d20 Pixie Tribes

I'd probably punt one of these if I saw one in
real life if I'm honest.

This table was brought about by soliciting members of the KNOCK! Presents discord to contribute an entry to a table for random pixie tribes, similar to the gunpowder table in K!1. We got up to the twenty I asked for... eventually.

(1) The Toothblight Troupe. Steal the teeth from sleeping travelers to use in mosaic galleries found in hollow tree stumps. Pompous, condescending art critics. Deathly afraid of sugary sweets.

(2) Luck Thieves. Drape their silk webs across forest paths and target those that break them, stealing their good fortune to seed their larvae.

(3) Sleep Robbers. Switch around belongings, items and equipment of intruders in their sleep; make illusory noises (babies cries, laughter, cries for help, menacing growls...) to distract those standing watch and leave makeshift footprints of giants predators around. Draw benefits from robbing mortals of their sleep, and may steal an already memorized spell or two, but never actually steal anything physical.

(4) The Naturalists. Often seen organizing high tea picnics and cricket games nearby mortal farms and crossroads. Every little thing 'those dumb giants' do fascinates them. Usually content to observe and comment from bleachers, but a few brave souls ask to participate. "I see you are bleeding to death here good sir, would you like me to stab you as well?"

(5) Zookeepers. Generally helpful toward anyone exotic and/or in distress. But help includes shrinking them down to pixie size and "offering" a comfortable confine in the realm. Lucky ones may get to participate in the annual games, probably as a steed.

(6) Court of Mycelial Whispers. the court gathers secrets, listening through the caps of fungi throughout the forest. They distill these secrets into wine, then trade them with mortals for yet more secrets. During the festival of the grinning moon they release whispers into the wild, and the pixie who causes the most chaos is named Lord of the Court.

(7) The Bloodsoaken. An ancient curse has turned these pixies into strigoi, vampiric spirits. They hide from sunlight in shallow burrows dug in forgotten graveyards, only crawling out to feed when the moon is low on the horizon.

(8) Briarborn. Overtly fond of anything with prickles or thorns, their fortresses and fashion are often heavily embellished with barbs and spikes. Known for their ability to coax these from the hafts of wooden weapons, but it's said that they are powerless against anyone who is smelling a freshly cut Rose.

(9) Exiles. Banished from the feywild and all deep woods by an archfey, the pixies lost a part their spirit. Their colors dulled, whimsy diminished, and bitter survival instincts kicked in. They migrate to places such as bushes between cultivated fields and large city parks. They may pick a new master to remind them of their subservience to the archfey, and if they do, it'll be the most powerful and cruel creature they can find. In time, they will have much more of an influence on their master than the master realizes...

(10) Dustheads.  Excessive use of potent fairy dust makes this tribe especially scatter-brained and erratic. Prone to annoy with their droning, distorted electrical music and profoundly shallow existential insights. Getting them to share the good stuff might involve feeding them or mesmerizing them with meaningless wisdom. Their dust is known cause uncontrolled levitation, invisibility, delusional paranoia or turning the subject into a lizard, along with the usual effects of drowsiness and hunger.

(11) The Candlekeepers. Worship candlelight and fashion homes from dripping wax stalagmites, often mistaken for will-o'-wisps. Nearby big-folk settlements have learned to turn in early lest their light is "borrowed" indefinitely.

(12) The Post Faeries. This clan broke out from Faerie tradition when mortals started sending written messages to each other. They have a true love for correspondence, and believe everyone should receive nothing but good and validating news. As such, they are the reason behind many a postal mystery: a love letter appearing at the recipient's door mere hours after being written leagues away; raucous drawings in the margins of a merchant's sales report; missives containing legal threats to an underserving person repeatedly disappearing... Some say they are the secret patrons of the infamous Goblin Mail service.

(13) Court of the Moon Reach. The moon is a silvery paradise. Or so they were promised uncounted generations ago. The Court, dedicated to reaching their promised land, has cultivated many ambitious plans. Their spells slowly groom and grow trees to unnatural heights, taking the pixies closer toward their destination. Their scouts seek lenses of all kinds for their Moonglass, a most magnificent spyglass for gazing up. Be it by trading, extorting or stealing. Their eavesdroppers gather hearsay about anything related to the moon. Their moon. Don't look at it for too long, it's not yours to admire!

(14) The Boatmen. Long limbed fey who live by rivers, lakes and ponds. Will row mortals across the water in their fey boats in exchange for one mortal memory, forever lost to the mortal once given.

(15) The Neverwoken. These small sized fae sleep in trees or in burrows hidden under roots their dream-selves haunt the forest night and day. Flickering out of roots and branches like old televisions their dream selves hop in and out of reality at random. They will trade with travelers of the woods, giving information about the dreamworld for comfortable bedding.

(16) The Fitzfeys. A long forgotten sin committed by their ancestors has brought a terrible curse on these pixies. They must live short, toiling lives as mere mortals. Spread across the land like so many thistle seeds, the Fitzfeys nonetheless stay closely connected. Some say the breeze carries their whispers across leagues and leagues.

(17) The Pinioned. Their original ancestral forest was infested with large malicious flycatcher birds, and so the pixies learned to stay on the ground to survive. Over time their wings withered away and they learned to herd, breed and ride tiny horse-like steeds, fast as water in the rapids and shimmering gold like droplets in the first rays of the morning sun. These days the tribe is nomadic, seeking out ever greener pastures and lusher woodlands. They still hold an enmity toward all birds, destroying nests with a religious fervor. 

