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UA Unearthed Arcana Explores Downtime Activities

This is EXACTLY what I wanted and EXACTLY what the game needed.

Then there's this: "For more information, see “Brewing Potions of Healing” in this section on crafting and “Scribing a Spell Scroll” on page Error! Bookmark not defined." (p. 7) :erm:
 

Saeviomagy

Adventurer
Heh. I noticed that brewing a healing potion takes 1 day and 25 gp.

If giving a spell that creates a healing potion to wizards was a bad thing, now EVERYONE can do it. All you need is proficiency in herbalism.

Go go healing wands.

Well, everyone kind of HAS to, because it costs you 100gp per week to even have a chance of finding someone who might sell you a few. And then they cost 20-70gp each. And then 1/10 of them turn out to be cursed, fake, stolen, enslaved intelligent entities, twice the price or cost you your soul to buy.
 

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Hussar

Legend
Well, everyone kind of HAS to, because it costs you 100gp per week to even have a chance of finding someone who might sell you a few. And then they cost 20-70gp each. And then 1/10 of them turn out to be cursed, fake, stolen, enslaved intelligent entities, twice the price or cost you your soul to buy.

Well, not really. They do call out healing potions as an exception. It's probably because they are available in the PHB. They aren't necessarily "magic items" in the strictest sense.

I was just pointing out that giving arcane casters the ability to create a 2d4 healing potion as a spell for 1 day, isn't really much of a jump when your party rogue can crank out 1/day for 25 gp a pop and they last forever.
 


doctorbadwolf

Heretic of The Seventh Circle
Well, we got more options for making, selling, and buying magic items. I happen to like how they tied those mechanics to in-game flavor, but I am willing to bet that the folks who have been demanding rules for magic item creation will not be happy at all.

"You mean it takes me a YEAR to make one rare item? That's BS!"

Eh, the buying and selling rules are a good start, at least.

Definately going to take a hatchet to the time and cost of crafting, and some parts of the buying and selling.

I'll be using the "Sane Magic Item Prices" instead of the listed cost-by-rarity

ditching the cost to find someone who will sell the thing completely, outside of very rare stuff, in which case it's basically a broker fee

Ignoring the complications for crafting, most of the time. Maybe all the time.

Ignoring complications for buying and selling anything more common than "rare", with scaling likelihood of complication by rarity from there up.

Many items will be available for commission or in shops in major cities.

Negotiating selling price applies to buying and selling, and is basically a skill challenge. Each check can either raise or lower the cost from a baseline of the base/market cost, with modifiers as appropriate for setting and circumstance. I'll work out a chart, probably, to help determine starting costs for an item in a given region and time.

*Crafting an item costs no more than 90% of the market price of the item. Some items it's much less, and profit is entirely possible. My games also feature much less treasure, and the need to engage in trade to turn treasure into money, and features a lot more intangible rewards like contacts, favors, etc.

Since my players rarely make characters who adventure primarily for treasure, this has never lead to less adventure. It does lead to varied adventuring input from player characters, and thus more varied adventure types. *

Use the research activity to get to find out info about the market for different things. Becoming a successful merchant isn't easy, or fast, or simple, but it is possible and rewarding.

I do like that buying and selling magic items is like buying and selling art, but I also want more nuance in the numbers part of it, and I want them to recognize that at some tables we don't assume that the ability to craft cool magic stuff is exceedingly rare, and/or a lost art from bygone eras.
 

doctorbadwolf

Heretic of The Seventh Circle
One quick and dirty way to reduce crafting time without redoing the math is to count having the right tools, and the right facilities, as if each were a helper. And hire an assistant, or take an apprentice.

In fact, apprentices are great if you like giving players characters new ties to the world as they progress.


But I still think Eberron needs to be supported in 5e, for many reasons, one of which is that it deviates from many standard 5e economic and world building assumptions, and it would add a lot to the game to explore how to run such games in 5e.

And because it has a lot of unique elements, and makes a perfect second example of a setting, because it takes the familiar and casts it in a new light, while adding new unique elements, and using all of that to support *both* the same stories you can tell in FR, and some stories that are a bit more of a stretch for FR, like Noir, Cosmic Horror, Pulp Action, and war drama.

But for a world that doesn't have Cannith Emporiums, this system is a few tweaks away from operational.
 


76512390ag12

First Post
(why would my wizard care if someone else wants to watch him work?)

Yes, why? I can think of one obvious reason but why else? For me that's in and of itself a potentially character building moment.

It's expensive, takes a long time, and generally hurts them more than it was worth in the first place.

Now i like that. A lot of potential for enjoyable roleplaying in just reaching that conclusion.

The players are better off just telling me what they want to do and me just deciding the results of that instead of having these tables.

I respect that, it's your group. Sometimes I just need help to get me out of a rut.
So much so that the only problem with this UA for me is that it's too short!

I use the AEG Compleat Toolbox to keep feeding me ideas I wouldn't have.





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Yes, why? I can think of one obvious reason but why else? For me that's in and of itself a potentially character building moment.

I'm confused how you see a character building moment here.

