Designing Encounters for the OSR: The Myth of the "Balanced" Encounter

 I have habit of saying that in Dungeons and Dragons 5e, a balanced encounter is one in which the monsters are defeated before anyone in the party dies. In the OSR space, a balanced encounter is one in which the monsters are defeated before everyone in the party dies.

That is, in OSR a fight between a 1st level fighter and an orc is a pretty even match. Put up 5 first level fighters against 5 orcs, and it is a coin toss who the last man standing will be. If you want to manipulate the odds so that there is a high probability that all the orcs will be killed before any of the fighters, (say, five fighters against one orc and the fighters somehow gain initiative) you haven't created a balanced encounter but rather one in which the fighters will mop the floor with the orcs.

For those who like math, is fairly easy to calculate what kind of ratio you need to balance an encounter. First it is the average damage done by each combatant on a successful hit (a d6 weapon does 3.5 points damage per round for this purpose. D8 does 4.5. D10 does 5.5, and d4 does 2.5). You would add any damage modifiers to this, such as a magical weapon or strength ability modifier for.

This damage is multiplied by the % chance to hit. Say a 1st level fighter needs a 16 to hit AC 17, that is a 25% chance to hit. (The fighter hits on a 16, 17, 18, 19, or 20, or 5 out of 20 odds. 5 is 1/4 of 20, or 25%). So multiply the fighter's 4.5 points damage per round by 20% and you get .9 points damage per round. Do this for each combatant to get the average total party damage per round, then do the same for the opponents. Compare total hit points of each side and you'll get an idea of how many rounds it will take for one side to eliminate the other.

The question is, is this a useful way to design an encounter? Do you want to create a likely TPK every time your players get in a fight? Is there any reason to actually create a "balanced" encounter? If the likely hood of killing most of the party members is high, you might as well throw overwhelming force at them and not worry about balance. If you want them to have a fun tough fight, then you just need to total up the levels of each side and make sure that the party's total levels are double or triple the total levels of the monsters.

Much more important than worrying about creating "balanced" encounters is designing encounters in such a way that players have the ability to size up the difficulty of a potential fight so they know whether to engage or to find another approach. (Run away, diplomacy, stealth, surprise, etc...). Some of this the experienced player will know intuitively. If they are a party of five 1st level characters, and they are facing a party of 20 1st level monsters, the odds are not in their favor. But if we want to take meta-gaming out of it, there can be other signals as to encounter difficulty.

A monster with trophies outside its lair of the opponents they defeated is one example. This could be shields with coats of arms, bodies or parts of bodies (heads or skulls for instance), or weapons (for the arrogant monster daring any challengers to take up arms against it). It could be a display of power (casting a spell, a breath weapon, crushing a stone easily, firing a powerful warning shot, etc... It could also be information gathered or revealed via rumor, eye witnesses, journals, or other records.

This is where folklore and myth come into play. It is also a potential for the party to discover a key element of the monster's weakness. They may know about vampires and werewolves, but only Bilbo Baggins knew about Smaug's weak spot on his underside. This information was overheard by a thrush, who flew to Laketown and revealed it to Bard the Bowman so he knew that only the Black Arrow would aim true enough to hit the one vulnerable spot.

And here is the crux of encounter design. Information trumps power. Van Helsing (the book character, not the movie version) does not defeat Dracula because he is more powerful than him. He defeats Dracula because he understand both the vampire's power and weakness. There is no "balanced" fight between the two of them. At night Van Helsing wouldn't stand a chance. But during the day Dracula's only strength is in secrecy and faithful henchmen.

Edward Gorey

Giants in Folklore and Myth

There are as many types of Giants as there are cultures from which they spring. In myth they often contend with with the gods, or are involved in the very act of creation itself. I myself have always had a fondness for more grounded Giants as depicted in Irish, Welsh, and Cornish folklore. These Giants have petty rivalries with another, are often bested by mortals, and on occasion marry them! They may have two or even three heads, and their size can vary greatly.

Perhaps the best known Giant from folklore is the the one from Jack in the Beanstalk. The Jack character also appears in Jack the Giant Killer, in which he defeats a number of Giants and joins King Arthur's court. The story of The Brave Little Tailor also features a Giant, and contains a theme close to the story of Finn McCool who outsmarts a much bigger Giant with the help of his wife using similar methods.

To rein things in and categorize Giants, I tied in to the overall elemental scheme of my world. Taking my cue from D&D, I interpreted Fire, Frost, Stone, and Cloud types as elemental Giants of Fire, Water, Earth, and Air. Into this mix I added my element of Time.

Next comes grouping by size. Hill Giants in D&D are the smallest of Giants, averaging 8 feet tall. This fits in with the idea featured in many stories of Giants having human wives, being a similar proportion as a 6 foot husband with a 4'-6" wife. Of course, there no reason the Giant shouldn't be the wife, and the human the husband. Intentionally subverting traditional story tropes can be a creative way to break out of gendered assumptions that are an inescapable part of adapting historical cultural stories to a modern game.

While we can make 8 feet the minimum height to qualify as a Giant, there is no theoretical upper limit. Atlas, after all, holds the entire world on his shoulders. However, a "proper" Giant from folklore should be able to easily carry livestock. 20 feet seems a reasonable size for such an ability.

Arthur Rackham

If we make 8 feet a "small" Giant and 20 feet an "average" Giant (a scale increase of 250%), we can call the next size up "large", and with another 250% increase in scale, set it at 50 feet tall. Then we can jump to 100 feet for an "immense" Giant. This is about on scale for the enormous Giant in Castle Amber. 

So now we have four scales of Giant: Small (8 ft), Average (20 ft), Large (50 ft), and Immense (100 ft). Each of these have five types, aligned to each of the five elements for 20 distinct Giant categories.

