Think of the main races in your basic campaign setting. Humans always dominate the world with a wide variety of kingdoms and cultures and ethnicities. Then you've got your dwarves in their mountain holds: a proud, Scottish-accented race of perpetually bearded miners who write in runes and love axes almost as much as they love grudges. Of course you have your elven kingdom too, often tucked away on an island to the west where they are free to be mysterious and haughty. Don't get them started on their evil cousins, the drow, who worship demons and spiders deep in their subterranean kingdoms conveniently located wherever the plot needs them to be. The orcs live in barbarian tribes just on the other side of those mountains at the edge of the map, but they're always coming over to raid the civilized lands. Halflings and gnomes? Oh, they are around somewhere too. I guess they live in little villages inside human kingdoms, where they just sort of hang out, practicing with their slings and talking to badgers. Maybe the gnomes are, like, steampunk inventors or whatever. And the halflings are... well, you read The Hobbit, right?
RPGs these days are getting better at representing real-life human diversity, which is great. Astute worldbuilders make sure to fill their campaign maps with a wide variety of human kingdoms representing any number of ethnicities, cultures, and government types. But what about diversity for the other races? Are there any feudal halfling kingdoms? How about dark-skinned elves? (And I don't mean drow). Are there dwarven merchant republics? Oriental gnomish dynasties?
Sometimes you'll get a bit of an explanation. 'The special thing about humans is how diverse they are! All those other races are just too set in their ways to have a wide range of languages, cultures, and ethnicities.' I call that BS. It's just a way to excuse lazy worldbuilding. I know why it happens: humans are real. We can look to our own history for inspiration when creating the human kingdoms and cultures of our fantasy settings. But elves and dwarves don't exist. Most of the fantasy races are only around because of Tolkien. Nowhere is this more apparent than with halflings, who owe their entire existence to Tolkien. In fact, the basic D&D halfling, with its love of adventure and skill at thievery, is based not so much on the pastoral hobbits of the Shire, but on one hobbit in particular: Bilbo Baggins. When humans can draw on 10,000 years of real history but all the other races are tethered - directly or indirectly - to a handful of books or even a few beloved characters, it's easy to see why the fantasy races get such short shrift.
How do we fix it? To start, throw Tolkien out the window. The man is the father of modern worldbuilding; let's honor him by making our own worlds, not copying his. Start with all of the base races on equal footing. Think about what defining characteristics they would have in your setting. If you just can't find a place for one of the races, toss it out and consider replacing it with an alternate race. When you start filling in your map with cool country ideas, think to yourself, "Does this country need to be human-dominated? Is there another race that fits it better?" Draw on human history and diversity for inspiration not just for your human cultures, but for your dwarves and elves and halflings and gnomes as well.
In the 'India and Southeast-Asia' region of my campaign setting, Chattara is an empire ruled over by a warrior caste of dwarves (an amalgam of the Mughals, the Rajputs, and the Sikhs). Chattar dwarves descended from a race of surface-dwelling dwarves in the hill country to the north. They have bronze skin and black hair, which they keep wrapped in a turban in public. They have an abiding love of wine and poetry. They are skilled with the falchion and the chakram, and they ride into battle on the backs of woolly rhinoceroses.
Chattar dwarves bear little resemblance to Gimli, son of Glóin, but they are distinctive and interesting nonetheless.
For your inspiration, here are a few more ideas for non-human-centric kingdoms and civilizations:
The halfling kingdom of Amall has a reputation for chivalry. They have fought long and hard to keep from being overrun by the 'big folk' and have adapted well to their style of warfare. Amallish castles are built with high walls to repel human attackers. Amallish knights on purebred war-ponies train constantly at tournaments. The elite knights of the Order of the Giant's Skull only earn their spurs when they have fought a giant and lived to tell the tale. Aside from their knights, Amall is renowned for the quality of their gourds and squashes - every Amallish housewife has a well-guarded recipe for pumpkin pie.
The wood elves of Cythnemoria hold insanity to be a gift from the gods. Before making any important decision, they consume a potent hallucinogenic drink to 'bring them closer to the wisdom of the mad ones'. In battle, they paint their bodies with natural dyes and strike with poisoned weapons. Cythnemoria is divided into a dozen chaotic elvish clans. Alliances shift rapidly at the whims of the clan elders who, if not actually insane, manage a fair impression of it.