Either
A) The Wizard player just says "Yeah, sure what do I care" and nothing happens

B) The DM insists on this being bad, because it is a complication, perhaps making up reasons the character doesn't want this guy (or insisting the player makes up a reason) or messing them over for letting the guy watch (hey you were nice, let's make sure you don't do that again) or

C) very, very rarely, they might decide that this complication is actually a reward, which is against the nature of the event and what is expected according to the UA


IF you have C, I could see character interactions come from this, but the other two aren't good character building moments to me

Now i like that. A lot of potential for enjoyable roleplaying in just reaching that conclusion.

Again, huh?

I wasn't talking about the characters realizing all of this was a bad deal. I'm talking about the players. If they see time after time that doing these downtimes cost them a lot of hard earned money, give them almost no positive results, and instead just make them enemies all over town. They are going to stop using them. The Blacksmith will stop smithing, the librarian will stop researching, the cleric will stop doing holy services, not because their characters would actually want to stop, but because it ends up sucking to try and do things.

That isn't great roleplay anymore than it is for them to stop trusting NPCs because the DM insists every NPC they befriend will eventually betray them. It's just them reacting to the incentives in the game.



Which incidentally, leads me to another oddity here.

I've been talking a lot about how long it takes to craft, especially on other forums, but not all these activities take the same amount of time.

Let's say you have a 3 man party.

1 decides to craft a suit of mail, this takes him 4 months, 16 weeks

1 Decides to go on a crime spree. Targeting only DC 10 targets he'll make 400 gold almost guaranteed as he rolls 48 checks. Odds are he'll get at least four complications, making enemies, going to jail, and ruining people's lives. Actually a Rogue or a player whose confident enough to go after DC 15 targets can make 800 gold (with expertise in the skills a rogue is very likely to get those 15's), and a high level rogue with Reliable Talent can possbly hit DC 20 reliably enough to make 1600 gold.

The last just wants to get drunk. Rolling 16 times on carousing they will probably make at least 2 enemies, gain 14 favors, and lose a minimum of 400 gold while getting all sorts of shenagins.


Oh, and between the Rogue and the last guy, you've got six pressing quests to fix all the stuff they did.


I get some people like all the options and hooks here, but it very quickly gets out of hand if you go in under the assumption that none of this connects to the main plot.

I want value here, but the rules aren't giving me new things, just making the old ones harder or more expensive (or not fixing them). Even the foils rules are essentially "don't forget NPCs exist and may not like the party"... yes, that is the point of NPCs is it not? To exist, make the world more real, and have their own goals and agendas that may or may not interfere with the party.
 

AriochQ

Adventurer
I would like some downtime activities for ruling a domain or a church or a thieves' guild.

The 7/5 days in a week/work week doesn't totally work with the calendars in their fantasy setting. Forgotten Realms uses a tenday week and other settings use 8. Why not just keep using days?

I put some homebrew rules for running a thieves guild on dmsguild http://www.dmsguild.com/product/184100/Thieves-Guilds

They don't have all the crazy complications that the UA article includes. Personally, I don't have a problems with adventure hooks in a homebrew campaign. In fact, I have the exact opposite problem. As the campaign matures, there are too many things for the characters to do. The last thing I need is to derail any campaign plotlines for 2 sessions because a PC tried to buy a magic item and is now being hunted by a cult or something.
 



cmad1977

Hero
So, the point of foils is to figure out what recurring NPC would be played by Mark Sheppard in a tv version of your campaign, right?

View attachment 83248

My PCs have a 'Badger'. They purchased an Inn/safehouse and Finnick Toughtoes of the local teamsters and guild of manual laborers has been a fun foil.
While I came up with him kinda organically I like the Foil 'rules'. Things like that are good for inspiration.



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DM_Jeff

Explorer
Then we get carousing. I swear, if there was a supplement entitled The Big Book of Carousing I'm sure it would be a hit. There can't be enough on carousing, I say.

