Let’s be frank, you don’t navigate a town — or a city — like you navigate a dungeon. It’s silly to do design your town that way. How do we facilitate interesting navigation in a town or city setting?
“…the reason we see tentative play in things like the OSR — where people are tapping around with 10 foot poles — or in D&D — where people are making insight rolls or perception rolls all the time — is because those games both have a poor way for players to extract information from the GM to generate certainty, which means that they have to play tentative because they don’t understand the world around them…”
That’s Sid Icarus being interviewed on the Yes Indie’d podcast. It’s a far reaching comment, and I’ll probably come back to it in other posts, because it made me think about how as someone designing an adventure location I can think about making it easy for players to extract information from the referee, and in turn how to make it easy for the referee to extract information from a written key. In the context of a town or city, I think that means how do I make the town gameable by making it easy for players to extract actionable insights from the referee, by making it easy for the referee toextractthose actionable insights from the key and put them into the conversation. In this equation, you might say Gameability = Ease of Extraction + Actionable Insights to Extract.
Redirecting Rumours and Encounters
In a town — where everything is close together — you navigate by landmark and address — “go down Bosq Road and look for the house with the red door”. Of course, your town needs a vibe. If it’s an exciting town, you’ll need a random encounter table. You don’t explore a town for secret doors, unless you’re investigating a specific house or space. This means the clues regarding where to go, who to talk to, and why you’d go there, need to be provided through some kind of menu: A rumour menu, for example. The random encounter table and the rumour menu together are our first sources of actionable insights.
This is why I called it a rumour menu: Basically, you need to make sure that both the random encounter table and the rumour menu can be easily accessed by the players. Random encounters are just given to them randomly (obviously), but I’d suggest rumours should be also just given: “You get 2 rumours from a towns person each day you spend loafing about town.” You can roll to see what they’re doing. Maybe have every NPC give a bonus rumour. Maybe even make a PbtA style move about it:
When you’re loafing at the Harp & Harpoon, Roll 2d6 +Charisma. On 10+, roll 3 rumours and make friends with a faction. On 7-9, roll 2 rumours and make a friend. On 6–, roll 1 rumour and make an enemy.
You’re generous with rumours and tension encounters because we’re designing them to provide actionable insights and actionable insights are necessary for navigating the town. You want the town to be easy to navigate through actionable insights because it can’t be sensibly navigated in other ways.
Even a point crawl doesn’t truly make sense, in the context of a town — while you are (obviously) navigating between points, the way you navigate between those points is very different from the point crawl as presented originally in Slumbering Using Dunes. I don’t want to make up a name here, although citycrawl is how people will swing and it’s not accurate: It’s really an information-driven navigation system, a datacrawl. This is why you’re generous in both provision and design of rumours and random encounters — without data to crawl, you can’t navigate.
A city, by the by, is simply a bunch of towns — called districts — hung together. Each district has its vibe, and its own random encounter table. Each district has a unique rumour menu, but at this scale also each big topic has a rumour menu: Perhaps these topics are factions, or events. This is because factions and events are information that travel the city widely, rather than locally, and hence provide city-wide actionable insights. You might have them vary by district, however, as different socioeconomic groups may perceive events differently. Otherwise, design as per towns.
Reimagining the Town Map
The purpose of a map in both these cases is to provide logical landmarks in an intuitive fashion: If you go down Bosq road to the house with the red door, you pass the village green and the Bear-owl Tavern. Maybe you get distracted?
This means, more so than dungeon maps which are about practical traversal, town and city maps should be eye candy: “Wait, we walked past a bakery? Can I go in?” Stick it on the table for everyone to see, so they can interact with it visually, like you do when you’re visiting a town you’ve never been to. It provides us with an opportunity for the sense of discovery we get when we find the cute coffee shop lane, and provides another vector for actionable insights. The map itself: Data you want to provide to your players, so that have actionable insight in order to navigate towns.
Plotty & Petty Overlays
The problem with Against the Cult of the Reptile God, my own Hiss, and the recent Hungry Hollow, is that they recognise there’s another, hidden layer, but fail to present this hidden layer in a compelling or accessible way. The referee can’t extract the information (easily), so the players don’t have access, because in addition to this information-driven-traversal layer, there is a hidden layer, which should be visible to the referee, and that contains plots and social connections.
How do we solve this? You need to have a kind of map overlay, that sorts plotlines that overlap in terms of space, revealing where they intersect and how they change. This means I think playing with key order: Have locations 1-5 not be connected by relative geographic direction, but rather by plots or social relation. Now, plots can be presented together, as a unit — a single spread or set of spreads. This allows the actionable insights to be more easily extracted by the referee. It also means I can have encounter tables or rumour menus serving plot in certain places, if I choose to.
I’m also trying to intuit how to better incorporate petty desires — much as Amanda P lays out here —into this. Petty desires are kind of an additional hidden layer. Are they a relevant player of plot or social connection? Do they provide actionable insights. Oftentimes, for example in my unfinished Mothership module Tragedy of Grimsby-Almaz, the role they play is to provide connections to follow in an investigation. It’s important that so-and-so have a drink with such-and-such each Friday, because they’re the ones to notice the murder. But also, they provide meaning and reason to actions — certain people might put a bad tinge to a rumour because they dislike their competitor for the Biggest Pumpkin. I’m not sure if these belong on the character description, on the map, or on a social overlay, at this stage. What do you think?
But basically, this is something I’m working towards: Flavourful, engaging town maps, so you can approach navigating them visually as you do in real life, keyed out of geographical order but by social or story subcategory, in order to facilitate ease of extracting actionable insights from the world.
I Read Games reviews are me reading games when I have nothing better to do, like read a module or write or play a game. I don’t seriously believe that I can judge a game without playing it, usually a lot, so I don’t take these very seriously. But I can talk about its choices and whether or not it gets me excited about bringing it to the table.
I was going to take the kids to the beach, but my wife is sleeping in after a rough night and the kids are entertaining themselves in an act of the gods , so I’m going to read the GM Core. This is what the remastered version of Pathfinder 2nd Edition Remaster calls its Dungeon Master’s Guide. Over the last few weeks I reviewed the D&D Player’s Handbook (2024), and the Pathfinder 2nd Edition Remaster: Player Core, basically trying to figure out how they relate to each other, and whether they succeed at onboarding new players to the game. I also asked questions about their relationships to the changes that have happened to the hobby over the past decade — things like actual play, online play, and the ascension of D&D lore into the pop culture mainstream via the memification of alignment and classes and popular properties like Baldur’s Gate and the recent movie. The goal isn’t to break down rules differences; plenty of places will do these better if you care about the intricacies of action economy. There’s neither right nor wrong with regards to how these things are designed, simply player preference. In terms of players, these two behemoths of the TTRPG scene compete on the stage of character options, but as a referee who stopped running these games in the light of having a family and the scourge of scheduling with other friends in similar situations that have found deprioritising TTRPG time a necessity for survival, I care more about how they compare in terms of referee support? Does the GM Core make me want to run Pathfinder 2nd Edition Remaster?
Now, I got a bunch of comments on my review of Player Core last week, and I’m going to clarify my opinions on the most popular refrains. Is PF2R in conversation with D&D2024? I think they’re clearly and historically of the same lineage — both descended from 3.5th Edition — and D&D2024 clearly takes inspiration from PF2R and both from 4th edition. PF2 came 5 years after D&D 2014 was released, with D&D to re-entering the popular consciousness with Community in 2011 and then hugely so in 2015 after Stranger Things, the same year Critical Role began changing how people interacted with TTRPGs (which, notably, was a PF1 campaign until this point). Not only are they in conversation with each other, PF2R is explicitly a response to changes in the licensing that are associated with D&D2024. So, no, not entirely separate design conversations. Is Player Core intended to be for new players? The PF2 Beginner Box came out in November 2020, the original Core in August 2019, so it’s bizarre to assert the Core is not intended for new players to the game as the Beginner Box didn’t exist for new players for a year, and in that year there were only new players. PF2R doesn’t have a new Beginner Box, and you can’t tell from looking whether your Beginner Box is updated or not. D&D2024 will, too, have a beginner box also releasing almost a year later, which also doesn’t mean that the PHB 2024 isn’t aimed at new players. So, no, I don’t think it’s a sensible assertion that it want aimed at new players. Is PF2R is in competition with D&D2024? Of course it is, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. For people interested in D&D2014, PF and PF2 have long been the primary alternative. You can have different approaches and still be in competition; stating that they have a totally different approach to GM fiat is flatly in contradiction to the the text of the GM Core which says that “it does not require mastery” and “the details will fall into place”, as well as the fact that D&D2024 clearly takes inspiration from PF2R’s approach, as discussed in the Player Core review. Obviously, I’m not reviewing your table, I’m just reviewing the book, but it’s also silly to assert (especially in the context of the disclaimer at the top of every I Read Review), that you can’t review the book of a game without playing it, especially when you’re also asserting that this specific game is supposed to be run by the book. Now, let’s move on.
I’ll begin with the great lie of this book: Despite it being 100 pages shorter than Player Core, and bulk of Player Core’s 450 pages largely being irrelevant to the GM, it requires the GM to buy Player Core for the 40 pages of rules at the back. I know that all the PF2R rules are available for free, but: This is a freaking rule book. Put. The. Rules. In. The. Book. I’d rather pay for the extra pages than google or buy a whole extra book. I know there’s a Player Core 2 on the horizon: If it also requires purchasing the Player Core by not including those 40 pages of rules, then Paizo you’ve completely lost me. Don’t call it Core if it doesn’t contain the Core of what you need to know. Bad start, GM Core.
