Everything you ever wanted to know about goblins, from the Dragon Garage Appendices

Heroic Journey's Bestiary entry for Goblins, embedded with Dragon Garage. Because every fantasy book should have appendices:

Ur-goblins are bred for war by unscrupulous sorcerers, warlocks & witches, and can often be found in service to them; tree goblins and faerie gobelin (also known as pukwudgies) infest dark forests and often live in harmony with giant spiders. They are shunned by other faeries, and a war of pranks between the factions has been going on since Puk spiked the solstice brew at the Third Age Conjunction.

Goblins

Also known as orcus or cowcaddens, goblins are an unopopular species of nocturnal scavengers, known for their pasty white skin, clawed hands and feet, sharp yellow teeth, pointed ears and poor hygiene. Their eyesight is weak in daylight, but tapetum lucidum give them excellent night vision, complimented by keen hearing.

There are many subspecies, ranging from enormous deep cave monstrosities to winged imps (also known as pukwudgies), which engage in endless intercenine warfare. Long ago, scheming sorcerers interbred the worst and most brutish of humankind with goblins to produce the dread ur-goblins (war goblins), the only breed that can withstand sunlight without flinching.

Commonly found in northern and temperate climes, they dwell in marginal lands, such as hills, haunted forests, mildewy caves, dank ruins and windy mountains.

Goblins are known to partner with other foul species, such as dire wolves, serpents, dragons, bats and gaint spiders. They battle their mutual sworn enemies: humans, dwarves and (especially) elves. Dire wolf packs and spider clutches provide muscle and speed in exchange for goblin ingenuity, tool making and magics.

The deep blood hatred between goblins and elves goes back eons, and the origins of this mutual hatred has been lost to time.

Goblins have been known to form mercenary companies with humans, trolls, man-eating ogres and rogue faeries, but never elves or dwarves, whose company they cannot abide. Goblin mercenaries have been known to attack during daylight hours in order to catch villagers off guard.

Underground, goblins live on magical ghost fungus and lichens that exist in great plenty. Some are highly nutritious (if tough and tasteless) or poisonous; goblin shamans know which is which, and are experts at combining them into formidable potions. Cabbage, salt and garlic are often used in both food and potions.

Their society is pitiless, cruel and tribal: the weak are either purged (to avoid waste of resources), or used as ‘cannon fodder’ in battle. Cannibalism often occurs when mushroom crops fail.

Goblin armour is often brittle, as their smiths cannot match the level of skill their elven or dwarven counter- parts. Poison and dark enchantments can help compensate. They steal elven armour whenever possible.

Great Cave Goblins and Huppudums are sightless albino subspecies that live deep beneath the surface of the earth, and are allergic to sunlight. They bathe frequently and cover themselves with mud and shroompaste to cover their scent. Their tongue clicking can often be heard reverberating throughout vast underground caverns.

Dark lords (such as vampire, necromancers, evil princes, sorcerers, witches and evil spirits) often employ goblin armies, luring them with promises of vengeance against their ancestral enemies, or of gold and fertile land. As vampires are unable to digest goblin blood, and goblins cannot be infected with the vampire virus, the two species are frequent allies.

Goblins do not tan; sunlight burns their skin; if they must move about during daylight hours, it will be when it is cloudy or after imbibing fortifying mushroom brews.

Their language, Gobblese, is harsh and guttural; some say it is derived from elvish, which envious goblins stole and then bastardized.

Eternal opportunists, goblins will exploit any weakness they are presented with. They often loot battlefields for weapons, armour and food, unless ghouls get there first.

Goblins typically serve the narrative function of antagonist cannon fodder: pitiless, evil beings that can be smote in vast numbers without incurring guilt or moral judgement.

Faerie goblins may hold out wishes, but these will always come with a completely annihilating cost.

As an externalization and embodiment of human flaws, they relish in cruelty, sadism, greed, cowardice and selfishness.

They are the ying to the player yang. 

Players cannot be goblins.

Node vs. megadungeon RPG adventure design

The modern five room dungeon, arch-enemy of the megadungeon

I jumped back into D&D 5e as a DM straight from AD&D First Edition a year ago now. All my players are familiar with 5e, so our campaign is an old school retro-thrill for them.

I'm The Dinosaur DM, hauling into the light old school AD&D elements that they're unfamiliar with, in some cases for good reason. 

They're doing training between levels, for example, which was a roadblock mechanic from The Before Time, but one I always liked. It makes levelling up feel more earned, somehow. But it does slow things down, and 5e is about speeding everything up (including upleveling).