(18) Patina Moths. Pale blue-green fae no bigger than a hummingbird, with large, moonlit eyes. They are attracted to fire at night, and their presence is said to rust and age metal overnight.

(19) The Bureau of Boggarts. A malign albeit kempt organization of wart-encrusted eyesores, these fey "collect" supervisory positions over the affairs of bureaucrats and  unenthused laborers by carving their mark into tools, desks, and satchels. These bewitched items lure their owners ever deeper into a life of drudgery of which a Boggart takes detailed notes. These notes are presented at a new moon meeting wherein the "highest earner" receives a new wart to cherish.

(20) The Hero Helpers. A sororal order of pixies, sprites, and fairies that are dispatched to forlorn towers, deadly keeps, and haunted crypts in order to aid do-gooders who may enter such dangerous locales on noble quests.

Contributors: Arcane Sporecery, Dungeons&Hammers, keika_d, Eric Nieudan, touney., ktrey, Christian JH, qed42, Alvaro, A.D. Clark

KNOCK!-off #1.5

An artist's rendition of what sacrificing
HP to make attacks might look like.

Still chugging... for now.

What's the Deal With Igor's Hump by Jack Shear

You never know when you might need a random table for hump biology. Rate my OC: The mad scientist to which Igor is employed is, quite obviously, a lich. The lich's simulacrum is sealed within layers of metal casings and runic wards... inside Igor's hump. If his master is defeated, Igor will do anything in his power to relocate safely so that the lich can emerge from the emergency incubation hump d4 weeks later. Gross.

Some Ways of Killing D&D People by Daniel Sell

This list of interchangeable death systems is to die for.

...

Sorry.

...

The first has what I believe to be a slight typo that confused me at first, but ultimately makes for a really clean, delightfully unpredictable system: roll a d100 over your lifetime accumulated damage or die. Clean, easy to remember, and (perhaps the most underrated aspect) prevents you from having that huge smudge on a character sheet's HP box from constantly writing and erasing.

The second feels like a modified hit dice system that I talked about previously when examining Mr. Nieudan's thoughts. You spend HP to roll saves or attack, turning health into stamina as well. This definitely leans into the "dice are your last resort" idea that we have also seen in Brooks Dailey's WHAT I WANT IN AN OSR GAME, also previously covered. Look at me go remembering these things.

Finally, unrelated to HP directly, damage dice exploding now appears in other systems like Savage Worlds and EZD6 as a prominent feature I believe. Good stuff.

Not mentioned in this piece is something I like trying to include where possible: one last action before you croak. This capstone for a character's life tends to make for more memorable moments when permitted even if it is funny that low level adventurers can just be obliterated in a snap. I would also be tempted to tack on a light scarring system to the first rule Daniel brings up if you get within a few points of dying on a roll, leaving a character with a reminder of a close call.

OSR-STYLE CHALLENGES: “Rulings Not Rules” is INSUFFICIENT by Arnold K

After so many one-pagers, this one forced me to turn the rest of my brain on. The title is a bit of a rage bait/clickbait way of explaining to the reader that declaring a game should rely on one of the OSR sacred maxims is different from seeing it reinforced at different levels of interaction. These levels—being system, adventure, DM, and players—need to facilitate or even necessitate DM intercession in the form of rulings.

In the case of a system, having rules that specify overly-specific situations in granular detail informs participants that there is an expectation that they should abide by these regulatory stipulations rather than just, you know, implementing something reasonable if/when it comes up in play. Arnold brings up "incomplete systems" as something that can naturally avoid this since common sense plugs the gaps, but further iterates that systems cannot have inextricably interdependent components lest you break stuff you actually weren't supposed to. Nate Treme is legitimately a genius for Tunnel Goons in this regard since there is literally nothing to break and everything to rule on.

That said, a goon of the tunnel variety is not suited for dungeon of the linear, CR-balanced, combat-focused variety. At the adventure level, you need some level of shoulder shrugging to let players be able to scheme their way out of something. The mother of innovation is necessity, especially if the GM is thinking "damn, I'm not sure where I'd even start with this." Furthermore, the magic tools gathered in journeying through these whackadoo wilds should not be assigned a numeric value so much as a descriptive one; OSR tools don't help succeed checks, they help you avoid them. You have my permission to print this article out and take a highlighter to that last sentence.

The last two levels can be smushed together and can be addressed by boiling everything down into a few pithy cents: be a fan of the PCs, manage expectations, and pretend (perhaps even roleplay) like you were really there, all things I have now seen and declared true before.

K!1 has done a really good job so far of asking me to take what it be that was revealed by the foundational documents of the movement and churning my brain through the insights of what others in the space think about them. It's the equivalent of holding the odd, misshapen mess that OSR is in a physical form and rotating it around to look at it from every conceivable angle. Maybe tasting it, too. Just a little lick.

My Goblins Are... by Fiona Maeve Geist

Goblins are the spice of life, especially if they are extra weird. This piece is basically just a lore entry for goblins you should be using and a few tables It would feel wrong to tamper with anything presented or add on a meaningless table row. Instead, I shall share with you as suggestion that between sessions, games, campaigns, settings, groups, etc... you use the same goblin; inexplicably integrated and unnervingly knowledgeable, like a cosmically ordained jester destined to appear one way or another as an avatar of an eldritch and mildly irritating will.