You might recall the Player Core didn’t have anything much to say about being a GM. GM Core has a lot to say about it, though. The GM: “Tells a story”, “Fleshes out the world”, “entertains” everyone, “prepares through studying”, “improvises” and “makes rules decisions”. But, it’s “collaborative”. Sorry for the snark there, but I hate this it’s even worse than what the PHB2024 says about the Dungeon Master. Absolutely horrendous introduction, basically setting up the GM to occupy all roles from scheduling to hospitality to conflict management. It’s a huge step down from the PHB 2024, which gave principles drawn from other areas of the hobby (to my eyes at least) for both Player and Dungeon Master to follow: PF2R treats players like cats to be herded or tolerated in order to get your story told.
From here, it basically splits into three: A guide for GMs who’ve never run PF2R before, a guide for building your own world and adventures, a gazetteer, and optional rules and treasures. Honestly, with this structure, it seems modelled after the infamously terrible DMG2014. Uh oh.
The Running the Game chapter is a relentless barrage of advice. It covers a lot, making gestures to hospitality and safety of the players; it covers scheduling and how to start and pace a session; it considers sensory processing, attention and disabilities. Overall, this is a very thorough, but incredibly dry, lesson in how to run a game. None of this advice is bad, but it’s a relentless, unbroken stream of how to play that goes for 45 pages. Nothing about this helps with onboarding me into running the game, it assumes — and to be honest it does foreshadow this when it says the GM needs to study in the principles earlier — you’re willing to study this section. At least the only section you need to study are these first 45 or so pages, if you aren’t planning on creating your own adventures. Compared to the graceful education of the Mothership Warden’s Manual, this is a gauntlet designed to weed out the weak. Compared to the annotated examples of play in the PHB2024, it’s abysmal. It feels like something written 30 years ago, just including content for modern sensibilities. If you’re new to running PF2R, this doesn’t provide you with training wheels, it places you at the top of the hill expects you to just start riding.
If you are planning on running or creating your own adventures, though, the support provided by the section on “Building Games” is absolutely magnificent. Campaign types, frames and themes. Frameworks for individual adventure, detailing number of encounters, scenes and sessions with particular details: “2 conversations with doubtful authority figures” and “avoid trivial or low thread encounters” in a horror-style game, for example. Advice for building sandboxes in a structured system requiring encounter prep. Use of motifs and recurring characters for story arcs if that’s your jam. Encounters have XP budgets, there are encounter quick frameworks if you don’t want to spend time on the nitty gritty, the impacts of weather and terrain are accounted for in the encounter maths too if you want to mix things up. This is all presented incredibly clearly and smoothly. If I wanted to build my own PF2R adventures, it would be very easy to be confident that I’m creating things suitable for my party, or the dungeon level, or whatever I was aiming for. It also covers — after an interjection — building hazards, creature and items with the same level of specificity. The only thing I could do without is the world-building section, and I’ll come back to why. This is absolutely S-tier support.
The interjection is for a GM-only rules sections — this covers optional variants, afflictions which are things like curses and diseases, and rules around environments and hazards. Aside from the variant rules, these are only here because you can’t teach a GM to build a hazard until you’ve explained what they were — these rules should’ve been in the Player Core. Why the variant rules aren’t grouped with the subsystems later is completely beyond me. Those subsystems come at the back of the book — they’re all rules that you engage with only occasionally, but honestly they’re player facing rules and should be in Player Core as well not the GM Core. This reveals a strong lack of thought regarding what rules belong where — if all the rules aren’t in both books, why are player facing rules split between two books? This reveals a either a major flaw in the information design of these books — a lack of clarity regarding who and what they’re actually for — or more cynically, a decision made so that more people have to spend more money on more books because no single book provides everything you need to play.
The section on Golarion itself is a marginally more detailed version of what is in the Player Core — both of these just aren’t enough at all to get a sense of the world in my opinion. There are no characters here, nothing to interact with — it’s all dry description of places and politics. In D&D2014, they chose to focus on a small section of the world, and I think for the purposes of core rule books it’s a much better choice. The Golarion sections in both Player Core and GM Core have been an absolute waste of space, and soured me on the potential of the world.
So, why did I rail against the world-building section? It feels cursory, and contrary to the message that the GM Core is sending from page 1. There’s a massive underlying assumption in the GM Core, and that assumption is that if you’re the GM, you’ve GM’d before. It assumes it has things to teach you, but you know what all of this is already. Like the Player Core, the audience here is experienced gamers looking for a specific experience, not onboarding a new audience. They’re not even trying. In that context, the section on world building seems utterly pointless. In all truth, I think that choosing to target this honestly at their implied audience — people who played Pathfinder 1e, or people who are looking for more character customisation, or a more satisfying and less attritive combat than D&D2014, but are experienced in playing or running games — would’ve made this a far more compelling book.
Because as it is, this is a mixed bag. There’s gold in these hills, but also the organisation of both Player and GM Core are highly questionable in each other’s contexts. A bunch of rules here should be in Player Core, as they’re player facing, especially if it’s expected the GM own both. If the GM should only own one, it should all be here. The advice centred on new GMs is abysmal, a dreary exercise in exposition. But the structures that support encounter, adventure and campaign design are without peer, and make it incredibly easy to create your own stuff, if that’s what you’re interested in. This is one of my big hopes for the DMG2024, was missing in the DMG 2014, and this has it in spades. The optional rules here give a lot of support for a wide variety of play types that are skipped over in both the PC and the PHB2024; but procedural exploration is still missing.
The GM Core is a poorly directed mess, and it fails to live up to the hopes I had placed on it. It does little to nothing to assist me in my first few sessions of running PF2R, although there’s plenty to assist me once I’ve got some experience. It doesn’t systematically support any of my preferred (and fairly classic) play styles, despite having a series of subsystems built into it that attempt to cover the ground; the authors of this appear to have no familiarity with the larger space or are disinterested in broader play styles that you might want to bring to PF2R. And it doesn’t sell Golarion as a place I want to hang out. The biggest strength here is that it supports me building my encounters and campaigns very well — but if I’m investing in the PF2R ecosystem, I’m probably also investing in their encounter paths, so that’s not something I’m likely to be using. I’m a module girl, though and through, so while I appreciate the support for when I need it, it won’t be my primary engagement with the game. This has utterly failed to sell me on running PF2R, but I’ve heard good things about the PF2 starter set, so we’ll see if it manages to do what the GM Core fails to.
There are only a few questions in this battle between the Mean Girls of the TTRPG world, and the next that will be answered is whether the DMG2024 will come out swinging as hard as the PHB2024 did. And then, I think, there’ll be a sizeable break, until the Starter Set 2024 is released — and then I’ll compare it to the updated PF2R Beginner’s Box.
Bathtub Reviews are an excuse for me to read modules a little more closely. I’m doing them to critique a wide range of modules from the perspective of my own table and to learn for my own module design. They’re stream of consciousness and unedited critiques. I’m writing them on my phone in the bath.
The Secret Vault of the Windswept Island is a 29 page module for Old School Essentials by Gabriel Ramos with art and maps by Colin Lor. Described as a fantasy horror module, in it the players are trapped in a vault with a death cult, and need to escape. I backed it for Zinequest this year.
In terms of art and layout, this is designed to be reminiscent of official OSE modules, utilising holding of key points of interest, bullet points for clarity, and two column layout. The colour is under-utilised in the art, but it is used well to tie key points and headings to the maps and to differentiate heading clearly by subject as well as level. Stat blocks are boldly differentiated in white on black text — this works, although a subtler but no less effective choice would’ve been to use those colours doubly here. I find Lor’s art, while excellent, is too cartoonish to communicate a sense of horror, although it’s technically excellent and clear. This comes across particularly in the character illustrations in the prefab characters at the back — these come across as fun starter characters, rather than characters in a horror module with trigger warnings for self-harm suicide. Once you’ve finished the module, the choice makes sense, but based on the pitch it’s a surprise. One giant peeve of mine is that the pdf isn’t searchable — half the benefit of a digital version is that you can search for things in it. You have to make an effort to turn off searchability in a pdf — I assume they don’t want people to copy their sacred text — but overall this is misguided and means I can’t look things up effectively. A massive mistake.
The module opens with two pages of very solid summary. Main NPCs, hooks and unanswered questions take one page and advice for running the two more complex encounters follow on the second, the third being a list of rumours. Only one of these rules of a solidly poor one, although a lot of them are a little meh. A good rumour should change behaviour of the player character who hears it —“A sentient artifact of tremendous power is hidden in the vault” for example doesn’t really give you anything to act on or change your behaviour. I’d rather 6 excellent, game-changing rumours than 12 ones insignificant to play.
We then have 4 pages covering the island itself. The island is very interactive, which is a pretty great feature to have. They’re all quite charming, although I’d have love more of them to have been interactive with the dungeon, or when they are called out to do so. It’s not clear here whether lighting the skeleton buoy impacts the dungeon at all, although it feels like it should — I certainly can’t see why lighting the buoy would change anything anywhere else, and as I said earlier I can’t search for “buoy” to make sure I didn’t miss anything. If I did, it should be mentioned here at the same place irregardless. The only one I dislike is the caltrop beach, which seems to unnecessarily call for a dexterity check on arrival. While I could see this being used as a trap, there are no nearby creatures to lure there.
There are some inconsistencies in the keying, though, indicating the need for an editor with a closer eye; some sensory cues being bulleted points of interest for example, rather than in the main description, but inconsistently. As a writer, I know this happens; often your information design choices occur organically as you write. But the editors job is to iron out those mistakes that appear in the evolution of the writing.
