The following is the rough, broad strokes history for my new D&D 3.5 campaign, which should start in the next couple of weeks.

My next 'blog post will be game rule specific. This one is all fluff.

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For uncounted generations, the nation clans of the Isle Alvoran traded and warred amongst themselves (and occasionally with the mountain dwarves of the west and more rarely the elves of the nearby Verdani Isle). Though in many ways rustic and backward, with herding and warring their chief livelihoods, the Alvorani were a proud and fierce race of Men, unfettered by the bonds of more civilized nations. It was their constant struggles that earned their isle its name, for the rare explorers, sages and traders who came to Alvoran saw only innumerable tiny nations locked in eternal struggle with one another over the right to be called king of a stretch of pasture or a copse of wood.

Chief among these visitors were the Aurelians, sophisticated and technologically advanced, interested in Alvoran primarily as a curiosity, even a quaint vacation spot. the first Aurelian visitors were sent by the Aurelian Court to explore the edges of the known world. A few traders and scholars followed. If not but for two events, Alvoran would likely have stayed forever a vague outline on Aurelian maps of the world, barely worth the mentioning. The first event was the discovery by the Aurelians of the dwarves, who kept usually within their mountain halls, alternately battling trolls and goblins and mining precious metals. it was this last that caught the Aurelians' attention. When an Aurelian trader sold arms to an Alvorani chieftain whose tribe traded with the dwarves, the chieftain paid not in the customary bushels of wheat or head of cattle, but cold hard silver coin. At the same time, trouble brewed in Aurel, the capital of that great civilization. In the course of three days and nights, democracy was given way to dictatorship and the First Emperor of Aurel crowned himself on the blood soaked steps of the venerable Aurelian Court.

Immediately, trade and exploration gave way to conquest and the Aurelian Empire extended its talons in all directions in search of slaves and tribute. When word of the vast wealth of the dwarves reached the First Emperor, legions were dispatched to Alvoran. Would that it had been so easy. The mountainside fortresses of the dwarves were impenetrable, and mere watchtowers besides: the true fortresses of the dwarves were dug deep into the mountains. These same mountains served as a bulwark against the Aurelian aggression, claiming as many legionnaires' lives as dwarvish axes and bolts. The dwarves even used their traditional enemies as unwitting allies, allowing the goblins, trolls and worse to win a few outposts which led inevitably the Aurelian lines.

For thirty years the Aurelian Governor-General threw his forces against the mountains, using every artifice of man and magic he could summon, to no avail. However, during those years, the Aurelians became the de facto rulers of the Isle of a Thousand Kings, for the constant skirmished between and attacks by the Alvoran tribesmen distracted the already overextended Aurelian armies. Finally, the First Emperor recalled his Governor-General (to a cruel fate, no doubt) and replaced him with a more moderate Governor who set immediately about the dual tasks of securing trade agreements with the dwarves and "civilizing" the Alvorani tribal nations. For the dwarves' part, they could hardly see the harm in accepting the money of those whose pride they had already taken and became staunch allies and trading partners with the Aurelian Empire, if not friends. The Alvorani were not so quick to accept the Aurelians, since for them the Aurelians offered little more than a yoke, but in the end it was Aurelian diplomacy that won out: equal parts threat, promise and manipulation. So it was that for two hundred years Alvoran was an occupied state of the Aurelian Empire.

During this time, the Aurelians introduced to the Alvorani their culture, technology and faith. Prior to the arrival of the Aurelians, the Alvorani worshipped a convoluted pantheon of pagan deities, nature spirits and demons, all under the guidance of their priest-judge Druids. By comparison, the Aurelian faith was elegant and sophisticated, the Heavenly Triad of the Sun (law and strength), the Moon (necessary change and reliable cycles) and the Stars (death and the unfeeling, ever watchful cosmos). To the Alvoran people, it was both simplistic and unsettling. All would have been well, with the two faiths living side by side, save that the Fourth Emperor of Aurel was also the first Holy-Emperor of Aurel, a priest risen to supreme station. His first commandment was that Aurelian client peoples the world over be converted to the worship of the Heavenly Triad, by the sword if necessary. The destroying of shrines, slaughtering of druids and conversions by torture perpetrated by the overzealous Paladins of Aurel led to the first Alvoran Uprising. Within three years, however, the Holy One was laid low by plague (for which a great many priesthoods throughout Aurelian controlled lands took credit) and his successor, the first Empress of Aurel, gave the Triad only lip service. Some persecution remained as a useful tool, but otherwise Alvoran returned to its state of uneasy peace between occupier and occupied.

It must be noted that throughout these two centuries the Aurelians attempted to use Alvoran as a launch point into conquest of Verdani Isle. They were rebuffed each time by the power of elven magic, netting the Aurelians little more than casualties and some few elven slaves. It was the willfulness and beauty of elven women that inspired many of these raids disguised as invasions (for how could any commander have believed they would truly gain a foothold on the elven isle), as well as elven mystical secrets that were sometimes found among the burning ruins of elven seaside fortresses. In the end, no Aurelian settlement was ever established on the shores of Verdani Isle and with very rare exception the only elves found among the Alvorani or Aurelians were slaves or the half breed offspring of Aurelians and elves. Strangely, at least to the minds of the Aurelians, the elves have never launched a counter assault against Alvoran, nor even attack the Aurelian ships while crossing the Straights of Verdani, as if all their power were held within the trees, rivers and stones of the isle itself.

