Super Smash Brothers, a fighting game with party game sensibilities, released for the Nintendo 64 in 1999. The appeal of the title that would go on to be one of Nintendo's most successful franchises, was not only in it's unique take on health bars that left competitors in an increasingly difficult scramble to remain on the stage at massive levels of damage, but in it's roster- Masahiro Sakurai, the game's director, managed to convince his superiors at Nintendo to draw from their collective IP to produce a crossover title that hadn't been attempted before. The end result was watching Yoshi and Mario duke it out with Link and Fox McCloud on stages taken from the likes of Kirby and Donkey Kong. For the first time, some of gaming's greatest mascots could interact outside of tiny cameos in their own titles, even if that interaction was just "cartoon violence." The world would never be the same.
It's sequel, Smash Brothers Melee (2001) expanded it's roster, including pulls from Fire Emblem and their Game & Watch handhelds, and increasing representation of the IP from the previous game. This decision brought success in North American markets to Fire Emblem, a franchise that hadn't seen much success outside of Japan, solidifying it's potential as a Kingmaker. Any IP that appeared in a Smash Brothers game could potentially reach an audience that wouldn't have given it a shot otherwise. This assumption has allowed the series to become an expo of gaming history in it's own right, as well as a lucrative marketing opportunity for companies outside Nintendo's network. With the reveal of Snake from Metal Gear and Sonic the fucking Hedgehog joining for the third entry, Super Smash Brothers Brawl (2008), the sky became the limit. Anyone's video game blorbo could show up to duke it out, and oh, did people imagine what that might look like for their faves.
This is another blog post where it seems like I'm simply using my platform to gush about something that I personally enjoy, but I really do have a point with all this that connects back to TTRPGs. Honest. You can hold on for a couple more paragraphs.
With the advent of the early-mid 2000's internet, fans of the series took to message boards and forums with gusto to discuss the logistics of their blorbos appearing in the next game. Conversations ranged from in-depth considerations of business relations between rights holders to simple conversation starters of "Wouldn't it be great if X game/character got in?" Nintendo themselves got in on the trend, releasing the roster for Brawl over a series of bespoke blogposts to raise hype for the game. One thing became clear, the process of speculating who would be next became a foundational part of Smash Bros fandom, and nothing was more indicative of that then the invention and proliferation of "The Smash Mansion."
"The Smash Brothers Mansion" is a concept in fanworks surrounding the Super Smash Series dating back to at least 2003, though this relic of a fanfic could very well simply be the oldest survivor of a trend dating back even further. The basic concept involves the following assumptions: 1. The Smash Brothers Tournaments are organized by a higher power with the ability to summon the Fighter Roster from their respective universes to participate. 2. When not competing, the characters relax, train, and interact in a facility that acts as almost a college dorm. The specific details of how the building is laid out, what resources are available to the characters within it, or if the canonical roster are the only people operating out of it is up to individual interpretation. 3. Shenanigans ensue. An early example of this concept being used that I have personal experience with is the sub-series of webcomic pages found Katie Tiedrich'sAwkward Zombie . As Tiedrich's work skews towards comedy, the focus is less on combat and more on situational humor featuring quirks of the video game medium; Link from Ocarina of Time beats up his replacement and steals his outfit in order to continue participating in future tournaments, the Pikmin wreak havoc by collectively throwing Fox McCloud down a flight of stairs, and Roy reacts to not being in Super Smash Brothers Brawl by stalking and critiquing anyone else who joined after his firing.
This combination of Blorbo appreciation, Hype cycle, Domestic Comedy, and Commentary on the nature of and community surrounding Video Games as a medium is amazingly fertile ground for creativity. I personally joined in around 2013, during the leadup to the release of Super Smash Brothers For Wii U and 3DS. You may never believe me when I say this, but I was a Tumblr Blog Roleplay Girlie. I started off with a collection of OCs in 2010 before branching out to specific fandom spaces. One of my "muses" as we called them, was Resetti the Mole from Animal Crossing, and I had a grand time acting as a grumpy and loud middle aged man, tired of all these damn kids messing with the time-space continuum. Primarily I interacted with other Animal Crossing characters, but many others from Nintendo-adjacent IP would hit me up to write silly scenarios between our little guys. This status quo stayed about the same until the release trailer for "Smash 4" dropped, and with it, a FLURRY of activity, as suddenly folks remembered The Smash Mansion trope, and sought to emulate it. Multiple roleplayers from across different fandoms found the common ground of "Our Blorbos Are In The Same Video Game" and ran with it. Even blogs featuring characters that never appear in Smash Brothers were welcome if their parent IP had even a simple PNG of representation. And it didn't stop with the returning roster, either.
The hype cycle of Smash 4, and later Smash Ultimate, was intense. Nintendo's infamous "One More Thing" method of ending their presentations kept people excited and hungry for a new reveal- that every character got a bespoke animated introduction turned Nintendo Directs into a proper event. RP Blogs that took part in Fandoms connected to Smash couldn't look away, even if they didn't plan on getting the game itself. Any day now, one of their blorbos could be added, giving them (and their fandom by association) an invitation to the club. Milliseconds after a Direct ended, previously small groups playing niche blorbos with each other would begin posting in confusion as they suddenly had a hundred new followers from, like, Dixie Kong accounts. There was a congratulatory vibe to finding yourself in that position, as if the group had been waiting for you all along, and now was your moment. Come on in, drop your bags at the door. A room has been prepared for you and everyone is happy you made it. Welcome Home, Newcomer.
I think there is something to be learned here. Not that hype and crossovers are what we should be doing, more of the community thing. Super Smash Brothers became a celebration of video games in their totality, and the inclusion of characters from titles across history has done more to spread that history to new audiences than any ad campaign could have. The joy a fandom has for a property that's fallen into the background suddenly becoming aflush with new folk as the IP is elevated onto this stage is intense, and Smash has personally gotten me into titles I would have never considered trying on my own. Smash becomes an excuse for an outpouring of appreciation and celebration of video game history; because at the end of the day, we're all nerds who love games. Why can't we embody that joy more often?
This is a post about TTRPGS, despite everything, and while there are significant differences between Video Game and Tabletop fandoms and fandom spaces, they are still spaces with rich histories that deserve to be celebrated. The big names in the room tend to get a lot of the attention, and while recent years has seen a boom of indie titles recieving dedicated followings, there's still plenty of room for acceptance of new blood in those groups. There ought to be a JOY in sharing new systems and styles of play with others, in learning about the paths taken throughout time that lead to both popular and niche titles of today, not because we want to convert others to our preferred way of doing things, but because appreciating them for what they are and what they contributed to the hobby overall can only lead to a better hobby going forward. In a way, we're already all living under the roof of our own Smash Mansion. Maybe we just need to get better at welcoming our new neighbors.
Until Next Time,
Farmer Gadda
Only tangentially related; I wrote a Lasers & Feelings hack about being an Action Figure and deciding if you're going to lean in or fight against the role you've been cast (in plastic). It's free for legal reasons.
