The Spelljammer and Treasure Planet schools of setting-building allows wooden ships to sail through sky and space. On the other hand, have you ever seen any systems, settings, or campaigns wherein enchanted ships sail through rivers, lakes, and seas to reach other bodies of water, whether in the same world or in distant planets? I think it would be a neat way to preserve the core concept of traveling aboard a ship to reach strange new worlds, while still emphasizing the trappings of the sea: wind, waves, storms, the mysterious deep, and all.

Have you seen any systems, settings, or campaigns that make interesting use of the concept of microbes?

A Google search tells us that a human adult has anywhere from 28 to 36 trillion cells, while any given human is estimated to contain around 39 to 100 trillion microbes. These are everything from the Demodex mites that dwell in hair follicles, to the gut flora that assist with metabolism, nutrition, and resisting pathogens. It could be said that any given human is legion, is multitudes. Microbes are omnipresent in the environment as well, amidst every animal, every inch of soil, every ounce of the oceans.

In 2014, the microbiologists Jack Gilbert and Josh Neufeld published a thought experiment, in which they imagined what would happen if all the world's microbes were to abruptly vanish: a total apocalypse, yet one with neither decay nor disease, where every corpse remains pristine. This scenario is summarized here.

How can the concept of microbes be used in an interesting, relevant way in an RPG context?

For example, would microbes even exist in a fantasy world? If they do exist, would they be thought of as "little spirits" or something similarly animistic? Would there be druids focused on studying and shepherding microbes? Would this be old and established knowledge, or would this be a new breakthrough in understanding the world? Could there be some magical method of purging a person or an area of all microbes (e.g. cleansing, teleportation), perhaps out of some well-intentioned desire to banish disease and uncleanliness? Might there be someone so disgusted by the thought of these myriad creatures crawling around everywhere that they are now concocting a global-scale ritual to rid the world of all "little spirits"?

What if certain races/species, such as elves and dwarves, are so mystical in physiology that their bodies are actually free of microbes? How would this affect their outlook on the world around them?

In our world, Antonie Philips van Leeuwenhoek was studying microbial life with a microscope in the 1670s. Conversely, the piano was invented in the year ~1700.

The Pathfinder setting canonically has "microscopic creatures."

Suppose the party arrives in a vast and prosperous capital city as part of some quest, which they can complete with no moral or ethical quandaries getting in the way. During the course of their mission, they learn how the nation's prosperous conditions come at some heinous cost: perhaps it is the perpetual suffering of some child as in the classic Omelas, or it could be a significant number of human sacrifices, such as with Sarx in the Latter Earth of Worlds Without Number.

The PCs have already completed their original mission in the nation. Do they simply shrug their shoulders and depart, or do they stay a while to intervene against the Omelas-type society?

How have you seen this play out at the table?

In 4e, the Blood War is less active than usual, as per the Manual of the Planes, p. 89, and Dragon #417. On the other hand, since the 4e Abyss is inside the 4e Elemental Chaos, genies and demons cross blades. Heroes of the Elemental Chaos, p. 97, tells us:

ELEMENTARY VIEWPOINT: BEY AD-AZAZIN, FLAME OF SHAHI

You name us tyrants? Despots? Cruel taskmasters who bend all to our will to feed our appetites? How little you mortals know. What did you think would happen when the primordials fell? Did you imagine the Abyss would be free to expand, to consume the entirety of the Elemental Chaos unchecked? I understand how the nature of my homeland might suggest that we elementals are of a single mind—wild and free, reckless, random in our violence, like untamed savages hungry to rend flesh and crack bones. Nothing could be further from the truth. I shall grant you a reprieve for holding to such beliefs. No need to thank me.

You see, mortal, we are the bulwark holding back chaos. We are order. We are law. We rule because it is proper and right. We rule because without us, the Abyss would consume everything—and then where would you be? The noble efreets learned the lessons of this plane early. A firm hand is needed to ensure obedience and to repel the chaotic forces chipping away at our achievements. You might call the laws of this fair city harsh, perhaps draconian, and you would be right. But we have next to no crime, and all who live under our laws are safe and secure from the world without. Now tell me, worm, which of your mortal cities can say the same?