Insolent tribal chieftains and druidic heresies were not the only problems faced by the Aurelians during this time. The northern highlands of the island were a rugged wilderness inhabited by ogres, giants, monstrous beasts and even dragons, as well as the savage human inhabitants whose violence and depravity made the Alvorani seem civilized by comparison. All occasionally raided the south even while the Aurelian legions pushed into the north in search of resources and lands. A century after landing, the legions made enough progress to hold the southern portion of the highlands and build the first Alvoran Wall stretching from coats to coat and ostensibly locking the monsters and barbarians behind it. Fifty years of war later a second Wall was built, opening the frontier to settlement and prospecting. It would not last, however, within two decades, the savages and monsters broke the second Wall and poured into the Frontier. Few managed to flee the razing of Aurelian homesteads and garrisons.

Meanwhile, the very foundations of the Aurelian Empire began to strain against constant expansion, war and seemingly ever more corrupt Emperors and Empresses. The Empire became indebted to foreign mercenaries, independent academies of wizards and even the church of the Triad at the core of the Empire itself. Over the years, fewer legions came to replace those lost in Alvoran and the local Alvorani began to fill in the ranks. By the time of the second Alvoran Wall, half of Aurelain legionnaires and a tenth of its commanders were either native Alvoran or half Alvorani and half Aurelian. The Aurelians even hired dwarven mercenaries to help the northward expansion, granting many citizen rights, if not status.

The end of Aurelian domination of Alvoran came suddenly. In the two hundredth and twenty second year of Aurelian rule, the Aurelian Empire exploded into civil war. The Lord Governor of Alvoran and the legions were called immediately back to Aurel. Their leaving, however, was not immediate. Word of the civil strife within the Aurelian Empire had reached Alvoran and Aurelian citizens, from craftsmen to soldiers to aristocrats, were divided. Upon the orders to return, the Aurelian occupiers quickly descended into infighting. The Aurelian civil war came to Alvoran. Alvorani dissidents, dwarven opportunists and northern savages all took advantage of the chaos and the Island was wracked by strife. In the end, half the legions and most aristocrats fled Alvoran. The rest, as well as many ordinary Aurelian citizens, remained behind to forge new lives on the Isle.

One aristocrat who remained, a general called Arturo, established himself as ruler of what remained of the Aurelian holdings of Alveron, which he christened Alvaurel. His first act was to free the slaves -- Alvorani and Aurelian alike -- and grant them citizenship, and act unprecedented in both its generosity and its shrewdness: newly made freemen, by and large, gave him their loyalty and since Aurelian law required all free men to serve in the legions, he shored up his weakened forces against the many enemies of the new Alvaurel.

It is now the 299th year of the Aurelian presence on Alvoran. Arturo is an old king, beset by enemies in a land littered with ruins and treasures of a crumbled empire. As Arturo awaits death, bereft of an heir, Alvoran has become again the Isle of a Thousand Kings. It is a new dawn, an new era, one still hot from the fires of war and able to be shaped by those willing to hammer it into form. But even as this new dawn rises, a darkness gathers, stormclouds off the coast of Alvoran in the form of dragon-headed long ships. A new enemy is coming, one bent on rapine and conquest...

Reynard

In many of our discussion about campaign and play style, we tend toward the opposite poles of linear Quests and open Sandboxes and the relative merits of each. In truth, however, is that most campaigns fall somewhere in between and even swing back and forth between these extremes throughout the life of the campaign. I have had linear campaigns jump the rails and open sandboxes get entrenched in a singualr storyline so as to become near railroads.Here, though, I'd like to examine the possibility of a perfect middle ground -- likely as elusive as either of the extreme ends, certainly, but still a viable thought experiement. I'll refer to it as QuestBoxing, mostly because I like the sound of it.

The QuestBox is essentially a sandbox setting or sub-setting, detailed to the same level of detail (or lack thereof, as your tastes dictate) but with the addition of a strong central storyline. This isn't simply an uber-situation (as situations are the basic building blocks of sandboxing), but an actual storyline, with a beginning, middle and end. But unlike a more traditional Quest campaign, the storyline inherent in the QuestBox is not linear, nor is its progression merely a function of PCs moving through it. Instead, each Act of the storyline is a circle, act one being in the center and each successive act a larger concentric circle. Within each act, smaller bubbles of encounters, subplots and triggers float fairly freely. It's these triggers, combined with the element of time, that define when the story moves from one act to the next. It's this element of inevitable progression that's important -- even if the PCs refuse to interact with the QuestBox, the story will occur. Of course, we'd prefer that they do interact with it, thereby changing the pace of the story's progression and having an impact on the form and ultimate conclusion of the story.

As stated, QuestBoxing first requires the DM to choose or create a viable "sandbox" setting. Here, "viable" means that it can support not only the greater QuestBox story to be told, but the PCs that are going to be interacting with both. This means, at its most basic level, that a QuestBox designed for Epic Level Characters (kill a dark god, or whatever) must be placed in a setting that will, eventually at least, support epic characters and their epic activities (hopefully without obviating less-than-epic PC and activities). I won't delve too deeply in the process of creating a sandbox, as I have done so in the past and there are many resources available regarding sandbox creation. Similarly, I won't go into the process of creating a "campaign story". The examples for this style of game are legion -- from Dragonlance to Age of Worms -- and is likely familiar to most D&D players.