Immediately in room 1, the dungeon features some problems. The Convoker is here, which locks the dungeon doors if “grabbed”, although it’s not clear if this means “touched” or “activated”, or only if it’s removed from the statue it is held by. There’s strong indication that it’s essential that the Convoker is activated so that dead PCs can return to life as ghosts for the duration of the module, but there’s no mention of this effect by the rumours table or any NPCs, and the time pressure of your ghost expiring isn’t stated to the players at all, even though it’s mentioned in the “advice” section. While I admired the brevity of the intro, the lack of cohesive word choice here combined with the brevity of the text mean I’m not sure what to do in the first, essential room. There are at two rooms that are flagged in the introduction as being more complex than this one. It’s clarified three pages later in the second page of the entry for room 2 that it’s touching the Convoker that closes the door. This is the kind of mistake I could see derailing my session after I made the wrong call in room 1.
Room 2 features a lovely coloured panel, that’s intended to be shown to the players. It’s a simple puzzle, explaining how to get the major hidden treasure. I love this, and just wish it was available as a file for printing along with the map. Room 3 continues the habit of troublesome descriptions. It took repeated flicking forwards and backwards to pick exactly where the gelatinous cube was in the setup, with a number of red herrings — like the fact that the roof is dripping — making me second guess the choices. This habit of confusingly described spaces continues throughout the seven rooms in the dungeon. Once you get the room, they’re usually each a fun puzzle. But the advice to “read it from front to back” before running it is an understatement. You need to spend time figuring these rooms out and taking notes. If you don’t take the right notes, you’ll describe it wrong. All of these descriptions needed a close, blind read by someone not playtesting it.
One problem here is that this is not explicitly a funhouse dungeon — but there are no empty rooms here, each is an uber-dangerous puzzle. When you describe your adventure as “fantasy horror” that’s not what I’m expecting. I’m expecting some kind of horror. But no, this is a gauntlet, a modern take on a tournament dungeon where your 3-8 player characters are slowly turned to ghosts, which make future deadly traps less deadly for the remaining party. This is fun, and clever, but it ain’t horror, compared to say The Wizard which is quite explicitly a horror dungeon. This kind of incorrect sales pitch feels to me really common in our hobby, and I’m not sure exactly why: You want people to be into what you’ve made, so mislabelling it is never a good thing. Just recently, I reviewed Tephrotic Nightmares which similarly fails to pitch itself accurately.
I’d like to pause to praise the ancient language translation system that’s baked in here. There’s not much to talk about, but it smoothly integrates multiple levels of translation into the text, as well as clearly indicates how to choose which to read, It’s very cool. There are also two fun randomisers at the back, for unique undead and crystal exposure.
Overall, this is an odd duck of a module. Despite a suggestion early on (a miscommunication, but this module is full of those), there is no death cult here. It’s a gauntlet dungeon. The primary treasures at two sentient weapons and the aforementioned Convoker. Being magical treasure, this doesn’t contribute to party XP, and two of them are cursed and not really useful outside the dungeon. There is surprisingly no treasure to speak of in the dungeon otherwise — certainly not enough to level up a party of level 1 characters. A few valuable items aren’t given value, like the gilded chest in room 3. The implication is that this is really intended as a one shot — a single session module for specifically the pregenerated characters, where they’re going to die. But, there are only 3 pregenerated characters — it feels a lot like there should be more, given the 3 level 3 characters provided will almost certainly die by room 4 given nowhere to rest and that none of them can heal.
That said, flawed though it is, and poorly pitched, this is a fun little gauntlet and puzzle dungeon. If you’re signing up to have a party of low level characters put through a meatgrinder, for a single night of fun and goofiness, and you’re not playing for your character development or levelling up or any of those lingering term goals, The Secret Vault of the Windswept Island a neat little distraction for an evening.
I Read Games reviews are me reading games when I have nothing better to do, like read a module or write or play a game. I don’t seriously believe that I can judge a game without playing it, usually a lot, so I don’t take these very seriously. But I can talk about its choices and whether or not it gets me excited about bringing it to the table.
I was going to go to bed because I have an absolute throbbing headache, but my kids are sick and refusing to fall asleep, so I’m going to read the Player Core. This is what the remastered version of Pathfinder 2nd Edition Remaster calls its Player’s Handbook. I actually got this a few months ago, but I didn’t have an angle for a review. Then, last week, I read the D&D Player’s Handbook (2024), and I realised: These two games are both trying to be the same thing to the same people; the 2nd Edition of Pathfinder was also released 10 years after the 1st, and this is basically pitched a usability and lore rebrand of that 2nd Edition, in the light of Paizo backing away from the OGL. How does the Player Core compare to the onboarding that the PHB2024 succeeds so well at? Does it respond to changes in the the hobby over the past more-than-a-decade? Similarly, I’m not going to break down rules intricacies here: There’s neither right nor wrong with regards to how these things are designed, simply player preference, but I’ll drop it here, early: It seems apparent that you get more bang per round for your combat dollar in PF2R than D&D2024. But aside from those that are specifically looking for deeper tactical combat, these two behemoths of the TTRPG scene are mainly competing on the stage of character customisation, and D&D 2024 has significantly upped its game there. Let’s see how they stack up.
I have the pocket edition which is about 450 pages and in trade paperback format— an option I wish D&D2024 had to be honest —but the hardback, letter-format version that’s more equivalent to the PHB2024 is actually shorter than it at 320 pages. When I talk page counts, I’m going to convert page counts roughly at that 70% ratio, just so we’re comparing like to relative like. It’s clearly implied that the Player Core is intended to be the only book a player needs to buy, and the GM Core is the only book (aside from the Monster Core) that the GM needs to buy. I’m not convinced any edition of D&D has had these same aspirations: Dungeon Masters have always needs the PHB to learn the rules. This, however, wants to buck that trend and make accessing the game a simple process.
It opens with a rules summary. This is about 10 pages of terms and symbols which are absolutely opaque. This is the flaw in leaving rules to the end of the book: You’re expected to understand what a reaction (et cetera) is straightaway, so you can make your character creation decisions based on that. Then we have 10 pages of character creation, which is heavily illustrated and features a similar annotated character sheet to guide you through character creation, as well as a levelling up guide. This is very brief and neat. It then spends a little time — only about 7 pages — talking about the world of Golarion. This is a gazetteer style summary, and feels like a misstep compared to PHB2024s elegant incorporation of lore into the mechanics themselves.
The bulk of the book is character options, though. First ancestries and backgrounds — about 30 pages, and notably the backgrounds here clearly inspired the ones in the PHB2024, with similar mechanical heft. For ancestries, you get a decent chunk of lore, but gain a bunch of feats for each ancestry, making them a very potent source of character customisation. Then we have our 100 or so pages of classes. These classes take a very different direction to the PHB2024 — no subclasses, but boatloads of feats —making them broader in concept, but far more granular. None of these classes are really strongly hooked into any lore in a way that appears meaningful to my laypersons eye, which is actually a misstep in my opinion. There’s a Player Core 2 on the horizon, and if we’re going to keep coming with new classes, lore specificity feels like a fruitful place to create them from. At this point, the Player Core has 11 ancestries, 8 classes, and 39 backgrounds, for about 3500 variations. But, this is not as accurate I think, as that same equation for PHB 2024: Feats in particular really expand the gradual customisation of your characters, and are the core of the both the optimisation at a given level, and the creation of a “soup of character potential” at first level. This kind of customisation is a different kind of appeal to the one in the PHB2024, where most of your decision making comes early, and later you can simply add a few feats or epic boons. Here, you’re choosing a feat at most levels, and the amount of choice you have could be considered overwhelming by some — but exciting to others.
The “soup of character potential” here is unique to PF2R. While decisions can be deferred until later, and your broader character concept still needs to be chosen early, the details do not. This means you can still be surprised or choose to change directions very easily as you continue to play, simply by choosing different feats from the very large menu available. The path you take in D&D2024 is set in stone usually by 3rd level. This is not the case in PF2R. While the cliche of “I have planned my choices for every level through to 20” is definitely a potential approach here, it’s not the only one, and I could see a tables where the chosen approach was to discover your characters rather than plan them.
The movement of PHB2024 towards more concrete actions also appears to be inspired by this book — or at least by 4th Edition D&D, which it seems to me PF2R also draws some inspiration from. Skills are tied to specific actions here, too. Weapons get special powers if you’re good at them here, too. And I’ve got to say I far prefer the spell lists here, especially in the context that there are far fewer spells, as the PHB2024 uses spell slots as a resource economy for more classes than than Player Core, which depends on Feats to fill that role.
As I alluded to earlier, the rules here go at the very end. They’re only about 40 pages, including important appendices. There are a few key differences here, but the big one is a more generous action economy; compared to D&D2014, D&D2024 has really closed the gap with PF2R in terms of formalising actions and equipment rules rather than relying on adjudication.
While the rules differences are less than I expected, and the differences in customisation approach are not what I expected, the differences in approach that do exist between the Player Core and the PHB2024 are honestly astounding. The Player Core seems disinterested in attracting a new audience — or at least is blind to the impact of its approach. It forefronts character creation, almost immediately, and playing the game is almost an afterthought to the lonely fun of creating a character. The character customisation has miles more granularity, but does not cater anywhere near as much to provide scaffolding for roleplay or mechanical complexity as the PHB2024 does — for example, the PHB2024 guides you through choosing class by mechanical complexity, where PF2R assumes everyone wants equal complexity. From the player perspective, this game is all about optimisation and finding interesting mechanical perspectives, and it’s largely disinterested in scaffolding roleplay, positioning in the world, or setting up interesting levers for roleplay. Even the Witch, the class whose concept is infamously the one that is most famously the one with the hooks, really shies away from providing those hooks.