4e genies are thus motivated to ally with devils, who also oppose demons. Genies are incentivized to plunder the mortal world for more and more resources to fuel the war machine against demonkind. Genies raid mortal cities, take slaves, and make them janissary warriors (an actual PC theme in 4e).

How do you feel about campaigns wherein the PCs are railroaded/tricked into unsealing some great evil, making them obligated to clean up their own mess? Sometimes, the PCs unleash this great evil near the beginning; other times, the PCs collect some artifacts, only for the relics to be the keys necessary to release some ancient malice.

I have seen this roughly a dozen times by now, mostly from relatively inexperienced GMs. I have seen it even in published adventures, including one highly acclaimed, 13-part Eberron adventure series that revolves around "gather these artifacts" and culminates in "oops, they were the key to unleashing calamity."

I have never liked this in the slightest. To me, it always comes across like the PCs have done more harm than good for the world; the whole setting would have been better-off if the PCs had never existed. It does not help that these GMs tend to reiterate that "It is your fault, so you should go fix your own mess," whether via NPC dialogue or as out-of-character commentary.

I have seen GMs and adventure authors defend this type of plotline with the logic of "It is about the journey, not the destination," but that makes the entire adventure feel zero-sum: the PCs are forced into bungling up tremendously, just so that they can fix what they broke.

I have also seen logic along the lines of, "It is actually a good thing that the PCs were the ones to screw up, because someone was going to accidentally release the ancient evil sooner or later, and it might as well be the PCs so that they can seal it right back." Sure, but the PCs are still forevermore branded as the idiots who caused the crisis in the first place.

All in all, it seems like a clumsy attempt at shoehorning some vague sense of obligation into the PCs, rather than having the players devise their own individual reasons for their characters being invested in the plot at hand. But that is just my opinion. What do you personally think of this type of storyline?

In a pick-up game I am playing in right now, our PCs are the finest agents of a nation that worships the god(dess) of war. Our kingdom has been at war with another country for ~300 years. Our mission was to retrieve some ancient artifact and bring it to the priest-king, who could conduct a ritual upon it that would instantly end the war. We did just that. Unfortunately, the priest-king's ritual deliberately ended "the" war, while engulfing the entire world with savage bloodlust, resulting in endless little wars. The priest-king then killed himself to be with his god(dess).

The very first thing that an NPC said to us after the reveal was "You should have known what [that guy] wanted."

Additionally, my character had absolutely jacked-out social perception skills, but I suppose the guy simply had too good a poker face.

If the players and their PCs are hugely betrayed to the point wherein some apocalyptic evil is unleashed, then the odds of them degenerating into extreme paranoia and skepticism are very high. Why should they trust any future plot hook or quest giver from that point?

The "gotcha" aspect is what I find most disagreeable. The GM already has more knowledge and insight on the realities and conventions of the game world than the players; there is no accomplishment in "outsmarting" them.

As a small update, the game involving the priest-king is over. The GM and the group ultimately could not come to a satisfactory resolution.

The GM narrated our characters somehow being transported to the Battle of Stalingrad in 1943 and dying there, despite said PCs being superpowered, high-level heroes.

I am trying to set up a one-on-one game of Tailfeathers/Kazzam. It is a grid-based, tactical combat RPG wherein the PCs are students at a magic school who play wizardly combat sports.

However, I am not a fan of magic school premises. I have elected to run the game in an entirely different setting, namely, sci-fi space opera with high psionics/magic.

I have my doubts, however, that this is a sufficiently plausible justification for running sports-like tactical combat. I still want to run a sci-fi space opera story about a deposed monarch reclaiming their throne; is there a more reasonable justification for the sports combat, given the kind of setting described in the Google Document?

So I am writing up a campaign which is going to take players into hell. I am not sticking specifically to any rules or lore but I am using the idea of the DnD 9 hells as a stencil for my version.

I like the idea of lemures and have read that they are used as slave labor for higher ranking devils but can't find any information on what they actually do? what would a devil need a lemure for? Imps and spiganons can act as scouts and messengers. They can use bigger monsters as body guards.

