Herobizkit
Adventurer
A plane composed entirely of Candy, including the residents, flora and fauna.
WHAT TIME IS IT?!
WHAT TIME IS IT?!
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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
1001 Plane Ideas
- Thread starter Einherjar101
- Start date
A dusty, sun-baked plane where arcane magic is impeded (half-strength); everyone who spends more than a month there begins to "grow" arcane SR equal to their HD, 1/4 total HD per week (this "arcane SR" does not stack with other kinds of SR). This arcane SR is unique to this plane only, and will not protect its possessor from arcane magic cast on other planes (including magic items crafted on other planes). Artifact magic of course ignores everything.
Otherwise, everything alchemy-based can do more damage, lasts longer, has a wider area, etc; anyone who learns how to craft an alchemical item (via Craft or a class ability) can "learn" metamagics which apply to alchemical items...e.g., Maximize Alchemical Item lets any alchemical weapon you craft do maximum damage.
The plane is rife with anarchy and disorder in the wastes that separate the handful of city-states scattered throughout the plane, most of them either built-up around oases of water, deposits of exotic alchemical ore, or have grown around the intersections of well-worn trade routes. There are portals to other, richer lands throughout this plane, but wherever a portal has been discovered there has grown a city around it, and a single warlord, a family of thugs, a band of mercenaries, or worse, has invariably walked in and taken over. Many settlements have changed ownership over the generations, a few of them having been captured and then recaptured by former rulers fleeing for their lives only years before. This institutionalized anarchy is the main cause for the widespread destitution among the common folk who inhabit this plane. Fledgeling rebellions are crushed and agitators are publicly executed. Only the richest and most powerful families or the occasional mighty despot can turn everything upside down, and then only within a single town, and before long they become the kind of evil they supposedly fought against. Meanwhile, the rabble have no chance, and no means to escape to better worlds, because all the portals are bitterly fought over and controlled by these hereditary oligarchs.
One particular crossroads is considered to be more or less the "center" of the plane; the Valley of the Five Portals. As you might guess, it has five gateways to other planes all clustered together. One goes to each of the elemental planes, and the fifth connects to the plane of law. No permanent settlement has managed to sprout from this busiest of locales; it has become a "neutral ground" of sorts, and this unspoken code is respected and even enforced by the elite movers and shakers of the plane.
There is a sprawling settlement about ten days' walk from the Valley of the Five Portals. It is a city-state called Goldstone, the richest and most powerful of all the city-states familiar to extraplanar visitors. Goldstone is ruled by a small cadre of master alchemists who, having discovered the perfect place to develop their art, used their technology to swiftly overthrow the runt of a warlord who previously ran the town. The alchemists were able to transform this gritty nowheresville into the greatest, most prosperous trade center ever known among the plane's native sages. Goldstone is a veritable fortress, defended by potent alchemical siege weapons and all kinds of deadly traps fortifying the massive network of tunnels which spread underneath Goldstone's surface levels. Of all the ruling elites of this plane, only the Goldstone alchemists seem to have conceived of the idea of democratic rule. The alchemists hunt for gifted individuals and savants, mentor them, and eventually induct them into their own clique which within itself is run more like a democracy than a benevolent dictatorship. The flower of individual freedom shoots up tiny and alone in a parched desert of anarchy and oppression, but it blooms nonetheless.
Otherwise, everything alchemy-based can do more damage, lasts longer, has a wider area, etc; anyone who learns how to craft an alchemical item (via Craft or a class ability) can "learn" metamagics which apply to alchemical items...e.g., Maximize Alchemical Item lets any alchemical weapon you craft do maximum damage.