Despite all the praise for Golarion as a world, nothing about these character building blocks scream connection with that world. It feels afraid to impose a world on the players, in a similar way to D&D2014 — “but what if the GM doesn’t want to play in Golarion? I can’t make the classes definitive!” is Player Core’s refrain. The gazette chapter is cursory and uninteresting, and probably doesn’t belong in this book at all; there’s no way to meaningfully draw connections with people in the world. It feels like a rules chassis strapped to nothing at all in comparison to PHB2024. There’s no appeal here to people who just wanna play with their blorbos or adventure with their OCs at all.
What surprises me here is, despite the fact that I can clearly see that the mechanics and customisability of Player Core are far superior for what they’re focused on — combat and optimisation — they lack soul where the PHB2024 leans very hard into its own identity. Perhaps this is a side-effect of the revised edition stepping away from D&D-isms after the OGL debacle, as I’ve heard nothing but praise for Paizo’s world, but this feels like it’s replacing the stolen glory of D&D’s adopted history with nothing at all.
For myself, if someone was willing to run either PF2R or D&D2024 for me, I’m not sure which I’d choose. PF2R definitely has a more interesting a compelling combat system; feats and powers are much more streamlined and interesting; I’ll be constantly full of surprises and surprised by my fellow players. But, I’m busy. I might have the time to read through all of these feats and get excited — if I stop doing anything else. As a sole hobby, PF2R could be my everything. As a casual part of my hobby, I think I’d prefer to be sitting in a D&D2024 game, making choices only when I want to rather than multiple every level up, choosing whether to engage with the world through my choices — or not and keeping self-contained — and engaging as much in clearly scaffolded character play as I am engaging in combat-centric time. The combat wouldn’t be as fun in D&D2024, that much is obvious. But does the consequence outweigh the benefit? Depends on where this game fits into your life.
If I was given a choice between gifting Player Core or PHB2024 to someone hoping for them to engage in the game, I wouldn’t choose the Player Core, unless I knew very well that what they’d enjoy doing was, to analogise, “building their deck”. If I wasn’t sure what aspect of the game they’d be engaged with, PHB2024 is much broader, much stronger product. If I knew they wanted scaffolding for OC play — like my niece — Player Core doesn’t feel even an option based on the content of the book itself.
However, the same issue presents itself as presented itself at the end of reading the PHB2024: If I were to run one of these games for that friend, or that niece, which one would I choose? I have no idea. Player Core has almost nothing to say on the subject of GMing — the core rules are about the same length in this book, but while I’m more familiar with PHB2024’s rules, the changes are changes more likely to trip me up. Luckily, Pathfinder 2nd Edition has already released its GM Core, pitched as “the only book the GM needs” (aside from the Monster Core), so next week, I’m going to read that, and report back on how well it scaffolds and supports me, as a potential GM.
So, for Zinequest in February 2024, I ran a crowdfunding campaign for a module in zine format called Curse of Mizzling Grove. My previous zines, Ludicrous Compendium and Tattoopunk Antebible, were both stocked by US distributors, but I wanted to avoid the complications involved commissions and stocking this time around, and so I’d resigned myself to no further Kickstarters and to perhaps trying to find people to publish me.
But, self-fulfilling a Kickstarter became possible when I saw that Lulu Direct, the print on demand online publishing company, has a new crowdfunding fulfilment service. I decided to try to run Curse of Mizzling Grove through this service, as a trial run that hopefully wouldn’t run me into the ground financially. I’ll talk through the finances here, and I’ll be talking in AUD, sorry for my international readers.
Preproduction predictions
The main concern I had with Lulu fulfilment at the outset, is that Lulu wouldn’t give me any shipping prices in advance. This is pretty reasonable, but it made it challenging for me to set prices for my campaign. My predictions and assumptions were this:
My previous Zinequest achieved 50% digital and 50% print pledges.
Between kickstarter and taxes, I paid about $800 in taxes and fees.
My minimum to pay for the print run was AU$1650 based on these numbers.
I guessed Lulu would charge $6.00 per zine based on my proof prints.
I guessed based on previous Kickstarters which countries would be making orders, and guesstimated that the postage would average out around $16 per zine.
I’d need 28 digital backers and 28 print backers to achieve this, with digital backers necessary to subsidise the postage costs for print backers.
$500 for art
How did the campaign end up working out?
48% digital and 52% print pledges
$300 in fees, however taxes aren’t confirmed until I pay my taxes
$2780 in pledges total
Zine printing costs ended up $5 per zine
Postage was $11.50 and $20 depending on address
39 digital-only backers, and 42 print pledges
Art cost what I expected (+ a free copy of the book!)
Basically, I nailed all of my predictions, except it was a little more successful than I had expected. It looks like I won’t be going into the red on this one, although whether I’ll be in the black will remain unclear until tax time.
The one prediction that I didn’t nail was the timeline – I sent the orders to Lulu for distribution on the 14th of August, and I estimated May, so I was off by 3 months. I estimated the digital version would be finished by March, and it wasn’t done until the end of April. Part of this was just life – I needed a little more time to receive art and pull things all together, as well as iron out the kinks with the digital release, and underestimated. I’ll be more generous next time. But the delay from May to August was all due to issues with fulfillment, so I’ll talk about what happened there. Skip to fulfillment if you don’t care.
Post-production woes
Firstly, before any of this happened, I had to access Lulu and find out what information they needed to fulfil, and then writing a Kickstarter Survey to accept this information. Lulu requires a phone number for postage. Kickstarter surveys are difficult to design, and don’t allow you to put in mandatory fields, which meant that despite my specifically stating in Kickstarter updates and in the survey itself that if you didn’t put in a phone number I couldn’t deliver the zine, a few people didn’t provide one. I’m not sure how to get around that issue in future – I’d love if Kickstarter would allow mandatory fields.
So, the process with Lulu is, you make a Lulu compatible set of .pdf files and submit it to them for review. In order for it to be distributed using their “Order Import Tool” — what you use for crowdfunding — it needs to be approved for Global Distribution. Global Distribution means the approval process is a little more complex, as your zine (or book) has to be suitable for sale in bookstores, which means it has to follow certain rules.
Lulu, sadly, is a little opaque about those rules, and I’m a ditz, so even though I knew a few of these beforehand, I forgot them in my rush to get the zines to backers, and had to go through a re-approval process. More annoyingly, they identified 1 issue and asked me to correct it, then identified another and asked me to correct it a second time. Hence, I had to have proofs sent to me twice, rather than the hopeful once. Simultaneously, I had issues with the postal service – both of these proofs weren’t delivered to my house, and I wasn’t alerted to them being at my local post office. Which meant, a waiting period that should have been 1-2 weeks ended up being 3-4 in both cases, even though I corrected the issues pretty promptly. I’ll get better, I hope, at avoiding these proofing issues in the future, however there was a benefit – I ended up double proofing the book, so I ironed out a few copy errors that would’ve snuck into the final printed version had it not occurred. So, overall there was about a $100 cost in terms of proofing and ordering test copies that I didn’t account for, and I lost 3 months to postage and errors.
Once this was sorted, there was an issue with Lulu not approving it but not emailing me to tell me (which is what they normally do), and not telling me what was wrong (which is normally in the email). I didn’t check the updates center for a while, while I was waiting for this approval to come through, and when I finally went to query it, I realised it was rejected but couldn’t find the reason. I had to contact Lulu directly, wherein they realised it was an error, and approved it.
Fulfillment
Now it was approved for Global Distribution, there was a waiting period (this is so that the printing centers get the final version), and then I could actually put in the orders. The Order Import Tool was pretty intuitive, although the Kickstarter survey export gives you a heap of information that means you have to pick it apart and spend a bunch of time merging things and separating things out to be correct. Mainly painless, though, and the Order Import Tool gives feedback on what errors you’ve made in the submission process.
You can map multiple products in the Order Import Tool, which means you could have soft-covers and hard-covers in the same list, and fulfil them all in the same order, which is very neat, although I didn’t need to use that feature. Once everything is approved, you select the postage type you want to use for each country, and then pay for it with credit card (annoyingly, I’d have liked more options there), and they process everything and post things out. At this point things started printing and being posted out. Two thirds were printed and posted by the end of the first week, and the reminder by the two week mark. All backers (except one, a SEA backer) had their copies delivered at the week three mark. If I’d known that this would be a month-long process, I’d have added another month to the timeline I think.
I was concerned that I chose the most affordable postal option, as I expected there to be issues with tracking, but every single parcel that went out had tracking anyway, so it wouldn’t have been worthwhile it turns out to pay the extra. All the posted zines were delivered, and I haven’t had to send out any replacements. I’d been considering whether the higher postal price would have been more worthwhile, but at this stage it appears that standard post has progressed enough in tracking that it won’t be worth investing in more expensive postage in the future.
Do I think this is something I could do again in the future? Could other creators replicate it? Yes, I think so. I think, now knowing the errors and delays I encountered, I’d give myself an extra month on art, layout and test copies, and then an extra 3-4 months to bring that finished product to delivery, given the delays and rejections and awaiting things to be posted — that is, expect it to take 6-7 months rather than 3-4 months, even though it was fully written and laid out at time of the campaign.
But yeah, Lulu Fulfilment is a great service. I will use it on the next Zinequest, I think. If you’re looking to use it to fulfil, happy to answer any questions (I’ll add them to the end of this post, if you don’t mind). And, it’ll also potentially be available on Amazon and here on the Lulu storefront, if you want a print copy.
Bathtub Reviews are an excuse for me to read modules a little more closely. I’m doing them to critique a wide range of modules from the perspective of my own table and to learn for my own module design. They’re stream of consciousness and unedited critiques. I’m writing them on my phone in the bath.
The Dream Shrine is a 19 page module for Old School Essentials (with conversions for Cairn) by Brad Kerr with art by Skull Fungus. In it, the player characters have fallen asleep in a magic bed and been transported to the Dream Shrine, a dreamworld pocket dimension, where they must learn to think like a dreamer or die trying.