You can read this post on my personal site with other Goodies here!
Howdy, Farmhands!
I think everyone would have a better time if we could all internalize
the reality that our dearly loved hobbies are all a little bit shit. Yes, that one. Yes, eventhe one you like the most. Yes, yes, ESPECIALLY all of mine. No, it's not a moral failing that you still like them. And while we're on the topic, we should also all internalize the reality that we'll never be the Number One Fan or Bestest Boy at doing whatever that hobby is! Perfection isn't attainable, nor should imperfection prevent you from enjoying your sort-of-shit hobby!
There is a pervasive opinion among the laymen that just because there is
a high skill ceiling for any given activity, that all people engaged in
that activity should aspire to reach it. This line of thinking is
bullshit. It's cool that olympic athletes can challenge and break the documented bounds of human achievement. I go for a walk every day. Same basic behavior, but I'm doing it because it's enjoyable to me, not because I intend to ever reach for the top rung.
This is a blogpost about TTRPGS, by the by. Not sure that's been entirely clear up until now.
Let's be very blunt with each other. We're sat
around our tables with some shapes with numbers stamped on them,
pretending to be elves and shit. I love doing that. You love doing that.
But we're still just pretending to be elves and shit. This hobby, even at it's highest level of production and academia, is an act that is meant to be enjoyable. It's surprising how easy it is to forget that, especially when the person whose elfgame shit you're critiquing happens to yourself.
I personally have an issue with this, as I am a very critical person. There is nothing I love more than stripping a piece of media down to it's bare parts and discussing how they fit together and where improvement could be made. It is my favorite activity. This sort of thing is absolutely fine and a valid way to engage with media, but it can become a little much when you start to turn that energy inward. Once, during a session of My Pirate Game, I ended the game with the normal wind down of "let's critically analyze our choices and consider mechanic changes to better accommodate our needs" and got hit with one of the new players going "you could be a little less harsh on yourself." And they were right. I wasn't discussing a product made for consumption by the masses or sold for money, I was treating my friendy-friend game time like it was a test I needed to ace. That's unhealthy.
Roleplaying games, even at their grindiest, crunchiest, and "we have to pull out a physical tape measure to ensure the target of that mini is within range"-iest, are about having fun. What counts as fun is different between individuals, sure, but the enjoyment of the thing is very much the point. There's nothing wrong with improving your craft or being open about your weaknesses, but you simply cannot lose sight of the point of all this in your drive to better your skills. Give yourself the space to be imperfect. Refrain from judging yourself so harshly. We're all pretending to be Elves in a hobby that is, by god, a Little Bit Shit.
In November of 2024, Maggie Mahoney hosted a month-long Itch Jam titled the "Tabletop Train Jam." At the time, I thought this was a fantastic idea, but knew I wouldn't have the time to participate myself. However, I am, if nothing else, full to the brim with Opinions. I chose to share those Opinions on social media, intending to edit them into something of a larger essay later. It is now November of 2025 and high time I fulfilled that intention.
Howdy, Farmhands!
The implementation of Trains in TTRPGs is an interesting topic to think about. Their inherant purpose as vehicles assumes they're meant for overland travel, hauling large amounts of cargo (passengers or otherwise), at a speed incapable by other mundane means. However, Elfgames rarely operate at a scale that requires A Train to be available. If they are on offer, they risk trivializing the mechanics used by the party up until the point that said train was made accessible. The same can be said of teleportation magic and airships, so this isn't a novel conundrum by any means. How do we implement Trains into our games, and maybe more pressing, why would we want to?
Trains are COOL, is the thing. They're infinitely customizable- new cars can be added or removed with only the limitation of the engine's capacity. They're an enclosed space- until you reach a destination, there's no just Getting Off the train. They can be natural extensions to the existing resource management the party has been dealing with, simply scaled up beyond their individual capabilities- Logistics such as fuel and available track come into play. They can be transport, player base, or portable dungeon. They're also inherantly Timers for Situations. Paper Mario The Thousand Year Door has an entire chapter of it's story dedicated to a mystery inside a Train- with the ticking clock counting down to their arrival, at which point the suspects disperse, giving tension to the scenario. Stick your party in A Train with a bunch of characters, have Something Happen that needs to be resolved before you reach the Station, and bam, you have an adventure.
Trains also provide a premise for episodic adventures. Stopping
at a small station to refuel or drop off some cargo is the perfect
excuse for a small one-shot to happen in between larger modules. Ressha Sentai Toqger
managed 52 episodes of mostly Just That, with each new Station basically
not existing in the fictional world until the show runners needed a filler episode. If all of your stuff is On The Train and the Train is going to be In a
Location for a while, the party has good reason to engage with the
barrier preventing the train from moving on. Or, if they get in a
situation while OFF the train, there's impetus to wrap things up before it
embarks without them!!!
Trains arent all comfort or portable set piece. In order for a Train line to be successful and worth persuing, a significant amount of infrastructure is required for the fantasy world to make any use of them. With infrastructure comes the risk of that investment being damaged, destroyed, or delayed. Digimon Frontier (and isn't that a deep cut) had it's entire Digital World crisscrossed by Tracks, meaning the entire planet was accessible by Train... But the tracks were made of Data and could be absorbed or altered at any time. Narratively, this was how the story kept the protagonists in one place for any given amount of time, and produced free mcguffins wherever they found themselves. Does the party want to leave? They gotta get the track data from the bad guys to continue on their journey.
And this entirely assumes the train in question is traveling physical Distance. Take Kamen Rider Den-O; their train runs through TIME. Secret Trains are the primary transport between protected magical locations like Jowling Kowling Rowling's school for Wizard Cops, acting as a thematic transport between WORLDS. In a fantasy elfgame, the literal use of a train can play second to the tonal vibes it gives for being present, and can be fun to play around with!
Trains are cool, and their use could be levied in an Elfgame to make really creative adventures and campaigns is what I'm saying, I guess.
Or maybe I'm just Autistic.
Until Next Time,
Farmer Gadda
As a final note and a bit of an example- here's a translated replay of a Sword World 2.5 game that primarily takes place on a train! It's got a neat, non-train related Fellows system that I keep eyeballing for other stuff.
This
post is part of a series of Blogs where I work on my home-ruleset, 'The
Sanic Hack.' You may or may not gain better comprehension from reading
the other posts in this series.
This post directly follows after both Kludgebuckets and
Costumes. You may wish to skim those first to understand where my head
was at when writing the initial bluesky thread that then became this post. I love regurgitating my old skeets into blog posts. it is my favorite activity
Howdy, Farmhands!
