile is just a leeeeeeeeetle bit shit. The friction between you and them is what rubs the ideas out of their head and into yours.

(Semi "Demonetized Again" urge is very good at these.)

 

Categories are complete bunk. Tier lists, personality tests, tvtropes: astrology at best, hobby phrenology at worst.

These exist only to waste your time.

 

* * *

The worst worldbuilding advice is "Think."

Think about tectonic plates. Think about rain shadow. Think about where food and water come from. Think about how religion informs culture informs religion. Think about real world history. Think about art that inspires you. Think about biology and physics. Think about purpose built architecture.

Thinking is detailing is connecting is fixing is editing. Thinking is not worldbuilding. You cannot think a blank page full.

weed's fractal gallery

Here's a fractal worldbuilding procedure.

Start with 5/7 words. (generate randomly, then replace the lame ones)

1. talkative
2. plastic
3. linear
4. microscopic 
5. thinking (/neg)

Assign a wizard to each.

1. blabboth, the rambling skeleton
2. griatina, grandcaster crustacean
3. EVIL SWORD LESBIAN
4. rb, mnscl
5. james L. magrotype, first of the braincels

Zoom in on the most interesting one. Griatina. What's she like?

1. She talks to crabs.
2. She has a false eye.
3. She has a toy sword that can actually kill you. All of her tools are toys that work too well: things so fake they loop back around to being superreal.
4. Her children are half-crabs because she a freak. They are called orcs.
5. Her evil plan is to become immortal and huge, like, planet-sized.

Okay, what about EVIL SWORD LESBIAN?

1. She talks to swords.
2. She has a false corpus callosum. Exposure to the sword dimension gets her cut in half all the time, but she's learned to just zwoop the halves back together. Her right and left halves are rarely on the same page.
3. She has a lot of swords (duh, jesus, listen to yourself)
4. Her children are pushmipulyus: things she cut in half and put back together wrong.
5. Her evil plan is to get back together with her ex.

What about the map? I want some kind of, uh, island chain. What's up on those?

1. Singing rocks.
2. Artificial transplant cities trying to blend in.
3. Bamboo forests.
4. Germ countries, germ politics. Giant colored algae mats disputing borders with salmonella clouds.
5. Poor sad troglodyte people trying not to get uplifted by annoying missionary scientists

I like the germs! Tell me about the germs!

1. They get together at an evil disease forum every month when the moon is full.
2. One of them is a prion disease that turns you into a raggedy ann doll.
3. One of them is rust
4. They live very short lives. Talking to a disease is very annoying to the disease, because you talk so slow.
5. They were, like the troglodytes, forcibly uplifted by those damn missionaries, no doubt related to JLM, that scoundrel.

Zoom in further. A dungeon! A 5-room dungeon! :^)

1. Puzzle: Tracking down and isolating the germ in charge at one of these evil disease forums. Pretend to be cholera?
2. Trick: It's a masquerade ball, complicating the above.
3. Conflict: Chronic Wasting Disease is here. Gotta kill her to save the elk population. Unfortunately she has two swords and knows krav maga.
4. Entrance: Giant nose obelisk full of diseased bats. Crawl up the nostril and you'll shrink to germ size.
5. Reward: Germs present that are useful to contract/recruit/befriend, like autism BAD JOKE DELETE LATER

Stop. Zoom out. What's going on one level above the wizards?

1. Songs on the wind, the symphonia cirrostrata.
2. Morphic continents being pushed around by rogue giants, still building the world (how meta!)
3. Giant orthocerid tower to heaven (100 floor mmojrpg hogwash with cambrian angels and shit)
4. Sooooo many tiny islands, like sooooooo many. Someone broke all the continents apart (which is why the germs are so specialized, and the animals too, everything's filling weird ecological niches)
5. Of course, there's the petty, shitty wizards and their thoughts (/neg) 
6. And a secret sixth thing: the bottom of the ocean, where the elves do.

Get it? Zoom in, zoom out. Fill the pattern, break the pattern. Chase interest, reuse, recycle. Write now, think later.

eat your fackin vegetablrs

D6x6 Catamarans

for Glaugust 2026

A catamaran is like a boat with a thigh gap, and is recognizable from a distance as fairy bullshit.

The flag on the catamaran depicts...

1. ...many long-necked animals twisted together in a senseless knot. (braids save or vomit)
2. ...the logos of many generous sponsors.
3. ...an absence.
4. ...an agreeable androgyne with ai slop hands. 
5. ...many offensive political and military icons smushed together into a hyperproblematic, lightly sentient symbolic gestalt.
6. ...a beast playing an instrument. 

The catamaran is skippered by...