Would they use them to clean up and bring them food? Run infernal machines? Entertainment? I'm struggling to come up with ideas.

When the concepts of good and evil were first conceived, the multiverse spawned rakshasas to theatrically impress upon all mortal minds the concept of heinous evils. While rakshasas enjoy their role, in the same way that an actor feels accomplished for giving a good performance, their sensibilities and consciences are not necessarily evil, and they chafe at having been assigned to play the "bad guy" just to inculcate all mortal minds.

Rakshasas are primordial, divine beings who serve as incarnations of all that is foul within creation, born the moment that the concepts of good and evil were first conceived. It is their divine purpose to exemplify the profane—by murdering their own kin, eating the flesh of sapient beings, and performing thousands of other atrocities, they define these acts as obscene and taboo, so that mortals know these acts to be crimes in the eyes of the holy. It is a role they must play, in the same way that a stage play must have an actor to serve as the villain, a role that damned all rakshasas from the moment of their genesis.

Most rakshasas enjoy their role, in the same way an actor enjoys delivering a masterful performance, yet there is an element of tragedy to their existence. They are fated to serve solely as foils to others, to corrupt the unworthy and fall to the heroic, never free to forge their own path. They are condemned to perform the most heinous of deeds, even if it rankles their sensibilities and conscience. To do otherwise is to defy their nature and their purpose: the greatest sin a rakshasa can perform.

RAKSHASAS IN SOCIETY

Most rakshasas live in urban areas where humanoids congregate, supplying them with a variety of mortals to prey upon and to find wanting, as well as all the luxuries that often leads humanoid societies into corruption.

Raja-Krodha

The most iconic rakshasas, raja-krodhas are tiger-headed hunters of mortalkind. They are incarnations of all the malice people try to deny within themselves and instead wrongly ascribe to deadly predators of the wild. Their power and skill inspire fear, but also awe, and it is not unknown for some peoples to treat such a rakshasa as a guardian, if one to be treated with extreme caution.

Despite their nature as brutal flesh-eaters, rajas are extremely eloquent and philosophical when they choose to be. This is simply another form of camouflage, one that allows them to blend into cities, much as their stripes allow them to fade into jungles, and it often lulls scholars and intellectuals into a false sense of security. While it is not in the nature of a raja-krodha to be a social schemer or a mastermind, it pleases them when others delude themselves into thinking they are.

Your typical D&D-descended brand of high fantasy is a parody of myriad European cultures and mythologies, mashed together from multiple time periods and mixed with the works of various 20th century novelists. This is where you have chivalrous paladins of the gods of light, druids who evoke the powers nature, wizards flinging around fireballs, elven rangers sniping with bows, and dwarves swinging around hammers and axes.

People from Japan have their own fantasy works, too. Sometimes, these are set in a fantastical version of historical Japan, like Muramasa: The Demon Blade, Nioh, Sekiro, or Demon Slayer. Here, you see romanticized versions of samurai, ninja, and Shinto- and Onmyōdō-related mystics fighting yōkai, oni, and each other.

Meanwhile, China offers the entirety of the wuxia and xianxia genres. Romanticized youxia wander the jianghu and wield larger-than-life martial arts in the name of justice. Cultivators engage in all kinds of bizarre (and, at times, morally dubious) schemes to attain magical power with which to obliterate armies, nations, worlds, and universes.

Sometimes, people from Japan depict a fantastical version of China (e.g. Dynasty Warriors). Sometimes, people from China create a fantasy land based on Japan (e.g. Genshin Impact's Inazuma), with all the usual trappings: samurai, ninja, miko, yōkai, etc.

I was born and raised in Southeast Asia. It is not quite East Asia. If I am running a high fantasy RPG, and I want to place a nation based on China or Japan right next to the Europe-inspired "starting zone" region (incidentally, this is exactly what Genshin Impact does), with pagodas and paper talismans and spirit-sealing gourds, what actually constitutes orientalism in worldbuilding? If I mix and match Chinese and Japanese cultural elements, like what Pathfinder does in some areas of Tian Xia, is that bad?

Mummies (Egyptian), dragon turtles (Chinese), oni mages (Japanese), ghouls and genies (Islamic), golems (Jewish), rakshasas (Hindu), Lovecraftian aberrations (American pulp fiction), a great host of Greek monsters.