I really like Fifth Edition overall, it's much more streamlined and far more survivable. Some aspects of First Edition just weren't fun. A wizard who gets 1 spell to start spends a lot of time just trying to avoid dying. 

These days, players heavily invest in their character creation. It's less about a bunch of random no-name adventurers heading down into a dungeon to possibly become rich and powerful (or to be brutally slaughtered), and more about a bunch of already exceptional heroes setting out on their heroic journey. The specialness is baked into the 5e character from the get go, while in AD&D, only a few survivors made it to that status. 

There's a very different kind of game design philosophy at the root of it. For the most part, I think 5e takes the right path. On the other hand, it kind of defangs the fantasy world. 

I'm not out to kill characters, mind. You want to cut players slack... just not too much slack. Take away the possibility of dying, and the thrill wanes. KIll players too often and the fun wanes. 

But with the switch from characters starting out almost hapless, and trying to become exceptional, to 5e where they start out far more exceptional, is that they (quite understandably) want to prioritize their own personal journeys. Heck, the game could be called 'Heroic Journeys' (the name I gave the faux game in Dragon Garage), as the world revolves around the players much more than it used to. 

That brings me to node vs. megadungeon adventure design. 

A megadungeon is big and impersonal. It doesn't care about the players, one way or the other, and there's a  lot in there that isn't related to the player's personal journey. That, however, doesn't fit with the character focused gameplay of 5e. 

Players don't want to have to mess around with meaningless exploration: they want to get right to what's about them. To their personal journey. Who needs all that poking around in the dark?

That's where node based adventure design comes in: you create only encounters and situations that push the primary story along, and use a few random events and encounters to add a little padding/uncertainty. A node based game is far, far more streamlined and focused.

If they have to rescue someone, you set up a few key encounters along the way, but you don't have them wandering around a megadungeon trying to find their target. Players get bored quickly these days hence the popularity of the five room dungeon. 

This leads me to a fundamental question: is there any place for a megadungeon in 5e? The megadungeon doesn't revolve around the players personal mission. It's a big shift going from a character-centred universe to an indifferent, deadly universe that you're just visiting (before inevitably popping off the mortal coil). It may feel slow, unfocused, meandering, and bloated compared to modern game play. 

Personally, I like open world exploration games, where I'm not rail-roaded into fulfilling my journey (at least not right away), and I can take my time, smell the roses, kill the gerblins, that sort of thing. But that admittedly affects story flow, and can descend into meaninglessness.

The most efficient, streamlined way to tell a story through RPG mechanics is with node based adventures. It keeps things at a quick pace, and doesn't let the drama lag. And while it's more fulfilling drama and story wise... the megadungeon still feels more immersive.

What do you want from your flight of imagination?

One advantage of node based adventure design: it's a heck of a lot less work than building out an entire megadungeon complex! 

I've got 2 levels of the megadungeon keyed beneath Castle Druidun, and a third underway. I'm considering changing to node based design after that, depending on how things go with the players, and how much energy I have.

There's a really great flow map of various classic D&D dungeons here by Melan.

Dragon in my Garage - by Carl Sagan

Carl Sagan

I always liked this little ditty, and I've always admired Sagan. Maybe you can tell. Excerpted from Demon Haunted World by Carl Sagan. It's a good read:

 The dragon in my garage

by Carl Sagan

“A fire-breathing dragon lives in my garage.”

Suppose (I’m following a group therapy approach by the psychologist Richard Franklin) I seriously make such an assertion to you. Surely you’d want to check it out, see for yourself. There have been innumerable stories of dragons over the centuries, but no real evidence. What an opportunity!

“Show me,” you say. I lead you to my garage. You look inside and see a ladder, empty paint cans, an old tricycle — but no dragon.

“Where’s the dragon?” you ask.
“Oh, she’s right here,” I reply, waving vaguely. “I neglected to mention that she’s an invisible dragon.”

You propose spreading flour on the floor of the garage to capture the dragon’s footprints. “Good idea,” I say, “but this dragon floats in the air.”

Then you’ll use an infrared sensor to detect the invisible fire.

“Good idea, but the invisible fire is also heatless.”

You’ll spray-paint the dragon and make her visible.

“Good idea, but she’s an incorporeal dragon and the paint won’t stick.” And so on. I counter every physical test you propose with a special explanation of why it won’t work.