Meshing these two seemingly opposed styles of play and setting/campaign design is the real key, and hopefully I will be able to do so by way of example. Note that I am "thinking out loud" as I write this, so feel free to comment and criticize. I am more interested in finding the QuestBox than preserving my idea of what it would be or protecting the idea (and my ego in the process) that I am about to present. Note also that I am likely to use terminology from multiple editions interchangeably and likely incorrectly -- you'll have to bear with me as I have not quite married myself to any of the half dozen gems that are known as D&D.

For my example I will use of the most well worn tropes in fantasy: the Dark Lord bent on domination. Just as personal preference, I will put the ultimate battle with this villain in the upper-mid levels, as opposed to the near epic: more Witch King of Angband than Sauron himself. As such, the setting will be more regional and setting elements will avoid the truly powerful, primarily to preserve the Dark lord as the ultimate threat. It certainly wouldn't do for the Final battle to be anti-climactic compared to their slaying of a god or similarly epic feat.

It's important to develop the setting to the point that it can be comfortably called a "sandbox". Whether purchased or home brewed, the setting needs people, places and things with which to interact independent of the QuestBox story. Not only does this ensure a great deal of freedom for the PCs (remember, despite the presence of our greater storyline, we are trying to preserve sandbox style play) it will allow us to see how the greater story will unfold absent of the PCs' involvement (which in turn helps figure out how the PCs' involvement will affect the storyline). We can assume $40 and a couple weeks, or $0 and six months have passed and we've got our setting, geographically the size of, say, the British Isles and situated politically and environmentally squarely in D&D meta-setting territory.

The story of our Dark Lord will be laid out something like this:

Prologue- The Dark Lord Grows: This is prior to play beginning, where we decide where, when and how the Dark Lord has become an imminent threat. We decide what, exactly, the Dark Lord is and where the Dark Lord has connections, influence and physical presence in the setting. To keep with the cliches, our Dark Lord will be known as the Dread King, an ancient anti-paladin long thought dead but actually a death knight who has been biding his time and subtly building his army of undead and mortal cultists in preparation subjugate the free and living people of the region, which we'll call the White Isles. We go through our setting and determine which people, places and things will be tied up with the Dread King's plans -- what NPCs has he turned, what ruins has he made outposts, what organizations oppose him, and so on.

Act One- Poisoning the Well: The first part of the story, where traditionally information is passed and the larger conflict is established, begins at the start of play or shortly thereafter. Our triggering event will be the Dread Conjunction, a magical-celestial event that brings the real;ms of the living and the dead closer together. This is a "normal" event for the setting, a kind of "Night of the Eye" -- unusual, but not unexpected. What is unexpected (and secret) is that the Dread Conjunction gives the Dreak King that last little boost of power he needs to begin his domination of the White Isles. Throughout Act One, the Dread King's agents and followers begin paving the way for his hordes of the unliving. Righteous leaders are assassinated or otherwise removed from power, while corrupt ones are brought into the fold or destroyed. The region is destabilized by monster attacks and undead infestations, with sometimes seemingly random targets being not so random as the Dread King removes potential road blocks. As the PCs go about their regular adventuring business -- raid a tomb here, protect a village there, hunt down this McGuffin, defeat that bandit lord -- they'll be exposed to the Dreak King's machinations, and likely draw his attention (probably eventually fitting the description of "road block" soon enough). As it pertains to the idea of the QuestBox, the key here is to allow the PCs to engage the setting as they choose to, investigating or ignoring the Dread King as they see fit. Remember, the story unfolds regardless of the PCs' involvement in it, and it may get to Act Two or even Three before they decide to intervene. When the PCs do get involved, though, we have to keep careful notes about how, with whom or what, and what the results of their involvement was -- this information will be critical in determining how Acts Two and Three play out.

Act Two- The Enemy Revealed: Less any major influence by the PCs, the trigger for Act Two is simply time: the Dread King has removed enough obstacles and shored up enough allies to make his initial assault. PC action in Act One should be able to alter the timing and will certainly affect which obstacles have been removed and the like, but the Dread King's attack is as inevitable as the coming of winter (which sounds like perfect timing for a conqueror with legions that need neither food nor comfort). The opening volley is the complete and utter destruction of something big and important in our setting (perhaps a major fortress of good or a town or city central to the political stability of the region). The Dread King has not quite commenced marching millions of zombies, ghouls and wights across the White Isles -- that's Act Three -- but he's made his presence known and has begun subjugating and destroying. Act Two is generally where the minor conflicts take place while the protagonists get drawn deeper into the story. With the threat exposed, the PCs are forced into making a conscious choice regarding their involvement. If they choose now to actively oppose the Dread King, they'll begin exploring the QuestBox with that goal in mind, discovering those places where we buried secret weapons against the Dread King or his most valued lieutenants that can be removed from play prior to the endgame. If they remain ambivalent, however, the game does not come to a screeching halt. Their adventures in Act One probably opened a lot of doors for further adventure and even with the Dread King bearing down, some treasure filled ruins or pirate filled ports will remain relatively untouched. But again, it is a decision and one with consequences. Act Two sees bastions of hope and life destroyed or corrupted and more and more of the White Isles falling under the pall of the Dread King. We lay out a map of his spreading domination and draw up a time line of when good forces fall, neutral ones flee and evil ones submit. Each one of these is a potential adventure hook, but even if not they still serve as background elements that remind the players that their characters are living in a world under siege. All of this leads to Act Three, many of the details of which will depend heavily upon the PCs actions or inaction.