The plane is rife with anarchy and disorder in the wastes that separate the handful of city-states scattered throughout the plane, most of them either built-up around oases of water, deposits of exotic alchemical ore, or have grown around the intersections of well-worn trade routes. There are portals to other, richer lands throughout this plane, but wherever a portal has been discovered there has grown a city around it, and a single warlord, a family of thugs, a band of mercenaries, or worse, has invariably walked in and taken over. Many settlements have changed ownership over the generations, a few of them having been captured and then recaptured by former rulers fleeing for their lives only years before. This institutionalized anarchy is the main cause for the widespread destitution among the common folk who inhabit this plane. Fledgeling rebellions are crushed and agitators are publicly executed. Only the richest and most powerful families or the occasional mighty despot can turn everything upside down, and then only within a single town, and before long they become the kind of evil they supposedly fought against. Meanwhile, the rabble have no chance, and no means to escape to better worlds, because all the portals are bitterly fought over and controlled by these hereditary oligarchs.
One particular crossroads is considered to be more or less the "center" of the plane; the Valley of the Five Portals. As you might guess, it has five gateways to other planes all clustered together. One goes to each of the elemental planes, and the fifth connects to the plane of law. No permanent settlement has managed to sprout from this busiest of locales; it has become a "neutral ground" of sorts, and this unspoken code is respected and even enforced by the elite movers and shakers of the plane.
There is a sprawling settlement about ten days' walk from the Valley of the Five Portals. It is a city-state called Goldstone, the richest and most powerful of all the city-states familiar to extraplanar visitors. Goldstone is ruled by a small cadre of master alchemists who, having discovered the perfect place to develop their art, used their technology to swiftly overthrow the runt of a warlord who previously ran the town. The alchemists were able to transform this gritty nowheresville into the greatest, most prosperous trade center ever known among the plane's native sages. Goldstone is a veritable fortress, defended by potent alchemical siege weapons and all kinds of deadly traps fortifying the massive network of tunnels which spread underneath Goldstone's surface levels. Of all the ruling elites of this plane, only the Goldstone alchemists seem to have conceived of the idea of democratic rule. The alchemists hunt for gifted individuals and savants, mentor them, and eventually induct them into their own clique which within itself is run more like a democracy than a benevolent dictatorship. The flower of individual freedom shoots up tiny and alone in a parched desert of anarchy and oppression, but it blooms nonetheless.
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A giant dark void, inhabited by spirits that compete for what little matter there is. This matter is used to make animated constructs of varying size, constructs that are posessed and inhabited by these spirits.
The only way for a spirit to grow its construct, or for a new spirit to start one, is to bargain or fight for matter.
Those spirits that are able to open gates, and thus barter for matter with other planes, are highly envied, and any planar visitors are beset by possessed constructs that want to haggle, steal, or fight for more construction material.
They are, however, extremely adept at making the most of any material, and can remove redundant matter from of most items in ways that lighten the weight, but do not reduce strength or resilience.
The only way for a spirit to grow its construct, or for a new spirit to start one, is to bargain or fight for matter.
Those spirits that are able to open gates, and thus barter for matter with other planes, are highly envied, and any planar visitors are beset by possessed constructs that want to haggle, steal, or fight for more construction material.
They are, however, extremely adept at making the most of any material, and can remove redundant matter from of most items in ways that lighten the weight, but do not reduce strength or resilience.
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A long, pristinely white beach meandering fractally between an exuberant djungle and a deep blue sea. A hot sun shines down, but is tempered by a cool sea breeze.
Exposure to the sun and the sea will make any kind of healing or restorative magic much stronger, but also cause severe tanning in those receptible.
Exposure to the sun and the sea will make any kind of healing or restorative magic much stronger, but also cause severe tanning in those receptible.
Giant spheres of water, hundreds of yards across, carried aloft by unknown forces in an airy, sunlit void, occacionally merging or splitting by the same forces.
The surfaces of most spheres are covered with rich water vegetation, making the center a deep green twilight inhabited by bright, exotic fishes, whose poisons are prized as medications in many worlds.
The surfaces of most spheres are covered with rich water vegetation, making the center a deep green twilight inhabited by bright, exotic fishes, whose poisons are prized as medications in many worlds.