1. You wake up in jail, pending charges for a serious crime (Treason, sedition, grand larceny, etc.). You actually did it.
2. You wake up in jail, pending charges for a serious crime (Treason, sedition, grand larceny, etc.). You didn’t do it.
3. You wake up in jail on minor charges. Pay 10gp for bail or spend 1d4 days behind bars.
4. You wake up in jail on minor charges. Pay 10gp for bail or spend 1d4 days behind bars. Also, your cellmate is an NPC you previously made enemies with.
5. You wake up in jail on minor charges. Pay 10gp for bail or spend 1d4 days behind bars. Also, your cellmate is an NPC you previously befriended.
6. You wake up in bed with an NPC you previously made enemies with.
7. You wake up in bed with an NPC you previously made friends with.
8. You wake up in bed with a total stranger when they wake up, they are: roll 1d6 1 = Friendly, 2 = Neutral, 3 = Hostile, 4 = Disgusted, 5 = Frightened, 6 = In Love.
9. You wake up in bed with the spouse of an NPC you previously made friends with.
10. You wake up in bed with the spouse of an NPC you previously made enemies with.
11. You wake up in bed with the spouse of an important local noble or official.
12. You wake up in a strange bed with no one, you can hear the family downstairs calling for the constables.
13. You wake up in a strange bed with no one. A moment later, a middle aged man invites you down for breakfast. He and his family know you by name and no one seems to find your presence unusual.
14. You wake up in a strange bed with no one, but there is a scent of long rotting flesh coming from under the mattress.
15. You wake up chained to a strange bed. A large man in leather comes to release you and shyly asks that you join him for breakfast.
16. You wake up on the floor of a seedy club. Looks like it was amateur night. Your clothing is in a pile in the corner and you don’t know where the g-string came from, but you have an extra 3d10 cp.
17. You wake up on the floor of a seedy club. Looks like it was amateur night. Your clothing is in a pile in the corner and you don’t know where the g-string came from, but you have an extra 2d10 cp and a token of admiration from an influential NPC.
18. You wake up on the floor of a seedy club. Looks like it was amateur night. Your clothing is in a pile in the corner and you don’t know where the g-string came from, but you have an extra 2d10 cp and a token of admiration from an influential NPC’s spouse.
19. You wake up on the floor of a seedy club. Looks like it was amateur night. Your clothing is in a pile in the corner and you don’t know where the g-string came from, but you have an extra 1d10 cp and a sympathy breakfast courtesy of the cleaning staff.
20. You wake up on the floor of a seedy club. Looks like it was amateur night. Your clothing is in a pile in the corner and you don’t know where the g-string came from, but you have an extra 1d10 gp and an invitation to attend a private, VIPs only gathering at an influential NPCs estate. (A leather animal mask will arrive wherever the PC is staying shortly.)
21. You wake up in bed in an unfamiliar inn, the stranger next to you is: roll 1d6 1-2 = Unattractive, 3-4 = Incredibly Ugly, 5-6 = Unspeakably Hideous.
22. You wake up in bed in an unfamiliar inn, the stranger next to you is: roll 1d6 1-2 = Good Looking, 3-4 = Gorgeous, 5-6 = Way Out of Your League (You should probably just see yourself out before they wake up).
23. You wake up in bed in an unfamiliar inn, the stranger next to you is: roll 1d6 1-2 = a Goat, 3-4 = a Pig, 5-6 = a Miniature Donkey.
24. You wake up in your bed. You are wearing a full face of makeup and there are 1d4 gp on the nightstand.
25. You wake up in your bed. You would get up, but you are tied to it with leather straps.
26. You wake up in your bed. A dog you have never seen before is licking your left foot.
27. You wake up in your bed. On you is a document from a local judge stating that you have legally changed your name to the same name as one of your fellow party members.
28. You wake up in your bed. On you is a document from a local judge stating that you have legally changed your name to the same name as your worst NPC enemy.
29. You wake up in your bed. On you is a ‘Thank you’ note from an important local official, noble, or organization. It does not make any mention of what they are thanking you for.
30. You wake up in your bed. You are spooning a whole ham. The ham is wearing a nightgown and lipstick.
31. You wake up in your bed. You are spooning someone who looks almost exactly like you.
32. You wake up in your bed. You are dressed as a member of the local watch. A man in his underwear is hogtied at the foot of your bed.
33. You wake up in your bed. You are wearing a large hat, fake nose, and moustache. Walking around town later, you see a large number of wanted posters. The person depicted looks a lot like you. Only they have a bigger nose. And a moustache. And a hat.
34. You wake up in your bed. You are 2d6 gp poorer. Within the hour, 300 freshly baked pastries are delivered.
35. You wake up in your bed. You are 1d20 gp poorer, but now have 1d10 very fine hats.
36. You wake up in your bed. You are 1d10 gp richer and cradling a trophy with a giant pie on top. You have never felt more sick to your stomach.
37. You wake up in your bed. You are 1d20 gp poorer. Everything else seems normal, until the life size, lifelike bust of you carved from cheese is delivered.
38. You wake up in your bed. You are 3d20 gp poorer. Running around your room is a shocker lizard wearing a collar. It seems to be slightly domesticated.
39. You wake up in your bed. You are wearing a very respectable suit. In your breast pocket is a folded stack of papers indicating that you have been elected to some minor local political position. (Ex: Town Cattle Inspector, District Cheese Quality Controller, etc.)
40. You wake up in your bed. Everything seems normal. Soon a paladin arrives and tells you how glad he is that you helped him break all those vows last night. When asked which vows, he just winks and says, ‘Oh, you know.’
41. You wake up in your bed. Everything seems normal. Soon a passive aggressive note is delivered explaining how in your intoxicated state, you wound up on the bad side of a middling local organization. (Scrivener’s Guild, Esoteric Brotherhood of the Fish Mongers, town chapter of the Rotary Club, Home Owner’s Association, whatever. They will probably not attempt to harm the PC, but they may try to foil them in petty ways whenever the PC is in the area.)
42. You wake up in your bed. Take the cost of your armor type (non-magical), multiply it by 1d4. You are that many gp poorer but you have the result of that 1d4 roll in otherwise cosmetically identical suits of armor in different colors.
43. You wake up in your bed. You are 1d10 gp poorer and have numerous bruises of unknown origin.
44. You wake up in your bed. Your knuckles are bruised, bloodied, and full of splinters. Your pockets are filled with fresh produce. You have a vague memory of a fruit cart looking at you funny.
45. You wake up in your bed. From the corner of your room, you hear the sound of awful crying. It’s a baby.
46. You wake up in your bed. You are wearing a suit cobbled together from bits and pieces of the skins of various animals. Later in the day, you hear stories of how some clawed, antlered monster was seen peeping in windows and climbing on roofs throughout the night.
47. You wake up in your bed. At your feet, you see 4d6 mice standing on their hind legs watching you. As soon as you stir, they scatter, leaving behind what appears to be a tiny altar with offerings of bread crust and cheese crumbles. One lock of your hair is now shorter than the rest.
48. You wake up on the floor of your room. In your bed, there are 2d4 sleeping prostitutes. You are still fully clothed and unsticky.
49. You wake up on the floor of your room. In your bed is a sleeping pig. The pig is covered in lipstick marks. Your face is also smeared with lipstick.
50. You wake up on the floor of your room. You are covered in dirt and mud. On your bed is a freshly exhumed corpse.
51. You wake up on the floor of your room. All the furniture and rugs have been moved up against the walls. In the center is a crudely drawn summoning circle ringed with the remains of black candles. At the center of the circle is a really fantastic looking sandwich.
52. You wake up in a temple. Several monks have gathered around you and are praying for your soul.
53. You wake up in a temple. In a coffin. Several monks are standing over you offering a pauper’s last rites. They seem surprised when you start moving.
54. You wake up in a temple. You are wearing a fine suit. By the altar is a coffin, the corpse inside is wearing your clothes.
55. You wake up in a temple. In the confessional. Naked. Services are beginning.
56. You wake up in a temple. In the confessional. Naked. Someone enters the other side and begins confessing their sins.
57. You wake up in a temple. In holy vestments. Crowds have begun gathering for service.
58. You wake up in a temple naked behind the altar. The first of the faithful are starting to enter for services. Someone has defecated in the offering dish.
59. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You are naked and armed only with a wooden spear hastily carved from a sapling.
60. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You are unarmed and only wearing one boot. A wolverine has the other.
61. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You are in the middle of a perfect circle of trees, naked save for the freshly flayed skin of a lamb.
62. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You head seems to be stuck in some kind of no-kill trap.
63. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You are at the bottom of a deep pit trap. Two gap-toothed yokels are leering down at you.
64. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You are holding a bear cub.
65. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. 3d12 miconids are standing in a circle around you, singing a song you vaguely remember being soothed by in early childhood.
66. You wake up in humble country a barn. A slightly homely girl is asleep on the hay beside you. Someone is opening the front door.
67. You wake up in a nobleman’s barn. You are wearing a saddle and there are whip marks on your buttocks. You are 1d10 gp richer.
68. You wake up in an alley. 1d6 hobos are wearing 1d6 articles of your clothing.
69. You wake up in an alley. A group of local children are poking you with sticks and arguing about whether or not you’re dead.
70. You wake up in an alley. A group of urchins are standing over you and arguing about how to split your money or how much they could sell your hair for if they shaved you.
71. You wake up in an alley. Your left ass cheek hurts. It now bears a lifelike tattoo of an NPC you have befriended in the past.
72. You wake up in an alley. Your left ass cheek hurts. It now bears a lifelike tattoo of an NPC you have made enemies with in the past.
73. You wake up in an alley. There is a dead body next to you.
74. You wake up in an alley. Your clothing is splattered in blood and you are carrying a sack with 1d10 gp worth of an illegal substance.
75. You wake up in a sumptuous bed in a beautiful hotel. Along with the room service breakfast of caviar and sparkling wine comes the bill. Pay 2d10 gp or find a way out.
76. You wake up in a sumptuous bed in a beautiful hotel. Next to you is a complete stranger. Both of you are wearing wedding bands.
77. You wake up in a sumptuous bed in a beautiful hotel. You are holding a whip. Someone else is asleep suspended from the ceiling by leather straps.
78. You wake up in a warehouse. It is used for fermenting fish. The smell lingers on you for 1d6 days.
79. You wake up naked in an art school. A group of aspiring painters are in a circle around you, committing your likeness to canvas.
80. You wake up in the back room of an art gallery. Up front, you hear two people discussing the pairs of circles now covering all the paintings. One of them is using terms like ‘Brilliant’ and ‘Revolutionary’. Your buttocks feel uncomfortably sticky.
81. You wake up naked in a fancy sculpture garden. The statues are all wearing various articles of your clothing. You can hear the sound of wealthy ladies beginning to gather for croquet.
82. You wake up in the private garden of a local noble’s wife. Her favorite topiary has been re-shaped into a crude likeness of a penis. You are covered in clippings.
83. You wake up in the main square at the feet of a bronze statue of the city’s founder. You and the statue are wearing matching outfits. You have in your possession 1d10 pairs of ladies’ underwear of unknown origin.
84. You wake up in the common room of an impoverished orphanage. You hear the voices of children around you. They are talking about how you ate the last of the cookies.
85. You wake up behind a stack of hay bales in the stable of an inn. On the other side of the stack, the innkeeper is interrogating the stable boy about why all the horses are wearing makeup and the oxen have bonnets.
86. You wake up on the edge of a field. You are wearing a heavy full-body suit made from the skin of a bear. From the sound of things, the annual Town Watch vs Paladin’s Order Tackleball game is about to start.
87. You wake up on the front steps of the local administrative building. You are wearing war paint and a bandana. A treatise of radical political and religious ideologies has been nailed to the door.
88. You wake up behind a tailor’s shop. You are wearing a ball gown made for a noblewoman. The rest of your clothing is missing.
89. You wake up in an alchemist’s shop. There are a number of empty vials on the floor around you. For the next 2d6 days, everything that should be green looks purple and food tastes like it’s vibrating. Occasionally, you burp multi-colored bubbles.
90. You wake up in a crypt. You hear retreating footsteps as one person complains to another that nothing makes him go soft faster than realizing they’re still alive.
91. You wake up in a closed coffin, crammed in next to you is someone recently deceased. Outside, you hear the sounds of a funeral service.
92. You wake up in the communal lodge of a fraternal order. You clothing and all exposed skin are now covered in crudely drawn pictures of genitalia. (Ink takes 1d6 days or 2d12 washes to fade completely.)
93. You wake up in the communal lodge of a sororal order. You are wearing feathers, lace, and a full face of makeup. Your buttock is sore and bears bruises in the same shapes as the cutouts on that paddle hanging above the fireplace.