Act Three- Dawn of the Dread: There are many possible triggers for Act Three -- the PCs are heavily invested in the story and bring the fight to the Dread King himself, the PCs uncover a powerful weapon against the Dread King and force his hand, or simply that the PCs have stood by (or even joined!) while the Dread King's agents prepared the White Isles for decimation -- but they all come to the same point: the Dread King launches himself fully against the White Isles, a tidal wave of undead and other vile things set to the singular goal of complete domination of the land and its people. We lay out the path of the Million Monster March as it crushes one fortress or city after another, making note of which forces oppose the Dread King and which ally or submit and build ourselves a road map to the end of the White Isles. Now, even the most disinterested of parties must get involved: there's nowhere left in the setting untouched by the Dread King's power. It is possible, of course, that the PCs will simply leave for greener pastures, which either ends the campaign or instigates such a paradigm shift that it is essentially a new campaign (with a death knight ruled land of the dead as a major world-setting component). More likely, the PCs will be there to at least witness the final victory of either light or darkness, and hopefully deeply involved in such. But in any case, our road map allows us to keep running the game however they wish to play it.

Now, obviously, there are many details missing from the above description. Some of these details will be best developed prior to play (or at least player involvement), and some will be better if they spring forth from play (this is particularly true of NPCs and their relationship to the overall story, since betrayals, redemptions and the like are wasted if not attached to an NPC the PCs care about). But this fact is I think the strength of this idea in that it attempts to get the best of both worlds.

Reynard

What to Include, and Not

The real meat of the encounter chart isn't probabilities, but content. Deciding what to place on en encounter chart is an exercise in world building, even if that world consists of nothing more than Level Three of the Dungeon of Doom.

Start by returning to your scope. What does the encounter chart cover? What's likely to be found there? What's most likely to be found there? Least, but still possible? Don't forget the larger scope, either. Even if the Black River Valley is a discrete location, it still exists in the context of a greater world.

Creatures and NPC types are the most obvious elements to include in en encounter chart. What predators prowl the wilderness? What nobles attend the Queen's Ball? What races convene at the Grand Bazaar? What sort of monstrosities appear on the Night of Many Eyes? But do not limit yourself to creatures and NPCs. Are there ruins in the wasteland? Are there traps in the deep dungeon levels? Are there strange magics afoot at the Guild Convention?

Every entry you include in the encounter chart says something about the scope, and therefore the overall campaign setting. They also speak to your preferences and should speak to the preferences of your players (assuming you are designing the encounter charts for a game with regular players well known to you). Try filling out an encounter chart quickly, off the cuff and on instinct, then examine what you included and what you did not include. Are your encounters cliched? based on media you enjoy? Are there too many of the same type, or are they too random? This little exercise allows you a peak inside your own DMing style and preferences, which in and of itself is a valuable tool.

Be sure to include both “positive” and “negative” encounters. If your encounter charts are stocked solely with enemies, you may find that your players refuse to travel off the beaten path (especially if the possibility of an encounter is relatively high). If your encounter charts include too many benevolent or helpful elements, the players may be lulled into a sense of security, false or otherwise, that leads to apathy – or worse, bad feelings when the hammer finally falls. Find a balance based on the tone of your campaign as well as the nature of the scope. Even the most horrid haunted forest might have a druid protector, and even the most benevolent temple of a good deity might have a corrupt priest.

Equally important as what to include, but often harder to determine, is what not to include. Obviously, you don't want to include elements that seem out of place or break verisimilitude (unless you have a reason for doing so). Depending on how you run the game, you also might want to avoid including elements that are either too weak or too powerful for the average PC likely to explore the scope. Here again the art trumps the science and experimentation and intuition are your best guides. However, there are two kinds of elements you never want to include on an encounter chart.

1)Never include an element the PCs absolutely must encounter: Even if you give that element a 99% chance of occurring, the fact is that dice are fickle and it is possible that the element will never come up on the die roll. if your adventure or meta-plot requires the PCs encounter a person, place or thing, make that Noun a certain encounter. The when and where might be random, but never leave it wholly to chance.
2)Never include an element you do not want the PCs to encounter: As above, probabilities are funny. The moment you give a “TPK” or “Monty Haul” encounter a 1% chance of occurring, you can bet that it is going to be the first one to come up on the dice. or, at least, you should assume so and excise the thing from your encounter chart. The kind of element that should “never” be encountered is so dependent on the particulars of a campaign and group that there's little advice to give aside from this: if you think it would be a bad idea, just don't do it.

Examples

Following are three examples of encounter charts, created based on the guidelines presented above. feel free to steal and modify them, or use them as inspiration. Even feel free to take them as examples of terrible encounter chart design, relative to your own preferences and play style. For reasons of time and space, I have not included all the subtables referenced in the following encounter charts.

