Less Combat ... More Obstacles I’ve been talking about dungeon crawling as a play style here for years, and I’m not alone among RPG bloggers to do so. Most of the points All Dead Generations focuses on, such as the importance of turnkeeping, supply mechanics, random encounters, navigating dungeons, and threats to characters that don’t involve hp loss, are fairly well understood in the Post-OSR space or at least fairly well represented. Yet… I don’t see a lot of focus on the play style itself … especially in the adventures released. Perhaps dungeon crawling just feels old and boring compared to the popular subjects of “high level play”, “wilderness crawling”, or “mass combat” … but rather then complain about what people like at the moment, I suspect something more is at work. Just as you can’t bake much of a cake you can’t run much of an exploration based dungeon crawl without a dungeon that supports exploration. As I’ve mentioned, writing good dungeons is hard, and this means too many dungeon based adventures, old and new, aren’t designed for dungeon crawling, instead they usually focus on combat encounters and sometimes complex puzzles … This won’t do it, not alone. Set piece combat and a complex room puzzle can’t make for a solid exploration adventure, because they so easily become a series of disconnected scenes. The core of Dungeon Crawling is players making informed choices about where to go in a location and “obstacles” to overcome to get there. An obstacle is a relatively simple challenge that impedes further exploration or makes it risky in some other way. The obstacle can be something as simple as a locked door,because obstacles are smaller in scale, less complex, and less threatening then set piece puzzles or hidden traps. They aren’t intended to offer a serious threat or difficulty and likewise don’t protect significant treasure. Obstacles are a challenge that requires player intervention or resources to move past, but isn’t likely to create a permanent obstacle. The function of obstacles is largely to root the adventure in the location and offer alternative challenges along the potential routes of exploration. For example … the party might head North in the dungeon and encounter a locked steel door. Not having one of the obvious tools to pass it (a thief with lockpicking skills or the knock spell) they have the options of retreat (returning next session with tools/spells), to search for a key, or to seek an alternate path through the dungeon that bypasses the door. The first of these options (full retreat) is costly and discouraged by the risks of random encounters, including that of restocking between sessions and the equipment or supplies expended to reach the obstacle.  Full retreat is of course undesirable, the reverse side of the long despised “15 minute adventuring day”. While this undesirable situation can happen when players fetishize caution but it is usually the result of problems in adventure design. If one’s players have decided to deal with risk by retreating after every encounter or to perfect thier approach to every puzzle and obstacle the best course as a referee is to increase the risk of delay and the cost of slow exploration … rival adventuring parties that sweep in and loot areas the party is “saving for latter”, rile up dungeon inhabitants or set traps for the party are an effective way of doing this. In most cases a party will choose one of the other two options: to search for a solution to the obstacle or blaze an alternate route. This depends on the availability of either clues and suitable materials, or alternate routes, and makes obstacles an issue for designers even more then one for players.  A well designed adventure must provide these alternative and tools, rather then offer a single linear path or insufficient tools. To put it another way - when the party finds a locked steel door they should also find clues as to where the key for the door can be found and/or have passed other potential routes. Of course alternate routes will themselves lead to obstacles and tools may require over coming some challenge to obtain. Trying to bypass the locked door might mean taking another route past a guard post … or perhaps backtracking to one and obtaining a set of keys from the guards. Obstacles can have this interplay or remain independent, but collectively they make it useful for players to understand the dungeons layout and offer a variety of challenges that different parties may choose among to reach the same goals or locations within the adventure. How to Write Obstacles Again, the distinction between an “obstacle” and other dungeon challenges: a puzzle, trap, lair, or other set piece encounter is scale and complexity. Where the later will usually require most of a session to complete, a party can overcome multiple obstacles in a single session, both because of the resources required are fewer and because the obstacle is a more generic challenge. This also means writing obstacles demands less space in the text or less preparation from the referee. The purpose of including obstacles is to vary the types of challenges faced by the players, and focus play on exploration and its risks rather then on combat. Beyond the simple ability to fill dungeons with something besides encounters and combat, obstacles also offer a way to threaten things besides character HP - mostly spells, supply and equipment. To make navigation and survival in the dungeon more complex while not adding too much more complexity to the dungeon itself.  With obstacles, the decisions made at the start of an expedition matter more: equipment cost encumbrance, while the utility spells needed to easily overcome obstacles replace combat spells. This observation is an old one, but less popular in 2025 than in the period of OSR experimentation. I believe the classic theory blog Necropraxis was the first place I heard a discussion of the ways the spell list in OD&D, especially its lower levels, provide specific solutions to common dungeon obstacles. The correspondence of spell to obstacle only grows as the number of spells increases edition by edition, starting with the spells created by and named after Greyhawk’s Wizard players, until at least 2nd edition AD&D … when more combat oriented spells, or at least spells designed to overcome monster special abilities, start to dominate. There are only eighteen 1st and 2nd level spells described on the original 1974 edition of D&D, and they are largely “utility” spells meant to deal with obstacles and situations rather than with enemies.  There are no direct damage spells available in OD&D until 3rd level (when the magic-user is 5th level themselves), but even then many of the spells available are focused on non-combat risks. This is how it should be if one is running a dungeon crawl style game, as spells present a safe and limited way to overcome dungeon obstacles. By mapping these 1st and 2nd level spells directly to the specific types of obstacle they overcome the designer can gain an appreciation for the types of obstacle they need. 1st Level Magic User Spells: Detect Magic: Detect magic is a way to find illusions, including fake or invisible walls.  These are a very old style of obstacle - a maze of invisible barriers or illusions hiding secret doors.  Any sort of magical trap is also susceptible to this spell - does the ominous statute animate or breath fire .. cast detect magic on it. Hold Portal: While more useful to escape from dangers - slamming a door and casting hold portal on it will deter most pursuit, it has its use against obstacles as well.  Imagine a slick walled ascending passage swept by a fierce torrent that released from a sluice above - hold portal the sluice and the passage can be climbed. Read Magic: Originally required for magic users to cast from scrolls - a limitation whose frustrating implications seem to have ensured it was quickly removed at most tables, read magic is in a weird place. It’s likely something to combine with “read languages” for a sort of instant decipher skill.  Potentially it could be used to apply to any concealed or coded message as well.  In its current state a good obstacle that implicates it would be those fire breathing statues mentioned above.  Unless their names are spoken in the sorcerer’s tongue the fire breathing stone lions “Cinder and Charr” will incinerate all who pass between them, preventing passage to the ruined tower of the magi … this ancient trap was meant only to keep out common people and the stone lions names are carved into their pedestals.  