1. ...2d6 fairy slavers. Will trade people for memories and ephemera.
2. ...1d6 fairy poets. Will trade forgotten histories (and XP) for people. (Traded persons return years later with murky memories and a level in muse.)
3. ...1 fairy godmother. Will turn you into a fucking pumpkin for breathing on her.
4. ...3d20 skeleton pirates. Really crammed in there.
5. ...1d3 tigers. Invisible until you get too close.
6. ...2 snakes. Doing their best.

While aboard the catamaran...

1. ...one cannot be heard unless they speak in verse.
2. ...one's head rolls off their shoulders harmlessly. 
3. ...one falls asleep. (Fairies are dangerously competent sleepwalkers.)
4. ...right left east west north south up down here there before after inside and out are all swapped (but not reversed) (does that make sense?)
5. ...all metal apologizes, emits a high pitched shriek, glows green, and explodes into acid.
6. ...one is, technically, a ghost.

The right hull of the catamaran contains...

1. ...a cache of tommyguns.
2. ...the body of a saint.
3. ...plutonium sherds.
4. ...spare fairy parts (2 sets).
5. ...a terrarium full of tiny people. Requires feeding twice daily.
6. ...bees!

The left hull of the catamaran contains... 

1. ...a dragon heartstring harp.
2. ...a sentient demon sword floating in blood.
3. ...a bunch of tangled cables with no discernible purpose. 
4. ...cooked rice.
5. ...a portal to the mirror realm.
6. ...hibernating gnomes.

The gap between the twin hulls of the catamaran can...

1. ...sing of its own accord, but does so backwards.
2. ...chew and swallow smaller vessels.
3. ...open a portal to fairyland.
4. ...alter the color and buoyancy of the surrounding water.
5. ...create riptides. 
6. ...shoot psychic beams 40 yards. 

 

The skipper of a catamaran is often at the mercy of the boat's disposition, forced to visit islands or greet other vessels until the catamaran's curiosity is satisfied. Adult catamarans have 12HD and speak howl, the language of ghosts, cats, and storms. They are not particularly loyal, but appreciate a thorough deck scrub (or hull, depending on temperament).

A catamaran can only be encountered on a river, in the sea, in the sky, or in a dream. A wise man keeps their feet firmly planted on dry land.

The Ashes to Ashes Cube (a 360 card Play report)

I met a glogger from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose :dmthink:,
And :screiming: lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is Locheil Locheil, Best To Ever Do It:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

→ Here ← is a 360 card Magic: the Gathering cube based on the setting of Qal Ashen and the associated domain game, Ashes to Ashes.

The primer explains the project from a mechanical angle. In this post, I'd like to gush about the game that inspired it, as well as tell a few stories from the past three years of gaming.

Flowers without names

Today I saw a flower of which I did not know the name. It had a low bushy frame, upon which were arranged five clusters of flowers, and each cluster thereof was a cone of which, from tip to hilt, the hue shifted from pink to orange, like little sunset spears. And it smelled nice.

I kept an eye out after that. I saw thick-veined viscera leaves, globes of baby blue asterisks, pale porcelain street lamps, leggy pom-poms with drooping heads—cheer up cheerleader! the bees love you for you!

My partner can put names to flowers, which is a kind of magic. The same is true for anyone familiar with birds and bugs (the kinds that aren’t ants or beetles or flies: the potpourri) and rocks and cetera. In my eyes, they have a claim to these subjects I do not.

The word for great subject knowledge is mastery. Is this mint or milkweed? The master knows. The flower belongs to its master, who keeps its name in a box. Master, master! Open the box! (Thankfully, the kind master made the front of glass.)

I am the kind of person who uses words without knowing their meanings, only their contexts. I have to describe the flower, and you have to find the flower. Without mastery, we cannot hold it: neither shape nor color will fix fast. (Master, the pins! the paraformaldehyde!)

 

Celds have few names for animals. There are cows, there are dogs, and there are beasts.

(The King of the Celds once named every animal, but these were lost.)

laura bifano

many images to follow

Outdex

Huh? What?
It's like an index, but reversed. Instead of helping you navigate my blog, I'm helping myself navigate everyone else's. Each hex links to a Spiceomancy-certified all time club banger post. Go ahead, click one!

Oh, like an Appendix N?
Kind of. The reason I gathered all these links in one place is to help myself keep track of my favorites. I'm sure you'll enjoy these posts (to reiterate: they're all very good), but that's circumstantial to me enjoying them.

Neat! So why a hex map?
pretty :)

Dogbox: 6 Manors

Spoilers for Dogbox, again.

No dungeons this time, just a lot of Guys. It's still incomplete, but a bit o posting helps me build up motivation for the hard parts, だから許して下さいねえ?