In the swampy islands of Pindalang, human and gnomish slaves work under the rule of the lizardfolk warrior class known as the Chonggai. Katana-armed Chonggai maintain a tightly structured society that ensures that their slaves can never hope to rise up. The lizardfolk, in turn, carry out the orders of a shadowy cabal of serpentfolk working toward inscrutable goals. The slaves, meanwhile, live lives of toil in rice paddies and copper mines, more afraid of the terrifying monsters that haunt the night than of their scaly overlords.
The Falan are a race of black-skinned gnomes from the coast of Tong. They live most of their lives on their boats, fishing or carrying trade goods down rivers and up coasts to port cities. It is taboo in Falan culture to speak while on land, for fear that evil land spirits will fly into your open mouth and turn your heart away from the water. As such, the Falan have devised a sign language that they use to trade in human markets, and many humans believe the Falan to be mute. The most honored gnomes in Falan culture are believed to be able to call fish to the surface with their songs. These Sea-Callers are forbidden from ever setting foot on land, lest they inadvertently open their mouth and lose their precious gift.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just as a reminder, my patreon has switched to a monthly schedule, and there is a whole new set of rewards tiers to choose from. $5+ patrons get a new monster every Monday, $8+ patrons get to vote on the final monster of the month, and $12+ patrons get access to a monthly playtest document full of all the open game content I worked on that month. In January, as a special preview, I made all reward tiers available to every patron. January's monsters were the rustbound skeleton, funayurei, valraven, and the patron-voted strix harpy. January's playtest document added three new monsters (goo bat swarm, ikuchi, and pit mimic), a giant-blooded playable race (the Grenn), and a new spell worthy of a Disney princess (animal servants). Check out my patreon if you like what you see here! I don't mean to beg, but please give me all of your money!
-your perpetually bearded d20 despot
Monday, February 1, 2016
Monday, January 25, 2016
How to Avoid Common Mistakes as a New GM
Crossing over to the other side of the Game Master's screen is exciting, but it can also be intimidating. Your gaming group is now counting on you to describe the whole world around them, provide them with a story, and adjudicate the rules. You are basically acting as a human gaming system for a group of gamers. When the spotlight is on you, the pressure to perform is intense, and it is easy to make mistakes.
Most of the time these mistakes are small. They won't break the game or send your group running for the hills. But everyone wants their first time to go well, and the more mistakes you can avoid the better it will be for everybody.
1. Read, Read, Read
It happens to every GM. At some point, you forget a monster rule that totally messes up a fight, or you misunderstand part of the adventure module you are running and cause problems for yourself down the line, or at the very least you forget a rule and have to stop the game and go flipping through a bunch of books trying to find it.
This may seem obvious, but the hands-down best way you can prepare for your first stint as a GM is to read all the material cover-to-cover beforehand. Read the main rulebooks for the system you are using. If you are running a pre-made adventure, read the module all the way through. Before a fight, read the monster stat blocks to make sure you understand everything it can do. Even if you've read the rulebooks before, back when you were a player, read them again. You pick up on different things when you are reading them to learn how to play than when you are reading them to learn how to GM. You might even find that your regular GM has been misinterpreting a crucial rule!
Not only is this great preparation work, but it is also a good way to come up with new ideas. You might come across a set of rules that doesn't get used much in your group and decide to build an encounter around it. When I was reading through the 3rd Edition Dungeon Master's Guide while preparing for my first time as a GM, I got really inspired by the section on fire and heat hazards and decided to add a house fire into the scenario. The result was an exciting non-combat encounter that gave a new player an opportunity to feel like a hero.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Fixing the Weapons Table, Part 9: Ranged Weapons
Welcome back to my ongoing series, Fixing the Weapons Table, wherein I channel my MA in medieval history and my near-compulsive need to tweak with game mechanics toward making the Pathfinder weapons table even better! Today we'll take a look at ranged weapons: bows, crossbows, and slings.
In previous installments I've touched on throwing knives and hunga mungas, medieval gunpowder weapons including explosive arrows and crossbow bolts, and even the razor-sharp Indian throwing disc known as the chakram. So what is left to say about ranged weapons? As it turns out, plenty! In this installment, we'll talk about bows and crossbows, sling staves, pila, and heavy javelins. There's also tons of new ammunition types for bows and crossbows, including alchemical creations, plus I'm revising the explosive arrows and crossbow bolts from my previous entry on medieval gunpowder weapons. So read on!