The layout here is simple, single column stuff, with Skull Fungus art decorating almost every page, and featuring a beautiful Skull Fungus map. It has clear headings, a simple colour palette which is both dreamlike and used well as a highlighter. Keys are page-to-a-room, with the right hand side of each spread featuring a node-based version of the map in the margin (utilising aforementioned colour highlighting) as well as descriptions of exits. It’s not my favourite information design, but it does the job and is clearly a part of ongoing experimentation in how to better integrate information into a key, and it works pretty well without relying on preponderance of fonts used for flagging. The use of node-based maps is an admission that as beautiful as Skull Fungus’ map is, it’s not particularly legible, and using cut outs of it wouldn’t have worked for the purposes of the mini maps.
The Dream Shrine is a 10 room dungeon — a tiny dungeon, like last week’s Tomb of the Primate Priest. My preference always lies with social interaction in dungeons, but a 10 room dungeon doesn’t have a lot of capacity for complexity and interconnection, and instead it needs to rely heavily on individual rooms being interesting, building on one another, then making you feel clever, and an abundance of mood. The random encounter table for Dream Shrine, for example, is all about the vibes, and providing opportunities to understand the kind of dream logic the Dream Shrine follows. Half of the entries are there to teach the party that helping dreamers in their dreams will reap rewards; the other half are devoted to the villain of the shrine, a crocodile-clown that steals human teeth. Similarly, a recurring character in every room is there to teach the player characters about how to manipulate dream logic. This is a neat and interesting approach to random encounter tables in smaller dungeons. Tomb of the Primate Priest does away with them altogether, a strong break from form, but works there; twisting the form to achieve different goals, such as this does, is a clever decision.
Kerr’s writing here is off-beat and weird, and anachronistic in a way that even in a dreamlike context I’d hesitate myself to incorporate into my fantasy worlds. But it’s very evocative, interesting writing, much that you’ll want to read aloud: “pink marshmallowy clouds, miles above a cerulean sea at sunset…a frizzy-haired lady in a nightgown sulks cross-legged, face in her hands, two clouds up”. Every room is sumptuous, and a pleasure. All of the rooms contain something interesting to interact with, although just under half of them are mainly concerned with providing traversal options or interesting long-term consequences as opposed to providing interesting or challenging encounters in and of themselves. The rest are directly related to solving the primary problem, which is the entryway to the secret room, a puzzle involving finding a way to kill or take advantage of the tooth-eating clown. It really all loops back to that, and providing ways to easily move between rooms in order to solve that problem through cleverness. Off the top of my head, I see three solutions to the main problem, and I suspect that there are plenty more solutions in the hands of a clever group of players.
In the context of all of this, the one thing that jars me desperately is the presence of mundane things: There’s gold sitting around, and fairly mundane magical items, and it’s absolutely beyond me how this is justified aside from “well we’re playing a game that requires gold for XP”. It feels like this is a recognised problem, as a number of the treasures with gold value — all the ones in the random encounter table for example — are justified by dream logic. But the others are jarring for me. I’d change these to weirder items.
A few negatives: I solidly dislike room 2 and in the context of the whole module it seems pointless and unnecessary. None of the other rooms are vestigial so it’s strange that there is one that is. I feel like it could’ve been more clearly connected to everything else had effort been put in; the dream here is interconnected, so this single disconnected room feels off in context for me. Finally, there’s a mini-module at the back. It’s 2 pages of a cursed forest, which is fine, but I’d have rathered it simply not be there or have simply included a location that was the Dream Shrine’s cottage itself.
So effectively, the Dream Shrine is a single puzzle, all revolving around the choice in the final secret room to free the chained goddess that is imprisoned here. The entire module is designed about driving the player characters to the 10th room, including both of the hooks. In this way, you could frame this as a railroad: I disagree with this analysis, but I do think that a module designed like this should be clearly flagged ahead for anyone playing. This is a module seemingly designed perfectly to be played at a con, or as a one-shot when the usual group doesn’t show up. The puzzle solution will get lost in a week’s break I suspect, and the purpose of the narrow funnel and recursive structure that could be interpreted as a railroad is to be sure the players are provided the information to solve the puzzle in a satisfying manner, while getting a chance to feel clever in almost every room. I think it’s smart design, and with a bit more polish could’ve been incredibly elegant. It would be very interesting to see more tiny modules designed as 5 to 10 part puzzles, instead of just as an exercise in pushing your luck, or room-by-room combat. Combining the high-density spaces of Priest with the innovative structure and conceptual density of the Dream Shrine would be a hell of an approach to tiny dungeons — I’d love to see that.
It’s probably worth mentioning the difference in format between this tiny module and the Tomb of the Primate Priest: 2 page vs. 19 pages. One contributing factor here is the complexity of the rooms, the additional random encounter table and other complicating factors. The Dream Shrine is simply more complex and more wordy than the Tomb of the Primate Priest. I suspect that if it was shrunk down to the same font and two-column layout, it would still be over double the length. Tomb of the Primate Priest makes that 2-page spread incredibly easy to read, I must say, but for the complexity here, I think larger fonts and more white space and art is a smart decision. The space is used to make a complex space more legible to the referee, which is an exceptional use of space in layout in my opinion. Your mileage may vary, however, depending on your preferences; I think the Dream Shrine makes the right call, although a more compactly laid out version would be a very valuable supplement to what’s already here. To some degree, whatever Skull Fungus’ gorgeous art adds to the module, it also to a degree detracts in terms of size and also map legibility. Whether it is worth that trade-off is also a personal preference. I certainly think that the clarity of the map here is not at the clearer end of Skull Fungus’ work, compared to, for example, the work in Workers Work Rulers Rule; how much of that is the nature of the dream-like map, which Skull Fungus does an admirable job of communicating, rather than the art itself, is up for debate, although there’s no doubt it contributes.
The Dream Shrine is an exceptional 1-shot for any table that enjoys puzzle-based play. There are a few caveats though: If you’re running it as part of your regular campaign, the anachronistic, dream-state humour here may not be a great fit; on the other hand, it’s in a dream, and if you provide warning, it might just be right for an off-kilter evening. The significant ramifications suggested for ending the module are likely to destroy whatever your status quo is. If you’re not in the middle of any big political plays, though, honestly those very ramifications are damned interesting and much less weird than everything else that’s going on in this module. I wouldn’t say no to them changing the direction of my world at all, if changing the world introduced a battle between gods, a titan-mammoth and a tooth-eating clown to my world. And, of course, if the table doesn’t enjoy puzzle-solving this isn’t for them. If it still appeals to you, the Dream Shrine is a hell of a tiny module to pick up.
I Read Games reviews are me reading games when I have nothing better to do, like read a module or write or play a game. I don’t seriously believe that I can judge a game without playing it, usually a lot, so I don’t take these very seriously. But I can talk about its choices and whether or not it gets me excited about bringing it to the table.
My daughter is at gymnastics and it’s 36 degrees out (that’s 97 for ya’ll Americans), so instead of my usual walk to the sandwich shop I’m reading the Player’s Handbook (2024). Now, this version of the PHB is a whopping 383 pages long — a solid 80 pages longer than the 2014 version — so I suspect it’ll take longer than an hour for me to get through, and breaking the rules of the 5th edition of Dungeons and Dragons down? That seems tiresome, honestly, and I have no interest in breaking down intricacies in a very complex system I have little interest in playing. So, why review this? Curiosity, mainly. This will be a (loosely) comparative review with the 2014 edition, a text which is known for its complexity and opaqueness despite its popularity. I’m interested in what this new game actually is — is it new, actually? — and how it responds to the surprising twists and turns the hobby has taken in the least decade.With the unlimited power and money of the 1745th most valuable company in the world (according to Bing), can they take what they’ve learnt in the last ten years to make this challenging game easy to learn? And what direction are they choosing to take the game in? Are they listening from actual play, how lockdowns affected gaming, and the resurgence of digital play?
[Disclaimer: I’m not being paid for this, obviously, I wish I was, but if I was I’d have published this a month ago with all the famous people and news sites]
The book (aside from a preface, which you can skip reasonably, and is mainly Crawford boasting about hanging out with Gygax), starts, in grand contrast with the last edition, with the rules of the game. All of them. It summarises the lot of them in 29 pages. That’s an absolute feat of information design, helped in great part by the 18 page rules glossary in Appendix C it depends on. These 48 pages aren’t just rules, though: Most notably each section features a really compelling two column layout where one column is an example of play, and the second annotates that example with applicable rules and reasoning behind decision-making. It feels inspired by the play examples in Mothership 1e (and the small nods in these examples of play to popular figures in the current DIY elegant scene suggests the authors remain cognisant of how the scene is developing). They do this for social interaction, exploration and combat, all for extended examples. This is very good information design. This stresses a problem in the 2014 edition, which was the lack of support for social and exploration pillars — they get support here, although don’t innovate as much as you’d hope. Nothing like exploration procedure here, sadly, and no renegade innovations in social interaction like in Errant; but they streamline and bring optional roles like disposition to the fore.
Starting with the rules rather than with the character creation signals to me a significant change in perspective from the 2014 edition; it suggests to me that they think that they have more faith that the new generation of players will be comfortable with the rules, and will make their character building dependent on how they can bend and implement those rules, rather than based on vibe or on flavour. It suggests that either the audience has changed since 4th edition, or that they have more faith in their audience than they did in 2014.