Now, what’s the difference between an invisible, incorporeal, floating dragon who spits heatless fire and no dragon at all? If there’s no way to disprove my contention, no conceivable experiment that would count against it, what does it mean to say that my dragon exists? Your inability to invalidate my hypothesis is not at all the same thing as proving it true.

Claims that cannot be tested, assertions immune to disproof are veridically worthless, whatever value they may have in inspiring us or in exciting our sense of wonder. What I’m asking you to do comes down to believing, in the absence of evidence, on my say-so. The only thing you’ve really learned from my insistence that there’s a dragon in my garage is that something funny is going on inside my head. You’d wonder, if no physical tests apply, what convinced me.

The possibility that it was a dream or a hallucination would certainly enter your mind. But then, why am I taking it so seriously? Maybe I need help. At the least, maybe I’ve seriously underestimated human fallibility. Imagine that, despite none of the tests being successful, you wish to be scrupulously open-minded. So you don’t outright reject the notion that there’s a fire-breathing dragon in my garage. You merely put it on hold. Present evidence is strongly against it, but if a new body of data emerge you’re prepared to examine it and see if it convinces you. Surely it’s unfair of me to be offended at not being believed; or to criticize you for being stodgy and unimaginative — merely because you rendered the Scottish verdict of “not proved.”

Imagine that things had gone otherwise. The dragon is invisible, all right, but footprints are being made in the flour as you watch. Your infrared detector reads off-scale. The spray paint reveals a jagged crest bobbing in the air before you. No matter how skeptical you might have been about the existence of dragons — to say nothing about invisible ones — you must now acknowledge that there’s something here, and that in a preliminary way it’s consistent with an invisible, fire-breathing dragon.

Now another scenario: Suppose it’s not just me. Suppose that several people of your acquaintance, including people who you’re pretty sure don’t know each other, all tell you that they have dragons in their garages — but in every case the evidence is maddeningly elusive. All of us admit we’re disturbed at being gripped by so odd a conviction so ill-supported by the physical evidence. None of us is a lunatic. We speculate about what it would mean if invisible dragons were really hiding out in garages all over the world, with us humans just catching on. I’d rather it not be true, I tell you. But maybe all those ancient European and Chinese myths about dragons weren’t myths at all.

Gratifyingly, some dragon-size footprints in the flour are now reported. But they’re never made when a skeptic is looking. An alternative explanation presents itself. On close examination it seems clear that the footprints could have been faked. Another dragon enthusiast shows up with a burnt finger and attributes it to a rare physical manifestation of the dragon’s fiery breath. But again, other possibilities exist. We understand that there are other ways to burn fingers besides the breath of invisible dragons. Such “evidence” — no matter how important the dragon advocates consider it — is far from compelling.

Once again, the only sensible approach is tentatively to reject the dragon hypothesis, to be open to future physical data, and to wonder what the cause might be that so many apparently sane and sober people share the same strange delusion.

From the chapter “The Dragon In My Garage” in Sagan's book The Demon-Haunted World

Overly litigious companies shoot themselves in the foot

Why, oh why?

Interesting suggestions on alternatives to play. I've got the Cthulhu core books, but never gotten around to learning the system.

From The Alexandrian. I got his book, which I found helpful: So You Want To Be A Game Master.

Campaign Map of Arthea

The bonkers big map of Arthea, showing Bronn, Cassea, and Gudana

The map of Arthea, an exercise in excessive detail. Originally intended to build out the world of Dragon Garage, but a sequel isn't looking likely, so now it's just for the game world in Dungeons & Dragons. 

The characters are on the continent of Bronn, which extends from the arctic circle down to the Midsea. Druidun Dungeon is basically in what would be Southern France. 

The map is based on early maps of the earth, mostly ancient Greek maps, and then warped from there. Africa has been smushed up with the Amazon jungles of South America, with a great mountain range in between. 

Another great mountain range runs through Bronn, known as the Wornspine. The great plains beyond are dominated by the ruthless Centaur Khanates. The far east is dominated by the Celestial Empire of Shantun.

Since the whole campaign is based in a stylized medieval Europe, everywhere further afield has more monsters and otherworldly kingdoms.

The ports on the southern shores of Bronn have plenty of traders and travellers, so word of fabulous far off treasures and tombs is relatively easy to find. Getting the actual treasures is quite another matter...
 

The Kingdom of Avalon

Alan Lee's Camelot, which looks suspiciously like the Avalonian capital of Kingsgate. Go figure!