The Wytchwood
The Wytchwood is a fairly straightforward terrain based encounter chart. The wood itself is an arm of a greater primeval forest inhabited by fey, elves and things darker still, but much younger. Centuries ago, the area of the Wytchwood was cleared and the rich and powerful of some lost civilization built their villas and private keeps in the area. After the civilization fell, the forest reclaimed the land, but the Wytchwood was never quite the same. Perhaps that elder civilization left behind something dark and forbidden that still infects the land?

Chance of Encounter: 1 in 6 every 4 hours.
Roll 3d6:
3: Green Dragon (roll on age subtable)
4: Druid, evil (level 4d4) and animal companion
5: Dark Fey/faeries (roll on Dark Fey/faeries subtable)
6: Carnivorous Plant (roll on Carnivorous Plant subtable)
7: NPC adventuring party (roll on NPC adventure party subtable)
8: Vermin (roll on Vermin subtable)
9: Ruins (roll on Ruins subtable)
10: Suitable campsite
11: Ruins (roll on Ruins subtable)
12: Animal (roll on Animal subtable)
13: Dire Animal (roll on dire animal subtable)
14: 2d4 Elf Rangers (level 2d4; leader level +2)
15: Centaurs (3d4 in number; leader is ranger level 2d4+3)
16: Fey/faeries (roll on Fey/Faeries subtable)
17: Druid, good (level 4d4) and animal companion
18: Natures guardian (roll on Nature's Guardian Subtable)

The Evermines
The Evermines is a massive underground dungeon comlex on the scale of Moria from the Lord of the Rings: too big to be mapped and stocked like a traditional dungeon. The assumption is that certain areas would be prepared normally, but areas between would be more akin to wilderness travel and therefore encounter charts would make more sense. Note that in such an environment, encounters are based on time of travel, not just the passage of hours.

Chance of Encounter: 1 in 6 per 1 hour of travel. No encounter indicates empty and/or typical chambers and passages.

Roll 1d6 for location:
1: Straight hall
2: Hall with 90 degree angle
3: Hall with intersection (roll 1d4 for number of directions and 1d8 for each to determine direction)
4: Chamber, Small (2d4 units by 2d4 units; 1d3 exits – roll for direction; roll on Use subtable)
5: Chamber, Medium (4d4 units by 4d4 units; 1d6 exits – roll for direction; roll on Use subtable)
6: Chamber, Large (5d10 units by 5d10 units; 2d8 exits – roll for direction; roll on Use subtable)

Roll 1d6 for Encounter Type:
1: Monsters, Humanoid (roll on Monsters, Humanoid subtable)
2: Monsters, Other (roll on Monsters, Other subtable)
3: NPC party (roll on NPC party composition and motivation subtables)
4: Trap (roll on Trap subtable)
5: Feature (roll on Feature subtable)
6: Roll Twice; if another result is a 6, roll 3 times, etc...

The Dread Days
This encounter chart is based on a celestial event. Every year as the winter solstice approaches, the barrier between the world of the living and the world of the dead weakens. During the last 5 days of the year, when there are only a few hours of sunlight a day, the barriers falls completely and the underworld spills its denizens and energies into the living world. Use this encounter chart for night encounters only, no matter the environment the PCs are in at the time.

Chance of encounter: based on “normal environment”

Roll 2d6:
2: The Lord of the Dead – the PCs encounter Death himself walking the earth. There is a 10% chance +1% per character level the god takes interest in the PCs, otherwise, he ignores them unless attacked.
3: Dread Hunters: A group of 2d4+2 wraiths hunt those who have died but been returned to life. If any PC has been resurrected or otherwise raised, the wraiths attack.
4: Skeleton Army: 1d6x100 skeletons, raised from a nearby battlefield, killing all living things in their path.
5: Zombie Horde: 10d10 zombies, arisen from a local cemetary seek the flesh of the living.
6-8: Use usual encounter tables for area.
9: Unquiet Spirits: 5d4 ghosts of those killed unjustly wander the area, seeking retribution.
10: Champions in Death: 1d4 spirits of great heroes from the past seek to give their secrets and wisdom to the living heroes of the day. Roll 1d10 for alignment, from lawful good (1) to chatoic evil (9), with 10 meaning they have lost any sembelnce of alignment in their time in the underworld.
11: Requiem: randomly pick a PC. Roll 1d6: 1-3= an ancestor seeks out the PC to impart wisdom, 4-5=a more recently deceased loved one wishes to say goodbye, 6=an enemy seeks revenge from beyond the grave (treat as a ghost).
12: The Weigher of Scale: the god(ess) of justice in death appears. there is a 10% chance +1% per level he/she will take interest in the PCs and tell them “how they are doing” as it pertains to their inevitable time in the afterlife.

Reynard

The "random encounter" table is a long standing staple of D&D, injecting some uncertainty into play while at the same time serving as a window into the game's world (what kind of creatures live in the area? how common are they? etc...) But creating a good encounter table can be difficult. Too often, DMs and designers throw together a collection of creatures with little thought to how they might interact with the setting and one another, and fail to include setting elements that are otherwise pervasive. An encounter table is a "simulationist" construct, and as such requires more from the DM or designer than simply wondering what would be "fun" to fight between the "real" adventure scenes.