The other thing that to me is notable is that it spends a decent chunk of time describing the expectations of play: Namely, that teamwork, collaboration, and exploration are key to play and that adversarial play is clearly discouraged. The lack of reframing of the Dungeon Master’s role disappoints me, though. For players like me who ran many hundreds of sessions of 5th edition, the lack of Dungeon Master support seems to continue to exclude me, expecting me to “guide the story” and to “make sure the rules serve the groups fun”. It doesn’t encourage me to dip my feet back into the official waters of Dungeons and Dragons. It also borrows from the lineage of Apocalypse World in talking about rhythm and flow of conversation, which is lovely and brings innovations that really should’ve been in the last edition. While it ain’t no Trophy Gold principle-driven play, it’s a step in the right direction.
The character creation chapter is also much better than the old one, with advice on class complexity, how to build a party together, and most importantly an annotated character sheet that the descriptions refer to. Like the previous section, this is much better organised to encourage the type of play and introduce you to the rules if you haven’t done it before, than 2014 was.
Individually, classes are really robust. Let’s take the infamously dodgy rangers as an example. It’s classed in the creation chapter as a class that likes survival with average complexity — just like a wizard. Instructions cover 1st level and multiclassing, and you get spell casting and spell slots to streamline resource management. You get a new power every level unless you choose not to take feats, and choose 1 new spell consistently each level. A new mechanic called “Casting Spells Without Slots” also streamlines how powers like hunters mark work. 5 out of 20 of the class wide powers are utility, but most have alternate combat utility. You get a bunch of cool stuff from your subclass, too — I’m disappointed in the taking a subclass at level 3 brevity retaining here, especially as it breaks the clean tier lines — Tier 2 begins at 5th level, not third. Overall, though, the ranger is far more robust and stands shoulder to shoulder with the other classes, while maintaining its essentials — and all the other classes manage to do this as well.
I love the tables that determine what traits you have based on your ability scores and alignment. It makes the process of determining your character from your stats — something that a lot of players struggle to do — intuitive. There’s some interesting world building in the character creation and class lists, too. The language table positions Sigil at the centre of a D&D multiverse (and amusingly implies to anyone familiar with 2nd edition that everyone speaks in a faux cockney accent). This planar emphasis also manifests in the classes: there is a planar barbarism here, feywild bards, shadowfel monks, feywild and shadowfel rangers, and far realm, astral, mechanus and limbo sorcerers. Almost race — now species, is that better? — has a planar connection, even humans. We get psionics in the core book, in fighter, rogue and sorcerer subclasses, which are tied directly to the astral plane, and all of these also get feats you can just take if you want. The multiverse is the only non-rules appendix in the book. Why does position the appendix mean so much? the appendices are streamlined down to 3, from 5, although 1 is added. Two of these are incorporated into the body text — conditions and religion. Religion gets centre stage in species descriptions, another indication of the importance of lore in this edition. Conditions is in the core rules now. Inspirational reading is completely gone here. Overall the world building here is very 3rd edition: A huge amount of confidence that the weirdness of the Dungeons and Dragons multiverse is something to lean into, rather than something to be embarrassed about. The prestige of the brand has changed alot in a decade, and it shows.
The 2024 edition is a hell of a nostalgia kick compared to the 2014 edition — honestly that’s a big statement — pulling hard from a bunch of older editions. The centrality of the planes, many settings, and Sigil in particular pulls from 2nd edition. They’ve dropped the barebones world building of the 2014 edition and replaced it with loads of references to gods and specific locations right there in the character options in a way that hasn’t been done since 3rd edition. Feats get centre stage here, a huge pull from 3rd edition, but structurally (especially with the epic boons) more like 4th. There are a bunch of new weapon specific abilities (“mastery properties”) that are reminiscent to me of 2nd edition. Either they’re aiming at winning back crowds who’ve left 5th edition behind, or they’re confident that these added complexities will further serve to entrench their existing audience.
Layout is pretty unremarkable as your expect; the most interesting innovation is the annotations in the first chapter. Chapters are separated by full page art of the uncanny digital painting style that has become more popular over the last ten years. There more interesting as anecdotes than as art, and seem muddy and poorly-framed for the most part, although I’ll admit a “ooh! i know them!” factor which tells me they’re more confident now that their audience will recognise their assets more — the first big splash is a hefty Dragonlance reference for example. The art ratio here is actually pretty low in most places, but notably multiplies hugely to illustrate character options; the beginning and ends of the book are art light, and the midsection is art heavy. I’m also not super sold on the art styles here, but mainly because it’s really tonally inconsistent; we have sketchy line art that would’ve fit in with 3rd edition, stylistic painted art from 4th, a more modern version of the 2014 editions art in some places, and a more cartoonish style reminiscent of webcomics joining them. I miss the cohesiveness of previous editions, and wish they’d had the guts to lean into one of these art styles to give the book its own personality.
But information design is a whole different beast, heavily innovating. Let’s look at the core rules as an example: Interestingly, comparing page counts indicates the 2014 spends only 35 pages on core rules (compared to 48) although it is all split into other sections as well, so it’s much less neat there. So why does the 2024 edition seem better? It should be worse! It has bloated! But the truth is, I was convinced this was shorter and more succinct than the 2014 edition. The organisation and use of the rules glossary is absolutely stellar information design if used how it’s supposed to be used, which is as a complement, covering regularly referred to rules. Sometimes, this is clumsy — the Influence action isn’t defined in the social interaction section for example — but more often it makes for less interruptions and non-sequiter rules or sidebars. The improvement in information design is universal: Tier is spelled out more clearly like in 4th edition, meaning class descriptions are also clarified. and class power descriptions become level by level instead of guesswork. Spell lists are with your class description, so you refer to only one section when you level up. Classes are given equal space, with wizards and clerics no longer being double or triple the number of subclasses compared to the other classes. Everything, including backgrounds, impact your character mechanically, granting almost complete flexibility in an intuitive way. Equipment lists are very clear on the rules governing their use, harkening back to 3rd edition, something that incorporates optional rules like crafting into the core rules in a pleasing way. Spell preparation differences between classes is spelt out clearly in the spellcasting section, and common use cases like spell identification get clarified. The spell list has who can use the spell in the description. Stat blocks, while still not exactly brief, fit far more relevant information into the same space. I would have to spend far more time immersed in the rules glossary and the index to see if these work, but in principle it’s highly referenced, which is always a good thing, and allegedly the index will point old terms to the rules for new terms — inspiration to heroic inspiration, for example. Overall, the information design lesson is that shockingly, the adage that 5th edition is complex is a misnomer: The 2014 edition had an information design problem, not a complexity problem. All the complexity is in the character options and the players love those: It just felt complex because those rules weren’t clearly explained and were poorly organised and written. Hate to break it to you Chris Mcdowall, but Into the Odd takes 57 pages to cover the same rules. Obviously that’s a tongue in cheek comment: Into the Odd is a smaller format, less dense book. But it points to a truth: Ignoring character options, this rule book is most definitely not more complex than other less popular TTRPGs, and the 2024 edition ups its game considerably in making it accessible.
This is an incredibly confident book. It successfully reframes and develops the 2014 formula into something more compelling for the players who love it. It teaches these new rules very well, truth be told, although it does it better for new players than for existing ones. It does as good a job or better than most of the rule books I’ve read in recent memory; it’s definitely better than the Pathfinder Remaster which I read a few months ago, I’m loath to admit. This is a hell of a rule book. I’m impressed, and surprised by the direction it takes: It leans hard into the lore of Dungeons and Dragons, showing either a confidence in the audience that they’ll buy into it, as 3rd edition did, or more cynically leaning into the intellectual property they own and can sell, in the light of the popularity of Exandria and the slow movement of IPs such as Critical Role away from 5th edition, and in the light of Baldur’s Gate 3 and the recent Dungeons and Dragons movie.
It also leans harder into the tactical combat of 4th edition, which it already shared a lot of DNA with, and the customisation of 3rd edition, for a more complex and intricate character creation system with a much larger range of tactical, utility and flavourful options. There are 48 subclasses, 10 races out of the box, and 16 backgrounds making for over 7000 character combinations out of the box, and the now mandatory feats mean that non-magical classes effectively have a spell list of their own, making for far more. The backgrounds have more mechanical heft here, so in my opinion they count more for customisation than they did as a more or less optional addition in the 2014 edition. For comparisons sake, 2014 has 42 subclasses (but most of those are cleric or wizard), 9 races, and the backgrounds lacked mechanical heft, resulting in under 400 options. With feats underplayed competitively in 2014 and considered optional, this gap is huge. But tying these tactical and utility options into the lore means there’s a reason to invest for people who aren’t interested in optimisation.
One thing it doesn’t do is relieve the Dungeon Master of any of the pressure that I believe to be the source of so many prominent Dungeon Masters turning coat against the game — the huge money to Shadowdark by the Youtube GM advice community being a recent example of this longstanding trend. Instead, it perfects the player options, and as I’ve long felt, the huge amount of scaffolding and excitement the character options bring for players of 5th edition are difficult to substitute for in any other game.
This is not what I expected at all, to be honest. I was expecting, as my friend Marcia declared, that this edition would be focused on recreating Critical Role or Dimension 20 at the table; it would be about playing with your OCs, mechanical framework be damned. But no, I think it’s a renewed attempt to do what the 2014 edition set out to do: Unify the various playstyles under one roof, and solidify the player base. It attempts to make the mechanics more appealing, tie them into the story of the characters more deeply. And it does this by leaning into the memefication of Dungeons and Dragons as an intellectual property, for a very clever corporate double tap.
Speaking of corporate gunplay, though, the elephant in the room: The other surprise here is that there is no mention at all of online tools or D&D Beyond. I have no doubt that the firming of the mechanical systems and proliferation of character options are in tune with the rumoured upcoming virtual tabletop and the dreaded loss of the 2014 content from D&D Beyond, and inevitable microtransaction filled future, but there is no sales pitch here for it at all. This book still wants to be at a table with your friends, and it’s better designed for that than ever before.