Note: This is some of the ridiculous ADHD background material I did up for Avalon. It helps to spark ideas and keep things consistent.

Avalon

Ruler: King Roland the Trollbane, son of Baldwin IV, son of Leopold (Leopold successfully defended Avalon against several Sea King invasions, promoted learning, and established a code of laws).

Former rulers: Baldwin IV, Leopold, Cedric, Vivienne, Roderick III, Godfrey II, going all the way back to Arturus I.

Overview:

Avalon is a land of rolling green hills and apple orchards, dotted with ancient castles and picturesque villages. Majestic forests whisper secrets of hidden groves, while serene lakes shimmer with otherworldly beauty.

Kingsgate, the legendary capital, has shimmering white walls and grand towers that evoke a sense of wonder. The main outer walls are 40 feet high, with an outer ring 20 feet tall and plastered blinding white. Within the walls the streets of Camelot are paved with cobblestones and lined with houses, shops, and inns. The architecture is a blend of practicality and elegance with timber-framed buildings featuring thatched roofs and intricate wooden carvings. The markets are filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread, exotic spices from Setesh, and the sound of merchants hawking their wares. Artisans and craftsmen display myriad goods, from fine tapestries to polished armor and delicate jewelry.

The castle, Skythorn, is situated on a hill overlooking the river Dee. The immediate surroundings are fertile farmland. To the east are dense forests and hills, concealing ancient burial mounds and sacred fey groves.

Across the land, there are fabled sites that hold significant meaning: the ancient ruins of Tingarr Castle, for example, is said to be the birthplace of King Arturus himself. The mystical Forest of Brochlan hides wonders guarded by mysterious woads and treants. The gold mines of Balby intersect with ancient, abandoned dwarven halls of legend. Pendle borders on the Dreamglade Woods, known both for granting visions and dangerous enchantments. 

The realm is defended by the Knights of Avalon, who stand ready to face threats both mundane and supernatural. The Grifguard, the elite bodyguard of King Roland, ride royal griffins into battle; these fierce mounts are bred in the northern shire of Balby, in the foothills of the Wornspine Mountains. Bards and troubadours sing great tales of the Grifguard's valour, and joining their ranks is the dream of every Avalonian knight.

The realm is also home to treacherous sorcerers, cunning enchantresses, and dark forces that seek to undermine the kingdom's stability. In the southeast, the people of the Fenns agitate for independence and a free hand to deal with the lizard men that breed in the plentiful swamps. East Strond is known as home of the Emberhearts, with their stronghold the great city of Harport on the Stour River; they yearn to reclaim the throne from the Bloodthorns. 

The Avalar were once nomads from the north of Albyron; they settled in Avalon, Avar, Aragon and Mercia. 

Population: 2.3 million

Exports:

Wine: Avalon was renowned for its wine production, particularly the red wines of Bordeaux. Wines from this region were highly sought after and exported to various markets.

Beer and ale: Well known in the northern shires of Avalon are a plethora of beers and ales, many of them harnessing the secrets of Dwarven brewing. 

Grains: Avalon produces a significant amount of grains, including wheat, barley, and oats. These grains were not only used for local consumption but also exported to neighbouring regions.

Metals and Minerals: Avalon mines metals and minerals for various purposes from the Wornspine mountains. Iron, copper, tin and precious metals were in abundance.

Timber: The region had extensive forests, and timber was a valuable resource. Avalon supplied timber for construction, shipbuilding, and other wood-based industries.

Salt: Salt production is a vital industry in Avalon. Coastal areas had salt pans where seawater was evaporated to obtain salt, which was then used for preserving food and traded.

Leather Goods: Avalon had a thriving leather industry, producing high-quality leather products such as shoes, belts, and armour. These items were traded within the region and beyond.

Hides and Furs: The region's agricultural activities, including cattle farming, resulted in a surplus of hides. These hides were processed and traded as a valuable commodity, along with furs from hunting activities.

Imports:

Spices: Avalon imported spices from the East, including cinnamon, cloves, and pepper. These spices were highly prized for their culinary uses and were in demand among the region's elite.

Silk and Luxury Fabrics: Fine silk fabrics and luxury textiles, often imported from Cathar and other eastern regions, were sought after by the affluent population of Avalon.

Luxury Goods: Avalon's wealthier residents had a taste for luxury goods such as fine pottery, glassware, jewelry, and other ornamental items. Many of these items were imported from distant regions.