The Monster Manual alone paints a rather multicultural picture, for good or for ill.

For an upcoming high fantasy game, I am considering a contrivance wherein one nation has developed a highly specialized form of telekinetic magic (or it could be psionics, really) called "Separation." By spending at least half a minute concentrating upon a given subject within several feet, or a collection of smaller subjects, the caster can telekinetically loosen, levitate, and slowly move an envisioned physical component.

This can separate impurities from raw materials, contaminants from water, bones from cooked chicken, meat from cooked crustaceans, gristle from steaks, calculus from teeth, acne from pores, hair from skin, or phlegm from the throat. Threshing grain becomes significantly easier. Gold can be lifted from sediment. Salt can be taken from seawater. Moisture can be separated from food to help preserve it.

Large-scale applications and delicate applications require specialized training; it takes significant medical knowledge and practice to Separate pathogens or tumors from the body, or atheromas from arteries. Magical researchers are trying to trim down the half-minute-long casting time, which would allow the combat usage of Separation (e.g. removing eyeballs from the head), but only minor results have been produced thus far.

What other societal applications could you see coming from this "Separation" magic? Assuming that rapid/combat applications remain nascent, what adventuring applications could Separation bring to the metaphorical table?

Across D&D's editions, Sigil has been consistent: the great crossroads city of the multiverse, a colossal center of trade and travel, boasting portals to every corner of the cosmos.

The original Planescape boxed set in 1994 specifically mentions wizards from Krynn, preservers and defilers from Athas, and the sale of bronzewood from Oerth and fire wine from Toril in Sigil. Greyhawk and the Forgotten Realms have regularly referenced the City of Doors and vice versa. Birthright has its own subchapter in 2e On Hallowed Ground, and paragraphs in the 2e Guide to the Ethereal Plane and the 2e Planewalker's Handbook. Mystara likewise has a paragraph in the 2e Planewalker's Handbook, and there is an explicitly Mystaran NPC in 5e Turn of Fortune's Wheel. This is to say nothing of Sigil's myriad portals to planes other than the Prime Material.

A subject I have seldom seen explored, however, is: how do Sigilian portals influence the development of a Prime Material world? The Lady of Pain does not exactly impose a Prime (no pun intended) Directive, and Sigilian portals have existed and arisen since time immemorial. For how long have the aforementioned campaign settings had Sigilian portals? Are the similarities between D&D worlds, in part, due to Sigil's influence?

What happens when a Sigilian portal opens up in a major city, like Waterdeep, Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter, the Free City of Greyhawk, or the Imperial City of Anuire? Are any of these cities already home to Sigilian portals?

From an out-of-universe perspective, these campaign settings were never written with Sigil in mind, and thus, the impact of Sigilian portals has never been explored. If we were to conjecture what the actual impact would be, though, what influence would the Cage have had on the many mortal worlds it has linked up with? What does it mean when anyone with the right portal key can waltz straight into the crossroads of the multiverse and all the goods and services it has to offer?

One antagonist group I find fascinating is the League of Due Hierarchy, from the 4e Dungeon Master's Guide 2, p. 167, and its alleged sister movement, the Weeping Rose Heresy, from 4e Dungeon issue #177, pp. 73-74. For context, these were written for 4e's default setting, the world of the Nentir Vale, in which the great human empire of Nerath began to crumble a century ago, leaving civilization as little more than city-states ("points of light") in a dangerous, monster-infested wilderness.

https://rentry.org/duehierarchy

I am interested in using them as antagonists in a game set in the world of the Nentir Vale. There are several questions that I have been mulling over:

• How is it possible for the League of Due Hierarchy to become "widespread," with branch offices "in numerous national capitals," in a world that has been reduced to "points of light"? How does such a movement even organize itself? Presumably, magical telecommunication is available; "the scholar-queen Fusane" could very well be a wizard. However, magical telecommunication tends to be rather limited.

• How does this collection of nobles go from "Well, our globe-unifying empire began to collapse roughly a century ago, reducing civilization to points of light" to "Obviously, the solution is slavery"? What problem are they attempting to solve?