Toward an Appendix OSR: Roleplaying's Ongoing Dialogue with Fiction

Revised and Expanded... but is
it improved...? Yeah, basically.

Around this time last year, I completed my report on what I like to think is just over the threshold of being a substantive project centered around an internet poll I created. Having watched a recent Bob World Builder video on a similar subject, I realized nothing came of this (yet) work as an article submission, so I figured I'd repost it here to satisfy my ego for your reading enjoyment.

If you want to orient yourself with Appendix N and beyond as a reading list, I also developed a comprehensive spreadsheet for tracking your own participation.

In Flame and Crimson, Brian Murphy examines the history of sword-and-sorcery fiction and argues that Dungeons & Dragons "remains vibrantly alive" with its imagery and themes.¹ Similarly, Dimitra Nikolaidou, writing in Wyrd Science, notes that D&D and fiction more broadly share a reciprocal relationship; D&D draws from literature while inspiring new directions in speculative fiction.² The OSR, in turn, has thrived on this exchange of ideas, treating fiction not just as raw material but as a way to deepen and innovate gameplay by connecting and transforming past tropes, characters, and locales.

To this end, Gygax’s Appendix N from the AD&D Dungeon Master's Guide remains a cornerstone for grognards and neophytes alike for understanding the literary roots of RPGs with its influence extending well beyond D&D itself. OSR games frequently reflect these foundations, from explicit homages like The Black Sword Hack to broader inspirations in Hyperborea. Even modern editions of the dragon game acknowledge this legacy, expanding it with additional references in its fifth edition. Yet as the OSR continues to evolve, engaging with new ideas and influences, it raises an inevitable question: What might an Appendix OSR—an updated list of inspirational works that reflects the movement’s spirit—look like today?

Tavern Talk

To explore this question, I conducted a survey across OSR-centric communities, including r/OSR and various Discord servers, gathering almost 70 responses. Participants engaged through multiple-choice and open-ended questions, offering a frankly chaotic range of insights. While not exhaustive, these responses provide a meaningful snapshot of readership in the OSR that actively considers the relationship between fiction and roleplaying.

It is important to recognize that, demographically, respondents varied widely in their OSR experience: 39% had been involved for 4–9 years, 20% for over a decade, and 30% for 1–3 years. I’ll examine the implications of these figures in the conclusion, but most participants (86%) actively play or run games, while 81% engage primarily by reading OSR blogs, books, and modules. Notably, 45% seek out speculative fiction for direct inspiration, reinforcing the connection between literature and play.

Looting the Library

Appendix N remains a key touchstone. Of respondents, 57% had read at least part of it, while 22% claimed to have read it in its entirety. Granted, while Appendix N sometimes listed only authors rather than specific works, this level of engagement suggests its core ideas remain indelibly influential. In contrast, 75% had little or no familiarity with 5e’s expanded appendices, reinforcing the OSR’s general detachment from modern, official D&D content. Additionally, Tom Moldvay’s Basic D&D “Inspirational Source Material,” which overlaps heavily with Appendix N, also remains under-discussed, despite providing a clearer framework by specifying individual books, acknowledging additional contemporary authors, and branching into non-fiction recommendations.

There was some correlation between time spent in the OSR scene and Appendix N readership, but among those writing or designing OSR content (44% of respondents), engagement with Appendix N was particularly high. Most respondents acknowledged fiction as direct inspiration, with one advocate proclaiming, “steal anything not nailed down.” However, 52% indicated they read primarily for pleasure (with only 13% indicating they did not read much fiction), suggesting a more nuanced relationship between fiction and game design that should be explored in any future examination of this topic.

As expected, the most frequently cited Appendix N authors were Robert E. Howard, Fritz Leiber, H.P. Lovecraft, Michael Moorcock, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Jack Vance, appearing in 77% of responses, often together in some combination. Somewhat surprisingly, Poul Anderson, L. Sprague de Camp, A. Merritt, and Fletcher Pratt—whom Gygax listed as “major influences”—were largely absent.³ In their limited mention, some respondents even touted these works as outdated or less relevant to contemporary OSR play. Conversely, Tolkien’s prominence contradicts Gygax’s own claim that his influence was “minimal” on the original game.⁴ Clark Ashton Smith’s absence from Appendix N, despite his clear thematic overlap, remains a point of contention, as noted by Eric Diaz in his analysis of an interview on the subject, but was also regularly looked on in a positive light within survey results.

Among more modern authors already recognized by 5e, Glen Cook, Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, Fred Saberhagen, Ursula K. Le Guin, Terry Pratchett, and Gene Wolfe emerged as notable influences, though only two saw a competitive trend with Appendix N authors. Cook’s The Black Company series was the most frequently referenced, while Le Guin’s Earthsea also had a strong showing. Kelsey Dionne’s assertion (in response to my question in a Shadowdark AMA) that The Tombs of Atuan is “the pinnacle of dungeon fiction” aligns with this sentiment.