Unfortunately they are carved in the crawling sigils of the sorcerer’s secret language and cannot be read by merely looking at them. Read Magic though will show them clearly along with the instruction “The sorcerer commands even the great beast to heel by its very name Cinder/Charr”... Read Languages: Another spell whose traditional use depends on a subsystem (lots of monster languages) that isn’t used as much in Post-OSR design.  There are good reasons to remove the classic D&D language system, especially when one want to favor interaction with monsters or strays far from the static implied setting of vernacular fantasy… knowing hobgoblin isn’t very useful if there are no hobgoblins in one’s game. As mentioned above I’d reinterpret this spell as a way to interpret codes and symbols if it wasn’t combined with readd magic.  The spell then could be used to unravel simple coded messages in graffiti or signs - perhaps clues or maps to make one’s way safely through a trapped corridor or the code to bang on a gong and induce a magical servant to raise a gate. Protection from Evil: One can read a lot into protection from evil, it has a lot of potential.  While generally used to keep party members safer from undead, demons and such (or at least provide a small bonus while fighting them), it could work on static sources of “evil”.  When one isn’t using strict alignment (as I personally don’t) the spell becomes more a “protection from otherworldly influence”, but still functions the same way. Imagine a portal of screaming twisted forms - perhaps borrowing from Rodin’s “Gates of Hell” and so terrifying, imposing and soaked in dark magic that it is impossible to approach and open, throwing the doors wide and hiding their dire aspect. With Protection from Evil the task is simple. Similarly one might have a narrow hallway with cells on either side where the cursed or undead inhabitants can reach their clawed arms past the bars to grab and rend anyone who passes through… protection from evil (or the turning ability - they’re similar) will drive the cursed prisoners back and allow passage. The OD&D interpretation of Protection From Evil could be read to imply that it’s a static effect itself - creating a warded circle, but this can also work, just less effectively - though it becomes a more effective spell at protecting the entire party (if they can fit in the circle) from attack or baleful influence. Light: Often used to blind enemies, light is far more versatile.  Not only does it act as an emergency light source, it also allows the part to illuminate spaces they normally couldn’t.  A dark cave filled with flammable gases, underwater, or cloaked in magical darkness. These might be simple obstacles, but they’re hard to bypass without a source of light that doesn’t depend on fire. One of my personal favorite obstacles and traps is a magically darkened hall filled with animated chains that can be easily defeated/avoided if visible, but in the darkness reach out slowly to strangle anyone passing through… Charm Person: Less useful to bypass dungeon obstacles then most, but still helpful if one encounters a barred door whose watchmen can’t be bribed or otherwise overcome. Sleep: The same as Charm Person, though less useful for getting through doors, sleep is also the closest thing to a combat spell that 1st level magic users have.  All the same it’s effective for taking out sentries or small groups of guards silently. 2nd Level Magic User Spells Detect Invisible: Arguably the same as detect magic, though I suspect the utility of this spell requires that Detect Magic remain general, and Detect Invisible dispel invisible things. It could also be replaced or considered a more general “Detect Unseen” in which case it might act to reveal hidden doors, concealed traps, and tracks on bare rock.  I would use it this way instead of as a substitute for a sack of flour to throw over invisible enemies.  In general however detection spells are tricky, they can be very valuable in the context of exploration, but as written in Dungeons & Dragons they tend to be profoundly unexciting, and largely useful only when one knows what one is facing. Levitate: Useful to bypass sheer cliffs and such.  When there’s a ceiling for the wizard to pull themselves along it can also be used to cross chasms, torrential dungeon waterways, steams of lava (unless they are emitting searing gases) and such… If one expands this spell to include the ability to levitate objects (up to the weight of the magic User and only vertically … so as to separate it from the spell “telekenisis” and provide a poor replacement for the “unseen servant” or even “mage hand” spells common later editions) it becomes a useful way to work on levers, remove keys from pools of acid or otherwise manipulate obstacles at a distance. Phantasmal Force: An incredibly versatile spell, but perhaps less useful for obstacles, unless they can be tricked by an illusion. Perhaps a talking statue that will only allow the “Lost King” or some similar mythic figure (identifiable through murals or such in the dungeon) to pass could be confused by the phantasmal force.  This sort of thing might work on less magical guards as well. Locate Object: Finding keys… it’s not that exciting of a spell, but with clever use it can work on obstacles. It might be the only way to recover a key or other useful object from a mudpit or dark well, to know which of 7 potential cups is the “Holy Goblet of the Witch King” allowing the party to drink protective elixir against the “Witchfire Gate” instead of poison.  It also helps find secret doors and to directly navigate the dungeon level, though it won’t get the party out of a maze (don’t put large mazes in your dungeons - they are miserable to play and run). Invisibility: Sneak past the searing eyes of the great idol… Or past boring guards… near perfect stealth unless trying to avoid dogs, giants, or similar creatures that can smell people’s blood or sweat. Wizard Lock: The same as Hold Portal but forever… Detect Evil: At best it’s ESP for magical things… or detect harmful magic with a duration of 2 turns. I guess this makes sense as a second level spell, but I don’t like it very much. It’s boring and feels like a substitute for player engagement with the dungeon.  One just casts “detect evil” and it points out the bad stuff for the party in 1 60’ circle  - at least for a couple of turns. This is useful, but it’s not very compelling.  One could of course use it as a way to avoid dangerous enchantments like explosive runes and to know if the slavering hell beast is actually a slavering beast from hell or a weird bear with glandular issues … but in that second case it’s unlikely to help much when the thing starts biting and clawing. To make it more of this spell requires a willingness to expand its scope a bit and it always blends into the rest of the detection spells.  As written the spell can determine if magical objects and creatures are cosmically evil or an evil intent. Seemingly of relatively limited use.  I might expand it to be something more like detect traps, though detect traps is also a boring spell. As above one could use it to determine which enchanted cup will cause harm (unless there’s an evil enchanted cup that will benefit the character) … but in general evil vs. good tend to be pretty subjective in the kind of games I like. Perhaps “Detect Evil” points to a more “pawn position” play style where alignment provides a clear guide to affiliate and what will attack (meaning the spell can detect ambushes) or one where there are a lot more sudden and catastrophic effects from evil magic that don’t have in world clues about their nature.  I think the spell would work a lot better with minimal room descriptions in a randomly generated underworld then a carefully constructed Jaquaysian dungeon with connections between the rooms and logic for the players to sort out.  If there’s a regular chance of simply discovering safe “good” living statutes and dangerous “evil” ones that get no more description then “statue” or otherwise have no defining features the spell lets the party sort the sheep from the goats … otherwise. Certainly for a less boardgame-like style or one where alignment is not as definitive we could rewrite this as “detect otherworldly” but then it risks just becoming detect magic all over again. One could also expand its duration and limit the detail it provides -- a spell that is active (and takes up a spell slot) until dismissed.  The caster then could walk around and have a vague sense of there being unearthly beasts or ill intended magic somewhere within 60’.  