A major draw of the media I intend to emulate with the Sanic Hack is their fantastical world design. Mario has his Mushroom Kingdom, Klonoa his Phantomile, and Sonic his various Zones on Planet Mobius. Earth. "Sonic's World." They've retconned a lot about Sonic's setting in the past, don't think about it too much. Unlike video games though, Tabletop Roleplaying is not necessarily a visual medium. This leaves a lot of the heavy lifting to the DM to properly describe with words, and as much as this project has been "Gadda Complicates An Odd-like", I do still want there to be simple solutions to the problems I'm inventing. How do I make the act of preparing a wacky video-game level setting for players to imagine their blorbos running around in easy for the DM? How do I keep them from feeling rote, without needing to write a full on Gazette for hyper-specific examples? OSR is no stranger to Gonzo settings, but there's a difference in mouthfeel between, say, The Dark of Hot Springs Island and Donkey Kong Country's Jungle Japes.
I'm FAIRLY certain Jungle Hijinks doesn't have any sex slaves in it. I could be wrong; they never clarify the relationship with Rambi the Rhino.
The first draft of this idea is something I'm calling "Themes." In theory, during prep, a DM would draw 2 and combine them into the core premise of the location. "Rainy" and "Jungle" would have overlap but still be distinct from "Rainy" and "Woodlands", for example. Each component Theme would then include a list of resources, lootables, and key items for the DM to populate the bespoke location with. This template would, theoretically, be just enough for the DM to run that location quickly and inspire on the fly npcs and adventure sites without the Theme prescribing those parts of play. Preferably, these would each fit on a single page, allowing for one's personal collection of available themes to be added to or removed from to match the table's needs. A table with an arachnophobe would remove the "Webs" Theme, for example, and play could continue with no hiccups.
For each location theme, you'll need the following:
3 Costumes: +1, +2, and +3
Accessories for the +3 Costume to be craftable, plus 3 unrelated.
At least 1 of each category of weapon: Light, Heavy, Ranged, etc.
Core Kludgebucket Parts: Between 1 to 3 should do.
Auxillary Kludgebucket Parts: I would prepare at least 3, though these can be bs'd in the moment if needed.
My running tally puts this at 16 items per theme at the low end. This seems like a lot, but keep in mind Themes will be reused and no one location should contain every possible option for the theme. A Jungle/Carnival Island might only have 1 Costume from the Carnival List, and the Core Parts from the Jungle List. Part of the DM prep involves determining what from each theme your location will pull from their lists and what will be saved for later. There's no harm in deciding that an item you hadn't planned on including was there all along, should your players take an interest in seeking them out. Alternatively, if players spot a doo-dad that was there for flavor and want to take it with them, DMs can just quickly slot it into one of the item types.
Let's make an example-
buzz buzz the posts must flow
Theme: Beehive
Weapons
Light Wp
Bee Stingers
(1d4, Dual)
rMed Wp
Bear Claw Gloves
(1d6)
Heavy Wp
Giant Honey Wand
(1d10)
Light Range
Pollen Arrows
(1d6, blast) Creates a Pollen cloud on impact, works as smokescreen
Heavy Range
Beezooka
(1d8, blast) Fires a cloud of Bees, 3 Charges, must be placed near an active hive overnight to repopulate
Accessories
Honey Pot Lid
(+1 AMR)
Striped Dungarees
(+1 AMR)
Buzzy Bee Slippers
(+1 AMR)
Suspender Bee Wings
(+1 AMR)
Antenna Headband
(+1 AMR)
Costumes
Honey Bear Suit
(1 Armor)
(A Fuzzy Ear Headband and a Red Pullover)
Apiarists Suit
(2 Armor)
(Beekeeper Helmet, Gloves, and a Thick Coat)
Hive Knight
(3 Armor) (Craftable)
Giant Honey Wand Honey Pot Lid Striped Dungarees
Core Kludgebucket Parts
Bee Nest (0 Star)
(-3 STR)
Box Hive (1 Star)
(+1 STR, -2 SPD)
Propulsion Parts
Large Bee Wing (0 Star)
(req manual flapping)
Random Guff
Honeycomb Hex
(It's very sticky)
Pollen Pod
(Hope you're not allergic)
Empty Honeypot
(Careful, it's ceramic)
Saxophone
(Do ya like Jazz?)
Actually, now that I'm looking at all this, it DOES feel a smidge overkill, especially as I'm meant to mix and match this with a second, equally long list. The hope, though, is that once these Themed lists are done, they will pay for themselves as quick and easy reference sheets for multiple sessions of play.
This draft obviously is
focusing on lootable items, but the vision for this includes descriptors
of flora, fauna, and weather for these themes. I think that's probably
best saved for the post on the second pass, as I've whacked at this post
long enough.
Additional Thoughts:
I'm playing with the idea of Costumes innately containing a weapon as one of their component parts. This slightly alters the math, making a comparable setup for +3 AMR with a lower level Costume + Weapon 1 card more? I don't know if this would be that noticable to a player. I'm also considering codifying a rule where a player can only have 1 Costume in their inventory at a time? Changing your costume entirely on the fly feels easily abusable, and I KNOW we're not supposed to design while assuming the worst of our audience, but it's still a concern. The only real balance I can think of is in the possibilty that if you have to drop the Costume for whatever reason, it's component parts go with it. insert gif of mario 3 losing a suit power-up here
Perhaps changing costumes in the middle of an adventure would require a Bulky "Costume Closet" item that can hold multiple Costumes and a turn to "Quick Change" into a different one. Then I'm not really removing the ability to do so, just locking it behind a little extra effort on the player's part to seek out the means to do so. How Delightfully Devilish, Seymour.
You can read this post and find links to my other works over on my static site! Likewise, you can gain access to blogposts early by pledging $1 or more over on patreon! Free will is great, isn't it?
Howdy, Farmhands!
My blog is very young. While I've been posting various ttrpg design hot takes for years, it wasn't until mid 2024 that I started to produce long-form essays and found that I really enjoyed the experience. Trying to get your entire thought out in a limited format is a good exercise, but some posts just need the extra word count to properly convey their merit. The unfortunate side effect of this switch being that I can no longer assume my audience has passively absorbed my opinions over years of Poasting, and thus a lot of terms I consider fundamental to my understanding of games are new and inscrutable to my readers.
Basically, my discord server politely but firmly asked me to pause and explain what the fuck I'm talking about, please.
So here we are, with the start of a series I'm calling ' Gadda's Blog Crash Course.' While these posts exist to educate my handful of weirdos, they aren't meant to be the definitive word on anything. This is TTRPGS As Explained By Gadda, and I have my own biases and incorrect assumptions as does anyone. I strongly urge anyone with different experiences than I to comment or blog their own additions or rejections of my posts, if only to deepen the pool my readers draw from.
Today's topic seems simple on the surface, but is actually quite deep.
"What is the OSR?"