94. You wake up in the communal lodge of an esoteric order. The room is full of burned out candles. There is a pen in your hand and a note, but the handwriting isn’t yours. It is a letter to you from a long-dead friend or relative detailing fond memories or talking about how well or poorly you are doing carrying on the family legacy.
95. You wake up in the office of the dean of the local bardic college. You are wearing an immaculate suit. Moments later, the first in a line of students outside enters to begin their admission interview.
96. You wake up in a cozy bed in the groundskeeper’s cottage on a wealthy noble’s estate. You have a number of bound minor wounds and on the nearest chair is a suit made from fox skins that looks to have been savaged by dogs. Waiting for you on the table are a warm pot of tea, 4d10gp in a bag, and a ‘Thank you’ note.
97. You wake up in the hut of a local witch. Her cauldron is upended and it looks as though much of the content has been drunk. You are now: Roll 1d6- 1= green and slimey, 2 = 1/10 your original size, 3 = a toad, 4 = covered entirely in fur, 5 = walking around on giant chicken feet, 6 = modular (Your body parts are all easily removable but can be harmlessly snapped back into place. They’re also scattered around the house.) You will remain this way for 1d12 hours.
98. You wake up in the tower of a local wizard. You seem to have broken his enchanted celestial mapping device by putting your head through it. It will now only tell him what is visible in the night sky relative to the location of your head.
99. You wake up to find yourself seated at a table. There is a quill in one hand and a small cut on the other. Across from you sits a well-dressed but sinister man, a man of wealth and taste. In front of you is a contract detailing in extremely complex terms, the exchange of power for your immortal soul. (Once the contract is signed or if the PC refuses, the man disappears in a cloud of sulfurous smoke.)
100. Roll Twice, DM comes up with a monstrous combination of the two.
 