Of course none of these interpretations are especially interesting and the spell doesn’t seem to offer much in the way of fun tools or problem solving. ESP: Read minds and detect sentient life up to 60’ away or through 20’ of wall. It’s a cool ability I guess, and as a detection spell it can spot ambushes or reveal if the party is being swindled. Riddling sphinxes or guardian statutes demanding as password (unless they are made of lead) become easy to bypass. Again it’s a detection spell and not very exciting as a means of overcoming obstacles - though it is far more interesting in dealing with factions as it lets the magic user know what the faction wants, what it fears, where divisions are, and what schemes the faction has. **Continual Light:** A spell I generally find tiresome - it's just the same as light, but forever ... a great way to never need a torch again. Too much player time is spent figuring out cool things to do with continual light spells cast on small stones and such. Personally I like to limit this spell, making it a way to fill a single room with a bright, magically protective light - a way to create a sanctuary or help fortify a room for dungeon camping. In any case, besides being a light spell continual light offers the chance to permanently seal away things that hate the light - a sort of ward, or to power any kind of light dependent device. A door that seals shut the moment light is no longer shining on its inscribed front, or a series of mirrors that reflect a bright light to drive off creeping, hungering, animate darkness that must remained powered for a long time to avoid trapping the party. Admittedly this is not usually a problem solving spell, more a work around that forever ends the need to worry about light sources. Giving it limits and special abilities (it creates the light of the sun for example but can only be cast onto a space, not an item) make it more interesting and useful to me. Knock: Perhaps the inverse of Wizard Lock - this spell is obviously useful for opening doors, gates, secret doors and other sealed portals … magically locked or otherwise. These are of course obvious obstacles and use use of a magically sealed portal is a way to bar 1st and 2nd level adventurers from entering an area (unless the nearby walls are easy to cut through…) The only thing to note about this incredibly useful spell is that the OD&D version has a range of 60 feet and could be interpreted to open all portals within that range - making it a way to “ping” for secret doors (or possibly release evils that have lain sealed for untold millennium) … I might be tempted to allow this interpretation as an alternate way of using the spell… Higher Level Spells Many of the higher level spells also offer ways to overcome obstacles: detections, protections, mobility, and ways to reshape the dungeon environment (a wall of stone is a handy bridge, and a wall of ice a raft) … there are very few obstacles that a high level magic-user with a collection of utility spells can’t brush aside, and this is as it should be.  Most of these obstacles have mundane ways to overcome them with supplies, skills, ingenuity and time: picked or smashed doors for example. However, the magic user with the right spell is a hard counter, a bypass - just as fireball and lightning bolt will get fifth level parties out of a lot of dangerous combat situations, utility spells can breeze past obstacles.  The job of the dungeon designer is to make it so that there’s a place for both sorts of spells in the game and the decision of what to memorize or learn becomes more complex then always having sleep, magic missile, web, stinking cloud, lightning bolt and fireball at hand. Obstacles are a good way of achieving this - because having to pole vault over a dangerous chasm and then construct a rope bridge might be just as dangerous (with random encounters and potential failures) as fighting a band of ogres. Fly will allow the party to bypass the first (the wizard carrying other party members over the chasm one by one), while fireball will very likely deal with the second. It's Always a Dungeon Design Issue. The problem with excessive combat in Post-OSR adventures or even those of other play styles is largely an adventure design issue.  If the only challenge the characters face is enemies, then almost every solution involves combat. It doesn’t matter how many subsystems, skills, supplies, magic items and spells for non-combat one includes in the game if they’re never used. If there’s never magical darkness or places you can’t light with a torch, the light spell serves only as a single target blind attack and if there’s never any sheer cliffs then a rope of climbing is only interesting if it can entangle enemies. Designing dungeons with non-combat challenges is also apparently hard.  Some of this may be the difficulty of including the details of more complex “puzzles” and traps into the currently popular bullet point, one page, or control panel style of minimalist design… a bigger problem is likely that in smaller dungeons both finding a path around or becoming blockaded by an obstacle is far easier … obstacles don’t have a place in a “five room dungeon”. Barring these difficulties, or accepting that one may need to expand one’s design comfort area to allow greater complexity in keys and/or a larger map there remains a final issue - imagining obstacles. Imaging stuff is hard - no way around it, but by looking at the ways utility spells function and what they can overcome, one can quickly get a basic list, or even note obstacles that are more appropriate for higher levels - without rock to mud/passwall and some serious detection magic it the party will never discover an isolated cell or treasure vault sealed inside a stone mountain… but for a higher level party this might be a good challenge, as long as there are clues to look for the vault. The old spell lists, and imagining interesting ways to use the spells on them outside of combat is a great way to start designing obstacles - the goal after all is to create something the players can overcome with a resource and some risk. Most spells offer a quick way to overcome an obstacle, but spells should never be the only way and while common physical obstacles are very easy to plan for, the more esoteric ones such as a waterfall of lava may not be. Trickier still is imagining why a specific type of obstacle is in a coherent themed dungeon is harder.  How does an illusory wall end up in a kelp filled sea cave inhabited by ghost pirates and killer crabs? Personally I can’t think of a good reason - unless the pirate ghosts are also magic - and would switch to a regular secret door - maybe a cave entrance concealed by a sheet of sponge that mimics rock or some kind of rolling mill wheel door carved from local stone that the pirates installed to hide their treasure… not all kinds of obstacles work for every location… but most do. With the cave example, flooded passages, dangerous tides, poisonous jagged corals, and whirlpools all seem appropriate even when they’d be out of place in an enchanter’s cursed chateau. In either case the referee should be able to find obstacles, and if they can’t think of something, perhaps picking one of the less common level appropriate spells and starting from there is a useful tool. _**I don't know what more to add - if only there were a semi-forgotten genre of 1980's films that could help explain the concept I think I'd feel better...**_