There are four basic issues at hand with a random encounter chart: what is the scope of the encounter chart, how likely is an encounter to occur, how likely should any encounter type be to occur and, most importantly, what kinds of encounters should be included. As these questions are answered, the encounter chart will take shape. Once it is complete, the encounter chart will not only serve as a tool for use during play, but also as a part of your general world building process, both informed by and informing your setting and the PCs' place in it.

Scope
The scope of an encounter chart includes the climate and terrain type, the geographic area, the time of day, possibly the time of year and other, less concrete aspects that are dependent on your setting. One can build an encounter chart for a particular forest, for example, or that same forest during the day versus the night, in the summer versus the winter or even for only during unusual events like solstices or magical conjunctions. But encounter charts can be used to represent less obvious game settings as well: an encounter chart just for royal/noble balls and courts; an encounter chart for guild wizards' towers, regardless of location; an encounter chart for the one night of the year where the doors to the land of the dead are flung open.

In choosing the scope for the encounter chart, start with a discrete element such as a contiguous, homogeneous terrain type (a forest or a particular city neighborhood) or a thematically coherent element (such as night of the full moon or festival days). Even if you choose a contained environment, consider how particulars like the time of day (or night), the season or weather will affect the encounter table. In the case of thematic encounter tables, these may also apply (the docks quarter of a city is a very different place in the day than in the night) but cultural impacts must be considered as well (the bazaar during festival times, for example).

Try not to be too broad or too narrow in your scope. Too broad a scope breaks plausibility. For example, having one encounter chart for a trade route that runs for hundreds of miles through multiple kingdoms and terrain types is too broad. Consider instead creating an encounter chart for the road in various terrains or nations, or adding a range of options to your usual encounter charts for those things when the PCs are traveling the trade route. Making encounter charts that are too narrow dramatically increase the workload of the DM, even if they promote variation and detail in the setting. Finding a balance is often a process of trial and error, and the definition of “too broad” and “too narrow” varies from DM to DM and even setting to setting.

Probabilities
Determining the likelihood of any encounter occurring and the likelihood of a particular encounter occurring seems simple at first, but in reality it can be complex and a wrong decion can result in unintended consequences: characters can end up with nothing happening for long stretches, or they can be constantly beset by encounters. Moreover, the scope of the encounter environment will have an impact on the probabilities, both of whether an encounter occurs and what types of encounters are more or less likely. More so even than scope, finding a balance of probabilities is more art than science. these few guidelines are presented as just that: guidelines. In a best case scenario, they give the DM a reasonable place to start.

When setting the likelihood of whether an encounter even occurs, and how often a check is made, consider the population within the scope – not the general population, but the population of unusual things. Encounters are by their nature out of the ordinary events. A forest encounter chart, for example, need not include squirrels or deer or wild grapes. These things are everywhere in a forest and characters are assumed to be “encountering” them all the time. The orc raiders, elf wardens and owlbears, however, are unusual denizens of the forest. If the forest is wild and untamed, on the edge of civilization or protected from loggers and settlers by a druid protector, the population of these unusual elements is higher. Conversely, the lord's hunting grounds with a regular staff of caretakers will have a much lower population of unusual elements and therefore a lesser chance of en encounter.

Generally speaking, areas or situations with a low population of unusual elements produce an encounter only 1 in 12 times per 4 hours, while those with an extremely high population will produce an encounter 1 in 6 times out of every hour. Most areas and situations fall solidly in the middle with a 1 in 6 or 8 chance every 4 hours. Of course, the probability may change with time of day – many monsters are nocturnal (as evidenced by infra- or dark vision) – without necessarily changing the composition of the encounters.

The next thing to consider is the probability of any given individual encounter type occurring. For monsters, “frequency” entries are of tremendous help here (though any particular area of circumstance may change those values – undead in a graveyard, for example), as are discussion of creature or character type ecology and/or sociology. Of course, most important is the DM's view of the setting and the scope of the encounter chart. In any case, a relatively wide distribution with variable probabilities is best, representing the variable nature of probable encounters within the scope.

Consider using 3d6, with one entry per numerical value. Rare encounters will occur at the extreme ends of the range (3 and 18 represent about a .5% chance of occurring), while more common encounters will bunch in the middle (10 is about 19% likely). Because we are all familiar, through character generation, with the general probabilities of the 3d6 curve, it isn't necessary to think too hard about the specific probabilities. Encounters the DM wants to have happen – based on preference or plausibility – irregularly are kept to the “edges” of the range and those he wants to have occur more regularly will automatically happen more often. The same distribution of likelihood can be generated with other bell curves of course, or non linear percentile charts. In some cases, the DM may desire more or fewer entires, so different curves or ranges may be required.

While I consider myself a “simulationist” and tend to design encounter charts around the setting, as opposed to the PCs, probabilities can just as easily be determined by “gamist” elements or “narrativist” ones. For example, in the former case the DM might create an encounter chart with 2d10 as the base range, but with entries going up to 30 or 40, where a modifier to the die roll based on character level is applied. More powerful or otherwise more intense encounters are placed on the high end of the probability spectrum, ensuring that low level PCs don't encounter unbeatable foes. In the latter case, encounter types with a strong connection to the campaign “story” will be more likely to occur, even if, in the setting, they are rare.