In an (apparently) infinite black region of nothing hangs a massive rope, about fifteen meters thick. It seems to go up and down forever in both directions, although gravity is normal, and runs in the direction of the rope. (So if you're in a random spot on the rope, you'd better hold onto it, or you'll fall.) In one part of the rope, scaffolds have been slung attached to the rope, allowing for a solid places to stand, arranged in many tiers. The largest of these are clustered together and between them support a population of a few hundred exiles, curiosity seekers, planar researchers, and some who were just born here and never left. Nobody knows what's at the top or bottom of the rope (if there is a top or bottom), or what's out there in any direction horizontally. The air is breathable but still, and there is no native life. It's also unknown what would happen if the rope were severed; it's unbelievably tough, but not at all impervious to damage.
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Most eyes look outward, to see what's outside of themselves. An eye that looked inside of itself wouldn't be very useful. This is vexatious to a peculiar aberration who finds itself in exactly this situation. The creature is little more than a giant eye, looking inward on itself. (Its organs, such as they are, are diffused across the outer surface.) The interior of the eye - which is all it can see, since it looks inward - is filled with a murky, salmon-colored translucent fluid, lit by light entering through the large "pupil". This interior is actually a demi-plane, where the creature transports people and objects for short bursts of time, in hopes of learning about worlds it can never see. The interior substrate isn't breathable, but creatures transported here enter a state of slowed animation, allowing them to be observed at length without necessarily drowning. (Though they sometimes drown anyway.)
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The mental planes are vast in number; it's not known if there's one for each person in existence somewhere or if they're called up when someone tries to access them, but there's certainly a lot of them. Each is keyed to a different individual, where an individual is defined as a creature capable of perceiving the world in some fashion. An individual's mental plane looks like a copy of the material plane, at least as they're familiar with it. Regions that they're intimately familiar with are more detailed, and regions they've never been to simply don't exist, or exist just as hazy emptiness. Additionally, mental planes are devoid of any other perceiving individuals (but still have plants and stuff.) Within an individual's mental plane, everything appears as the individual sees it, so a place the individual considers cozy and warm and has good memories of will make a positive impression, while a place the individual finds scary will seem that way to everyone who visits their mental plane. This property extends to visitors to the plane. If a plane's owner consideres someone especially handsome, weak, funny-looking, or whatever, that's the impression they'll make on everyone else visiting the plane (including themselves.) These are gut reactions; they don't reveal everything the mental plane's owner knows about somebody, just the things they feel inside when they see that person. (In some cases, this information can be pretty specific; for example, if a mental plane's owner's primary mental impression of somebody is that they're a murderer, that'll be what everybody who sees that person in the mental plane thinks, too.)
While it might seem like having your mental plane invaded is a severe violation of privacy (and it is), and thus you should avoid it at any costs, it's potentially more dangerous for the invader. Seeing things from the perspective of somebody else can rapidly warp your own mind. A wildly incompatible perspective can cause anything from mild dissonance to exteme shock; perhaps even scarier, seeing things from somebody else's perspective can simply, over time, change your point of view into theirs.
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Most eyes look outward, to see what's outside of themselves. An eye that looked inside of itself wouldn't be very useful. This is vexatious to a peculiar aberration who finds itself in exactly this situation. The creature is little more than a giant eye, looking inward on itself. (Its organs, such as they are, are diffused across the outer surface.) The interior of the eye - which is all it can see, since it looks inward - is filled with a murky, salmon-colored translucent fluid, lit by light entering through the large "pupil". This interior is actually a demi-plane, where the creature transports people and objects for short bursts of time, in hopes of learning about worlds it can never see. The interior substrate isn't breathable, but creatures transported here enter a state of slowed animation, allowing them to be observed at length without necessarily drowning. (Though they sometimes drown anyway.)