A lot of dungeon design advice focuses on “interactivity”, and to a degree this word can be a meaningless substitute for “stuff I personally like”. Yet one should strive to write locations with “interactive elements”. In the context of location based (or dungeon crawl) adventure design interactivity in an adventure means the degree to which there are obstacles and dangers beyond inimically hostile monsters and simple traps. An interactive adventure describes things in the area or room “key” that the players can ask questions about and do stuff with… STEP INTO THE DUNGEON DRESSING ROOM Interactive design offers elements of the adventure that aren’t a superstructure for simple die rolls - something beyond simple traps to “save” against and monsters ready to “fight until killed”. The more reliant one’s adventure is on these sorts of purely mechanical challenges the more the RPG becomes a sort of dice and board game. It’s likely that to some degree this was how Dungeons & Dragons was originally envisioned. That the dungeon adventure was originally intended to be played from something like the “zoomed out”, impersonal perspective of a wargame. OD&D reads like this at times, and one can imagine a referee running it who rolls each turn and declares new mechanical challenges or events … “You encounter three Ogres” or “One of your hired footmen falls into a pit trap as you go down the hallway.” Players then roll dice to fight the monster and remove resources such as their missing footman from their sheets, then they collect any treasure, move a few squares on the map and the next turn begins. To run such an adventure you would need basically a map and set of random encounter tables, or a location with keys like this: AREA 1 5 Orcs, 50 GP --- There’s not a lot for designers to do with this kind of adventure, the dungeon generation tables at the back of the AD&D Dungeon Master’s Guide can generate a decent version of this sort of adventure. However, this isn’t how RPGs have ended up being played by most, not even in the early days of the hobby. Some outliers like Dave Megary’s **_DUNGEON!_** and the amazingly charming **_Rules for the Game of DUNGEON_** by then teenage Craig VanGrasstek seem to have sprouted from Arneson’s Twin Cities game, but for most, and certainly in 2025, this style of dungeoneering board game is not considered an RPG. Gygax also recognized this over time and didn’t want to play a board game. The few pages of “Solo Play” dungeon generation tables he originally published in the first issue (Spring 1975) of **_Strategic Review Magazine_** were included in the **_Dungeon Masters Guide_** as Appendix A, but had added random generation tools in Appendices C, G, H, I, J, K, L, and M - mostly adding description and specifics to the bare halls of the earlier version. Appendix H even includes “Dungeon Dressing” - the sounds, smells, air movements and mundane objects that might be found in a dungeon. This, along with Gygax’s dungeon design, show an appreciation for “interactivity” and a step away from the board game possibilities of early D&D.  Gygax may have written more military or wargame style scenarios then some other designers, but he wasn’t playing a board game like adventure limited to mechanical challenges. FROM PROCEDURAL GENERATION TO BESPOKE Of course these type of random tables suffer a lot of issues - the most important being that the more complex randomly generated spaces become the less thematic and interactive they can be… that is the octagonal room filled with ... a feculent smell, mushroom patches, a chasm, 5 orcs and a portcullis trap doesn’t do much more than the ultra-minimalist room. The smells, sounds, trap, and room contents are only incidentally related to the room’s inhabitants and the contents of surrounding rooms. They are disparate descriptive elements that players can interact with by asking questions about, but they don’t “do” or “mean” anything that will help the players. All these sorts of dungeon dressing accomplish is to give a vague sense of the real to the dungeon - it is full of things and fixtures, just like real spaces. The example given above is easier to fit together then many randomly created sets of features, but even when the dice line up like this in one room they rarely line up in the next or the one after that. Improvising coherence, theme, can create an evocatively dressed dungeon, but doing it again becomes increasingly difficult. The struggle to produce coherence from randomized table results quickly turns into another version of spending the time to actually key a location while thinking about theme and history. That is one has to go through the same steps as making a properly interactive dungeon in the first place. At this point procedural generation becomes an extra step. Of course if rolling on tables to create a dungeon and then fitting the puzzle pieces together is helpful for one’s process there’s nothing wrong with it of course … but at some point the dungeon designer will have to figure out how the dressing of the dungeon works and how to make some of it something more interactive - how to create a readable coherence that connects the descriptions of the space to its inhabitants, treasures and risks. To me it always seemed best to start with the themes and then design the dungeon around them. Procedural generation may be more useful at the highest levels of dungeon design - setting the specifics of a location, its purpose, overall themes and such - so solo game like Tony Dowler’s **_How to Host a Dungeon_** might be more useful then the DMG’s appendices. PASSIVE INTERACTIVE DRESSING Dungeon dressing, especially randomly generated, is almost always mere description, and because of this it has the bad reputation of adding pointless information to keys. Typically this becomes a sort of design maxim against listing mundane items in mundane spaces -- a “bed” as the content of a “bedroom” or “4 chairs” in a “sitting room”. This kind of description is called out as bland, pointless, or something any referee can improvise with ease. To the extent this complaint is about a lack of descriptive interest it’s true much of the time. Dungeon design can get bogged down trying to make dungeons too realistic or exhaustively listing the contents of rooms.  However, a greater issue with prosaic descriptions is that they almost always lack interactivity. Even simple dungeon dressing can have uses - sturdy wooden tables are a player favorite for making bridges, barricades and rafts for example - but this only matters if there are challenges that make such endeavours worthwhile and if the specifics the players are likely to seek out are described without too much focus on useless dressings. Assuming however that there are challenges and obstacles where the furnishings, supplies, natural features and other dressing in the dungeon often become tools for the players, the complaint about boring dungeon dressing is still valid. First, it’s easy to go overboard with dungeon dressing, and it’s easy to omit things that a referee might note. Worse, it’s fun for many designers to go to excesses with dungeon dressing … fully imagining the space, seeing the dungeon in one’s mind as it changes over time, filling with clutter. Old junk is put to new uses and the trappings of the inhabitants pile up. At its core this is one way to create interactivity, making sure that the dressing has connections to the rest of the dungeon, and junk becomes something that players can use. A pile of owlbear pellets full of gnome bones might offer the party knowledge that the dungeon once had a population of gnomes and may still contain their typical traps and treasure, even if it’s now a lair for voracious growly hoots. As interesting as this sort of informational dressing is, it is passive and it doesn’t work alone.  Passive interactivity has to have a pay off - maybe not one every group will benefit from, but it needs to be connected to something that matters.  In the simplest case, like monster droppings, the information is a clue to a potential challenge.  In many other situations though, especially with clues to a location’s history, the knowledge offered by interactions with the dressing are harder to learn and harder to apply. Not every fresco will reveal a secret door, and not every statute provides the secret name to the long dead king terrorizing the dungeon. These sorts of powerful secrets should also require a bit of thought to use, and for them to work best need to be concealed among other less useful details. THE OVERDRESSED KEY As much as one needs evocative description, dungeon dressing and interactive elements to work … the dungeon is still a fantasy space that acts as the arena for a game.  It’s great to include interactivity that lets players learn things about the space, make educated decisions about what they’ve learned, and combine those decisions with the things described within the dungeon (or on their character sheets) to overcome its obstacles. This design process though, leads to complexity, especially if one wants to make the solutions or helpful bits of dungeon dressing less obvious. It’s very easy to go to the opposite extreme from minimalism and to cram too much information and description into a space. It may even be that this maximalism is the natural evolution of designing dungeons with a focus on naturalism and thematic consistency … the dungeon keys of the 90’s and 00’s definitely tend toward unusable verbosity. How to walk the line between too little key and too much? The answer is to consider the interactivity of the space one is describing… but not just the passive aspects. Include dressing in a way that gamifies it. To think about this issue it’s best to think a bit about how RPG play works… RPGs always involve several imaginations, the space a designer creates will be interpreted by both the referee and players. Visualized, described, visualized again, and then the story that takes place there will be negotiated by the players, referee and rules.  