Corpsetaker

First Post
I'm finally glad to see some good quest building ideas. This is why I do XP very slowly because the party could one minute be fighting in a nearby dungeon, and then the next fighting swarms of rats in the village. I really hate the monster killing ladder PC's have to climb when they increase in power.
 

DEFCON 1

Legend
Supporter
Oh it's useless alright. That much was immediately clear.

You better hope they don't eventually get around to doing some of your other main requests you keep asking of WotC-- like upping the power of their adventure path books to work for optimized or "hard mode" parties. Cause I'm willing to bet you'll end up disappointed with what they do for those as well. ;)
 

CapnZapp

Legend
You better hope they don't eventually get around to doing some of your other main requests you keep asking of WotC-- like upping the power of their adventure path books to work for optimized or "hard mode" parties. Cause I'm willing to bet you'll end up disappointed with what they do for those as well. ;)
Nah, this was a five minute job that caters to completely different tastes than mine.

I'd gladly take whatever they end up with - just the fact that any such product would at least implicitly acknowledge and concede how 5th edition is possibly the most carebearian edition in the whole of D&Ds history would go a very long way! :)
 

Kobold Avenger

Adventurer
I know the large amount of time required to make higher end items is because they don't want a proliferation of magic items, but I still feel they should have shorter times to craft. In my opinion the thing that would make such items less prolific should be level requirements, such as the ones likely attached to the CR range of the ingredients. Almost 10 years to craft a legendary item is too much, it should be something like 8 months at the most as it's already made difficult by having to deal with something that's CR 19+.

To some extent I was hoping there would be a table of random things to happen to characters if downtime happens over months or years:
-Such as a character getting a child regardless of their sexual orientation, how sociable they are or their biological capability.
-Becoming a mayor of a city or a governor of a region.
-They end up running a business for all those years between last adventure.
-They suffered amnesia and simply forget the last few years between last adventure, or maybe they fell into another plane where time flows differently and emerged later and years have passed.

And then the player would sort of have to fill in the blanks...
 

This is the first UA article I could really see using...needing, honestly. Downtime happens in my games on occasion and usually serves as a framework for future adventure directions as well. Love the foil concept, and really love the more nuanced magic item creation/buying/selling mechanics.
 