To put it VERY simply, skipping decades of nuance to get to the core of things- "OSR" or "Old School Revival" is a genre of game that focuses on the trends and experiences people remember from the original years of Dungeons and Dragons. The term began in the year 2000, as a reactionary movement in response to the release of Dungeons and Dragons 3rd Edition. The play-style generally focuses on purposefully risking your character's well being for the chance of acquiring goods that will increase their chances of survival during future risks, with a game master remaining as neutral and impartial as possible, neither helping nor hindering the player in their quest to overcome those risks and acquire those goods.
Nothing I say after this point will be nearly as simple.
As time has gone on, and both Dungeons and Dragons as a game and the very online spaces people use to discuss it and it's history have gone through drastic changes, the target and purpose of "The OSR" as a community has changed, splintered, and become incredibly muddled. This is because different people like different things, you see. And also because people dislike people who like different things than themselves. Thus, the term "OSR" has evolved in separate corners of the internet to refer to multiple movements, overlapping play-styles, and as shorthand for an out-group of DnD role-players who aren't currently interested in the ongoing thing WOTC is printing.
To be completely fair to anyone who's confused about any of this- you're not wrong, it is fucking confusing! It's confusing to be IN the in-group that gets this sort of thing, and Homestuck levels of unbearable to parse for anyone outside it! Because there is no actual authority of what is or is not part of the movement, anyone can argue that they've involved, even if their actual circle is leagues removed from whatever older folks believe to be core to their hobby. This leads to some of the absolute worst offenders of online shitheads retreating to "OSR" as some sort of safe zone where they can regurgitate their unacceptable beliefs about sex, gender, and race unchallenged, having been driving away from the current generation of Dungeons and Dragons by a younger, more open minded audience. For many, "OSR" is a dog whistle; whatever takes on it's name is going to be gross and regressive, and is only attended by Bad People.
I will take this moment to assure the reader that this is not my personal experience, and the vast majority of OSR players I engage with are Trans Commie Furries and the straight folks they've befriended along the way. I do want to stress that this hobby has a bright spot.
It is not hard to imagine a movement based on returning to a previous state of a game already rife with colonial and racial subtext (or hell, just Text) to be a haven for regressive politics and hateful ideology. The original DnD is notorious for pushing disgusting stereotypes, and the earliest years of The OSR was primarily about continuing to support that existing game. HOWEVER, I would be a massive dick if I pretended the worst of the worst was the entirety of the hobby during those original years. While is it historical record that many of the game's authors were shitty people with shitty opinions that bled into their work, DnD was a hobby filled with all kinds of people from every walk of life. Many were just as critical of the game's output at the time it was new as there are now that it's flaws have been well documented, discussed, and ultimately ignored by it's publisher. There are a number of individuals interested in an old school style of play who experienced a very different kind of Dungeons and Dragons than is usually spoken about online.
"So... again, What is the OSR???"
OSR is a form of role-playing not dissimilar to it's evolutionary predecessor, Dungeons and Dragons, where you go on medieval fantasy adventures with a Game Master and 1 or more Players. However, it focuses on high risk scenarios and a neutral authority who describes the situations characters are placed in and details the results of said character's choices without favoring or purposefully hindering the player. Different tables and groups and corners of the internet will argue for more specific descriptions, and will continue to argue and debate and add and remove points until the end of time.
"...Okay then, What is the OSR to YOU???"
A number of individuals have attempted to write encompassing descriptions of the hobby, most of which are still pointed to for newcomers to get a quick overview of what to expect. As the hobby and it's corner evolve, new descriptions and summaries are needed. The list of positive attributes I associate with OSR games is very close to Ben Milton's 2019 attempt to coin a separate name from the baggage of "OSR", though it wasn't able to replace the term in common usage:
Adventure Game: The term “Adventure” does a lot of heavy lifting for a single word, and covers the vast majority of what I enjoy.
It implies authentic peril and the possibility of loss.
It implies strangeness, travel, the unexpected, and the confusing.
It implies variety and an episodic structure, a picaresque rather than a novel.
It implies cleverness, ingenuity, and cunning rather than a bloody slog.
It implies characters like Conan, Luke Skywalker, Elric, Hellboy or Fafrd.
It’s short, simple, and isn’t obscure.
Episodic-high-stakes-open-ended-lateral-problem-solving-fantasy-game
might be more accurate, but good luck with that catching on.
It evokes (in my head) a game that’s simple, unpretentious, and focused on fun at the table.
However, the post that I repeatedly link to, is W.F. Smith's Posters, Posers, and POSR(s), which includes the argument that the current batch of OSR games in line with the online diy-dnd blogging scene largely is it's own beast, with a lineage connecting to the original OSR but without a direct through-line. It's also a significantly better historical guide through the OSR than the one I've made above, if only because he's very good at linking to other people who have posted further reading.
This "blogosphere" of people posting and debating and creating answers to problems for others to maybe make use of is the backbone of the OSR as I experience it. There is no need to adhere to a specific vision of a lost playstyle, nor the necessity of keeping your math compatible with a game written by shitty people with shitty ideas. There are carried on elements of those products, for sure, but only after they have been inspected, dissected, and deemed worthy of carrying on. And just as the very term "OSR" itself evolved in different pockets of the internet, so too have different camps around specific mechanics and vibes formed as different people judge these smaller elements of a larger experience and find them worth keeping or something to discard.
This, then, is the "OSR" that I enjoy- not a dogged defiance of time, digging it's heels in to remain in a space that was outdated before the 90's finished rolling through; but a culture of investigation, discussion, and recycling of the historical record of play by people who like pretending to be elves. There have been games that come out of this culture that affirm the principles of those original works, joss them entirely, or even invent new frameworks to emulate the vibes.
I just wish we could all agree on a different name for SEO purposes.
Celebrations are an oft forgotten part of worldbuilding. Adventures derived from loss or fear are just easier to write, I think. It's simpler to motivate your players to go save the Blacksmith's daughter from Goblins, as opposed to setting them in front of a County Fair and telling them to go have fun. But, again, Celebrations are a big part of the world! How and why people party says a lot about the culture they live in, and giving players the chance to participate in those festivities does a ton for their immersion.
To that end, I've compiled this d20 list of reasons to get funky with it and party on. No more obvious references to real world religious events or hastily mustached christmas analogues, barely hiding their origin. Roll on the table; that's why they're celebrating. Fluff as needed. Save a glass of punch for me.
Until Next Time,
Farmer Gadda
Reasons to Throw a Hoedown
1
Harvest Season's Arrived! It's time to yoink shit out of the ground.
2
Barn Raising!
3
There's a Wedding! Some Folks got Hitched, and more importantly, there's an open bar.
4
The Creek Done Rose. Various plans and promises are put on hold until the matter is resolved.
5
A Child has been born! It's their first, and everyone's smoking cigars, as is custom.
6
Tonight's a Blue Moon. Those only come once in a... in a.... huh.
7
The Rain's come! Time to wheel out your parched friends and family for some Moisture.
8
Planting Season's Arrived! It's time to jam shit in the ground.
9
The Boys are Back in Town!
10
The Rain finally stopped. Fish out your loved ones and wait for things to dry out.