One last note as it pertains to probabilities: the use of sub-tables can be useful in expanding the range of a relatively small encounter chart. For example, an encounter chart might have an entry for “bandits” that leads to a sub chart indicating the bandits race, nationality and/or motivation. Be aware, though, that sub-charts do strange things with probabilities – if there is a 10% chance bandits will be encountered, and 1 in 6 of those bandit groups are orcs, then there is only about a 1.6% chance of encounter orc bandits. Go too deep with sub tables and specific encounters start becoming “one in a million” shots.

::continued in next blog entry::

Reynard

The "sandbox" setting, in which players are not only allowed but encouraged to make their own fun by exploring and interacting with the setting, is, in my opinion, a fundamental requirement for satisfying, rewarding D&D play. Adventures and setting that force players along certain paths -- or worse, away from certain paths -- cannot hold a candle to sandbox play. No DM's or designers story has a hope against the story that the plyers themselves create through their actions and the coinsequences of those actions (with a healthy dose of DM input and dice-based uncertainty,to boot).

Here are seven essential elements for a good "sandbox" setting.

1. Big, but not Too Big: A sandbox setting should cover a relatively large geographic area, with room for varied terrain and environments, as well as multiple politicl entities. However, one of the things that makes a sandbox game so enjoyable is the players' ability to engage it as a whole, to see all four corners and to uncover its nuances and secrets. Too big a sandbox makes each part indistinct -- the DM likely doesn't have time to flesh out every aspect of a whole world; nor do players likely have time, or even interest, to visit it all. By limiting the scope of the setting and containing it geographically, the Dm has the opportunity to delve into the whole setting and so do the players. Something on the order of the British Isles works well, size and scope wise.

2. Lots to Do, Lots to See: As stated above, a sandbox needs to be diverse in regards to where the players can go and what they can do when they get there. It isn't enough to litter the place with 100 dungeons. Rather, there should be a handful of dungeons, a handful of towns, a handful of active fotresses, a handful of mytic locations, etc... This applies to political, religous and mercantile groups, as well. A monolithic nation that covers the whole setting won't do. At the very least, there should by various states or provinces with different cultures and conflicting interests. Even better, numerous small nations or city states work well. In addition, even if the DM chooses to have a dominant religous entity, schisms and sects within the church, with their own temples and own interpretations of scripture are necessary. Players should want to explore the setting to see what is around the next bend or over the next hill.

3. A Life of its Own: The setting should "live" like a real place. The diverse locations and groups discused above should interact and those interactions should be both internally consistent and produce movement within the setting. Groups that are opposed might be moving ever toward open conflict. The heir to a city state might try and hasten along his inheritence. A lowly peddlar might slowly climb to the top of the mercantile heap. A dark cult might be waiting for a soon approaching celestial event to unleash their dark master on the setting. It isn't that the setting ignores the players and their characters' actions. Rather, there's something of a timeline or assumed evolution to the setting that the players can interact with and disrupt. Knowing what would happen in a given situation without the involvment of the players allows the DM to better interpret what happens when they do get involved, as well as allowing the DM a plan if the PCs dont bother with a particular setting element or subplot.

4. No Scaling: The sandbox should not scale to the level of the PCs. If there's a "12th level" monster in the Darkenwood when the game begins, that monster remains there -- barring its involvement in the above -- whether the players choose to go to the darkenwood at 2nd level or 20th (or both). A scaling setting breaks versimilitude and suggests to the players that whatever growth they have is irrelevent. instead, the setting should include a wide array of "levels" of adventure locales, NPCs and monsters, disrubted throughout the setting in a plausible and internally consisten manner. This is not to say that the setting can't include "zones' that are geared toward certain levels of play, but too much of this inhibits the open nature of the sandbox. Mix it up instead. But make sure that there aren't too many "invisible" major threats. Powerful creatures and chaarcters produce legends and runors and even innaccurate information will give players a glimpse into what lies ahead, allowing them the opportunity to make a meaningful choice as to where to go and what to do.

5. Wandering Monster Tables and Random Encounters: One of the key conceits of the sandbox is that players are free to go where they will, do what they wish and engage the setting through their characters without being pulled or prodded into the DM's "story". This requires a lot of work on the part of the DM, creating many adventure sites, placed encounters, NPCs and organizations before play even begins. But even with all the work done, there's still a good chance the players will go somehwere the DM hasn't thought too much about or had a chance to flesh out. This is where the value of random encounter charts comes in. With such tables, built specifically for the setting and informed by the detail the DM has done, can provide fun for everyone even during those sessions where the players simply strike out down the road. These random encounters shouldn't simply be a collection of mansters listed by terrain type. Instead, the charts should include elements of the setting, little glimpses into the setting. What tribe are those orcs from? Who are the bandits? Where is the merchant caravan heading. By making specific encounter charts for the setting, the DM ensures that more of the work he has put into the setting sees use. By exposure, players are given hooks to choose for themselves to investigate and engage aspects of the setting.

6. New Blood: Characters die. They retire. Players get bored or want a break from the usual. Inevitably, a player is going to need a new character, or a new player will join the group. It may seem obvious, but it is often overlooked: the setting must allow for the introduction of new heroes (i.e. PCs) without breaking plausibility. As such settings that are mostly wilderness or wastelands with few settlements don't work as well as those that provide a diverse selection of races and classes within the population. As a related aspect, this means the setting must be adventurer friendly and reasonably wide ranging in regards to which races and classes are available. While it is okay for the DM to establish some limitations to better suit the genre or setting he has in mind, too many restrictions hampers the introduction of new characters and should be avoided.