The following material given in gold text and its accompanying table is available as Open Game Content under the OGL. Open Game Content is ©2015 Jonah Bomgaars.
![]() |
| Click to embiggen |
Monday, January 11, 2016
The Chaining of Krampus Play-Through
The following is an account of a recent game session where I ran a party through The Chaining of Krampus, last month's holiday adventure. Don't read it if you don't want spoilers for that adventure!
Deep in the Candy Cane Forest, with Christmas fast approaching, a party of adventurers awaited the arrival of Santa Claus. They were: Kevin McCallister, a dwarven cleric obsessed with Santa; Holly Goodcheer, The Fist of Christmas, a festive monk who spoke like an old Jewish grandmother from New Jersey but who could overwhelm any enemy with a flurry of blows from her cold iron nutcracker nun-chucks; Missile Toebreaker, a half orc druid who loved fire; Candycane McClane, a tough-as-nails halfling barbarian who could punch well above his weight class; and Roger Dudley, aka "The Gingerbread Man", a dashing rogue who wore his heart on his sleeve.
When Santa arrived, he explained the dire situation. Krampus had begun stealing any children he could get his hands on, naughty or nice. He had become a liability and needed to be stopped. Santa explained that the Holiday Spirit Accords of 943 prohibited him or his helpers from entering Krampus' lair, but with a knowing wink he suggested that the adventurers could certainly seek out Krampus and bind him in chains, if they wanted. He also, conveniently, dropped a set of magical chains that someone could use to bind Krampus once he was knocked unconscious. After explaining that Krampus had taken up residence in Mount Krumpet, Santa gave them the name of a dwarf who could tell them more: Nunavut Octavius, an old prospector who was washed up on the Island of Recalled Toys.
With that, Santa set the party on their way. They traveled via ice floe (as everyone seems to do in the Arctic Ocean) to the island and were greeted by a plushie owlbear with pink polka-dots, who showed them around the ramshackle town. They saw strange toys walking those gingerbread streets: dolls with too many arms, rolling toys with square wheels, toy knights wearing wizard hats, Elmos that refused to be tickled, and other such rejected playthings. They asked the owlbear what was wrong with him, and he just grumbled a disparaging remark about Inspector #27.
He showed them to The Windup, the only bar on the island, which Nunavut Octavius was known to frequent. The dwarf, nursing a misprinted commemorative lead mug full of winter ale, told them that he had once prospected Mount Krumpet and found that it was full of caves and tunnels. He said there were two entrances he knew of, one to the south near the village of Whomburg, and one to the north, guarded by an abominable snowman. He warned them to avoid Whomburg, which, he said, was full of Gruunsch worshippers. While he told them about Gruunsch, the green orcish deity that was said to have stolen Christmas, Kevin tried to order several plates of roast beast and a gallon of mulled wine. The bartender - a tin monkey with a wind-up key in his forehead - would only move for a few seconds each wind, so Missile got behind the counter and continuously cranked the barkeep while it fixed Kevin's hearty repast.
As they prepared to head out, Nunavut told them once more to avoid Whomburg and go the northern route. He told them that his brother, Northwest Territories Lucinius, had been killed by an abominable snowman, and he asked the party if they could bring back his pickaxe. The party, however, had already decided to head for Whomburg. They crossed the strait and followed the road down south until they were overlooking the halfling town. Then the party had an idea. An awful idea. Based on what they had learned of the Gruunsch from Nunavut, they decided to dress the half orc Missile Toebreaker up as a devotee of Gruunsch and ride into town. Roger got out his disguise kit and dressed Missile up in an I Heart Gruunsch T-shirt with some Gruunsch-grunge flannel and ripped jeans, and stuck some antlers on his head.
Deep in the Candy Cane Forest, with Christmas fast approaching, a party of adventurers awaited the arrival of Santa Claus. They were: Kevin McCallister, a dwarven cleric obsessed with Santa; Holly Goodcheer, The Fist of Christmas, a festive monk who spoke like an old Jewish grandmother from New Jersey but who could overwhelm any enemy with a flurry of blows from her cold iron nutcracker nun-chucks; Missile Toebreaker, a half orc druid who loved fire; Candycane McClane, a tough-as-nails halfling barbarian who could punch well above his weight class; and Roger Dudley, aka "The Gingerbread Man", a dashing rogue who wore his heart on his sleeve.