At each point here the fictional elements are being recontextualized, the possibilities considered and by the end the events are extremely unlikely to proceed as the designer expected. Designer ideas and concepts need to be durable and sticky - both easy to comprehend and something memorable. The task of designing such spaces, and both using and writing such keys becomes harder the more complex they are. The more detail the referee needs to read, interpret, visualize and describe, the more the players will need to do the same and the more likely important elements that make up the room’s obstacles or that the designer has connected to other parts of the adventure will be forgotten. Consider the dragon’s lair above as described here. AREA 123. Lair of the Dragon Waterfalls from the ceiling of this natural cenote, countless gallons of water that pour through a wide opening that leads to the jungle far above. An endless crashing roar of water on rock is deafening, and it is impossible to hear all but the loudest sounds, while the falling water creates clouds of swirling mist that block sight beyond a few feets and then suddenly whirl away to reveal the contents of the vast cavern. The cascades scatter light and paint dancing patterns of shadow across the slick stone walls and reflect from both yellowed bone and glittering gold. Rushing streams wind from the dozen pools beneath the waterfalls, through outcroppings of blue grey rock, clumps of pale subterranean fern, the thousands of yellowed skulls and tangled bones lay in moss covered drifts. Scattered among them are rusted and rotten arms - enough armor and weapons to outfit a legion, but one from no single era or culture. The half molten wreckage of the most modern articulated plate armor is tumbled atop the verdigris shrouded bronze panoply of the ancient legions. Scattered among bones, clear water, and bleached plants are pieces of treasure, gold temple vessels, blackened silver ingots, caskets of jewels, carved jade, gilded armor, and crates of rotten wood marked with the royal mint’s seal that spill coins across the uneven floor. In the center of the chamber the streams collect, and a copse of taller albino tree ferns reaching upwards toward the dim light above and home to foot long beetles that grow green with bioluminescence. Even with the array of trees the pool is visible, 12’ of clear water teeming with pale blind fish.  Its bottom is covered in more gold, bones and armor, as well as  a fallen idol depicting a frog faced rain god. The great pool is the nest of Itzcotal - the “Sky Knife Serpent” an azure wyrm of great age and cunning. He rests with his sinuous bulk curled around the fallen idol, nostrils and watchful eyes above the surface. The wyrm can smell intruders and will rear up with a huge splash as soon as they move to within 50’ of its pool. If they have plundered anything on their approach it will gain +1 surprise as it quickly lashes out with its breath - a line of crackling blue fire. For those who have been more circumspect Itzcotal seeks to awe and intimidate and will negotiate from a position of strength, demanding sacrifices (of trivial things, gold, or party members depending on the reaction roll) to refrain from attack. Like all of blue wyrm kind Itzcotal is unpredictable, a creature of sorcery and madness whose response changes each time it is encountered. It is also a beast of incalculable vanity - and susceptible to flattery to the point where the Sky Knife Serpent can sometimes be cajoled into trading gold and flattery for spells or knowledge. Omitted: Dragon Stats and treasure hoard details. --- I think it’s a pretty cool space, and a dragon lair should be a bit majestic … but here I’ve spent my first few paragraphs describing a dragon’s lair of cascading waterfalls, mounded skulls, and broken rock pillars … there’s even a good chance referees will miss the dragon, puffed up with a gout of apocalyptic flame and ready to incinerate guests. The referee won’t even miss it because they are lazy, but rather because they’re already answering questions about, or trying to figure out mechanics for waterfalls long before the fourth paragraph where the dragon is noted. Itzcotal’s waterfall cave lair is worse, because while they are described many of the details aren’t described in ways that make them interactive - and once you’ve found a lair full of gold and angry dragon passive informational interactivity (also really here) won’t help much. This encounter could be fairly complex (beyond the complexity dragons always bring) based on the room key - the waterfalls provide not only mist and noise but may protect against the dragon’s breath.  Likewise the rocky outcrops, pools, ferns and such. These are all potential actively interactive details - things that good players will try to use for advantage in dealing with the ancient wyrm. They should be able to use them as well. A good referee should think out some common possibilities before the encounter and a good designer should make this easy by offering mechanics or at least useful description for the dungeon dressing that players are likely to interact with… will the fern clumps hide a character? (yes of course.) Can they dive into pools to escape the fire (no - it’s magic! Diving behind a waterfall though might give a big bonus to saves as the dragon can’t see through them) Can the party sneak up on the dragon in the mist and noise (unlikely, say a 2 in 6 chance of surprise.)  Without this sort of information the referee is expected to make up rulings for everything in the room, and the more complex the room the more likely they’ll be dealing with stranger questions like “If my tree speaking druid talks to the ferns will they fall on the dragon?” Evocative dressing isn’t enough, because a big part of the designers job is to provide answers for the basic mechanical questions a dungeon or dungeon room presents, so the referee can save their mental energy and focus on the weird questions. Many of you will have also noticed that I have pulled a bit of a trick with this dragon lair - it also has bad information design, and this is a big concern for published adventures. To make this room work, not only would you need some details about the interactive features, but also the dragon should be first.  Of course that doesn’t fully solve the problem - especially if the room dressing has mechanical effects - the referee and party will be so focused on the dragon that they might miss the waterfalls and trees that they can use to their advantage… THE UNDERDRESSED KEY RETURNS Keying and providing interactive dungeon dressing isn’t just about information order and adding interactivity. A part of the designer’s job, especially when writing works for others to use, is thinking through obvious possibilities that one’s keys present. Privileging the active interactive feature over the passive ones and spreading out interactivity and detail over the whole dungeon so it’s not overwhelming in any one place. This means performing a tricky balancing act - providing passive interactive elements and general logic that lead to, highlight and sometime soffer potential solutions to the obstacles of the dungeon, but also keeping things from being too complex or worse confusing and contradictory in any individual room.  