Exotic Fruits and Spices: The region imported exotic fruits, such as citrus fruits and figs, as well as a variety of spices and herbs to enhance the local cuisine.

Royal Family tree:

King Roland and Queen Anne

├── Prince Anduin and Princess Adela

│ ├── Duke Richard and Duchess Eleanor

│ │ ├── Baron William and Baroness Margaret

│ │ └── Lady Beatrice (unmarried)

│ ├── Baron Henry (unmarried)

│ └── Lady Matilda (unmarried)

├── Princess Emma and Prince Geoffrey

│ ├── Count Alan and Countess Catherine

│ │ ├── Sir Roger (unmarried)

│ │ └── Lady Emma (unmarried)

│ └── Lady Isabella (unmarried)

├── Prince Stephen and Princess Adeliza

│ ├── Marquess Robert and Marchioness Agnes

│ │ ├── Baron Thomas (unmarried)

│ │ └── Baroness Charlotte (unmarried)

│ └── Baroness Olivia (unmarried)

└── Prince Rychar and Princess Matilda

├── Viscount Hugh and Viscountess Alice

│ ├── Sir Matthew (unmarried)

│ └── Lady Matilda (unmarried)

└── Lady Alice (unmarried)

The quixotic quest to build a D&D 5e megadungeon: level one, part one

Level one of the Castle Druidun megadungeon!

If I knew how much work it would be to make a real megadungeon, which is almost as much work as writing a book, I probably would never have started. How far drive will compel me is an open question.

I've got 3 levels of the castle fleshed out, and 2 levels of the dungeon populated. Advice on The Internet recommends every room have at least 3 different points of interest in every room. Ugh. Considering that each level of Druidun has roughly 100 rooms, that's 300 items of interest. Keeping that interesting and varied has been... challenging. 

I started burning out on level 2. 

A decent megadungeon should have at least 10. 

Yikes.

On the positive side, players advance in level much, MUCH faster than they ever used to. From 1,500 to 2,500 points for 2nd level in AD&D to just 300 points in 5e. 

Since in the traditional megadungeon each level is pegged to the players level (3rd level of the dungeon is meant for 3rd level players), that means... the dungeon is WAY too big. To get enough experience to advance to the next level, in 5e the players may only need to clear 1/4 of Druidun! 

Maybe less.

I've had to go back and raise the lethality of the challenges players face in areas they haven't entered yet. They've already got enough XP for 3rd level. And hell yes, I'm making them go back to town and train with a mentor, as is right and proper to do, to advance in levels. Take that, 5e simplicity and streamlining!

The first Random Encounter list I did up for Druidun was filled with NPC characters and social interactions. I didn't roll often enough for encounters, ultimately only presented players with one. The other encounters seemed like the NPCs would just get grilled endlessly by the players for information which I didn't have, which would trigger paranoia and increasing demands ("Why aren't they telling us? Let's force them!"), which would be exhausting, so I dropped it and didn't bother. 

Instead, I've made monster combo encounters, of giant scorpions and kobolds, for example, that might present more interesting tactical challenges.

The first level of the dungeon is divided into different themed sections: the ancient druid tunnels are in the north west (tombs and catacombs), the halls of King Eomel in the north (dining rooms, treasure display vaults, arenas), a more recent goblin warren in the north east, the prison and formal dungeon in the east (naturally), and the dwarven mines to the south, including workshops, refineries, and furnaces. 

All of these areas have long since been overrun (in some cases multiple times) but other factions and monsters, hopefully giving the space a rich history that will be figured out by the players as they progress. 

The Eldritch Veil wizards ran sinister and forbidden magical experiments on level 1 of the dungeon (some of which are still going, even after their forced departure) and particularly in the castle itself (levels 1-3, probably extending on to level 4). Level five of the castle now is dominated by a colony of giant wasps. 

The necromancer has built his lair in the west of level 1, extending the original druid complex with fresh chambers dedicated to the God of Death, Nergul. 

The whole place has then been criss-crossed by the tunnels dug by monsters like ankhegs, umber hulks, goblins, giant ants and the like, connecting areas that would otherwise be far more defensible and offering players the opportunity to bypass dangerous sections. It also allows multiple ways to enter and leave the complex. Like water pouring into the pit on Oak Island, you can never really be sure you've cleared Druidun; the monster tide keeps pouring in. 

Each staircase is aligned to the level above it in the castle. There are notes and hints for the DM on the map, which is purely functional and not meant to be seen by the players. I can't begin to imagine the amount of work a painted player map would take.