Carrying the Torch

Despite its prominence, the sheer number of responses that strayed beyond Appendix N was striking. When asked about additional material to consider, responses were varied but revealed a few noteworthy consistencies. Joe Abercrombie’s writings led the pack, followed by Christopher Buehlman’s The Blacktongue Thief, Steven Erikson’s Malazan Book of the Fallen, the Norse Poetic and Prose Eddas, and Brian Jacques’ Redwall. Manga (Delicious in Dungeon, Berserk), video games (Dark Souls, Caves of Qud, Darkest Dungeon), and films (1980s Conan movies and The Beastmaster) were also pluralistically cited. These works generally align with Appendix N’s ethos: medievalish/antique settings, magic, and adventure for gold and glory.

Crucially, 86% of respondents believed an Appendix OSR should strive to blend old and new works. Furthermore, 57% advocated for expanding beyond Appendix N’s sword-and-sorcery roots, with strong support for science fantasy (84%), weird fiction (67%), and horror (65%). The popularity of old-school and old-school-inspired projects like Mörk Borg, Mothership, The Electrum Archive, and The Painted Wastelands supports these genre inclinations especially, each becoming tangible commercial and/or crowdfunding success stories. Even classic D&D modules like Expedition to the Barrier Peaks demonstrate that genre boundaries were never rigid in the old style of play, and this type of thematic line-blurring often proves especially memorable in retrospect.⁵

As OSR games continue to evolve, their engagement with literary inspiration reflects an increasingly broad and shifting spectrum of gameplay. Revisiting some previous examples, games like The Black Sword Hack highlight a Moorcockian focus on doomed antiheroes, while Hyperborea leans into pulp adventure frameworks reminiscent of Howard and Burroughs. This selective reinterpretation shows that the OSR isn’t merely about emulating Appendix N, it’s about responding to it. Encouraging an evolution of the ways in which gamers seek inspiration promises to bring fresh ideas into a time-tested game structure (provided they honor the roots of the hobby).

Kicking the Door Down

If a publication like KNOCK! were to produce an Appendix OSR, 36% of respondents would at least be appreciative of its creation, and a further 52% stated they would actively use it as a reading guide. Given the enthusiasm for blending foundational works with newer influences, it's clear that roleplaying’s dialogue with fiction is far from over. As the OSR continues to grow, so too will its desire to synthesize the ideas that emerge. By encouraging discussion and curation, an Appendix OSR could help shape the next wave of gaming sourcebooks and derivative literature, ensuring that the conversation between roleplaying and fiction remains dynamic while continuing to honor its foundational influences as they recede further into the past.

As mentioned previously, OSR discourse has also grappled with broader questions of creative identity, particularly in light of the OGL crisis which saw a large influx of newer players into the movement actively migrating from the WoTC-owned game. Marcia B.’s The OSR Should Die: Basic Edition (featured in K!5) challenged the movement’s reliance on nostalgia, calling for more original and forward-thinking design. This perspective suggests that any new “Appendix” should not merely replicate Appendix N but serve as a living document, one that evolves alongside the movement itself. Taking stock of the works that inspired the dawn of RPGs while actively seeking out fresh, relevant fiction will better demonstrate the movement’s community-driven approach. This in turn encourages a path that leads back to the old-school game and the wealth of material modern creators continue to introduce to cater towards it.

---

1 Brian Murphy, Flame and Crimson: A History of Sword-and-Sorcery (Pulp Hero Press, 2020), 219.^↩

2 Dimitra Nikolaidou, “Spelling With Dice: The Role of Dungeons & Dragons in Contemporary Speculative Fiction,” Wyrd Science Vol. 1, Iss. 6 (2024), originally published in Fifty Years of Dungeons & Dragons, ed. Premeet Sidhu et al., (The MIT Press, 2024).^↩

3 Gary Gygax, “The influence of J. R. R. Tolkien on the D&D® and AD&D® games: Why Middle Earth is not part of the game world,” Dragon Iss. 95 (1985), 12-13.^↩

4 Ibid.^↩
5 Erik Mona et al., "The 30 Greatest Adventures of All Time," Dungeon no. 116 (November 2004): 34–45.^↩

Appendicitis: Burning Your Media Backlog for Adventure Fuel

I have GOT to read
Book of the New Sun, dude.
(art from FloatingDisc on reddit)

I have two wants competing for my free time: the desire to finally get to those movies, shows, books, and games I’ve been meaning to dive into, and the itch to create something gameable for my next night at the table. More often than not, this results in me doing neither. There’s so much potential creative fuel in the inspirational appendices of my favorite game systems that deciding where to start (and when) becomes its own form of paralysis.

I’ve experimented with using Kyle Latino and Kenny Webb’s excellent AGNOSTIC: TTRPG Prep Method as a way of dragging unread books into my hobby space, and it works very well at what it sets out to do. However, its reliance on physical stacks of books (however satisfyingly tactile) makes it harder to account for the rest of my media backlog; video games, graphic novels, films, shows, and other works all technically live elsewhere but still occupy the same mental shelf.

What follows is a modified approach to randomized adventure creation with a narrower goal: turning whatever you’ve been meaning to consume into immediately usable adventure material, without requiring completion, mastery, or, perhaps most importantly, guilt.

Step 1: Create a Source List

Create one list using one of the following prompts. You may repeat this process later to create additional lists, but you only use one list at a time when running the procedure.

Roll a d6 or choose:

1. d4 works from outside the genre of your game system (think Expedition to the Barrier Peaks)

2. d6 works from different media types (e.g. poem, video game, adventure module, film, TV episode, etc.)