Once players start thinking about the meaning of a dungeon, its history and how to use it they often get a bit obsessed - they read into unexpected things and this means a good designer has to keep them from wandering down too many mental dead ends. On the scale of the whole adventure this means avoiding incoherent location design -- things like a guard barracks whose only access to the throne room they guard is through the “hall of traps”. At the individual key level It’s more complex, but largely accomplished by making sure one’s useless information and purely descriptive dressing aren’t too tempting - either to the referee or the players. Consider again how players and referees both need to interpret and visualize the dungeon, and that this visualization will likely focus on the main things in a keyed space: enemies, treasures, big obvious obstacles/puzzles, a few general details, interactive elements, details about unique dungeon dressing, and finally mundane detail. This forms a natural hierarchy of design with the most important elements always required in a key and the rest being increasingly optional or open to description in a more cursory way. Even with strange environments this hierarchy holds - perhaps more so, because the designer needs to give more detail about the strange and wonderful. Of course even the strangest spaces have mundane aspects - and when describing such a space these mundane details can usually be omitted. A crystal space elf kitchen will still have pots and pans, and a wizard’s bedroom a bed for example. One doesn’t really need to describe them in a dungeon key because the referee can manage that - use the space you have instead to describe what’s different and abnormal about these types of spaces. Using these techniques one can design fitting challenges for specific levels of characters by making interactive spaces - combine “evocative detail” with passively interactive elements useful for solving obstacles and add active interactive elements to promote players overcoming obstacles. This is essential in games where there’s no rolls (skill checks etc) to overcome such obstacles, or where such checks can be avoided through clever plans. Even where such rolls are common, interactivity has the advantage of allowing obstacles that are difficult to overcome through skill or other dice checks alone - because they can be unpuzzled with clever thinking. Interactive key design frees the designer from some of the difficulties of “balance” because rather than assuming that challenges must be gauged to the skill level of the characters challenges can be included that have interactive solutions found within the dungeon. Variety and possibilities in a fictional environment are the heart of interactivity - players making connections between the elements of the fictional space and using them to understand and likely solve the problems it presents. Sure the players can always trivialize or be utterly stumped by a seemingly simple obstacle, but this is why one includes multiple paths with a variety of obstacles (or multiple dungeons). EVOLVING ONE INTERACTIVE KEYS When designing a space it helps to visualize what the basic approaches might be and help the referee by including the information they need to manage them. For example…Consider this somewhat minimal key... AREA 1 The Gate of the Swinehold stands across a muddy chasm, it’s bottom covered in effluent and broken crockery. --- Now assuming the players want to enter the “Swinehold” and get to plundering, or even if they are bringing a bunch of blueberry pies to invite their swinish pals out for a picnic, there’s a few obstacles here. Specifically a chasm and a gate … and there’s a lot of missing information. What might a referee want to know to better run this area? 1. How wide is the chasm? How deep? How muddy … is the bottom quicksand or something? This matters because the party will likely want to cross it. 2. Is there anyone home in the Swinehold? Are they watching? How do they react to visitors? The party may not have to cross the muddy chasm if they can interact with a creature on the other side and buy or bluff them into offering a way across (and presumably they have one). 3. How sturdy is the gate? Is it locked? What’s needed to force it open? Will there be anyone trying to prevent the party from opening it? The players are very likely to care about these things and all are very likely to come up. So what are the players likely to do in this room, and what’s likely to happen - assuming they will have reasons for crossing the chasm and opening the gate? They may try to jump the chasm, maybe pole vault it, or climb down and then back up on the other side. They might try to make a bridge - with ropes and a grappling hook most traditionally.  They may use magic or special abilities to fly across or otherwise circumvent the chasm. Finally, they may hail the gate and see if something will let them in… A good key will offer the referee what they need to answer these questions. This doesn’t necessarily mean that these are the only ways the players will try to cross the chasm (players are inventive), so what the referee needs is more than just answers for each obvious possibility. Instead the referee needs a description that provides sufficient information about the space to make judgments about the consequences of the various methods that the players try to overcome these obstacles. Something like this… AREA 1 - SWINEHOLD GATES A chasm splits the 30’ tall natural cavern strewn with boulders, stalactites, stalagmites, and patches of knee high white mushrooms. These natural features make it difficult to see the iron and timber gate is built into the wall only a dozen feet beyond the chasm’s edge. The chasm bisects the cave cleanly, always roughly 15’ wide, and drops precipitously into the darkness. The chasm floor is a jagged gulley coated in filth and broken crockery, 80’s below. A foul, feculent odor rises from the depths and the walls of the chasm - friable, coated in filth and clinging fungus - make climbing difficult (requires 3 climbing checks at -1/-20%). The wide gate itself is made of four wooden timbers, still sound despite their age with rusting iron rivets and wrist thick crossbars. A set of heavy 20’ long timbers and boards lean near the gate and can be used to create a makeshift bridge in two Turns. Visible in the shadows beyond the gate, a cow sized stone counterweight, pulleys, wheels and a set of ropes too thick for an arrow to slice keep it closed. The gate can be lifted or broken only by a feat of enormous strength or with the help of engineering or mining tools. The Swinefolk keep a poor watch on their gate, a trio of sentries that spend the majority of their time racing centipedes and dicing in their Guard Hole (AREA 2).  Their is a 1 in 6 chance every other Turn that one of the Swinefolk Sentries will walk to the gate and peer put, usually in the process of relieving themselves or tossing a pail of filth through the bars. Even then they are not especially observant and will only notice careful strangers who are near the chasm or gate. The swinefolk will be drawn to investigate especially loud noises or magical light.  They are typical of their kind, boorish, suspicious and greedy - they are especially fond of “cave truffles” and beer. --- This key should provide all the information needed, with some evocative detail to help referees and players visualize the space and hopefully make some of the key ideas stick. Unfortunately it’s a bit overdressed … too long… Now a good editor might pare it down a fair bit, but it has at least three interactive parts, or more like 5… The chasm, the gate, the gate/chasm crossing mechanisms, the guards (and the cavern formations that hide anyone far enough from the chasm). Since all of these have to be managed, it’s tricky to cut things down and retain useful information. What can be done is to organize it better. Bullet points are popular thanks to OSE and its adventure format, but bullet points are also limiting, they don’t work well for things that have more than a few bits of information attached and they tend to limit detail. They are another form of minimalism, though more expressive then some. Plus I personally don’t enjoy bullet points - they remind me of one of my first jobs and writing emails to seniors who insisted on “executive summaries” in bullet points. The goal of a location key isn’t just to summarize a space, but to provide imagery and even phrases that help referees visualize it so they can best describe it to their players. As with all forms of minimalism bullet points aren’t the best tool for this, as much as they can offer clarity, save space, and help people with poorer reading skills and shorter attention spans. Instead my personal choice for simplification is rigorous editing to cut away extraneous information, confusing phrases, and generalities while retaining as much description as possible. To aid with comprehension I also use both minimalist descriptors by the area name. These cover the lighting conditions, dangers, and secrets in the room.  Second, I always start with a general area description, and bold the important room elements. These include risks such as traps, monsters, obstacles and secrets, as well as things that are likely to be carefully examined - that is the major interactive aspects of the key.  Bolded words then get their own sub paragraph.  