• Although Nerath was a human empire, the League seems to be multiracial/multispecies, judging from the mention of "ruled by tyrants or dominated by evil races." Only the noble-blooded are allowed membership, much to the chagrin of middle-class slavers. In this case, what does the League use as their metric for "the lowly"?

• Do they practice chattel slavery, or a relatively lighter form?

• Assuming that the Weeping Rose Heresy was created by the League, how did the slavers start up a religion that convinces slaves to willingly toil endlessly? It is a large paradigm shift.

How would you personally configure the League as antagonists?

In a since-deleted blog post, and in the Chronicles of Eberron book, Keith Baker posits that one reason why Eberron never developed firearms was because D&D's crossbows are literal representations of how they work in-universe. The people of Eberron have figured out how to cheaply manufacture nonmagical crossbows that can be fired at least once per six seconds, and require no physical brawn whatsoever from the user. This is superior to many firearms of the early 19th century, as Keith himself has pointed out.

How about we export this away from Eberron specifically, and apply it to both bows and crossbows in both D&D 4e and D&D 5e? Bows and crossbows alike can be fired at least once per six seconds, and demand no physical strength whatsoever from the user. Lighter two-handed versions are simple weapons, letting anyone use them; not everyone can fling spells, but aiming and firing such a weapon is trivial.

Let us imagine that these systems' focused fire metagame is also an in-universe phenomenon. Anyone on the battlefield without the proper protections can be pincushioned by a mass of mooks landing lucky shots. Obtaining protections against this is crucial.

How does this change self-defense and warfare? Do people carry around bows and crossbows as self-defense in rough cities and while on the road? Does warfare revolve around units armed with bows and crossbows first and foremost, loosely spread out so as to avoid the occasional AoE spell from whatever mage is brave enough to risk being focus-fired upon?

Ring, uncommon (requires attunement)

While wearing this ring, you are immune to magic that allows other creatures to read your thoughts, determine whether you are lying, know your alignment, or know your creature type. Creatures can telepathically communicate with you only if you allow it.

You can use an action to cause the ring to become invisible until you use another action to make it visible, until you remove the ring, or until you die.

If you die while wearing the ring, your soul enters it, unless it already houses a soul. You can remain in the ring or depart for the afterlife. As long as your soul is in the ring, you can telepathically communicate with any creature wearing it. A wearer can't prevent this telepathic communication.

In Eberron, the existence of traditional-D&D-style deities is uncertain, the short-term afterlife is horrifying, and the long-term afterlife is unknown and unknowable. Thus, the Aereni elves preserve their best and brightest through a number of methods. One of them is the "spirit idol," the preservation of a soul inside of an object, such that the subject can continue to dispense knowledge and wisdom: a brain in a jar, essentially. Of course, a D&D 5e ring of mind shielding is even better in some ways.

Stripped down to its barest basics, and completely extirpating all of the alternate timeline tomfoolery, I think that the Marvel Multiverse RPG's premade campaign, Cataclysm of Kang, is a solid story that could be adapted to virtually any high-powered RPG and setting. I could see it coming straight from a JRPG like Final Fantasy or a Tales of game.

!The PCs start off as investigators in a big city. After tangling with a major crime family, they discover that the mobsters have struck a deal with people from another world, and have built a portal in a restaurant's basement. They arrive just in time to shut down the portal and prevent some almighty superweapon-entity from coming through. The PCs learn that this dimensional rift was merely the spearhead of a much wider, interplanetary invasion effort.!<

!Another rift opens up in the metropolis. It disgorges a vanguard force of scouts and saboteurs, who infiltrate the populace. The PCs rescue civilians, restore infrastructure, locate and neutralize these scouts and saboteurs, and then find and close the portal.!<

!The other world's almighty superweapon-entity may have been barred off, and the vanguard force might have failed to significantly destabilize the city, but the invasion must resume regardless. The other world opens up the rest of its portals all over the metropolis, sending in full-fledged armies and war machines. The PCs engage in myriad missions all over the city, from rallying the troops to dismantling morale-crushing enemy monuments, to drive back the invaders.!<