11
It's someone's birthday! They survived another year!
12
The Cows came home. I didn't know Cows could do that...
13
Goose laid a Golden Egg. I didn't know Geese could do that...
14
A Child has been born! It's their first... in the double digits. The drinks are strong
15
Timmy was finally rescued from that well. We gotta get Lassie one of those button pads or something.
16
The Ornery Town Bitch finally Croaked (And Good Riddance)
17
The Horses Demand it.
18
Someone bought some Magic Beans!
19
The Chickens have hatched. Quick, somebody count them! Why didn't we do this when they were stationary???
This post is part of a series of Blogs where I work on my home-ruleset, 'The Sanic Hack.' You may or may not gain better comprehension from reading the other posts in this series.
Worn Gear in Into the Odd/Cairnis pretty straightforward. There are 3 main kinds of armor, all bulky, with increasing levels of protection and a higher pricepoint. There is then the option to include Shields, Helmets, and/or Gambeson to go under the actual armor, each adding "+1" in whatever configuration you choose. Armor as a Stat caps out at 3, so you can't fill your inventory with Helmets and become invincible. For a game of medieval fantasy, this is the bare minimum you need, really. But, I'm writing a game of Blorbos going on Adventures; and a big element of going and seeing a new place involves shopping while you're there. How do I give the player the sensation of customizing their look with Worn items while still maintaining the inventory management element of the chassis I'm using? Also, I really don't want to write out a super long list of every Shoe style available to Hedgehog.
Let's start with the replacement for Cairn armor (not Armor, keep up) with "Costumes" A Costume is assumed to be a full set of clothes, but its pieces cannot be separated mechanically. These will come in 3 tiers of Price and Armor; similar to the Brigadine, Chainmail, and Plate tiers found in Cairn. +1 and +2 Costumes should be purchaseable, with the +2 Costume being harder to find. Then, we'll call items that add additional points of armor an "Accessory." These can be any individual piece of clothing, but only 1 piece of a larger outfit. Here you'd have your Shoes, your Scarves, your Hats, and your Bracelets. If a party of technicolor furries were to go to the Jungle Island and shop, they'd find suitably Tropical looking doodads to buy. Shark-tooth necklaces, masks carved from stone, maybe an umbrella made from Gorilla hide. These are all "Accessories", though, and are mechanically identical : +1 Armor.
In a game based on Into the Odd/Cairn, the real reason to pass up 1 mechanically identical item over another comes down to the game's approach on problem solving- the Gorilla Hide umbrella might make walking through a trap involving a spray of liquid NOT risky, for example. In order to reach your MAX Armor, 3, with only Accessories, however, you'd need to use three whole inventory slots on your person for them. That's a large chunk of your base 10 slots, so what are you to do?
My solution is to make every "Costume" of the highest tier, +3 AMR, craftable. In this theoretical, designing said "Costume" and at least 1 "Accessory" for each component of the design would be part of writing an Adventure. Collecting and combining the 3 Accessories compresses them into a single bulky card. Mechanically, once you have one Outfit with Armor 3, you don't need to look for any more. But with every major location having a new Outfit to find, and thematic Accessories to customize your character with, there's a lot of motivation to go out and explore, if only to dress up your blorbo. For DMs, this means they can either brainstorm ideas while doing prep for the adventure or BS a description in the moment. If it's an Accessory, it's +1. If it's an Costume, it's 1 to 3 with it's price being 20, or 40 of the game's currency.
How does this Math? To get +3 with the cheapest purchase, you'd need to spend 4 slots, 2 for the +1 Costume and 2 +1 Accessories, each their own slot. Bumping up the price (though you'll need to actively search for it), you can only use 3 slots for the +2 Costume and 1 +1 Accessory. Successfully finding and them combining the three specific +1 Accessories compresses them down into a single +3 Costume, making it a worthwhile endeavor even if it takes a while.
At least that's how it works in my head. Some of you are probably reading this and shaking your heads slowly. Lucky for me this isn't your blog and I can post whatever I want. Surely, I will never need to make a future post detailing how this went horribly horribly wrong!
Further Thoughts -
The original bsky thread that led to this post was written off the back of "Kludgebuckets", which supposed a grid based system for building and maintaining vehicles, and the next post in this series will wrap that chunk of thought up in a neat little bow. This feels a bit off; like I'm only making this post to prime you for the next... But, no, that's exactly what I'm doing. Hopefully this wasn't a complete waste of your time, and the next post in this series comes out soon. (I begin to don the hot dog costume and prepare to find whoever did this)
Until Next Time,
Farmer Gadda
This post and others like it are made possible by members of my Patreon,
where you can see Game WIPs and Previews of future blogposts a week early!
Thank you in particular to Tanuki543 for your continued support!
There comes a time in every blog's life when it must attempt one of the many traditional blog topics that have been done to utter death. You know the ones. "Fixing the Thief", for example, is practically a rite of passage into Blog-Adult-Hood. "Overloading Encounter Die", that's a good one. Eventually, we all find ourselves passionately describing our preferred method of "Running a Hexcrawl." Today I find myself prompted to partake of one of these well-trod discussions, in the form of listing my personal Appendix N.
"Appendix N: Inspirational and Educational Reading" is a section of the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons DM's Guide, featuring a list of fictional works that inspired Gary Gygax in his production of the game. The original list included such titles as Robert E. Howard's "Conan the Barbarian" novels, Jack Vance's "The Dying Earth", and various works of H.P. Lovecraft's "Cthulu" mythos. For decades, nerds intrigued by Gary Gygax's imagination and the drive could use this list of Authors and titles to begin their own journey down the same path that produced the staggeringly creative Dungeons and Dragons game. Don't get me wrong, a number of titles on said list are good works of fiction, but the hero worship of Gygax himself has lead to the Appendix N becoming something of a holy text in some circles. A structured reading list of books you can absorb to follow in Gary's own footsteps! Wow!
(I pause to make a jerking hand motion I shan't describe further)
When it comes to modern TTRPG, the term "Appendix N" is simply shorthand for "List of Other Things that Inspired Me and Might Inspire You". My favorite such list is found in Claymore's Adventure Module, "The Martial Cult of Blood Knight Gaius", and includes a book, a movie, AND a specific music track from an album! We are not limited to only referencing to the written word, but media as a whole! Revolutionary. Today, as part of Traverse Fantasy's Blog Bandwagon, I have prepared for you a non-exhaustive list of my own inspirations, so that one day, when I make it big, you too can follow in my grand footsteps and learn how the Master grew to become the creative visionary you adore.
(more jerking hand motions)
Sonic Adventure (Sega Dreamcast, 1998/1999)
I've been asked to expand upon what Sonic Games are the best for ttrpg inspiration before, and its pretty much just this one. Like don't get me wrong, I firmly believe we can and should take inspiration and lessons from all media we consume for our elfgames, but as a text to study explicitly for the purpose of acquiring useful skills? Yeah, this one.