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The mental planes are vast in number; it's not known if there's one for each person in existence somewhere or if they're called up when someone tries to access them, but there's certainly a lot of them. Each is keyed to a different individual, where an individual is defined as a creature capable of perceiving the world in some fashion. An individual's mental plane looks like a copy of the material plane, at least as they're familiar with it. Regions that they're intimately familiar with are more detailed, and regions they've never been to simply don't exist, or exist just as hazy emptiness. Additionally, mental planes are devoid of any other perceiving individuals (but still have plants and stuff.) Within an individual's mental plane, everything appears as the individual sees it, so a place the individual considers cozy and warm and has good memories of will make a positive impression, while a place the individual finds scary will seem that way to everyone who visits their mental plane. This property extends to visitors to the plane. If a plane's owner consideres someone especially handsome, weak, funny-looking, or whatever, that's the impression they'll make on everyone else visiting the plane (including themselves.) These are gut reactions; they don't reveal everything the mental plane's owner knows about somebody, just the things they feel inside when they see that person. (In some cases, this information can be pretty specific; for example, if a mental plane's owner's primary mental impression of somebody is that they're a murderer, that'll be what everybody who sees that person in the mental plane thinks, too.)
While it might seem like having your mental plane invaded is a severe violation of privacy (and it is), and thus you should avoid it at any costs, it's potentially more dangerous for the invader. Seeing things from the perspective of somebody else can rapidly warp your own mind. A wildly incompatible perspective can cause anything from mild dissonance to exteme shock; perhaps even scarier, seeing things from somebody else's perspective can simply, over time, change your point of view into theirs.
Loren Pechtel
Explorer
I had another thought on the neutron star plane:
A neutron star that's spinning incredibly fast, right at the equator it's only like 5g--survivable to an unprotected person (although the lack of a breathable atmosphere would be an issue.) You always arrive on the equator.
Of course whatever you're interested in isn't going to be right there, you'll still have to figure out suitable magic.
A neutron star that's spinning incredibly fast, right at the equator it's only like 5g--survivable to an unprotected person (although the lack of a breathable atmosphere would be an issue.) You always arrive on the equator.
Of course whatever you're interested in isn't going to be right there, you'll still have to figure out suitable magic.
Here is a plane of thick but not swampy woodlands, such as what you would find in a north temperate or alpine clime. The days here are 72 hours long (36 hours from sunrise to sunrise), and this plane's double sun shines with a light that instantly dazzles any humanoid that catches a direct glipse of it. Fortunately, the sky is always mostly overcast, shielding the vulnerable from its exotic radiation--most of the time. Gravity here is also very light, which causes the larger flora here to grow unusually tall, sprouting larger clusters of rather sharp needles from their thin lithe branches.
Much of the flora on this plane are brightly, brilliantly colored in every hue of the rainbow. Many species of flowers and trees (and even their fruit) reflect the daylight in mind-jarringly impossible colors such as greddeen, ambrlue, and orapurgle. This xenochromatic assault is so traumatic to the visual systems of humanoids, animals, and magical beasts that their nervous systems act to protect themselves, blocking out the this "strange light" via hysterical color-blindness or even suppressing the sense of sight altogether.
Vulnerable creatures who arrive here suffer no ill effects for up to (1d6 + Wisdom modifier) rounds, at which point they must begin making Perception (or Wisdom) check every round against a DC of 10, with the DC increasing by 1 each round of exposure, to resist losing their color vision--failure means the character becomes permanently color-blind, able only to see in shades of black and white. Failing by 5 or more results in complete permanent blindness. This is a supernatural effect.
Creatures can attempt to preserve their color vision and eyesight using any of the following methods:
(a) Wearing a heavy blindfold or opaque sack over one's head, either of which will block out all light while worn. (But saves your vision for when you really need it)
(b) Monochromatic goggles--the lenses of this tight-fitting headgear have been alchemically treated to block out almost all color; the wearer sees only in shades of red. This item filters out any xenochromatic colors in the environment. As with normal smoked goggles, you are always treated as averting your gaze when dealing with gaze attacks, and you gain a +8 circumstance bonus on saving throws against visual-based attacks (any attack that a blind creature would be immune to). You have a –4 penalty on Perception checks while wearing the goggles, and all opponents are treated as having concealment (20% miss chance). Cost 100 gp. Weight negligible.
(c) Any darkness spell of at least 3rd spell level (such as Deeper Darkness), or a spell-like ability creating magical darkness of similar strength.
(d) True Seeing, as from a spell or a magic item
There may be other methods than these of defending against xenochromatic attacks.
