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@game-idea-treasury
A Necrobinder drawing!
when you’re running your hand through their hair and they’re absentmindedly enjoying it, and you tighten your fist ever so slowly and pull, and their blissed out smile turns to a moan
“Ghosts are real” I can see how you could believe that
“Ghosts aren’t real” it’s very fair and rational that you believe that
“Ghosts aren’t real anymore” I’m about to hear a poem or very sad story
“Ghosts aren’t real yet” the fuck are you going to do
Let me axe you something…
Would you like to see me test stuff like this in armour (Including the pole)? Or learn how it was made and fitted? Please help fund the Bluminarmour project if you can!
Here is a free pdf of the players handbook
Here is a free pdf of xanathars guide to everything
Here is a free pdf to monsters manual
Here is a free pdf to tashas cauldron of everything
Here is a free pdf to dungeon master’s guide
Here is a free pdf to volo’s guide to monsters
Here is a free pdf of mordenkainen’s tomb of foes
For all your dnd purposes
Reblogging for other dnd nerds
>^>
also here is a whole website that not only has a shit ton of adventures and such but lets you search for any item or npc or whatever and see their stats and info at your fingertips
and here is the same version of the above website except it uses the 5e rules as they existed prior to the 2024 relaunch, which is what you’d prefer
Get the Night Vale TTRPG starter set pdf (and over 500 other games!) for only $5 by supporting the fundraiser TTRPGs for Trans Rights-Idaho. Back a good cause and get a ton of fun games, but most importantly back a good cause. https://itch.io/b/3525/ttrpgs-for-trans-rightsidaho
TTRPGs for Trans Rights—Idaho: 511 items for $5.00
Dungeon: Castle Gelidraf
Artsource
Once belonging to a plunderhungry northern thane by the name of Geyrild Grimstalker, the fate of this forlorn fortress was sealed when Geyrild set himself to stealing one of the sea god's daughters.
Bards tell different versions of the tale: love or ransom, rescue or ravishment. Whatever the truth of the matter, the sea god's wrath fell upon Geyrild's home, striking it with a great wave and then freezing it solid.
Near to a century since this act of wrath, rumours have begun to circulate that the once glacial ice around the castle has begun to crack and thaw, opening the possibility to reclaim a portion of the thane's stolen riches.
Challenges:
As the party race across frigid seas they'll have to contend with other treasure hunters, some reasonable, some bloodthirsty.
The wise forewarn that the sea god's wrath may yet linger over castle Gelidraf, but those with the pillager's lust for riches are unlikely to heed them. Odd weather and icy elementals are likely to bedevil any who make the journey, and may even follow them home after the adventure is done.
Denied his prize, Geyrild's spirit has refused to fade. Fuelled by an ire that not even the wrath of winter could quell, the thane's specter now stalks the halls of his keep looking for a body to replace the one entombed in ice. The first he's found is a fearsome winterwolf ( darksouls style sword-wielding-beast bossfight anyone?), but after that one is slain he'll gladly move onto the party or one of the other treasure hunters.
d10 unique dragon breaths, please?
A roiling mass of worms and centipedes erupts from the beast's mouth.
Its breath is an avalanche. A torrent of snow and ice pelts you, burying you, creating winter where there was none.
It's belching up dreams at you, tantalizing promises of things yearned for. You freeze in your tracks, mesmerized by unrealized possibilities.
You are sliced and stabbed by shards of glass. Blood drips from the dragon's mouth as its throat is shredded, but still it exhales.
Ultrasonic sound besieges you, tearing your eardrums and overriding thought with its shrill pitch.
Your mind is inundated with an ancient language. The characters curl around your skin like tattoos, words you do not know demanding an answer, crowding out any thoughts you might have had.
It hurts like gravel, whatever is billowing from the dragon's mouth. It's only after the beast is gone and you survey its leavings that you realize it breathed crystalline sugar.
The rush of oxygen gives you a heady, foggy feeling. You realize too late the dragon exhales pure O2.
The bubbles, when they pop, coat you in an iridescent film, slick and smelling of flowers. Unfortunately, your sword is barely a match for the viscous walls of the bubbles floating from the dragon's mouth.
The dragon belches up blood, and at first you think you've bested it. After another torrent of viscera, you realize with dawning horror that it shows no signs of injury.
all d10 lists
Putting all tabletop players into a college level ethics class and forcing them to turn in a paper on moral philosophy before buying a new book
This is…. An interesting thing to say… on this post in particular….