3. d8 works recommended by friends or internet strangers

4. d10 works taken from any RPG’s list of inspirations/acknowledgements

5. d12 works that come to mind immediately, without looking anything up

6. d20 works from twenty different creators (no repeats)

Each entry must be a specific work, not a franchise or genre. Once the list is written, do not edit it. Note: don't roll the die size when creating the list, use the maximum result for how many to write down.

Step 2: The Six Questions

You will answer the following six questions to form the basis of an adventure. Start with any question.

1. Purpose: Why is the party here?

2. Place: Where does the adventure occur?

3. Persons: Who will be met during the adventure?

4. Problem: What obstacles or complications are faced?

5. Prize: What is gained or at stake?

6. Peculiarity: What secret, connection, or strange history exists here?

For each question, roll on your source list to select a work. You may roll the same work multiple times across different questions.

Step 3: Where You’re Allowed to Look

After selecting a work for a question, roll a d6 to determine where the answer must come from:

1. A randomly selected page, scene, panel, level, or equivalent

2. The first half of the work

3. Someone else’s review, commentary, or direct explanation

4. An image, map, diagram, or music piece associated with the work

5. A synopsis or summary

6. The title, cover, prologue, epilogue, or other story framing material

You may paraphrase, but you may not invent something whole cloth. Do not look elsewhere in the work. If the result seems unhelpful, write it down anyway and interpret it minimally.

Step 4: Synthesis

Once all six questions are answered, revisit any questions answered insufficiently, then use meaningful dungeon and adventure construction tools to translate the results into playable material. In particular, this procedure pairs well with:

• Arnold K’s Dungeon Checklist (K!1)
• Sersa Victory’s Cyclic Dungeon Generation (K!5)
• Josh McCrowell and Warren D.’s Designing Dungeons

Use those tools to produce and arrange locations, monsters, traps, and rewards. The media sources provide content whereas the procedures above provide structure, ya dig?

The intent of this method is not to extract the absolute “best” idea from your backlog, but to extract an idea or two and move on. If it helps you kill two kobolds with one crysknife and rescue Vault 13, or finally stop scrolling long enough to make something playable, then it’s doing its job. Plus, nothing is stopping you from going back to revisit something that made you think "hey, I think I like this a lot and I am going to give this some more attention."

d10 List of Lists (to flesh out your burn pile)

1. Moldvay’s Inspirational Source Material from B/X D&D

2. Hugo Awards by Year

3. Everything covered by Exits Examined

4. Appendix E from the 5e PHB

5. NPR's "Your Picks: Top 100 Science-Fiction, Fantasy Books"

6. ISFDB's Highest Rank Titles of All Time

7. The Saturn Awards Past Winners

8. ENNIE Award Winners

9. Ursula K. Le Guin's "A Book that Changed My Life"

10. DM It All's D&D Walkthroughs Playlist

KNOCK!-off #1.4

"I don’t like blogs. They're pompous, self-indulgent,
and irritating... and no one reads them."

Further research has yielded a reddit post on r/OSR that actually provides an excellent link tree for the various contributions to KNOCK! #1, so just go look at that instead of my section headers. 

NAMING MY GAME by Ben Milton

What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet

- (Stolen by Shakespeare from Team Rocket, if you didn't know)

There's a certain prestige that comes with popularizing the term by which we call a category or phenomena, and everyone is going to have an opinion on why their answer is best. I recently read a good chunk of Brian Murphy's Flame and Crimson: A history of sword-and-sorcery wherein the first six or so pages of chapter 5 are dedicated to the witherto's and whyfor's of naming of the literary subgenre. There were many arguments offered as to why it came about and it was all very researched on the part of the author, but as a reader, it frankly did little to keep me engaged.

As long as we all generally know what we're talking about, we can call it whatever. It may even help to wait for the dust to settle before declaring it as anything definitive. Spoiler alert: KNOCK! editors may very well be in the same boat; Marcia B's the OSR Should Die is featured in K!5 with an affirmative editor's note.

EXPOSE YOUR PREP by Chris McDowall

Alright, Chris cooked with this one. This piece is a few crisp bullet points of what to show your players for being good, attentive noodles, and I agree with practically all of it.

EXPOSE THE MAP - I hate having to draw rooms as they are discovered, and I detest the idea of trusting a player to accurately draw it out as described. There are some online tools that help with this, but that defeats the reason for having the maps conveniently drawn out for you by many modules ahead of time. I am very lazy when it comes to giving my players eye candy because I am quite busy as it is doing my NPC voices and answering the same question several times when it comes to descriptions. If the players are emotionally dependent on a grid (or NPC portrait for that matter), let them have it. They'll come crawling back to you anyway to learn what each of the rooms actually look like.

EXPOSE THE NPCS - My subtle cue for whether or not I want my players to engage further with an NPC to learn their motives, abilities, relationships, etc. is doing a voice for them. I make it distinct from my normal speaking tone so that they are clued into the fact that I am putting extra effort into this particular character. My NPCs also generally stray into George Lucas dialogue territory so nothing gets lost in translation. The more they talk, the more I rat out to the players. I'll be damned before I let anyone roll an Insight check (or equivalent) to figure out if someone is lying to them.

EXPOSE THE FUTURE - Communicate consequences. It's out of your hands after that.

