NeoGrognard

The first time I played D&D the only map was the strange blue one sitting behind the screen. There was not Battlemat in front of us. Dungeon tiles existed, actually quite a few companies made them (Games Workshop being the most prominent), but few of us had them. Instead when we were done with the monsters in a room, the DM would describe the visible egresses (sometimes reminding us about the way we came in), and then we would check for secret doors. When we entered a room, he would give us a basic description (there were very few instances of read-aloud text back then), one of us would write down details so to not to forget them when things settled down, and then we would usually roll for initiative. Combat was a flurry of shouting, questions, and dice rolls, and then the whole process would start over again. In many ways, though in D&D you had both rooms and levels, rooms in D&D were the start of what’s now commonly referred to as level design. They were instances of real play that often came with their own rules or rules exceptions.

A long encounter for its day, room 5 of Hall of the Fire Giant King is shorter than even the most basic encounter found in adventures today. If you look at the map, you would have no clue the encounter was as cool and memorable as how it plays out.

Take for example one of my favorite rooms from G 1-2-3 Against the Giants – Hall of the Fire Giant King, level #1, room 5. Queen Frupy’s Chamber. The name of the NPC is enough to make you chuckle a bit, but often stupid little names like this work best. They’re very memorable. I recently named an aged gladiator Sparto in my home campaign, and the players had a hard time remembering the name of the bad guy who has been harassing them since the very first adventure, but they never forgot Sparto.

Anyhow, back to room 5. The queen stands out for a few reasons. First she is fantastically ugly. How ugly? Well, “uglier than [King] Snurre. Topped by a huge mass of yellow orange hair which looks like a fright wig. [Her] face is a mass of jowls and wrinkles, set in the middle of a very large head which sits squarely on her shoulders. Her body is lumpy and gross, and her skin is covered with bristles the color of her hair. Her little pig eyes, however, are bright with intelligence unusual in a giant.” Pretty evocative stuff!

Second she’s a bad ass, or as Gygax puts it, “a veritable [harridan], a sly and cunning horror.” She has a higher AC, attack rolls, and damage than a normal fire giant, and a couple of giant weasels that come to her aid to sweeten the encounter. And if all that weren’t enough (and it’s not) upon noticing adventurers in her boudoir, she commands them to kneel before Frupy, so that she may “fairly dispose of her humble request.” When the PCs do, they get knocks on the noggin with a better rate of attack, damage, and decapitation on the score of a “natural 20.” Ah, the prototype of critical hits ladies and gentlemen, right here in some ugly giant’s bedroom!

All of this occurs in a 30-foot-by-50-foot rectangular room with some furniture that is not even on the map, and most of it is not even described until the third and final paragraph of the room description.

These days encounter design is much more robust. There is a tactical maps, called out triggers, and Frupy would get an entire stat block (we just had a reference to her base creature, her hit points, and her exceptions in running text in the original adventure. In short, there are more tools to help the DM not only describe the encounter area, but to present it to the players without saying a word. You draw a map, plop down some tiles, and put down a miniature—hopefully a regal looking fire giant female. But all of these are just tools to help set the stage for what’s really important—great characters, interesting surprises that make encounters distinct and memorable, and story triggers. For instance, among Frupy’s treasure is a drow made wizard eye device that cunning DM can use as foreshadowing for the dangers occurring in the lower halls and caverns of the dungeon. And while often we Dungeon Masters go ga-ga over our complicated maps and formats, it’s often these small movable story parts that really get the player’s juices flowing. And often, as old adventures show us, they can be done with simple maps, a few paragraphs.

Need more convincing? Check out the One Page Dungeon Contest. There is some great stuff here. Simple, to the point, and fun; a real inspiration.