I think a lot of people reblogging this from @probablybadrpgideas are interpreting this as “this would be such a funny wacky way to make the table soooo complicated” but I mean this as a complaint about the way that so many tabletop players seem to just. completely lack an understanding of ethics. what it actually means to behave ethically and treat others ethically. and i dont mean this as "why do people want to be mean and play as villains? :(" i mean "why are there so many tabletop players that sympathize with outright fascist factions to the point of wondering why theyre listed as 'Lawful Evil' in the book"
can you talk me through why this was a particularly bad or challenging thing for your party to have done
Goblins were in fact, for me, a turning point on this concept. I had a player who wanted to be a goblin, and I forgot about this fact up to the point that the party got a quest to kill goblins. As soon as I was announcing the quest I realized it would be a problem, though I didn't have anything else ready so I went with it. And it was! The players immediately questioned why the mayor was paying mercenaries to kill goblins, and then further questioned his justifications, at which point I realized it would be a better story if the goblins were a scapegoat and not an actual villain. This turned into a terse interrogation where the mayor threatened to put them in jail once their questions got pointed enough that he would have to either field accusations or lie; they then went CSI on the situation and drilled through his political cabinet to get answers. I had to improv pretty much all of it and I don't remember the actual ending (I know they sided with the goblins and the mayor was guilty), but this helped me realize that the Gary Gygax writing style of "certain races are just BAD and that's why they hang out in dungeons" was very short-sighted.
D&D writing, by and large, encourages a lack of questions. The surface runs deep. "Go into a cave and chop up goblins." Why are we doing this? "Goblins are bad." All goblins? "Yes."
I think the question of "why are there players comfortable siding with fascist factions and wondering why they're called 'lawful evil'" is pretty easily answered with... because D&D itself is inherently kind of fascist. And it's the most insidious kind of fascist, too- its villains are fascists, so how could you point fingers at the book?
Fire Giants are dwarf slavers. Drow are a megalomaniacal theocracy who hate men. Orcs are violent tribes of marauding killers. Illithids want to destroy all life and keep an entire civilization to scrub their floors. But these narratives still push the idea that "evil" is a racial trait. The players are not only justified in their campaign to destroy these cultures, they're encouraged to do it.
They let the cat out of the bag by making these playable races; because now, they're not cut-and-dry villanous societies. They're people. There are Drow accountants whose lives are about balancing taxes, not worshipping Lolth. There are Yuan-Ti who don't sacrifice babies on altars, and much prefer playing the lute or sewing blankets. Yet we're still expected to read "Chaotic Evil" under the Monster Manual entry for a bugbear and take it seriously.
Reblogging again to add a quick take: as a DM introducing ethics makes your game so much better.
I had an intro to my campaign that involved a mad scientist kidnapping someone and turning them into a wererat. I didn't think much of it and I spent way more time fleshing out the other NPCs, I just wanted to use that wererat as a boss fight.
Once the party encountered him though they immediately saw what I totally missed: the guy who became the wererat was absolutely the victim of this story. I did my best at thinking on my feet and made the wererat this defeated guy who only followed the mad scientist because he felt like his life was ruined. So they, through good rolls, convinced him to help them fight the mad scientist and it made for such a better story.
The moral I'm trying to convey is that you need to treat every NPC in your game as a world within themselves. And I mean EVERY NPC. Why are the wolves attacking people? Are they desperately hungry? Mind controlled? Territorial due to poachers? Why are the goblins working for the wizard? Extortion? Promise of riches? If the bandits see that everyone is in armor, why wouldn't they just let the party pass and wait for easier prey? If one of the bandits die, why wouldn't the rest of them run for the hills?
here’s a couple of articles on the history of racism + xenophobia in tolkien & how that influenced dnd
This is the first installment of a two-article series about the racist origins, nature, and ramifications of orcs, a malevolent humanoid spe
This is the complement to my previous article , “Orcs, Britons, and the Martial Race Myth, Part I: A Species Built for Racial Terror.” In t
anyone interested in the subject should definitely also check out the whole Three Black Halflings podcast, which talks about being black in nerdy spaces. a lot of times they’ll have on guests talking about their intersections and experiences in nerdy spaces. they have an episode with the author of the articles above.
they’ve also played a ttrpg based on african mythologies rather than mostly european ones like most mainstream fantasy.
highly recommend!!