Sonic Adventure is, even in it's most stable and visually pleasing (read: modded) form, a game that feels cobbled together. Sonic Team didn't fully understand how to make a Sonic the Hedgehog game in 3D, and this title also had to double as a showcase for the then brand new Dreamcast console's features. It's a game that tries to take the best elements of the previous 2D Platforming Sonic Quadrology and make it work with an added axis. You've probably heard the Internet's opinion of how it panned out.
I find my opinion on the thing waxes and wanes whether I'm experiencing it as a player or as a designer. I can clearly see the -intent- in a number of choices made by Sonic Team, while still disliking the end experience of those decisions. Let me give you an example.
In Sonic CD's first act, Palmtree Panic, there are a number of ramps that switch the player's perspective of Sonic from the side to top-down. He rushes straight up what appears to be a flat wall before being jettisoned off the top. Neat. Playing this set-piece feels cool because you go flying and then have to control where you land, deciding whether or not to aim for the tallest point or to try and travel as far as you can while you have airtime. But something fans have noticed, if not when the game released, then certainly as the internet allowed for the sharing of neat video game trivia, is that halfway up said ramp, the game's 2D Sky box flips upside down. The ramp isn't a ramp. It's an approximation of a 3D Loop in a 2D game. Once you notice it, you can't un-notice it, and the experience is completely re-contextualized! This visual is very simple to put into Sonic CD, because there is a very specific sequence of events that would ever make it visible to the player- they would 1. Have to choose to enter one of the ramps, and 2. Travel up that ramp high enough for the predetermined "flip" in the level's skybox graphic to appear. All the devs had to do was make sure any of the flipped part of the skybox doesn't show up anywhere else in the level proper.
In Sonic Adventure's first level, Emerald Coast, there is a section with a wall run leading into a tunnel carved into the stone of the islet you're racing across. If Sonic makes it to said tunnel with enough speed to also successfully make the wall run, he'll do three loops up and around the tunnel walls before blasting out the other end and jettisoning off into the air. Neat. Unfortunately, playing this set-piece doesn't feel nearly as cool as it should for a couple of reasons. The initial Wall run section is fine; it requires the player to maintain their speed and angle in order to not slip off it and be forced to use the ground route across the islet, but the moment Sonic gets close enough to the tunnel, all control is taken away from the player. A speed booster immediately brings him to top speed, and controller inputs are disabled for the duration of the Tunnel. I can understand why this was the choice made; Sonic Team wanted cool set-pieces like they'd included in the previous games- but in this fully modeled and 3 Dimensional space, there's only one way to guarantee the player experiences them when the designers wanted them to appear in the level. They were still mostly rewards for player choice, but the trade off was taking player agency away while Sonic does the stuff players wanted to see Sonic doing, which soured the experience.
This push and pull of wanting large, intriguing set pieces and spectacles while respecting player freedom is an important lesson for any TTRPG. You've probably heard of terms like "railroading" before, where players are forced down a set path regardless of their choices. Many a DM has fallen in love with the idea of a story that happens Just So and tried their darndest to ensure it happens, player agency be damned. Sonic Adventure is a series of really cool ideas cobbled together with guardrails to make sure you don't miss them- and that's as much a strength as it is a flaw. But it IS a strength! The cool shit in Sonic Adventure is, without fail, objectively cool! Figuring out how to include them without yanking the controller from the player's hands is a worthwhile aim, in both video and elf games.
Digimon Adventure (Toei Animation, 1999)
I may not post about it as much as Sonic, but I'm a BIG Digimon fan. The American dub was the first anime I really got into; though I had to catch up with re-runs of the first 3 seasons in between the then airing fourth. It wouldn't be until I was in high school that I finally gained access to the original Japanese run of Digimon Adventure and it's sequel, Digimon Adventure 02 and enjoyed the series as a whole in one go. It's a fun Isekai slash Shounen slash Monster Collector slash Coming of Age story if you're into any of those things.
Something you may notice from the image I've chosen above is how many characters are shoved into the frame. Hikari, the kid in yellow next to the cat, shows up 3 quarters of the way through as sort of a Green Ranger situation, but the rest of the cast is present from episode one. Considering the average run time of a single episode is 23 or so minutes, and a good chunk of that runtime is for stock footage transformation sequences, you'd assume that none of these kids get any good screen time. And you'd be wrong! Digimon Adventure is a masterclass at sharing the spotlight among it's ensemble cast, with every character getting development in and out of their focused arcs. Despite it's Saturday morning, monster of the week format, Digimon Adventure makes sure that every character in the cast changes and is changed by their relationships to each other.
Spotlight sharing is a stumbling block for many in TTRPGs. Unlike the 52 episode + 2 movie order that Digimon Adventure got to spread it over, we have no good way of knowing how long we have with the characters at the table. Making sure everyone feels like they got their time to shine is a challenge. But framing it as a challenge to win is a mistake, I think. If the spotlight is treated as a finite resource to battle over, the players will naturally start acting as such. For my money, prompting my players to become the trigger for another player's big moment has worked wonders. Instead of a single spotlight that only one character can stand in, these moments become stories in which one character directly supported and led the other to a dramatic and impactful development. How the supporting characters do this then becomes buildup to their own moments, in which the characters they've impacted will surely do the same.
I make it sound like an easy one size fits all solution, but this is as much a learned skill as anything. It requires all players feel empowered to be the supporter when it's not their focus, as well as take the space they need when it is their time to shine. Prompting can only go so far, as inevitably some characters will simply be louder than others- Digimon Adventure even stumbled with this in it's later third when it focused more heavily on two of the now 8 person cast for the purposes of selling toys. But when I find myself struggling with this, I still cast my thoughts back to Digimon Adventure.
Sandland (Akira Toriyama, 2000)
Akira Toriyama needs no introduction, nor am I the first to write about how his worlds and characters are inspiring for ttrpgs specifically. I could very well put his combined works as the entirety of this Appendix and the lot of you would surely nod sagely and move on with your lives. I purposefully only picked one of his manga for this list, however, and I knew my choice had to be that of SandLand.
SandLand is a fairly short manga, only filling a single tankobon volume and originally running in Shonen Jump for all of 4 months back in 2000. The story it tells starts out as a generic road trip adventure, but quickly reveals the guilt of it's deutoragonist at having participated in the crimes of the fascist human government that rent the world asunder in it's greed to control the greatest resource available- water. It's mere 14 chapters speed-runs the shounen adventure format, revealing hidden villains as quickly as previous ones are dispatched, blasting through the development of it's characters and their relation to each other, and wraps everything up with a nice little bow at the end. It also only exists because Toriyama wrote a short story about a Man and a Tank, and everything sorta sprawled from there.