EXPOSE THE TABLES - I had never thought about this one before, honestly. It may actually be even more fun to let the players roll on it since they already see the odds (and they have no one to blame but themselves). Now, this may only apply to tables that serve as resource taxes as opposed to storytelling ones (see previous post on Bryce Lynch's thoughts on random tables) as to not over-divulge, but I think the point is still salient for communicating the likelihood of any given encounter.

EXPOSE THE MECHANICS - While the advice is specifically tied to one of Chris' games, it is still entirely applicable to other... adventure games. The purpose of the flexible rule structures in old-school systems is to cater towards the eventuality that both the players and GM will stray into uncharted rule-waters. As such, your players may feel strongly about the perceived fairness or applicability of your rulings, so if you are genuinely just making stuff up, might as well be honest about it. If you've given it some thought about how to rule it, demonstrate to the players that you made an honest attempt to gameify the process.

ENCOURAGE SCHEMING by Chris McDowall

"PLOTS FOR THE PLOT GOD! SCHEMES FOR THE SCHEME THRONE!" as the kids say.

Chris enumerates some flavorful examples of how to enable the players to create a plan to solve a problem aside from brute forcing their way through it; players need time, tools, and reliable information to make the decisions required to solve a problem.

Granted, I believe I heard this from Ben Milton at some point, but something that is unspoken here is the fact that the way you would solve a problem isn't the way the players might try to do the same. Relinquish the pride you have in your clearly superior intellect for a moment and explain the consequences to players should their version of the plan fail, but assume that there is still a solid chance of it succeeding if they make an attempt to account for a wide number of variables. It's even alright for you to create problems that you wouldn't even know how to start solving yourself and letting players surprise you with an answer. Affording PCs the opportunity to be cool and tell a good story is more or less the point of the experience, right?

Why Setting HIGH STAKES Matters by Sean McCoy

Sean delineates a perception issue that I have been trying to highlight as a throughline in my writing this whole time: the players are accountable for the type of game they want to experience. Attachment to characters is earned as opposed to given, and fail states (including death) ensure that consequences for that attachment is genuine.

If the basis of stories is conflict/resolution and TTRPGS are a medium to try more or less anything in the pursuit of telling a story, it is both cheap and purposeless to handwave away additional ramifications arising from decisions made in its telling. Let stuff that happens matter, because otherwise the "happening" doesn't. The power and allure of these games diminish in the absence of repercussions. There is a difference between challenging/inviting someone to participate in the story and making them straight up uncomfortable, but to truly live vicariously through our hallucinated avatars, we must accept their mortal foibles and capabilities in equal measure.

---

I got all of those responses to my gygaxian-democratized table of d20 Pixie Tribes, and it doesn't get accepted to KNOCK! itself, I'll publish it here with credits.

The Children Yearn for the Old-School: Friendslop Games as an Extension of OSR Game Design

Screenshot from an upcoming co-op horror game,
YAPYAP. I'm excited for this one.

I have a small cadre of friends that meets on Wednesdays over Discord, ostensibly to play whatever TTRPG suits our fancy (currently Star Borg), but also to play video games if someone doesn't show or if no one is prepped. What I find interesting about the latter activity is that it typically feels like a natural extension of the first most of the time. We play games like Phasmophobia, R.E.P.O, PEAK, and Lethal Company, mostly because they are easy to pick up and encourage us to work together instead of against one another. However, I think the why actually runs a little deeper than that.

Perhaps because I drifted into the OSR rather than being steeped in it for many years, I can't help but notice that these community-styled "friendslop" games offer a deliberate experience that is similar in many ways to their analogue counterparts. The core gameplay loop is effectively the same, and how players engage with it is conceptually identical. Setting aside ever-popular shooters, MOBAs, and MMOs, I think the increased visibility of this genre points to a broader convergence of design priorities rather than a simple trend: a shared interest in player-driven problem solving, improvisation, and social play that the Old-School style has emphasized for decades.

Some of the subheadings below are lifted straight from the preface of TMM published adventures such as Nightmare Over Ragged Hollow and The Horrendous Hounds of Hendenburgh, but they stem conceptually from foundational OSR texts like the Principia Apocrypha. The intent here is not to claim direct influence, but to show how similar assumptions about play recur across media.

Decision making as the core player experience

When you join a lobby of Lethal Company, your crew selects a moon to visit in order to recover items, with the option to purchase supplies from a terminal beforehand. Once you have arrived, there is no set path to reach the target facility, and there are multiple entrances. Someone can also stay aboard the ship to monitor player positions, identify hostiles, or open doors.

At each of these stages, there are a plethora of interesting decisions to make. Do we buy everyone flashlights, or save our money for better gear later? Should we go in through the front, or try the back door first? Do we need more people inside to help carry loot, or can someone stay on the ship to guide us?

While there are clear objectives in this style of game like overcoming a discrete obstacle or recovering a certain amount of loot, how players approach the problem is intentionally vague, informed by group decision making and available resources. There is practically no difference between this method and old-school dungeon crawling. If gold is equal to XP, players must gear up and devise a plan to recover as much as possible while still getting out alive. In both cases, player skill is expressed through judgment, coordination, and "the gear they carry" (Ben Milton, Knave 2e) rather than mechanical optimization.