While I can’t imagine I’ll run D&D 2024, I’ve got to say reading this has me very interested in what comes next. Should you buy D&D 2024? Like, if you’re not going to escape 5th editions orbit, this is better than 2014. Buy this if your old book decays. Is it worth all the extra cash? No, I wouldn’t drop it with any urgency. If I wanted to introduce my niece to 5th edition though? This is a far better option than the book that actually caused the ascendancy of 5th edition in the last decade. If I was forced to run 5th edition again (heavens forbid), after giving away all my 2014 books: Yes, I’d pick these up. Are the rules better? I don’t freaking know; it wasn’t immediately obvious to me the ranger was broken in 2014. certainly, they seem more cohesive and confident in their choices, less appeasing of an imaginary audience. It feels intentionally designed, in a way that no other edition aside from 4th edition has.
The rules definitely aren’t better for Dungeon Masters, though. The 2024 Player’s Handbook doesn’t try to bring me specifically back into the fold. But also, the Dungeon Master’s Guide isn’t released until November. To put my money where my mouth is, what would the Dungeon Master’s Guide (and the Monster Manual in February, and potentially the adventures later in the year) have to do to bring me back into the fold? Well, a lot:
Robust system for generating balanced combats (CR or whatever)
Streamlined ways to run mobs and large scale battles
More interesting approaches to bosses than “oh my gosh more hit points!”
Support for running faction
A deeper dive into disposition
Procedural exploration and dungeon crawling
Slot-based inventory as no 5th edition table I’ve played in have ever tracked weight
Modules that aren’t boulders needing sculpting to turn into anything interesting or fun
Online tools to support streamlined prep
Basically, I want a minimal prep, easy-to-run session. I’m not confident based on the lack of implementation of some of these rules in the PHB. But based on the Player’s Handbook (2024), I’ll read them to find out. I’m no longer confident it won’t surprise me.
Because this did surprise me — because we’re right — Dungeons and Dragons 2024 isn’t 6th edition, this is what 5th edition should have been, 10 years too late for me. Maybe it’s right on time for you, or someone you care about.
Bathtub Reviews are an excuse for me to read modules a little more closely. I’m doing them to critique a wide range of modules from the perspective of my own table and to learn for my own module design. They’re stream of consciousness and unedited critiques. I’m writing them on my phone in the bath.
Tomb of the Primate Priest is a 5 page module for Cairn written and illustrated by Joseph R Lewis. It’s really just 3 pages, as 2 of those pages are additional stat blocks for running in OSE or 5e. It’s PWYW, and part of a series of mini- modules in the Dungeon Age setting.
Layout is a simple, 3 column affair, with decent padding, clear headings and bullets. The art is simple and screams Primate-Priest vibes. It’s no frills, but it’s also intended to be a cheap and easy one-shot, so it works well.
The dungeon itself, while having 10 points of interest, is a 5 room dungeon, having taken to heart Anne’s suggestion to number doors and halls. It comes with 3 hooks. Each are colourful and interesting, as hooks and rumours should be, and change how the player characters will interact with the space.
The simple structure here is that there’s a descriptive paragraph with highlighted points of interest. Those points receive a bullet point each for deeper examination, unless they’re a monster in which case they get a stat block instead. All of the keyed areas (door, hall or room) are pretty compelling. It’s a very dense dungeon, full of dangerous but compelling challenges. There’s no expectation of a reaction roll here: Everyone is hostile to varying degrees (they may “eject intruders” rather than “mindlessly rage”). The dungeon is small and busy enough that there is no real need for random encounters, which makes it simple to run; most things which would usually be keyed to them are in the key itself “noise alerts monkey monks”.
The writing itself is workmanlike, geared entirely to the purpose of brevity and playability. It has its moments, but doesn’t linger in lyricism but rather relies on its imagery for heft. The imagery is excellent though. The vibes here are shockingly strong for such simple layout, art and writing.
I actually really like this mini dungeon. There’s a startling amount packed into it. Because of its size, there’s very little to criticise in its lack of random encounters, factions or detailed NPCs. It’s a short module that knows its goals and sets out to achieve them.
I haven’t reviewed too many tiny modules such as this one as a part of Bathtub Reviews — maybe 2 or 3 at most, although I’ve reviewed a few anthologies. Tomb of the Primate Priest, however, is the first time I’ve read a tiny module and thought “I want to write something like that”. My heart usually lies with mid-sized modules, 20-40 pages in length, for 3-5 sessions of play, because I adore the social play possibilities there, but I like their conciseness. This conciseness, however, feels like it could be a template for something bigger. Harkening back to my Megadungeon July series, it’s obvious that you can create a megadungeon out of 20 room dungeons, but the idea of creating one out of incredibly dense 5 room dungeons is a whole other level of conceptual wildness. As a model for tiny dungeons, you could do far worse than this, and as a component of larger picture modules, it has a heap of potential. Key, though, to the success and applicability is the extreme density: 10 keys to 5 rooms is obscenely dense conceptually, denser I think than anything I’ve read. If you want to reproduce this model, you’re treating each door and hall as if they’re a room deserving of the same treatment as any hazard or monster room. Similarly, if you string this in a chain of other tiny dungeons of similar density, you’ll quickly hit concerns of resource drain. But gosh, this is compelling and inspiring work.
What it isn’t, though, is groundbreaking. Next week, I’m going to review another tiny module, and rather than take this hyper-dense approach to the tiny dungeon, with about the same sized key, it takes a more coherent, complex approach. Also a very compelling concept for the tiny dungeon. But this is still very good.
Tomb of the Primate Priest is absolutely perfect for a Cairn (or OSE or 5e) 1-shot, if you’re looking for small dungeons to drop into your campaign, or if you’re looking for a simple funnel. The main provisos are that it’ll most definitely be no more than 2 sessions worth of play; layout and art are minimal but functional; and it’s incredibly dangerous. If you’re happy with these caveats, Tomb of the Primate Priest is well worth picking up.
Bathtub Reviews are an excuse for me to read modules a little more closely. I’m doing them to critique a wide range of modules from the perspective of my own table and to learn for my own module design. They’re stream of consciousness and unedited critiques. I’m writing them on my phone in the bath.
The Parthenogenesis of Hungry Hollow is a 117 page module for Liminal Horror by Goblin Archives and Josh Domanski, with art by Amanda Lee Franck. It’s an explicit reimagining of Against the Cult of the Reptile God by Douglas Niles, a module ya’ll are probably aware I have a soft spot for. The introduction is quite vocal about it not being a conversion, but as someone intimately familiar with the original, the parallels here are extreme, and a little stronger, I think, than is indicated, to the point where I can point specific items and characters directly to the original. That’s not a bad thing at all — the original is excellent. I backed a crowdfunding campaign for this, I guess for Zine Month?
We are welcomed to Hungry Hollow, with a description providing a decent sense of place, a brief history and the plans of the villain, Brea. This is an excellent introduction, giving solid X-file-esque vibes and potential for inter-faction drama in a longer campaign. But off the bat it undermines itself, stating that the module is for experienced investigators, but also stating it is designed as a campaign starter (and the background information suggests this too — whatever it says, it’s not a drop in location, it has a very specific sense of place). Then it goes on to recommend how to incorporate it mid-campaign and as a one-shot, but acknowledges that you’d need to rewrite a bunch of ways here for either, rendering it unrecognisable. I understand the urge to be all things to all people, here, but I much prefer a module to simply be what it is. The nature of the hobby is such that anyone buying a module for Liminal Horror likely has the confidence and experience to rejig this module to fit their needs.
The bestiary and introduction to the villains is creepy as hell, especially the primary villain, and using a bee theme in the place of reptiles is an excellent inclination. If you’re planning to run this, though, I’d pay very close attention to the list of content warnings before buying it. It gets pretty intense. Amanda Lee Franck’s art here is absolute creepy-as-hell body horror fire. Best in its class.
The authors clearly think this module needs pace, so they introduce the Doom Clock, intended to keep things moving over 5 days. The problem is, I don’t think it does a good job of escalating obviously enough— although it’s very cute that it uses hexes, given the apiaristic themes at play. The “void crawl” mechanic — this is a hazard die tying to multiple random encounter tables, but named very strangely in my opinion — claims to increase the pressure as well, but it’s not tied to the Doom Clock, and it only really serves to provide interest to moving around the town physically. It’s actually really good — I especially love the bee themed incidentals, that slowly build a sense of dread as the town gets increasingly bee-crowded. Just very weirdly misnamed and its purpose misattributed?
Reading through the key, I have trouble not comparing to the original, because, as I said earlier, it takes more cues than they indicated. While clues are present into as many of the Apiarist locations as possible, like in the original, the town is filled with characters who have very little in the way of interactions going on within the town. The clues provided are of the kind that will make you go “ohhhhh” in retrospect, but aren’t going to be combined to solve the mystery — I’d have loved more informational clues, notes and messages so that you are better placed to solve this mystery, and so these locations are meaningful. If these places and characters are given little to do aside from exist and have their homes searched for loot (most of the loot appears replicated from the original Gygaxian accountancy approach, updated for modern times), a lot of this space isn’t well gamified. Does it have to be? No, not at all. In the context of this story in particular — essentially one about a spreading disease — pre-existing relationships could be used as disease vectors, and hence as ways to drive the investigation. I’m not seeing that here, either, though. I recognise the urge to maintain the large and populated town of Against the Cult of the Reptile God, but more support needs be provided to make the town feel alive if that’s the direction you take — as is, uninfected people are more likely to be hostile to you, resulting in a decent chance you’ll be angering the populace well before you start to solve the mystery.