1. You wake up in jail, pending charges for a serious crime (Treason, sedition, grand larceny, etc.). You actually did it.
2. You wake up in jail, pending charges for a serious crime (Treason, sedition, grand larceny, etc.). You didn’t do it.
3. You wake up in jail on minor charges. Pay 10gp for bail or spend 1d4 days behind bars.
4. You wake up in jail on minor charges. Pay 10gp for bail or spend 1d4 days behind bars. Also, your cellmate is an NPC you previously made enemies with.
5. You wake up in jail on minor charges. Pay 10gp for bail or spend 1d4 days behind bars. Also, your cellmate is an NPC you previously befriended.
6. You wake up in bed with an NPC you previously made enemies with.
7. You wake up in bed with an NPC you previously made friends with.
8. You wake up in bed with a total stranger when they wake up, they are: roll 1d6 1 = Friendly, 2 = Neutral, 3 = Hostile, 4 = Disgusted, 5 = Frightened, 6 = In Love.
9. You wake up in bed with the spouse of an NPC you previously made friends with.
10. You wake up in bed with the spouse of an NPC you previously made enemies with.
11. You wake up in bed with the spouse of an important local noble or official.
12. You wake up in a strange bed with no one, you can hear the family downstairs calling for the constables.
13. You wake up in a strange bed with no one. A moment later, a middle aged man invites you down for breakfast. He and his family know you by name and no one seems to find your presence unusual.
14. You wake up in a strange bed with no one, but there is a scent of long rotting flesh coming from under the mattress.
15. You wake up chained to a strange bed. A large man in leather comes to release you and shyly asks that you join him for breakfast.
16. You wake up on the floor of a seedy club. Looks like it was amateur night. Your clothing is in a pile in the corner and you don’t know where the g-string came from, but you have an extra 3d10 cp.
17. You wake up on the floor of a seedy club. Looks like it was amateur night. Your clothing is in a pile in the corner and you don’t know where the g-string came from, but you have an extra 2d10 cp and a token of admiration from an influential NPC.
18. You wake up on the floor of a seedy club. Looks like it was amateur night. Your clothing is in a pile in the corner and you don’t know where the g-string came from, but you have an extra 2d10 cp and a token of admiration from an influential NPC’s spouse.
19. You wake up on the floor of a seedy club. Looks like it was amateur night. Your clothing is in a pile in the corner and you don’t know where the g-string came from, but you have an extra 1d10 cp and a sympathy breakfast courtesy of the cleaning staff.
20. You wake up on the floor of a seedy club. Looks like it was amateur night. Your clothing is in a pile in the corner and you don’t know where the g-string came from, but you have an extra 1d10 gp and an invitation to attend a private, VIPs only gathering at an influential NPCs estate. (A leather animal mask will arrive wherever the PC is staying shortly.)
21. You wake up in bed in an unfamiliar inn, the stranger next to you is: roll 1d6 1-2 = Unattractive, 3-4 = Incredibly Ugly, 5-6 = Unspeakably Hideous.
22. You wake up in bed in an unfamiliar inn, the stranger next to you is: roll 1d6 1-2 = Good Looking, 3-4 = Gorgeous, 5-6 = Way Out of Your League (You should probably just see yourself out before they wake up).
23. You wake up in bed in an unfamiliar inn, the stranger next to you is: roll 1d6 1-2 = a Goat, 3-4 = a Pig, 5-6 = a Miniature Donkey.
24. You wake up in your bed. You are wearing a full face of makeup and there are 1d4 gp on the nightstand.
25. You wake up in your bed. You would get up, but you are tied to it with leather straps.
26. You wake up in your bed. A dog you have never seen before is licking your left foot.
27. You wake up in your bed. On you is a document from a local judge stating that you have legally changed your name to the same name as one of your fellow party members.
28. You wake up in your bed. On you is a document from a local judge stating that you have legally changed your name to the same name as your worst NPC enemy.
29. You wake up in your bed. On you is a ‘Thank you’ note from an important local official, noble, or organization. It does not make any mention of what they are thanking you for.
30. You wake up in your bed. You are spooning a whole ham. The ham is wearing a nightgown and lipstick.
31. You wake up in your bed. You are spooning someone who looks almost exactly like you.
32. You wake up in your bed. You are dressed as a member of the local watch. A man in his underwear is hogtied at the foot of your bed.
33. You wake up in your bed. You are wearing a large hat, fake nose, and moustache. Walking around town later, you see a large number of wanted posters. The person depicted looks a lot like you. Only they have a bigger nose. And a moustache. And a hat.
34. You wake up in your bed. You are 2d6 gp poorer. Within the hour, 300 freshly baked pastries are delivered.
35. You wake up in your bed. You are 1d20 gp poorer, but now have 1d10 very fine hats.
36. You wake up in your bed. You are 1d10 gp richer and cradling a trophy with a giant pie on top. You have never felt more sick to your stomach.
37. You wake up in your bed. You are 1d20 gp poorer. Everything else seems normal, until the life size, lifelike bust of you carved from cheese is delivered.
38. You wake up in your bed. You are 3d20 gp poorer. Running around your room is a shocker lizard wearing a collar. It seems to be slightly domesticated.
39. You wake up in your bed. You are wearing a very respectable suit. In your breast pocket is a folded stack of papers indicating that you have been elected to some minor local political position. (Ex: Town Cattle Inspector, District Cheese Quality Controller, etc.)
40. You wake up in your bed. Everything seems normal. Soon a paladin arrives and tells you how glad he is that you helped him break all those vows last night. When asked which vows, he just winks and says, ‘Oh, you know.’
41. You wake up in your bed. Everything seems normal. Soon a passive aggressive note is delivered explaining how in your intoxicated state, you wound up on the bad side of a middling local organization. (Scrivener’s Guild, Esoteric Brotherhood of the Fish Mongers, town chapter of the Rotary Club, Home Owner’s Association, whatever. They will probably not attempt to harm the PC, but they may try to foil them in petty ways whenever the PC is in the area.)
42. You wake up in your bed. Take the cost of your armor type (non-magical), multiply it by 1d4. You are that many gp poorer but you have the result of that 1d4 roll in otherwise cosmetically identical suits of armor in different colors.
43. You wake up in your bed. You are 1d10 gp poorer and have numerous bruises of unknown origin.
44. You wake up in your bed. Your knuckles are bruised, bloodied, and full of splinters. Your pockets are filled with fresh produce. You have a vague memory of a fruit cart looking at you funny.
45. You wake up in your bed. From the corner of your room, you hear the sound of awful crying. It’s a baby.
46. You wake up in your bed. You are wearing a suit cobbled together from bits and pieces of the skins of various animals. Later in the day, you hear stories of how some clawed, antlered monster was seen peeping in windows and climbing on roofs throughout the night.