7. Meaningful Choices and Meaningful Consequences: Most important of all, the actions of the players should have direct, noticible impact on the setting, at least insofar as the PCs degree of influence. Information should be plentiful enough to allow the players to choose which actions they will take, and those actions must have consequences. Who the players ally with, and with whom they make enemies; what meta-setting secrets they uncover, and which they bury; those monsters they kill and those that they merely enrage: these all should change the setting to some degree or another. If the players feel their adventures and explorations within the sandbox have a real impact, they will be both more inclined to engage the setting, and more thoughtful of the consequences of their actions.

Reynard

DMing is hard. Part science, part art, it is all work. This isn't to say, of course, that it isn't also rewarding and fun, but DMing well takes effort, experience and practice. Moreover, every new edition, every new group of players requires that the DM relearn the craft, sometimes on a superficial level but also sometimes on a fundamental one.

That said, in my 20 years of DMing, I have developed a number of rules I endeavor to follow when I run Dungeons and Dragons. Sometimes, I find that they don't all work for the players involved, and sometimes I find that they don't work with the edition being used. In these cases I either try and alter my style and preferences (not an easy thing) or play with different people or different rules.

All that said, I give you Reynard's Rules of DMing:

The DM isn't always right, but he is the one that always decides what's right.

Among the many roles the DM plays during the course of running the game, the most important is that of Final Arbiter. The DM arbitrates not only rules questions, disputes and applications, but also arbitrates the non-mechanical aspects of the game, up to and including conflicts between the players and even the players and the DM. DMs, being human, are far from infallible, and a good DM listens to his players. In the end, however, the DM must have the final authority over te solution to any dispute or question, because it falls to the DM to keep the game moving and keep everyone involved and entertained.

It's the DM's World, but it's the Players' Story.

One of the greatest responsibilities and rewards of DMing is building and running the world in which the PCs adventure. Creating people, places and things with which the player characters can interact, and then having those Nouns respond to that interaction, is both fun and challenging. As such, the DM should be free to include or exclude, limit or expand any or all of the traditional tropes of D&D in his world. That said, it is easy for the DM to fall into the too common trap of starting to care more about his creations than the players' interaction with those creations. If the world is immutable, if the NPCs are insurpassable, if the setting's secrets are inpenetrable, the DM has lost perspective on the reason those two or eight people are sitting there on the other side of the screen. Consistency, versimilitude and plausibility are all important and the hallmarks of a good DM; relegating the PCs to tourists and window shoppers is not.

Know when to hold 'em, know when to roll 'em.

Dice are important in D&D (see below) but they are not an end unto themselves. One othe most common mistakes many DMs, both novices and veterans alike, make is to rely too much on the dice. Too often, an important aspect of the game or adventure is hinged on a die roll when a random result or the possibility of a bad roll will slow down, or even outright ruin, the game. It is important to identify these situations and not require rolls where rolls will lead to incongruent or troublesome results. As an example, let's say there's a secret door in an old mansion. If the door leads to a hidden room where the previous owner stored his treasure, requiring a random roll to locate the door is perfectly acceptable. If, however, the door leads to final confrontation or other aspect that makes completing the adventure impossible, requiring a die roll is just begging to stop the adventure in its tracks and/or tempt one to "fudge the result( again, see below). Better to require that the PCs look for the secret door through simple description of action and, if they look in the right place, allow them to find it (make sure, though, to give them some clue of where to look in the first place, or the players will be forced to read your mind or search every square inch of the place).

Let the Dice Fall where they May.

As an addendum to the above rule, once you have determined that a particular situation does warrant the the use of dice, never fudge. Stick by the result of the die roll, interpret and use it as best you can and keep going. After all, you thought it through (didn't you) and said "Yes!" to a die roll. Now, it is incumbant upon the DM to roll with whatever result lands face up. This is particularly important in combat. Not only should the dice stay where they fall, they should bhe rolled out in the open so everyone knows it'sthe dice, not the DM, determining the outcome of the battle. Note that this maxim applies to die rolls by both the DM and the players, and die rolls affecting eother the PCs or the monsters/NPCs. If Villain McEvil goes down because of a lucky critical on the part of the players, that's how the cookie crumbles. Fudging the result (of which pumping up the villain secretly behind the screen is a form) is nothing short of cheating.

The Players are Your Friends; their characters aren't.

Also known as "Adventuring is Dangerous Business", this rule is a philosophical one, covering many different aspects of running a game, from creating the world to arbitrating rules to designing adventures. A D&D world is most entertaining when it is filled with dangerous Nouns, all within reach of the PCs so that the players can decide where to go, when to do it and what to do once they get there. Not every boy off the farm is destined for greatness, however, and pretending otherwise -- whether through never designing a non "level appropriate" challenge or by fudging as described above or building a world that caters to the players and their characters above all else -- does a disservice to those players and characters that survive and thrive in such a treacherous world and profession. In the end, the cream will rise to the top and your players will thank you for it, whether directly or when they are in the game store or at a convention telling anyone who will listen about the time their paladin held the door against the orc horde while his wounded companions escaped.

Reynard