Open, dynamic environments / Absence The opacity of 'game balance'

Procedural or randomized generation is a favorite feature of many of these games, making them more interesting to replay and presenting a fresh challenge on each run. The unpredictability and variety of environments make them engaging in a way that scratches the itch of improvised strategy. In PEAK, for example, there are expected aspects of each biome, but it cannot be predicted which biomes will appear on a given run, nor what quantity or quality of supplies will be found along the way. Players are forced to operate with imperfect information, reinforcing decision-centric play while making the world feel genuinely dangerous.

The game may become more difficult as players progress, much in the same way that classic dungeons become more perilous as PCs descend to deeper levels, but very few interactions (if any) are scripted to occur in a fixed way. While these systems like spawn rates or behaviors are certainly tuned under the hood, danger is not calibrated to player capability at that moment; obstacles and enemies do not meaningfully "scale." They are capable of dealing out setbacks and death regardless of when they are encountered, but they also can be defeated by prudent assessment and recall. Areas are not gated by level requirements, but a lack of resources, information, or imagination can still prevent ill-prepared players from accessing them. This attitude of “sure, you can try that, it just might not go well” aligns closely with how OSR systems expect adventuring parties to engage with the group hallucination.

Quick character creation

Gather a group, establish a plan, grab the basics, and head into the adventure zone. Am I describing Shadowdark or R.E.P.O.? Both, really. There are no opening cutscenes or elaborate backstories to sit through. You might change the color of your shirt or the combination of simple starting equipment you bring, but getting into the game itself is a cinch.

As with many OSR systems, the stories that matter are not written beforehand. They emerge through play, while the party is in the dungeon, reacting to threats, making bad decisions, and occasionally surviving them. Character is revealed through action, not exposition or explicit lore.

The golden rule of play

Regardless of the title or medium, the point of "friendslop" is to spend time with people and enjoy a shared experience together. The fact that this experience is mediated through digital assets rather than a collective imagination does not cheapen the memories produced through play. These games largely reject leaderboards, KDA ratios, and other forms of external validation in favor of moments that are meaningful primarily or even entirely to the people present.

When asked why these games feel different from a AAA battle royale or a certain heavily authored RPG sold across multiple console generations, you can bet that players will give answers that mirror those of tabletop gamers, especially those operating in the OSR tradition. The appeal lies not in spectacle or progression, but in shared problem solving and the stories that emerge from it.

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Much in the same way that dialogue between literature and TTRPGs is ongoing, games across media are constantly iterating on one another’s ideas, consciously or not. Developers are strengthened by broadening their horizons and translating successful principles across formats. Whatever overlap already exists between OSR design and indie co-op darlings, that overlap is not accidental. Both come from a desire for flexible, player-driven experiences that respect time, intelligence, and social play; in my opinion, this Venn diagram becoming a circle shows that this style of play has enduring, meaningful qualities... and I want to see more. At their best, both OSR games and their digital cousins are not about power fantasies, but about shepherding funny little guys through hostile spaces and seeing what stories get shaken loose.

KNOCK!-off #1.3

A recently acquired Peter Mullen original,
Caravansary (yippie!)

What Kids’ RPGs are Missing by Ben Milton

What are TTRPGs but make-believe with dice? Slipping into the role of a character as a kid (as I recall) was pretty easy, be it Batman or Ash Ketchum or whoever. I mean, this is really dumb, but during our school aftercare program, a bunch of us would recreate episodes of Total Drama Island (bascially a cartoon Survivor parody) by deciding on a competitive game to play as teams, and then we'd vote someone off of the island (they became the next game host).

Kids are imitative; they don't want to pretend to be kids pretending to do something, they want to pretend to do something. They might not have the emotional tools or experience to fully inhabit the mindset of character, but they can remember what they have seen that character doing or saying, and when in doubt, they'll just do that. It usually works, actually.

As Ben puts it, "kids... can smell condescension a mile away," so why sugarcoat games for them? I mean, don't be weird and include stuff they don't need to be thinking about, but don't make it a walk in the park either.

Wandering Monsters should have a purpose in wandering around by Bryce Lynch

This piece was originally posted on RPG Geek in 2014 under a different title on my birthday of all days. Spooky. Anyway, I'm going to break this down paragraph by paragraph since each one contains a worthy nugget worth exploring. 

Firstly, Bryce starts with the thesis that a wandering monster table should inspire or be cut. He's right in that one as simple as the included example can be pulled from basically anywhere if the monsters are simply a mechanism to tax the party. It's no different than a trap with a timer, really. I think this taxing element is important for impressing a sense of time passing upon players, but considering that players need to be able to make decisions based on what information is presented to them, it's a missed opportunity that they are to be assailed by an enemy that seems to have no other purpose than being a nonce.

Secondly, Bryce asserts that monsters should be doing something rather than waiting to attack. Correct. The ecology of a dungeon doesn't need to be realistic, but it needs to be logical. Monsters aren't in a dungeon because they don't want players to get the loot... that's too meta to admit. They have a goal or purpose outside of the PCs on a spectrum of complexity. Being hungry is fine as a baseline.

Thirdly, as hinted at earlier, these encounters are a chance to reveal information about the adventure that players can act upon. Even if they are docked some hit points for their trouble, players have an opportunity to make a better decision on how to risk their remaining ones if they learn something new from the encounter.