47. You wake up in your bed. At your feet, you see 4d6 mice standing on their hind legs watching you. As soon as you stir, they scatter, leaving behind what appears to be a tiny altar with offerings of bread crust and cheese crumbles. One lock of your hair is now shorter than the rest.
48. You wake up on the floor of your room. In your bed, there are 2d4 sleeping prostitutes. You are still fully clothed and unsticky.
49. You wake up on the floor of your room. In your bed is a sleeping pig. The pig is covered in lipstick marks. Your face is also smeared with lipstick.
50. You wake up on the floor of your room. You are covered in dirt and mud. On your bed is a freshly exhumed corpse.
51. You wake up on the floor of your room. All the furniture and rugs have been moved up against the walls. In the center is a crudely drawn summoning circle ringed with the remains of black candles. At the center of the circle is a really fantastic looking sandwich.
52. You wake up in a temple. Several monks have gathered around you and are praying for your soul.
53. You wake up in a temple. In a coffin. Several monks are standing over you offering a pauper’s last rites. They seem surprised when you start moving.
54. You wake up in a temple. You are wearing a fine suit. By the altar is a coffin, the corpse inside is wearing your clothes.
55. You wake up in a temple. In the confessional. Naked. Services are beginning.
56. You wake up in a temple. In the confessional. Naked. Someone enters the other side and begins confessing their sins.
57. You wake up in a temple. In holy vestments. Crowds have begun gathering for service.
58. You wake up in a temple naked behind the altar. The first of the faithful are starting to enter for services. Someone has defecated in the offering dish.
59. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You are naked and armed only with a wooden spear hastily carved from a sapling.
60. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You are unarmed and only wearing one boot. A wolverine has the other.
61. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You are in the middle of a perfect circle of trees, naked save for the freshly flayed skin of a lamb.
62. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You head seems to be stuck in some kind of no-kill trap.
63. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You are at the bottom of a deep pit trap. Two gap-toothed yokels are leering down at you.
64. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. You are holding a bear cub.
65. You wake up in the woods 1d4 miles from where you last remember being. 3d12 miconids are standing in a circle around you, singing a song you vaguely remember being soothed by in early childhood.
66. You wake up in humble country a barn. A slightly homely girl is asleep on the hay beside you. Someone is opening the front door.
67. You wake up in a nobleman’s barn. You are wearing a saddle and there are whip marks on your buttocks. You are 1d10 gp richer.
68. You wake up in an alley. 1d6 hobos are wearing 1d6 articles of your clothing.
69. You wake up in an alley. A group of local children are poking you with sticks and arguing about whether or not you’re dead.
70. You wake up in an alley. A group of urchins are standing over you and arguing about how to split your money or how much they could sell your hair for if they shaved you.
71. You wake up in an alley. Your left ass cheek hurts. It now bears a lifelike tattoo of an NPC you have befriended in the past.
72. You wake up in an alley. Your left ass cheek hurts. It now bears a lifelike tattoo of an NPC you have made enemies with in the past.
73. You wake up in an alley. There is a dead body next to you.
74. You wake up in an alley. Your clothing is splattered in blood and you are carrying a sack with 1d10 gp worth of an illegal substance.
75. You wake up in a sumptuous bed in a beautiful hotel. Along with the room service breakfast of caviar and sparkling wine comes the bill. Pay 2d10 gp or find a way out.
76. You wake up in a sumptuous bed in a beautiful hotel. Next to you is a complete stranger. Both of you are wearing wedding bands.
77. You wake up in a sumptuous bed in a beautiful hotel. You are holding a whip. Someone else is asleep suspended from the ceiling by leather straps.
78. You wake up in a warehouse. It is used for fermenting fish. The smell lingers on you for 1d6 days.
79. You wake up naked in an art school. A group of aspiring painters are in a circle around you, committing your likeness to canvas.
80. You wake up in the back room of an art gallery. Up front, you hear two people discussing the pairs of circles now covering all the paintings. One of them is using terms like ‘Brilliant’ and ‘Revolutionary’. Your buttocks feel uncomfortably sticky.
81. You wake up naked in a fancy sculpture garden. The statues are all wearing various articles of your clothing. You can hear the sound of wealthy ladies beginning to gather for croquet.
82. You wake up in the private garden of a local noble’s wife. Her favorite topiary has been re-shaped into a crude likeness of a penis. You are covered in clippings.
83. You wake up in the main square at the feet of a bronze statue of the city’s founder. You and the statue are wearing matching outfits. You have in your possession 1d10 pairs of ladies’ underwear of unknown origin.
84. You wake up in the common room of an impoverished orphanage. You hear the voices of children around you. They are talking about how you ate the last of the cookies.
85. You wake up behind a stack of hay bales in the stable of an inn. On the other side of the stack, the innkeeper is interrogating the stable boy about why all the horses are wearing makeup and the oxen have bonnets.
86. You wake up on the edge of a field. You are wearing a heavy full-body suit made from the skin of a bear. From the sound of things, the annual Town Watch vs Paladin’s Order Tackleball game is about to start.
87. You wake up on the front steps of the local administrative building. You are wearing war paint and a bandana. A treatise of radical political and religious ideologies has been nailed to the door.
88. You wake up behind a tailor’s shop. You are wearing a ball gown made for a noblewoman. The rest of your clothing is missing.
89. You wake up in an alchemist’s shop. There are a number of empty vials on the floor around you. For the next 2d6 days, everything that should be green looks purple and food tastes like it’s vibrating. Occasionally, you burp multi-colored bubbles.
90. You wake up in a crypt. You hear retreating footsteps as one person complains to another that nothing makes him go soft faster than realizing they’re still alive.
91. You wake up in a closed coffin, crammed in next to you is someone recently deceased. Outside, you hear the sounds of a funeral service.
92. You wake up in the communal lodge of a fraternal order. You clothing and all exposed skin are now covered in crudely drawn pictures of genitalia. (Ink takes 1d6 days or 2d12 washes to fade completely.)
93. You wake up in the communal lodge of a sororal order. You are wearing feathers, lace, and a full face of makeup. Your buttock is sore and bears bruises in the same shapes as the cutouts on that paddle hanging above the fireplace.