!It becomes clear to the PCs that the other world is preparing for a second invasion. They bravely stride into one of the portals and arrive in the other world. They infiltrate the totalitarian, global government's headquarters and beat its leaders into submission, including the almighty superweapon-entity from back in the beginning.!<

!The PCs learn that the only reason why this world was invading their own world was to flee the predation of some great, cosmic planet-eater. The totalitarian government has been beaten into submission, but the world is still home to billions of innocents. So the PCs commandeer the world's resources, add in their own world's, and successfully repel the planet-eater.!<

!All is well and dandy for a while, but the planet-eater returns with a vengeance. They have evolved into a time-eater, capable of devouring an entire universe and all its timeline. After, once again, striking up an uneasy alliance with major villains, the PCs journey to both the end of time (just before the death of the universe) and the start of time (just after its creation) to vanquish the time-eater!< and end the cosmic threat once and for all.

I think this makes for a rather decent campaign framework. As long as the PCs are at least somewhat heroic, there should be few issues with character motivations. What do you think?

Just to provide a definition so you know what I'm referring to, surplus value is the extra monetary value created by workers that don't go back to the worker through wages. This post will be exploring the situation of employed crafters and their employer's pocketed surplus value.

The main assumption for this post will be that there is some situation where crafters are employed by someone or that there is someone who "owns" the labor of the worker, and will therefor supply them with pay and keep the difference in wages and created value. Two additional assumptions I'll be making are that the startup costs associated with business are covered and the cost of maintenance are ignored. These assumptions are made for the purpose of exploring a best case scenario. For the specific wages of the crafters, I'll be using the 2gp/day minimum allotted to skilled hirelings.

How the crafting rules work in Xanathar's Guide to Everything, all mundane crafting spends (weekly/worker) 25gp on raw materials and 10gp on wages. The end result is a product that sells for 50gp per workweek spent. Leading to a net gain of 15gp/week/worker (50-25-10=15). This would obviously be collected by whoever’s employing the crafter.

With this surplus value, it would only take 5 workers create enough coin to support an aristocratic lifestyle (10+gp/day for 7 days based on a 5 day workweek) with 5gp/week extra. It would only take 25 workers to afford plate armor after a single month of saving (1,500gp / (15gp/worker * 4 weeks) = 25 workers). Each worker would create 780gp/year. In the spell description for Teleportation Circle, it's stated that guilds will often have a permanent teleportation circle, which costs 18,250gp in material components (50gp/day * 365 days). Its possible that the guild a crafter is a part of will pocket the surplus value. If so, it would only take 24 workers to support this project (18,250gp / 780gp = 23.4).

Gilded Age D&D

The homebrew setting I'm working on includes themes of economic/power inequality. To accomplish this, I pull heavily from the Gilded Age of the United States. The setting includes the use of 6 day workweeks and 12 hour workdays in certain parts of the world.

Assumptions: Wages do not increase due to this increased work hours (because that would be missing the point, that the system is exploitative), but productivity does increase (because they're literally working more).

This would lead to a per-worker gross of 90gp/week minus 12gp/week and 45gp/week for wages and materials, giving a net of 33gp/week/worker. I found this using derived values using the usual 8-hour workday of Xanathar's. Math* below.

I use this equation to figure spellcasting service costs: (lvl^2)*10+2cmc+0.1umc = Price in gp

lvl= Spell Level

cmc= Price of Consumed Material Components in gp

umc= Price of Unconsumed Material Components in gp

Using this, an employer with only 10 employees will afford Lesser Restoration after 11 hours, Raise Dead after a bit under 1 month, and Clone after a bit over 2 months. Because of this out-sized economic power, rich people in my setting never stay sick for long, never stay dead for long, and usually never die of old age. Exotic methods are required to truly keep people dead or "out of the picture."

*Math

Gross: 10gp/day / 8hr/day = 1.25gp/hr * 12hr/day * 6days/week = 90gp/week

Wage: 2gp/day * 6days/week = 12gp/week

Materials: 5gp/day / 8hr/day = 0.625gp/hr * 12hr/day * 6days/week = 45gp/week

Net: 90gp/week - 12gp/week - 45gp/week = 33gp/week