Adventure: A visit to Dawdlewall Fortress
Well there goes the neighbourhood... won't be too hard to catch it though....
Meet Clover, She's a primordial spirit of the land, and a very polite one at that. She embodies the place where the ancient mountains meets the lush green of valleys and lakes below, and her name is derived from an ancient elven poetic composition about her that refers to her mowing through the canopy like it was clover in a lawn.
In times of yore, a great hero awoke her to save their home from an invading army, simultaneously breaking the cliff-face free an undauntable defender. In the usual course of things a spirit like clover would have been unsummoned as soon as the crisis had passed, but the hero and all of their neighbours were just so taken with the gentle giant that they decided to let her stay.
Generations later, Clover has become a beloved local icon, gently grazing the surrounding forests while the fortress on her back serves as the region's seat of power. While most rulers of Dawdlewall have tried to live up to the hero's example the most recent; Gottfried Scarlett, Earl of Eastcress has turned out to be a bit of a bastard. Having ascended to rule Dawdlewall through a convoluted inheritance scheme, he intends to use his authority to wring the region dry of riches, backing up his power grab with kaiju sized threats.
Adventure Hooks:
The party can run into the earl's forces in a number of ways, having set up impromptu toll roads, shaking down local guilds, strong arming tavern staff for free service, ubiquitous "assholes throwing their weight around" type of behaviour. Things inevitably come to a head when the party delve a local dungeon and end up running face to face into the earl's "tax collectors" insisting that they need to pay a "delving fee". A brawl ensues, and the party either find themselves carted off to the Dawdlewall dungeons or on the run with a bounty on their head.
In attempting to fill his treasury as much as possible, Earl Gottfried has ironically made himself tremendously easy to rob. Wagons full of extorted gold make their way across the marshy roads towards the fortress snail. Though well guarded, these trusted troops are overworked and prone to error. Start planning your robinhood ambushes now.
As one of the many privileges granted to him by his new noble title, the Earl has seized control of the ancient hero's staff, which is the only means of communicating with Clover. He's already steered the oblivious primordial to crush a tiny logging hamlet that refused his unjust enchroachment , allowing the denizens to evacuate as a show of his magnanimity (also because it's hard for a giant earth-churning snail to sneak up on anyone). Seizing this staff is the key to kicking Gottfried to the curb (or off the edge of the Fortress, if the party is feeling particularly dramatic) but suddenly puts the heroes in a difficult position. Who can they trust with Clover's titanic power? Do they keep the staff for themselves or use it as a bargaining chip in the power vacuum left by their enemy's departure?
Artsource
baby dragons whose scales are much more shiny and iridescent in order to hide in their parents' hoards
absolutely excellent top-notch thought here, but now you've got me wondering what's trying to eat them
you misunderstand, this isn't 'I look like the ground so predators walk right past me' camouflage, this is 'I look like the savannah grass so I can pounce on unsuspecting prey' camouflage
they're hiding in the hoards to bite the hands of unsuspecting humans who sneak past mama
Perhaps the shininess also makes them more endearing to adult dragons, increasing the likelihood of adoption if something happens to mama.
maybe dragons collect hoards to camouflage their babies
World building idea 💡
The Romans were for real naming their kids shit like Boy #2
Random encounter: Oriphel, the orphaned blade.
Adventure hook: During a trek through the wilderness, the party discovers an old, disused road that promises to take them in the vague direction of their goal. Traveling along it for a few days, the road eventually settles in to run parallel to a river, upon who’s banks the party discovers a glimmering blade half buried among the silt and grasses.
Background: The sword called Oriphel is a relic of the old kingdom, the trusted blade of a royal guard captain who lost her life defending her princely charge from a gang of assassins who ambushed them as they traveled the old river road. The bodies of the captain, her guardsman, and her charge were all dumped into the river, and though their bones may have scattered and their flesh long faded, their dedication remains entrusted in Oriphel’s steel, the blade upon which the captain made her oaths of loyalty
Consequences and Complications:
First, the item’s stats:
Oriphel, the orphaned blade
Rare (requires attunement)
This longsword grants the user a +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls when attuned.