94. You wake up in the communal lodge of an esoteric order. The room is full of burned out candles. There is a pen in your hand and a note, but the handwriting isn’t yours. It is a letter to you from a long-dead friend or relative detailing fond memories or talking about how well or poorly you are doing carrying on the family legacy.
95. You wake up in the office of the dean of the local bardic college. You are wearing an immaculate suit. Moments later, the first in a line of students outside enters to begin their admission interview.
96. You wake up in a cozy bed in the groundskeeper’s cottage on a wealthy noble’s estate. You have a number of bound minor wounds and on the nearest chair is a suit made from fox skins that looks to have been savaged by dogs. Waiting for you on the table are a warm pot of tea, 4d10gp in a bag, and a ‘Thank you’ note.
97. You wake up in the hut of a local witch. Her cauldron is upended and it looks as though much of the content has been drunk. You are now: Roll 1d6- 1= green and slimey, 2 = 1/10 your original size, 3 = a toad, 4 = covered entirely in fur, 5 = walking around on giant chicken feet, 6 = modular (Your body parts are all easily removable but can be harmlessly snapped back into place. They’re also scattered around the house.) You will remain this way for 1d12 hours.
98. You wake up in the tower of a local wizard. You seem to have broken his enchanted celestial mapping device by putting your head through it. It will now only tell him what is visible in the night sky relative to the location of your head.
99. You wake up to find yourself seated at a table. There is a quill in one hand and a small cut on the other. Across from you sits a well-dressed but sinister man, a man of wealth and taste. In front of you is a contract detailing in extremely complex terms, the exchange of power for your immortal soul. (Once the contract is signed or if the PC refuses, the man disappears in a cloud of sulfurous smoke.)
100. Roll Twice, DM comes up with a monstrous combination of the two.

This may be the most useful post I've run across in years.
 

OB1

Jedi Master
I know the large amount of time required to make higher end items is because they don't want a proliferation of magic items, but I still feel they should have shorter times to craft. In my opinion the thing that would make such items less prolific should be level requirements, such as the ones likely attached to the CR range of the ingredients. Almost 10 years to craft a legendary item is too much, it should be something like 8 months at the most as it's already made difficult by having to deal with something that's CR 19+.

And I love the long crafting times. I think it fits wonderfully with the long lives of Dwarves and Elves, who are the most likely mortal creators of such items.

Imagine a campaign with only long lived PCs that could take years or decades off between sessions.

Really hoping WotC doesn't change this.


Sent from my iPhone using EN World mobile app
 

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