There's two lessons that I think can be extracted here, the first and most visibly obvious is the art of Getting To The Good Stuff. Sandland wasn't written to become another long running series, and while it gives plenty of time to goofs and gaffs, endearing the reader to it's characters, it also noticeably cuts fat to streamline the rest of the process. This story comes at the tail end of Toriyama's mangaka career, after he's gotten all the experience of, let me just check my notes, WRITING DRAGON BALL to understand what makes an adventure story work. Some twists, especially some later reveals feel like they come out of left field, but both I and Toriyama it seems would like to ask: Who Cares? The Son of Satan himself is having a punch out with a giant evil bug man. The secret Government Conspiracy has a second, Secreter Government Conspiracy underneath it. The Tanks look cool and shoot each other a lot. Explain it however you want because that's just cool.
The second and less obvious pull has to be the political overtones of the work. This is a world where war has ravaged almost everything, where resources are hoarded by the elite, who protect their interests with violence. It's an exaggerated allegory that, frankly, is understandable by almost everyone below a certain tax bracket. I groked it pretty quick the first time I read Sandland, and while this may just be a facet of my incredibly sheltered childhood growing up, it was the first time I'd read a story so blatantly place capitalism and the systems of oppression that affected the people around me as the unquestionable villains of the story. That the response the story posits is acceptable to such villainy is 'Blow them up with tanks and your inner demon power what makes you fight good' probably had a larger effect on my psyche than I'd like to admit in writing. I'm not saying Capitalism has to be the big bad of every adventure; we have Brennan Lee Mulligan for that, but I am saying that tapping into the very real problems we face in the real world is the quickest way to get people invested in your fictional worlds. Giving your fantasy a contextual tie to relatable struggles will do half the work of selling that fantasy for you.
Sandland has an RPG and CGI Animated Movie now, neither of which I have taken the time to enjoy- both expand the original world and story slightly to better fit the needs of the two mediums, and I want to sit with my memory of the original being my only experience with the book for just a little bit longer. But I'm told they're good, and keep the spirit of Toriyama's work well, what with it beginning production before his death and, presumably, featuring some level of his participation. I whole-heartedly recommend it to anyone who's even passively enjoyed his work.
Super Sentai Series (Toei, 1975-Present)
I actually have an unfinished first draft of a post about this one specifically. Lets see if I can condense it into something more useful here so I can put off finishing the full post for a bit longer.
There two things I pull from Super Sentai when I run elf-games, and no, it's not summoning giant robots or doing over the top karate yells when I describe someone punching someone else (though, those are two very cool things that I should be doing more when I run). Super Sentai, which you'll probably recognize more from it's sister show, Power Rangers, is a live action super hero television series for young children in Japan. It features a team of 5 or so heroes in similar costumes that fight monsters (read: people in rubber suits) and features a lot of pyrotechnics and practical effects in order to keep costs down. It's goofy at it's best, and watching it as an adult is the most fun when you can point out exactly where the wires are. By the very nature of it's medium, it tries to do a lot of fantastical stuff with as real their effects budget will allow, which leads to some very interesting artistic decisions.
In Samurai Sentai Shinkenger (2009), there is a ritual that takes place every single episode. The Heroes' entrance is supported by their cadre of faceless servants, who set up banners and flags around them, revealing the team to the Monster to the sound of drums and flutes. A few words are exchanged between the opposing sides and then... The Henshin.
Symbols drawn in the air, wrapping around their bodies, their Helmets forming around them before all five snap attention to the viewer while the music swells. The Camera faces the Red Ranger head on as he introduces himself. It changes angle for every ranger after him, slightly altering the experience for what is a repetitious action as all 5 get their shot. Finally, as a whole, they pose and declare their shared goal, to go forth (and presumably stab a guy a lot). This ritual happens every episode for 52 real world weeks, give or take a movie or special crossover, and you'd think it would get boring really quickly. Super Sentai has been around long enough to know better. Just like how the original ritual shifts ever so slightly for each successive ranger in posing, phrasing, and camera angle, individual episodes purposefully play around with the make up and context of said ritual. Is it an episode where 1 character is otherwise disposed? The ritual has to continue without them, changing the pacing noticeably. One character is having a focus episode? Either they head the ritual, or the others skip it entirely so said focus character has the entire sequence to themselves. If the episode is heavy on dialogue and doesn't have the run time for the full sequence, the rangers will perform the very first steps of the ritual, cut to commercial, then return having completed it off-screen.
The importance of the ritual is in it's emotional shorthand. When it can be performed uninterrupted or abridged, its a declaration of the heroes' confidence. When it's rushed or done during a battle, it feels tense and like the outcome is uncertain. When the lead is given to someone who normally stands to the side, it's a triumphant success that signals that character's growth. Seeing how the ritual shifts and changes episode to episode is fantastic storytelling without needing to say a thing. After 5 episodes it becomes familiar. After 10 episodes, it's been lampshaded or jossed enough that it can be comedic or tragic as needed by the plot. Adding members, removing members, changing the graphics so that it's Christmas themed; the sky is the limit.
In Shinkenger, there is a part of the story where the Red ranger is replaced, as the true heir of the family he believed himself to be the head of reclaims her birthright and pushes him to the side. The remaining members, as Samurai bound to the family, struggle with the reality that their beloved leader is no longer in charge, and they have a duty to humanity to fight alongside this complete stranger. They follow her into battle and, as always, with full aplomb, perform the ritual. Everything is accurate, the posing, the phrases, the banners and flags. But the music is played in a minor key. They've skipped sections of the music. They've played a character's personal theme instead of the music. But once and ONLY once do they play the song in an off-key. The impact of this tiny change says so much about the cast and their difficulty adjusting to this new reality, and when the team fails to defeat the villain of the weak due to their struggles working as a team under this new leader, the failure feels more powerful for it. The audience could tell this wasn't going to go well, even if everyone performed the steps of the dance perfectly.
In elfgames, we have a lot of rituals that we expect and enjoy. Rolling for initiative. A Wizard casting Fireball. The all important roar of joy when someone rolls a natural 20. These are different from Rules, I must stress, though there is significant overlap. The key is to never Break a Rule but to Bend a Ritual. An interaction your player expected to go one way very clearly goes another. A description of a spell you've said multiple times before is worded just off-key enough to be noticed. A cool character moment shorthands the longer motions you normally let fully play out. Stuff like that. It needs to be used sparingly lest it lose it's impact, but when it hits... oooh, it's delicious.
There is a second thing but now that I've written this, I imagine I'll need to save it for the full blogpost I never finished lol.
Garfield (Jim Davis, 1977-Present)
Garfield wasn't made to be funny. Jim Davis, over his decades as a cartoonist, has never shied away from admitting that the formation of the Lasagna cat was an attempt to create a marketable figure, not a comedic masterpiece. There are a handful of repetitive tropes that have become staples of the character; Jon is dumb, Mondays suck, and Garfield is fat, but in that repetition comes something I find interesting. Garfield's continued success posits that the premise doesn't have to be novel, nor the punchline very good, if the audience supplies their own joke. The magic, and the devil, are in the details.