The flow of the key is interrupted weirdly in the centre of the book because two major dooms occur in the Rec Center, which lies roughly in the middle of the key. The Baby Shower, the second of these dooms and the penultimate doom of the module, immediately doesn’t make sense: Brea is a twisted half-insect creature at this point (you might recall me praising Franck’s art of her earlier), and why the townsfolk aren’t reacting with horror and panic isn’t explained at all. It feels as if this was written before they decided Brea would look like a monster, and forgot to revise it. The final dungeon has been redesigned as a power plant and the hive below it (rather than the swamp dungeon of the original) and it suffers by comparison to the original in its repetitiveness — husk, bee, apiarist, repeat. I’d have loved to have seen theee bee mutations getting much weirder in the depths of Brea’s lair, instead of what we’ve already seen becoming rote. Overall, the town and dungeon are serviceable, but not better than the original, and in some ways worse.
In the back there are a bunch of appendices, mainly pretty cool random tables — the only thing that feels vestigial is the search tables, given the Gygaxian accountancy approach to keying has been adopted here. I especially appreciate the index of characters — useful in a module of this complexity.
The layout here is a functional 2 columns. It wants to be generous with its white space, and is with its margins, but it isn’t generous with padding or leading, creating a crowded visual experience. Spacing leaves large gaps in some pages, where the page is absolutely begging for some art or an alternate layout. The tight leading particularly on the subheadings renders an otherwise easily legible and appropriate font choice challenging to read at a glance. In the location key — most of the book — the pages desperately need filling and art, and the key is confusing, and in a way that infuriates me: Initially, it’s really clear and navigable, with bold location numbers in the upper outside margins. But this changes suddenly half-way through. These changes do make more sense when considered as a print product — I’m reading this in digital — because they still have navigable elements on each spread, but it’s still moving those navigable elements around and in a way that simply doesn’t improve the experience. It’s also not clear why some NPCs belong in the sidebar, while others don’t. Within the key, they have a clearly described hierarchy and iconography though, which works well. That said, the overall aesthetic is bold, monochrome and modern and works well for communicating a modern, procedural vibe, and Amanda Lee Franck’s art is beautiful and terrifying, although sadly it is most prominent in the bestiary.
Against the Cult of the Reptile God is 28 pages long — admittedly the word count on a 1982 TSR module is high for its page count — but this is 91 pages more than that. Hungry Hollow is explicitly calls itself a reimagining and not a conversion, but what do we get out of those additional 91 pages? Not a lot, honestly. There’s a load of empty space — it adheres to the 1 location to a page philosophy strictly to the point where I wish it hadn’t, and doesn’t place enough art to help navigate through the blank spaces. This makes it feel drier than the original, despite the clear improvements in layout. The content is basically the same, with a few major core twists and more attention to the narrative — but it’s also on a tight timeline. I feel like this adventure and any other “stepford cuckoo” adventures are better as things that occur somewhere you’re familiar with, over time. It feels more insidious that way. Otherwise, why isn’t the whole town infected to begin with? The module itself recognises this, saying it’s “based around the slow uncovering of the town’s secrets over several sessions”, so the limitation of the time spent here to 3-9 scenes per day for 5 days seems like not much time to explore something of this complexity, and contrary to its own goals.
Would I run The Parthenogenesis of Hungry Hollow? No, I wouldn’t. It’s closer to a conversion than I expected (although admittedly just reskinning everything to be modern would have been a huge amount of work), and it’s not significantly better than the original. I’ve written my own version a year ago or so and I don’t think this outdoes that version for me, although looking at the flaws in this I could see my doing a version 2 to address the flaws they have in common — namely the fact that it’s too much. But, the art and villains are exceedingly excellent, and if your table prefers a modern take on the elf game this is a pretty strong place to start. If you’re running a lot of Liminal Horror, I’d suggest you set your investigators up in this town as their hometown, play out a few other modules, then allow this to develop at a more natural pace. That would take a bit of work, but if you don’t mind that work, you’ll find The Parthenogenesis of Hungry Hollow a whole lot stronger when you get to those final 5 days.
Bathtub Reviews are an excuse for me to read modules a little more closely. I’m doing them to critique a wide range of modules from the perspective of my own table and to learn for my own module design. They’re stream of consciousness and unedited critiques. I’m writing them on my phone in the bath.
Goblin Mail is a 30 page module for Troika! written by Sofia Ramos with art by Evelyn Moreau. “Art” understates Moreau’s impact on this module, though: Her aesthetics absolutely permeate it, and she’s co-credited as designer. In it, you’ll delve into a multidimensional goblin post office in order to retrieve a missing parcel. There is a complementary print copy of the zine somewhere between me and Canada — I’m convinced it’s not coming, and the storefront was blatantly rude to me when I inquired — but I also backed the kickstarter so I’m not waiting any longer to review the digital version.
Layout here is by Luna P, and it works perfectly to complement the dense artwork by Moreau. The text is often crowded out by the imagery in fact. There are only 3 pages by my count without some kind of art on it. This definitely veers towards reducing legibility and obscuring the shape of the text, but also it successfully conjures the aesthetic of an overcrowded post office. And what we lose in legibility, we make up in other choices: The lovely clear headings, the halftone headers and footers, consistent but varied layouts to support the text. It’s a compromise, to be sure, but strongly argued for. Moreau’s art is some of the strongest in the hobby, and it’s as charming and characterful here as ever, and perhaps more so, as Goblin Mail leans into her strengths.
The six patrons described at the outset are some of the best hooks I’ve read recently — each of them is flavourful, ties uniquely into the post office that is to come, and provides a unique window into the implied world. My favourite is the Maester, who sets you straight up for conflict with Grilda the Fortune-teller.
There is a really neat simplification and description of the bureaucracy that you’ll have to wade through to find your parcel. I find this (and other) branching maps a really appealing way to make an opaque bureaucracy feel opaque and frustrating in a fun and limited way, while still making it feasibly runnable and able to be overcome. The real challenge here is overcoming the bureaucracy, and how you choose to do so will dictate how you explore the post office.
From here on in, we’ve got a key for a 12 room dungeon. Each room gets a 2 page spread, typically 1 of them being a random table. These random tables serve the principle “Goblins are unpredictable and chaotic creatures. An entire post office ran by them couldnʼt be any different.”, and each time you enter a room it’ll be a very different experience. “You reenter the store room, but this time…”. This is an exceptionally flavourful way to keep a small dungeon interesting, particularly one that you’re expected to re-traverse regularly. It’s hard in such a small dungeon to not go through every room — I won’t, but some of my favourite moments are “A plaque above the counter reads: “Troublemakers will be dealt with by Burt.” You do NOT want to meet Burt. BURT: SKLL 8/ STAM 12/ INIT 3/ ARMR 1 / Damage as Maul”;and Tobias, who’s a student renting a room here and needs a demon exorcised from his kitchen.
The back of the zine are a bunch of random tables, plus all the stats for the module. Clients, goblin names, packages, senders, receivers, encounters in and out of the post office. These basically serve to fill in the gaps throughout the module — other parcels, other visitors, jazz things up when the existing randomness fails to. I’m often opposed to excessive randomness, but this isn’t an example of this in my opinion. Here, all of these random tables — throughout the book — are absolutely in service of the themes, aesthetics and scope of the post office, and more importantly are solidly grounded in concrete locations and characters. Really well done. The only thing I bounced off is the Labyrinth, basically the extra dimensional world the goblins use to send their mail — not quite enough for me to understand how to use it, in the core zine. But, the Goblin Mail Extras document, gives the PCs a bunch of new potential tasks to complete in the post office, more events to characterise the NPCs, expands the labyrinth to make it a more satisfying and less bewildering addition and even adds a few backgrounds, fixing a few problems and adding a wealth of extras of you’re stuck or in love with your post office.
My big takeaway here is that this is a module for Troika, rather than a setting in the form of a set of backgrounds and tables like Spectacle, Acid Death Fantasy or Fronds of Benevolence. This is more akin to the Big Squirm, and we need more zines like this for Troika in my opinion — things that truly stand on their own and that aren’t just enjoyable thought experiments. Because that’s how I feel about a zine full of backgrounds masquerading as a setting or a module: You just wrote the fun part, and expect me to buy it and do the boring work make. Nah, thanks. I can write the fun part myself, I need the author to do the boring and hard work of filling the gaps. Goblin Mail is good, sturdy, fun work. It don’t feel like I’m getting half the package sold as if it were a whole product — here the bonus content feels like a bonus: Cool! I can play as a mail gobbo!
Overall, this is a fun, zany module, that will fit well into most Troika! campaigns, but which would also serve well as a light-hearted one-shot. It’s an absolute pleasure to read, and while I don’t feel like it has a lot of replayability — once you’ve sorted the bureaucracy your goal is achieved — it feels like an absolute pleasure for at least a session, maybe 2. I would definitely bring this to my table — it’s bringing very strong Barkeep on the Borderlands lighthearted and comedic fun. It hits the comedy, like Barkeep, at the correct note. If that kind of vibe is one that belongs at your table, Goblin Mail is well worth picking up.
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Dungeon Regular is a show about modules, adventures and dungeons. I’m Nova, also known as Idle Cartulary and I’m reading through Dungeon magazine, one module at a time, picking a few favourite things in that adventure module, and talking about them. On this episode I talk about Threshold of Evil, in Issue #10, March 1988! You can find my famous Bathtub Reviews at my blog, https://playfulvoid.game.blog/, you can buy my supplements for elfgames and Mothership at https://idlecartulary.itch.io/, check out my game Advanced Fantasy Dungeons at https://idlecartulary.itch.io/advanced-fantasy-dungeons and you can support Dungeon Regular on Ko-fi at https://ko-fi.com/idlecartulary.
Playful Void 