In the end I aim for keys that look like this: AREA 1 - SWINEHOLD GATES - DARK - MONSTER AMBUSH A trio of swine folk maintain a poor watch of this natural cavern, peering occasionally through the iron and timber gate at the cavern’s Southern end. A chasm splits the floor 20’ before the gate, wafting a feculent odor from its depths. Poor Watch (MONSTER AMBUSH - 3 Swinefolk Guards): The swine folk in the Pork Hole (AREA 2), just beyond the gate rarely glance into the cavern, preferring to race centipedes and bicker. Every other Turn there 1 in 6 chance that one will emerge to glance out or throw a bucket of slops through the bars of the gate. The swinefolk are not observant, and while they will be attracted by loud noises or significant light, the cavern’s natural features will hide anyone who is more than 10’ from the chasm edge. If they spot dangerous looking intruders they rush off to ring the Swinehold’s alarm.  Otherwise the guards are typical swine: boorish, talkative, suspicious, and greedy - they are especially fond of “cave truffles” and beer. Natural Cavern: strewn with boulders, stalactites, stalagmites, and patches of knee high white mushrooms, with flowstone walls that rise to a 30’ ceiling. These features provide concealment to anyone moving through the cavern with care. Iron and Timber Gate: 20’ beyond the chasm, the gate is set in the cave wall and built of split tree trunks, still sound despite their age, with rusting iron rivets, and wrist thick iron crossbars. A set of heavy 20’ long beams lean near the gate and can be used to create a makeshift bridge in two Turns. Visible in the shadows beyond the gate, a cow sized stone counterweight, pulleys, wheels and a set of ropes too thick for an arrow to slice keep it closed. Only enormous strength, siege equipment or mining tools can noisily force the gate. Chasm: 15’ wide and 80’ deep along its entire course between the walls, it drops precipitously into the darkness. The chasm floor is a jagged gulley coated in filth and broken crockery while the walls - friable, coated in filth and clinging fungus - are difficult to climb (requires 3 climbing checks at -1/-20%). --- You may notice that this key takes up more space then the one I said is too long, but the key is likely easier to understand, and the organization places risks first and follows a more useful information hierarchy.  It should still be easier to play though.  Plus this is a complex room - the guarded entrance to an organized faction fortress.  Not only does it include a potential encounter with the guards - and the subsequent activation of the entire faction against the party, but it has a number of actively interactive features that both allow the party infiltrate the Swinehold and multiple obstacles (guards, chasm & gate) that they will need to overcome to do so.  It might be possible to reduce the length (beyond the removal of a couple of lines by a good editor), but the best way to manage this now would be by moving some aspects (the swine folk interactions) to a separate section -- a swine folk order of battle with ideas about how they guard and defend their fortress. Of course these kinds of regional (the region here is the Swinehold) meta-systems are beyond including interactivity in an individual key and instead operate at the level of the entire dungeon. SOME MAXIMS ON DUNGEON DRESSING 1) A good dungeon is interactive I’ve spent the whole post here describing how to flesh out an adventure with interactive bits … but to move beyond adventures that are a matter of calculating movement between fights and tallying up treasure, one needs to include other obstacles that players overcome by unpuzzling them. To run such an obstacle requires the referee to have a solid idea of what it is and what happens when players start messing around with it and with the various things in the dungeon that they might consider tools to overcome it. 2) Detail and Dungeon Dressing isn’t always interactive It’s helpful to fill a dungeon with description and things that are not interactive.  This helps offer a bit of concealment (and gives the players the fun of making decisions about what matters), but it also builds theme and coherence. However, detail, no matter how wondrous or fun does not on its own offer interactivity - obstacles need to exist for players to overcome by using dungeon dressing. 3) The Dungeon can Never be Real It’s impossible to design an RPG location with sufficient detail to cover every question and define every possibility within. This leads to over long keys, and perhaps madness. Detail takes up time, space and referee focus, meaning it’s easy to overdo. Instead stick to the most exciting, most unique and most wondrous aspects of dungeon dressing and leave the theme to help referees describe both mundane items and answer less obvious player questions. **_All art by the late great Russ Nicholson_**

A HUNTER OF THE VERGE AND WASTE At the heart of all violence, atrocity, and suffering is fear, and a mortal's greatest fear is death. Some will do anything to avoid it, face any indignity, make any compromise, or commit any crime. The metamorphosis of the Mantichora requires all three: transformation into the ungainly and bestial, a pact with the foulest of demons, and crimes unending. This is why the Mantichora is shunned, why he hunts the waste, desolation, and the verge ... and why he preys on man. The cursed diet of the Mantichora is pain, fear, suffering, and panic. He laps it in with the blood and flesh of his victims to thrive, heal, and endure - immortal unless murdered. It takes an evil heart to become a Mantichora, and the size and ferocity of its monstrous form is in proportion to the malice of the man who becomes one. Past crimes and cruelties offer the initial sustenance to the demon who shares and changes the Mantichora's human body to monstrous mien. A passionate murderer will only grow to the size and shape of a wolf, while the true Mantichora, winged, spike tailed, or spitting fire rise from souls so vile no mere catalogue of crimes can plumb the depth of their wickedness and spite. Mantichora are thus of two kinds in proportion to the crimes of the men who become them. The lesser of the foul breed is subservient to the greater.  Both retain the twisted minds of twisted heartless men, though all human desire is subsumed by the demon’s hunger for the flesh and pain of others. The distinction between lesser and greater is one of size and pussiance not mind or demeanor. In strength and appearance, Pards, the lesser Mantichora are like predatory beasts while the greater I are akin to demons: winged, gigantic and enhanced by foul sorcerous features. All Mantichora share the head of a man, swollen or shrunken to fit their beast’s body, with features recognizable beneath usually unkempt beards and manes. However, the bodies of Mantichoras differ dramatically, always that of a quadrupedal predator or scavenger, but beyond that there is no pattern. The Mantichora’s form is stolen from whatever creature devoured the host’s dying, demon wracked body, the scavenger corrupted and subsumed to become the basis of the Mantichora’s new flesh. The lizard, the dog, the lion, the wolf, the rat, and the pig all lend their forms to the Mantichora, but even among the lesser Pards further transformation is common as the demon within shapes the animal and man after its own perverse whims. These demon boons are more common and dramatic in the greater beasts, and they begin with the creature’s wings and enormous size, but include numerous other horrific and dangerous transformations, with each greater Mantichora’s form warped in some significant way by its demonic symbiote. BASE STATISTICS Beyond the basic arrangement of a human head fused with a beast’s body Mantichora vary greatly in appearance and powers, but share a base set of statistics that are modified by the aspects of their form and the specific nature of their demon.  Below are the basic statistics and tables that modify them for specific Mantichora. Lesser Mantichora will each be modified by: **Appearance** and Demon Boon.  Greater Mantichora will have: Appearance, Wings, Demon Boon, and Demon Form. The referee should pick whatever works best or on each sub-table/column for every creature or group of creatures (for Lesser Mantichora if one is creating a larger group). Pard (Lesser Manitchora*): AC 7 (14), HD 1+1 (6), Att 1 x bite (1D6) 1x claw (1d6/2), THACO 18 [+1], MV 120’ (40’), SV D12 W13 P14 B15 S16, ML 6*. * Demon Warped: Lesser Mantichora vary, their forms twisted by their creation and their stats and abilities are modified by a roll on the Appearance table for all Pards and on the Demon Boon table below for exceptional ones, pack leaders, or close confidants of greater Mantichora. **Sycophantic Bravery: Lesser Mantichora are cowardly skulking creatures, on their own they quickly run from combat and danger.  