(e) Some spell, magical item, or ability that confers Blindsense or Blindsight.
Creatures without sight; constructs, undead, outsiders, and aberrations are not affected at all by these alien colors.
Magic-users who have visited this plane have reported that color-based magic (such as Prismatic Spray and Prismatic Wall) cast on this plane will exhibit additional effects commensurate with the broader spectrum of light that exists here.
This plane does not have much in the way of native fauna. There does, however, seem to be a native species of donkey rat, an owl-like bird, some kind of feathery serpentine creature, and what appears to be an airbreathing version of the cuttlefish--clearly a magical beast with the ability to supernaturally levitate and swim through the air as though it were a liquid ocean; these psuedo-cephalopods seem to have no fear of extraplanar visitors to their realm, and even present some signs of intelligence or curiosity.
There are also small- and medium-sized bipedal creatures believed to exist here, only seen in silouette form suggesting body shapes similar to that of deinonychi or lizardfolk. Contrarily to the pseudo-cephalopds, these beings seem quite shy by comparison, showing no territorial instincts, yet are well capable of evading pursuit through the heavy forestation.
Much of the flora on this plane are brightly, brilliantly colored in every hue of the rainbow. Many species of flowers and trees (and even their fruit) reflect the daylight in mind-jarringly impossible colors such as greddeen, ambrlue, and orapurgle. This xenochromatic assault is so traumatic to the visual systems of humanoids, animals, and magical beasts that their nervous systems act to protect themselves, blocking out the this "strange light" via hysterical color-blindness or even suppressing the sense of sight altogether.
Vulnerable creatures who arrive here suffer no ill effects for up to (1d6 + Wisdom modifier) rounds, at which point they must begin making Perception (or Wisdom) check every round against a DC of 10, with the DC increasing by 1 each round of exposure, to resist losing their color vision--failure means the character becomes permanently color-blind, able only to see in shades of black and white. Failing by 5 or more results in complete permanent blindness. This is a supernatural effect.
Creatures can attempt to preserve their color vision and eyesight using any of the following methods:
(a) Wearing a heavy blindfold or opaque sack over one's head, either of which will block out all light while worn. (But saves your vision for when you really need it)
(b) Monochromatic goggles--the lenses of this tight-fitting headgear have been alchemically treated to block out almost all color; the wearer sees only in shades of red. This item filters out any xenochromatic colors in the environment. As with normal smoked goggles, you are always treated as averting your gaze when dealing with gaze attacks, and you gain a +8 circumstance bonus on saving throws against visual-based attacks (any attack that a blind creature would be immune to). You have a –4 penalty on Perception checks while wearing the goggles, and all opponents are treated as having concealment (20% miss chance). Cost 100 gp. Weight negligible.
(c) Any darkness spell of at least 3rd spell level (such as Deeper Darkness), or a spell-like ability creating magical darkness of similar strength.
(d) True Seeing, as from a spell or a magic item
There may be other methods than these of defending against xenochromatic attacks.
(e) Some spell, magical item, or ability that confers Blindsense or Blindsight.
Creatures without sight; constructs, undead, outsiders, and aberrations are not affected at all by these alien colors.
Magic-users who have visited this plane have reported that color-based magic (such as Prismatic Spray and Prismatic Wall) cast on this plane will exhibit additional effects commensurate with the broader spectrum of light that exists here.
This plane does not have much in the way of native fauna. There does, however, seem to be a native species of donkey rat, an owl-like bird, some kind of feathery serpentine creature, and what appears to be an airbreathing version of the cuttlefish--clearly a magical beast with the ability to supernaturally levitate and swim through the air as though it were a liquid ocean; these psuedo-cephalopods seem to have no fear of extraplanar visitors to their realm, and even present some signs of intelligence or curiosity.
There are also small- and medium-sized bipedal creatures believed to exist here, only seen in silouette form suggesting body shapes similar to that of deinonychi or lizardfolk. Contrarily to the pseudo-cephalopds, these beings seem quite shy by comparison, showing no territorial instincts, yet are well capable of evading pursuit through the heavy forestation.
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