Take this strip, printed August 23 2005. Three panels, one word bubble, only 4 pieces of bespoke art as there's plenty of copy-paste editing happening here. Garfield walks in to Odie in a Situation of which there is no context. He looks up beyond the frame towards something the audience cannot see. He leaves the situation, commenting dryly, that whatever the Situation is, it has to do with the Ceiling Fan. This is not a joke. It has the scaffolding of a joke. There is a joke implied that is much funnier than what actually happens in the script, but we don't get it. The joke is left to the reader to imagine and in doing so, creates a funnier situation than Jim or his staff could ever invent. "Odie gets his ears stuck in a ceiling fan" is a Looney Tunes sight gag that wouldn't elicit a single chuckle out of a newspaper strip reader. "Garfield casually ignores whatever Looney Tunes sight gag Odie has found himself in," though? That's funny. "Garfield doesn't even bother to clue the audience in on what the sight gag is, dropping the barest of context before removing himself from the shenanigan entirely?" That's INSPIRED.
There is an old piece of advice for tabletop games that I've never seen codified into a specific quote, but still find it useful. It goes something like "When the players ask if one plot point is connected to another plot point made sessions ago, you nod and smile and let them think you a genius, even if you never even considered the connection between those points." Putting things out of sight makes the players consider what might be over there. Mentioning concepts or scenarios outside the range of the player's reach makes the world feel more alive. Leaving space for implication and imagination fill doesn't just give
you a chance to rest and enjoy the game, it also leads to a better joke
than you ever could have written on your own.
But wait, there's more!
There are honestly a ton of other titles I could include in a fully exhaustive list- Dragon Ball, One Piece, Homestuck. A lifetime's worth of art has slowly built me up into the author and designer I am today. Maybe someday, I'll do a follow up to this post where I separate the disparate media types into their own expanded lists... But that's a post for another day.
Back in 2023, I was given the chance to write for a project that was a bit of an experiment- A kickstarter for a TTRPG book that would be written by individuals who supported it at a specific tier, with a form of profit sharing for sales made after the complete book was out in the world. The premise of this pitch intrigued me enough to want to get in on the ground floor, though I eventually chose to bow out. There was nothing personal in my decision, and the book did release and fulfill it's KS obligations, though I've no information on how the monetization worked out for the contributors.
Before I chose to leave, I had prepared a draft of my contribution, with open spaces for links to other entries so as to make the individual locations feel more interconnected. Having done said work, I knew I wanted to eventually release it myself, but didn't feel right doing so until the original project was out in the world. This is said work. I've made some minor edits, but the original draft is mostly untouched and in the format requested of the previous project's organizers. I hope you find some use out of this unfinished adventure site!
As previously mentioned on this blog, 2020 was the year I finally bit the bullet and got into Dungeons and Dragons Fifth Edition. I had been listening to the Adventure Zone Podcast since 2018, and with all of my social events canceled due to The Pandemic, I wanted a hobby I could enjoy with my roommates and online friends. This honeymoon period lasted maybe 4 months until I actually ran Lost Mines of Phandelver, and I immediately turned into a contrarian sicko with a hate for WOTC. Thus began the era of Poasting.
I was a piece of shit on Twitter. I had yet to learn the difference between being rewarded for my intelligent opinions and being rewarded for simply being witty enough to be picked up by the rage machine. But during this time, I spent a good portion of my clout seeking sending out game design thoughts, as if to somehow validate my existence as an angry voice on the internet. Some of those ideas are actually... not bad? Now that I'm looking at them with a significantly clearer head I can see some winners in there. One of my earliest fascinations was with the many things one could do with the humble d6. To that end, I put forward a series of Mini-game like procedures for condensing larger activities into something you do in--between sessions or perhaps as sort of a Mario Party-like grab bag of events. Finally, this bring us to the point of today's blog; I don't have anything better to post, so sure, I'll regurgitate one of those.
SOWING SEEDS
A Minigame for Planting
The original Tweet Thread went as follows:
"Planting d6 minigame where you attempt to cultivate seedlings??? Roll a d6, that's your seed. 1 being a dud and 6 being great! You can choose to roll a second d6 to nurse it to better health, but rolling under the seedlings number OR surpassing a total of 8 means you ruined it? So like, its super easy to upgrade a 1, but more risky the higher the base value it This would tie in to some kind of produce grading system where a top tier plant eventually yields good harvest. I'd probably have 1 die count as a field of ground crops but have each fruit tree get planted and rated individually. Needs some tweaking to really make it work. Maybe some sort of ritual of preparing the ground and watering it to add bonuses to the initial roll"
This is a fine start, but lacks anything solid enough to build a procedure around. Let's start draft 2 by making this a form of Downtime Action, i.e. the time between adventures. Rolling 1d6 for your initial Seed quality is still great, as is choosing to roll a second d6 to nurture it to better health. I believe rolling Under your Seedling's current number might be too harsh; these Downtimes only come every so often. Let's keep the threshhold of failure going over 8, but introduce a degradation mechanic. For every Adventure between Downtimes, roll 1d6 and subtract that value from the Seed's quality. If a Seed remain less than 1 at the end of a downtime, the crop has failed to thrive. This gives players a chance to fix the problem before everything goes completely tits up, as well as incentivizes the initial planting being as high a value as possible before they carry on with their adventuring.
What's the point of this, though? In the original tweet thread, I vaguely hand wave at a scoring system where this process would net you better/more crops from a single seed.
1-2: Poor Quality. You've managed to grow Crop equal to the amount of Seed you started with, but it was hardly worth the effort.
3-4: Fair Quality. You've grown double the Crop per seed, and it's good enough that you'd eat it!
5-6: Great Quality. You've tripled your investment, and 1/3rd of it came out looking better than the average Veg.
7-8: Blue Ribbon. The same as Great Quality, however, 1 piece of Veg came out looking larger, juicier, and tastier than all the others. You might even win an award for it... if you weren't planning on selling it for four times the initial Seed's value.
Further Thoughts:
Time is always a factor in farming, and I want to make use of it. I have no interest in making a formal list right now (maybe later), but different crops requiring 1-3 Downtime Actions to be ready for harvest sounds about right. The 3 Action Crops would require a significant amount of reward for successfully growing them, and with 3 Degradations to contend with, would NOT be simple to produce.
Mid-level play with Hirelings would immediately muddy the waters. This Mini-game as written assumes there's 1 plot of land for 1 player to maintain, but once the party can just Hire A Guy to do things for them, the urge to set them to work in the fields will be strong. My immediate thought is to still require the player to perform the game as written; but hirelings assigned to the fields increases the number of crops that can be planted at once, 1 per hireling, as opposed to making the NPC do all the work offscreen.
This post and others like it are made possible by members of my Patreon,
where you can see Game WIPs and Previews of future blogposts a week early!
Thank you in particular to SethChris93 for your continued support!