When Santa arrived, he explained the dire situation. Krampus had begun stealing any children he could get his hands on, naughty or nice. He had become a liability and needed to be stopped. Santa explained that the Holiday Spirit Accords of 943 prohibited him or his helpers from entering Krampus' lair, but with a knowing wink he suggested that the adventurers could certainly seek out Krampus and bind him in chains, if they wanted. He also, conveniently, dropped a set of magical chains that someone could use to bind Krampus once he was knocked unconscious. After explaining that Krampus had taken up residence in Mount Krumpet, Santa gave them the name of a dwarf who could tell them more: Nunavut Octavius, an old prospector who was washed up on the Island of Recalled Toys.
With that, Santa set the party on their way. They traveled via ice floe (as everyone seems to do in the Arctic Ocean) to the island and were greeted by a plushie owlbear with pink polka-dots, who showed them around the ramshackle town. They saw strange toys walking those gingerbread streets: dolls with too many arms, rolling toys with square wheels, toy knights wearing wizard hats, Elmos that refused to be tickled, and other such rejected playthings. They asked the owlbear what was wrong with him, and he just grumbled a disparaging remark about Inspector #27.
He showed them to The Windup, the only bar on the island, which Nunavut Octavius was known to frequent. The dwarf, nursing a misprinted commemorative lead mug full of winter ale, told them that he had once prospected Mount Krumpet and found that it was full of caves and tunnels. He said there were two entrances he knew of, one to the south near the village of Whomburg, and one to the north, guarded by an abominable snowman. He warned them to avoid Whomburg, which, he said, was full of Gruunsch worshippers. While he told them about Gruunsch, the green orcish deity that was said to have stolen Christmas, Kevin tried to order several plates of roast beast and a gallon of mulled wine. The bartender - a tin monkey with a wind-up key in his forehead - would only move for a few seconds each wind, so Missile got behind the counter and continuously cranked the barkeep while it fixed Kevin's hearty repast.
As they prepared to head out, Nunavut told them once more to avoid Whomburg and go the northern route. He told them that his brother, Northwest Territories Lucinius, had been killed by an abominable snowman, and he asked the party if they could bring back his pickaxe. The party, however, had already decided to head for Whomburg. They crossed the strait and followed the road down south until they were overlooking the halfling town. Then the party had an idea. An awful idea. Based on what they had learned of the Gruunsch from Nunavut, they decided to dress the half orc Missile Toebreaker up as a devotee of Gruunsch and ride into town. Roger got out his disguise kit and dressed Missile up in an I Heart Gruunsch T-shirt with some Gruunsch-grunge flannel and ripped jeans, and stuck some antlers on his head.
![]() |
| Sadly, the T-shirt was two sizes too small. |
Monday, January 4, 2016
Worldbuilding - How to Steal from History
I've said it before and I'll say it again: a good GM has to know how to steal. This is never more true than when you are creating your campaign setting. Even Tolkien, the father of fantasy worldbuilding, stole the language and culture of the Rohirrim from the historical Anglo-Saxons, with the twist that they are horse people of the plains rather than an infantry-heavy insular people.
It may be satisfying to create a whole continent of kingdoms and city-states and emirates from scratch, but it is even more time consuming and difficult. Plus, you'll have to spend just as much time explaining your world to your players as you did creating it. Worse still, you run the risk of creating a bland and unengaging world full of shallow, interchangeable kingdoms. Pilfering ingredients from history makes your world easier to create and more accessible for players. Once you've decided, for instance, than Kingdom X is going to be based on Charlemagne's empire, you can use pseudo-French and pseudo-German names to lend your kingdom a consistent overall character.
Immersion requires a sense of verisimilitude, which is just a big word that means realism. Verisimilitude helps players become invested in your world, lose themselves in it, and have great roleplaying experiences. For that, you need a world that seems real, that makes sense on a human level, and that is readily accessible. There is no better source for realism than the pages of history itself. You have ten thousand years of human history at your disposal, displaying a bewildering variety of societies, governments, religions, warriors, and architectural styles. Steal something from here, something from there, mix and match them, add a twist of your own, and you've got something. Even the more obscure historical civilizations will add that verisimilitudinous flavor to your campaign setting because they are inherently human, and on some level we understand them.
So go get an entry-level history book from your local library or used book store, read about history on wikipedia, watch some documentaries on Netflix (or the History Channel, if you can find anything that's not about aliens or Templar conspiracies or pawn brokers). Even just dipping your toes in the waters of history will improve your worldbuilding.