Finally, don't mistake detail for purpose. If what they are doing and why they might be doing it are not immediately apparent or able to be pieced together, there's not a lot of point in describing it. If we establish that monsters have goals, we don't need to write a book about what they are, just seat them so that they are in a position to accomplish them in whatever area they are rolled up in.

A scratchy unnamed random encounter table by Nobboc serves as an apparent expansion to this piece, demonstrating an application of activities that monsters might be engaged in with short, punchy descriptions. Now, if I were a gelatinous cube, I might be (1) attempting to mate with spilled jelly rations (2) trying to squeeze through a grate to shed undigestible treasure (3) slowly pulling in another dungeon denizen (roll another encounter) or (4) internally puppeteering a partly digested skeleton.

Hit Dice ARE MEANT TO BE ROLLED by Eric Nieudan

Unfortunately, Eric's original blogpost has been lost in the waters of Oblivion, but he did make a take two which is still available. I'll stick to evaluating the contents of this piece since, well, it's in KNOCK!, and the other one decidedly isn't.

Eric basically postulates that if PCs used a number of hit dice equal to their level (with the size of the dice corresponding to their class) instead of hit points, there's a number of ways that we could incorporate rolling into the mechanics of the game other than for HP maximums.

Hit Dice as a Soak Mechanic - Roll a hit die to try beating incoming damage with the result to negate it. Failure results in losing the die, and no remaining dice means death/dying. This changes up the math of PC survivability significantly. For instance, all level one characters can take one hit that goes through before biffing it, which isn't too far off-base, but martial classes have a much higher chance of simply not going down when taking a hit because of their higher die. If a character uses a d4, rule as written, 4 damage will automatically down you. You have no higher chance of potentially beating the damage at higher levels either, you can just take more hits. That said, this mechanic can basically be read as "you can take a number of hits equal to your level with a chance of ignoring smaller hits according to your hit die size." At that point there isn't even really a need to roll for monster damage, just players rolling a die to see if they ignore damage. I'd phrase it like "if you roll higher than a 3 on your hit die, you do not lose a hit die" if that's what we're doing. It's not a bad system, but I think it dramatically shifts high-volume monster attacks to being more dangerous than high-damage single attacks which might unintentionally nerf some beasties.

Hit Dice as a Free Pool - This is a refinement of the above system by allowing players to contribute additional dice to prevent damage. However, these dice are discarded anyway, and if you run out, any damage taken at zero hit dice is lethal. Additionally, if a roll is failed, subtract the hit dice roll result from the damage total and cross-reference with a table to indicate the type of injury sustained. This fixes my previous critique on high-volume vs high-damage attacks by factoring in the damage taken, but the system overall just kind of sucks for players to track overall, I think. Sacrificing hit dice is a real catch 22, and does nothing to streamline something they already know: don't take damage, it's bad for you. The fixed damage rate is also just kind of lame, in my opinion. I thought the whole point of this exercise was to roll more dice.

Hit Dice as Stamina - Now we're drifting into heroic fantasy by allowing players to alter checks/saves with hit dice, with a smart caveat that only the highest result of one of any rolled counts. Additionally, "fighty" classes can expend hit dice to increase damage. This latter point makes more sense than the rest of the rule to me if it applies to melee or non-bow missile attacks (javelins, throwing daggers, slings, etc.). I would be tempted to tinker with this one, perhaps refining it so that they take disadvantage on d20 rolls if they run out of hit dice since this isn't specified in the rule here. I don't mind meta currency if it doesn't break immersion, so this one isn't too bad.

Hit Dice as Risk Dice - This is just modded usage dice from The Black Hack. It's a good option. I'd rather have characters use this die as a tweaked doom die from The Black Sword Hack instead of damage, similar to the previous stamina mechanic.

Death, Dying and Healing: a Sliding Scale - A logical extension of the above systems and how to recover hit dice. Works well enough if incorporated.

I think I'm most impressed by the stamina mechanic as a class-agnostic way of reincorporating the act of rolling hit die as physical labor, giving a little extra firepower to our poor, unfortunate non-spellcaster/non-stealy characters without necessarily depriving the sneaky, smarty wimps of the backline. I think I'll try using this with 1 hit die recovered per rest next time I'm running a B/X-esque game.

20 Gunpowders by Eric Nieudan, et al.

It doesn't seem like there's a formal (or at least accessible) origin for the term "Gygaxian democracy," and searches keep pointing me towards an unrelated yet interesting piece by Prismatic Wasteland on incorporating democracy into fantasy settings. If I had to define it in a way more substantial than KNOCK!'s footnote, it'd be:

A collaborative design effort to produce gameable material for TTRPGs.

I think the keyword here is "gameable" since that is what makes it Gygaxian as opposed to generically collaborative. To this end, the gunpowders included here have unique usages and consequences if it happens to suit your table to both (a) use gunpowder at all and (b) make it slightly more complicated to use. Throwing my hat in the ring, I'd suggest "Glowpowder" which causes muzzles and anything struck to glow with the intensity of a candle for 1d4 turns after firing due to the residue. Firing again during this period has a cumulative 2-in-6 chance of causing the glow to intensify to the level of a torch for the remaining time.

I started fishing for responses to my own d20 table of Pixie Tribes in the KNOCK! discord to keep the tradition alive. I hope the contributors would agree to submitting the final table to a future issue.