Captian’s vigilance: While attuned to this weapon, the bearer has a sixth sense for danger, and is granted advantage on any wisdom checks made to detect hostile intent ( such as a perception check looking for signs of an ambush, or an insight check made against a feint). Likewise, when the user is asleep or unconscious, the blade keeps them at least partially alert, negating any benefits an enemy would receive for sneaking up on an unconscious target.
Ready for Action: Oriphel will not let another of it’s charges die. When it’s attuned bearer rolls initiative Oriphel appears in their hand, already completing the action of being drawn. Also, if Oriphel is ever disarmed or distant from its bearer, the attuned creature can use a bonus action to call the blade back to them so long as it is within 30ft.
Using the orphaned blade forever ties the bearer to the legacy of the fallen kingdom, and they will occasionally feel pangs of nostalgic longing whenever the old kingdom is discussed. This tie will also warn the bearer of the hostile intent of seemingly random npcs, all of which happen to be secret agents of the assassin clan that did in Oriphel’s fist wielder. The reach of the assassins guild has grown since they caused the dissolution of the old kingdom, and should they discover that there is an item capable of exposing any of their embedded agents, they will use all their amassed power to ensure the blade and those it influences are destroyed.
My sketchy comic about a werewolf and the man that hunted her.
Not done yet, but I thought I'd put everything in one place
this is pt1-15
Oh there's more
I haven't gotten to work on this in a bit 0c0
I'm sad about it, but hopefully soon.
Adventure: A Wager Among the Waves
Never try to cheat a dragon, not only are they sore losers, whatever game you’re playing you’re playing it by their rules.
Hooks
Having traveled to Port Sweldin in order to catch a ship, the party get to enjoy a few days enjoying the picturesque beachtown while waiting for a vessel known to be traveling to their destination. Sweldin boasts of lively boardwalk amusements, charming market streets, and a thriving artist community that caters to both tourists and wealthy folk summering
All seems to be going well until early on the morning of their fourth day when the party assembles to see their ship come in only to watch as it suddenly begins to sink out in the harbor. Rescue boats are dispatched ( which the party may be pressganged into) but the effort is interrupted when a grey scaled dragon launches from the waters below and delivers an ultimatum to those gathered to watch the chaos: His name is Xemplaris, and he is there to claim their shore by right of challenge as the town once challenged him long ago. Before he leaves, he claims that he will sink any ship he sees out on the water, throwing Sweldin into chaos and preventing the party from reaching their long sought destination.
No one has any idea how the port managed to anger a dragon, but when the party investigates a few miles up the shore they find that the chalenge they’re expected to meet him in is not combat, but an elaborate game. Xemplaris has smoothed out the beach and drawn in a grid, arranging his side of it with large stones and giant shells. Apparently he expects the party to source their own pieces before he tells them the rules, which will require them to go savaging above and below the tideline to find the assortment of oversized tokens needed to compete. The dragon will take great amusement in this, and may engage them in conversation as they thrash about in the surf. during which they may be able to piece together why the beast is doing all this beyond just draconic greed.
Setup: Several hundred years ago, Beryl Sweldin was a dwarven huckster entrepreneur in search of his next con venture, after being chased out to the coast after his most recent scam enterprise went belly up. Born the son of an imperial scout and surveyor, Sweldin knew a good patch of land when he saw it, and stumbled across a stretch of shore that with a little dredging and other sorts of management would make a fine deepwater port. The only problem was that this stretch of land was inhabitted by a young dragon, who’d grown up alone among the dunes, lairing in the shell of some massive sea-beast that’d long ago died on the beach. Already large enough to pose a threat, Sweldin cozied up to the young Xemplaris, offering him shiny trinkets to earn his trust and persuading the innocent creature that he was a friend. After that, the draogn was just another mark, and Sweldin was going to fleece him of everything he had. Sweldin devised a game and taught it to the dragon, wagering coins and baubles along each match and instilling the young wyrm with an undersanding that games like these were binding and one must always abide by their outcome. Naturally Sweldin was cheating, adding more rules and complications to the game each time that the dragon could get caught up in. After half a year of this grift, Seldin eventually tricked Xemplaris into wagering the entire beach and the giant shell which served as his home, and when the little dragon lost he went away weeping.
After that it was easy for Sweldin to bilk a few inverters into his new project, as deepwater ports were sure to be big business. His grand house still sits on a hill overlooking what he made, its floors and couryard tiled with fragments from a great leviathan’s shell hauled up from the shore.
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