When under the tyranny (and within 100’) of a Greater Mantichora, their fear of the great beast is greater than their other fears and they fight with a Morale of 9) Greater Mantichora*: AC 4 (15), HD 6+1 (28), Att 1xBite (1d6), 2x Claw (1d6), Special* THACO 13 [+6], MV 90’ (30’)/Fly*, SV D10 W11 P12 B13 S14, ML 12. *Demon Warped: The demon ridden bestial form of the greater Mantichora is always huge - as big or bigger than a bullock and almost all can fly. Roll on each of the tables below. 2D6| Appearance| Wings| Demonic Boon| Demonic Form ---|---|---|---|--- 2| Lizardscaled pelt. (+2 AC)| Skeletal (cannot fly)| Preternaturally quick Acts first,  +1 AC | Second head +1 Bite attack 3| Pig Grossly large. (+ 2 HD, -1 AC)| Broken blades (fly 30’/10’) + 1 Attack for 1d8 on ground| Blood of acid (Melee attackers take 1D6/2 [lesser] or 1d6 HP on hit)| Extra set of limbs +1 claw attack (+20’ ground MV) 4| Jackal/Coyote | Opalescent, insectile (fly 60’/20’)| Poisonous bite (Save vs. Poison or die.)| Spined mane (Melee attackers Save v. Poison or die.) 5| Lion/Wildcat(Leap up to 80’, never surprised)| Leathery, bat-like (fly 180’/60’)| Mimicry of previously heard voices. Can throw voice up to 60’.| Prehensile/whip tail +1 attack (1d6; Save vs. Wands or disarmed 6| Wolf/Dog(Track by scent)| Black feathered (fly 180’/60’)| Sharp teeth and strong jaws (bite attack does 1d8 [lesser] or 2D6 damage)| Spined tail Fires spikes as missiles 3x per round (2d4 each max 24 per day). 7| Polecat/Mink/Raccoon(Hands. 1 attack by weapon +3 damage. No claw attack)| Leathery, scaled (fly 120’/40’) 1x Buffet on ground Save v. Para or stunned 1 round | Demonic vigor (Regerates 1HP a round [lesser] or 3HP a round)| Scorpion tail +1 Attack (1D6; Save vs. Poison or die) 8| Rat Small and slight. (½ size, ½ HP)| Ragged pinions (fly 80’/)| Silent and stealthy(surprise on 3 in 6)| Knobbed tail +1 Attack(1D6; Save vs. Paralysis or stunned/knocked prone for 1 round.) 9| HyenaDisquieting laugh. (foes check morale every three rounds)| Vast membranous wings (fly 80’/‘240) | Hypnotizing gaze +1 gaze attack at target in melee. (Save vs. Paralysis or stunned for 1d6 rounds.)| Blinding spit(Save vs. Poison or blinded [-4 to all attacks] 10’ x 30’ cone) 10| Bear (+ 3 HD)| Skin flaps (fly 30’/90’)| Metal mane and beard +2 AC bonus| Raking horns+1 attack (1d12) 11| Vulture/Raven(+20’ flying speed)| None - swims through air (fly 40’/120’)| Seductive voice (charm person or command 2/day)| Bipedal (Weapon Use +3 damage) 12| Beetle/Crab/Fly (+ 3 AC)| Magical flame (fly 80’/240’) +d6/2 HP per rnd to any in melee| Sorcerer (casts spells as magic user level 1d4+1)| Fire breath (Damage = current HP, 3/day.) 30’ x 50’ cone. Mantichora gather on the lawless Crystal Frontier as it has few prepared to hunt them for their depredations, while being full of humanity and its pain. It is also the closest wasteland to the Bull Kingdom, where demonic pact sorcery is practiced. Perhaps more then practiced as rumors from Warlock King’s smoking iron capital of Fountain have it that in the winding carcels hewn from the old silver mines, the King’s warders compel the most depraved enemies of the state to perform the Mantichora ritual.  The Warlock King’s under sorcerers bind the resulting horrors to the King’s service as torturers, war engines, gladiatorial beasts, and prison overlords - however, Mantichora are cunning and most escape eventually. In the wild Mantichora resemble the worst house cats, lazy, mercurial, and cruel, they torment their prey, sometimes even forgetting about it and letting it crawl away broken to die. This leads them to often interact with humans - their favored food.  Wracked by the knowledge that they were once human as well, sometimes full of regret, but hungry for the flesh and pain of sentients, Mantichora will talk at length with their victims and keep them alive for days or weeks, even while maiming and devouring them. Most of the vile creatures desperately attempt to brag, prove their superiority, and justify themselves, even seeking sympathy and compassion before they eat their victims. This also pleases their demons, as pain and terror are precisely the food they need. Despite their predatory brutality, demon-borne madness, and pathetic nature, Mantichora are cunning, capable of planning, and full of self-regard usually to the point of megalomania. A well fed monster may seek out human catspaws and agents, promising either wealth or the secret of the Mantichora transformation in exchange for service. This rarely goes well for the humans involved, but may continue for as long as it remains beneficial to the Mantichora. The beast Shaggy Ast worked for over a decade with the pirate of Vain Charles, scouting and attacking ships in the Bay of Fallen Stars or Bight de Estrellas, but abruptly ended the relationship by devouring Vain in a dispute over a noble hostage. Many other Manyivhora have small gangs of the worst sort of sadistic bandits as followers. These bandits act as scouts and connections to society - buying the luxuries that many Mantichora crave. Other Mantichora, preferring subterfuge and corrupting over destruction and violence will extort settlements, farmsteads ,and ranches for victims, livestock ,and wealth -- eventually driving their desperate victims to waylay travellers or neighbors as feed for the Mantichora’s appetite. The relationship between Mantichora is little better than their relations with humans. Mantichora can only barely tolerate their own kind and most are solitary hunters who prey on small parties of travelers. However, a greater beast with a more charismatic and manipulative personality can master other Mantichora and swats of the creatures are a considerable threat. Likewise, Lesser Mantichora sometimes gather in packs where prey is rich or travelers and lone farmsteads are well armed. These groups will frequently offer to transform the worst of the men they capture into Lesser Mantichora, who they then use as disposable underlings and spies. A swat of Mantichora (up to 5 or 6 of the greater beasts, with a swarm of the lesser) are a serious danger and can annihilate large trade caravans, homesteads, ranches, and small towns.  Luckily these groups rarely last long as they quickly become too large to feed their numbers.  Infighting over food and treasure breaks them up, usually in an orgy of blood and resentment. --- PARDS HUNTING THE MANTICHORA Hunting down Mantichora can pay well as the beasts disrupt trade, terrorize outlying settlements, and often collect treasure, but monster hunting is an even more dangerous profession than delving the crystal tombs for occulith. Unlike much other monstrous prey, Mantichora are intelligent and will often turn on their hunters in unexpected ways. Despite their wiles, Mantichora are best hunted like other large fel beasts; isolated, and shot or speared down by large numbers of hunters. The special difficultly is that Mantichoras’ particular paranoid intelligence recognizes this threat, and plans for it. The Mantichora tends to lair in isolated places that offer them excellent views of the surrounding area and access to lonely stretches of road where they can hunt. Mantichora also retain something of human nature and greatly prefer to make homes in human structures, though they cannot or choose not to build. Ruined towers, windmills and temple spires are their favorite lairs, and even pards, will seek out the most humble of ruins in preference to a cave or scrape. Mantichora’s paranoia means that they will be well prepared for hunters in other ways, trapping access to their lair with deadfalls, pits and whatever else they can build or force their victims and human accomplices to construct. Mantichora will fight fiercely to protect their lairs, prisoners and treasure, but they are fundamentally cowardly and care only about themselves.  Even long time allies and servants are betrayed by a threatened Mantichora as soon as doing so will benefit them. They are also likely to have planned escape routes and backup lairs to flee to and plot revenge from - because Mantichora are vengeful and have long memories for even tiny slights. Thus hunting Mantichora is as much a psychological exercise as one of tracking and concealment. The creatures are too intelligent for a hunter to count on typical methods, such as spring and line traps, while ambushing Mantichora with arbalests or heavier weapons near their lairs or hunting grounds can prove difficult once the creatures become suspicious. Boldness is likewise risky due to the traps and allies that Mantichora use to defend their lair. Some of the best ways to hunt Mantichora are through interception, decoys, and playing to the creatures’ vast self regard or malice.