Now, let's take a look at how we can apply what we've stolen to our campaign setting.
It may be satisfying to create a whole continent of kingdoms and city-states and emirates from scratch, but it is even more time consuming and difficult. Plus, you'll have to spend just as much time explaining your world to your players as you did creating it. Worse still, you run the risk of creating a bland and unengaging world full of shallow, interchangeable kingdoms. Pilfering ingredients from history makes your world easier to create and more accessible for players. Once you've decided, for instance, than Kingdom X is going to be based on Charlemagne's empire, you can use pseudo-French and pseudo-German names to lend your kingdom a consistent overall character.
Immersion requires a sense of verisimilitude, which is just a big word that means realism. Verisimilitude helps players become invested in your world, lose themselves in it, and have great roleplaying experiences. For that, you need a world that seems real, that makes sense on a human level, and that is readily accessible. There is no better source for realism than the pages of history itself. You have ten thousand years of human history at your disposal, displaying a bewildering variety of societies, governments, religions, warriors, and architectural styles. Steal something from here, something from there, mix and match them, add a twist of your own, and you've got something. Even the more obscure historical civilizations will add that verisimilitudinous flavor to your campaign setting because they are inherently human, and on some level we understand them.
So go get an entry-level history book from your local library or used book store, read about history on wikipedia, watch some documentaries on Netflix (or the History Channel, if you can find anything that's not about aliens or Templar conspiracies or pawn brokers). Even just dipping your toes in the waters of history will improve your worldbuilding.
Now, let's take a look at how we can apply what we've stolen to our campaign setting.
Monday, December 28, 2015
Changes Coming in 2016
The new year is fast approaching, and bringing with it some changes for d20 Despot.
First, starting in January I will be changing my Patreon from per-post donations to monthly donations. This will make it easier for patrons to determine how much they want to give. That means no more counting out the number of mondays in a month or fiddling with the maximum donation settings.
I will also be changing the reward tiers and milestone goals to better reflect what d20 Despot has become and what it yet could be with your support. Monster Monday will return to its original weekly format, at least for my patrons. Once patronage reaches $15 per month, Monster Mondays will be available for all on this site, though patrons will still get early access.
One of the other milestone goals will be a new website. The blogger format has served fine over the years, but a purpose-built website will be easier to read, easier to navigate, and more engaging and eye-catching.
The weekly update format which once served to motivate me has become something of a crutch. Sometimes I had ideas that I held back for a later post, or I rushed a new idea out there because I needed some content for Monday. In the coming year, expect more posts about worldbuilding as I make my campaign setting work public. Expect shorter and more frequent gameplay updates from my ongoing campaigns (once they start up again - the last few months have been a bit of a dry spell). Expect me to post random new bits of open game content that I've been working on. Expect more updates on Guns of the Western Kings, my wild west campaign setting. Basically, I'm using the new year as a excuse to kick myself into gear and start producing more content.
Might 2016 even be the year we finally see d20 Despot pdfs go on sale? I hope so, at least.
See you next year!
-your annual d20 despot
Thursday, December 24, 2015
The Chaining of Krampus - A Holiday Adventure
Merry Christmas and happy holidays, readers! Today I'm giving you an early present. This year's holiday adventure, The Chaining of Krampus, is now available to download for free right HERE on my patreon!
Long-time readers know that this is part two of a three-part Christmas-themed adventure sereis that began with Escape from the Lair of the Krampus. The Chaining of Krampus is a light-hearted and humerous adventure for 4-6 ninth level characters using the pfrpg system. Eight pre-made characters are provided, plus guidelines for creating your own custom characters for this adventure. It features my own monsters, including the ice cube and snegurochka, plus tons of ridiculous references to classic holiday mythology and TV Christmas specials. It was a real treat to make; I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Long-time readers know that this is part two of a three-part Christmas-themed adventure sereis that began with Escape from the Lair of the Krampus. The Chaining of Krampus is a light-hearted and humerous adventure for 4-6 ninth level characters using the pfrpg system. Eight pre-made characters are provided, plus guidelines for creating your own custom characters for this adventure. It features my own monsters, including the ice cube and snegurochka, plus tons of ridiculous references to classic holiday mythology and TV Christmas specials. It was a real treat to make; I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)