Inspired by The Steading of the Hill Giant Chief, as well as the mead-hall in Beowulf and the House of the Red Branch from the Ulster Cycle, I've made my Hill Giants clannish, ruled over by lords or chieftans. These Giants are on a whole, open if skeptical to human interaction, keeping to themselves in the lower mountain ranges. Any human daring enough to visit a Hill Giant steading is sure to face challenges of strength, skill, endurance, and wit before being respected by the clan. The Giants are much more likely to judge such a visitor on their willingness to take on such challenges than their ability to overcome them. Inspired by the Trials of Thor, In many cases these challenges will be unfair to the point of impossible, providing much entertainment for the Giants as the guests try to accomplish them.

Next up are the average Giants, which covers most of the Giants in AD&D (Fire, Frost, Stone, and Cloud), ranging from 18 to 24 feet. These Giants can range from lone individuals to those living in more structured groups like the Hill Giants. In general the larger the Giant, the more remote they will live from human settlements.

Large Giants would almost always be unique and solitary. Perhaps they have smaller Giants or humans as servants. Encounters with such Giants would be very rare. Perhaps legendary.

Finally we have the immense Giants of 100 feet in height or more. When thinking of these as elemental types, it seems these would be not too dis-similar to the idea of Djinn or Efreet. Once Giants become unique, ascribing magical powers to them becomes an interesting consideration.

On the nature of Wyrms (Lindworms, Wyverns, and Dragons)

Large serpent-like creatures are a common motif in European heraldry. If the have legs, the number of legs can vary. If they have wings those wings can be bat-like - being essentially forelimbs - or the wings can be on the backs of the beasts. In many depictions of St. George slaying the dragon, the dragons wings are so small as to be merely ornamental. When employing the serpent motif in Celtic or Scandinavian knotwork, wings are typically left out to provide a more graceful curvature. In folklore, these creatures can have the attributes of clever beasts, or display the power of speech and great intelligence.

For the sake of simplifying categories in an OSR TTRPG, I've chosen to group these all under the title "Wyrm", with three subtypes: Lindworm, Wyvern, and Dragon. This allows me to treat them all as one type when needed (For instance, a Ranger can have Wyrms as their "favored enemy"), while keeping each one distinct. I further group them according to my elemental types of Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Time, creating fifteen unique types of Wyrm.

Lindworms

The Lindworm may be legless, or have one or more sets of legs.  They may display vestigial wings, but these are never large or powerful enough for flight. They do not have the power of speech, but may display fairly complex reasoning, allowing them to detect and avoid clever traps and to strategize their defense and attack. Among the Wyrms, Lindworms are most likely to be encountered in civilized regions, often occupying nearby ruins, wells, or caves. They have the ability to curl themselves up tightly, with the smallest requiring a space no bigger than 10'x10' to squeeze into. They can become quite enormous in size, with legends of them wrapping themselves around castle towers.

They are subterranean burrowers, and as such can spring up from the ground anywhere, offering them the opportunity to attack by surprise. They typically feed on wildlife, yet they can find livestock to be tempting easy prey. Rarely do they burrow into buildings such as barns, or attack towns or villages, preferring to study their isolated targets in advance and preserve the ability to retreat before their presence is even discovered.

Adventurers investigating the disappearance of livestock from fields at night might find it difficult to discern that the culprit is a Lindworm, as they are quite proficient in covering their tracks. Signs of their presence might include an occasionally shed scale, or scratches and gouges on a tree in a nearby wood where the Wyrm was sharpening its claws.

Wyverns

Featuring classic bat-like anatomy, Wyverns have two hind legs and two forelimbs in the form of large wings giving them the power of flight. Their body is typically about the size of a horse, with a 10 foot tail and a wingspan of some 20 feet. They often have a barbed poison tip at the end of their tails. In intelligence they compare to the Lindworm, choosing their targets carefully. Unlike the Lindworm, Wyverns may attack in groups, employing a pack strategy similar to wolves.

Wyverns typically nest in low mountains and foothills, where they can observe the landscape below. If flying near populated areas, they will tend to choose the darkest of nights such as a new moon or heavily overcast sky. Often the only sign of the presence of a Wyvern is the ominous sound of the flapping of its wings overhead, with perhaps a break in the clouds betraying their silhouetted form. Like Lindworms, they prefer easy prey, but may prove to be braver and more aggressive in groups.

Dragons

Dragons are a highly intelligent variation of Wyrm. Their size varies drastically, from that of a Wyvern to dwarfing even the largest of Lindworms. They have great wings proportional to their body length, giving them the power of flight. They may have one or more sets of legs, with two sets being most common. Their foreclaws typically have opposable thumbs, granting them a great deal of manual dexterity. They not only have the power of speech, but their cunning bests the brightest of humans.

Dragons can live for very long periods of time (some say they are immortal) without the requirement of food. This allows them to make their lairs in very remote places. Tales tell of Dragons that have slept for 1000 years undisturbed.

Dragons are most famous for their ability to breathe fire, but this is dependent upon the element they are aligned to. A Water Dragon might breathe an icy cloud of frost, while an Air Dragon emit a noxious fume, deadly to all who breath it. Time Dragons (the rarest of all) can slow their targets with their breath, or even freeze them in their tracks.

Motivations for Dragons are unique. In story, greed and the attainment of ever more wealth is the most popular goal of Dragons. However, due to their exceptional intelligence, they may seek worthy rivals, even rewarding those who can best them in games of strategy. They may be custodians or guardians of knowledge, keepers of artifacts, or be bound by oath some ancient duty. Their patience is a long as their lifespan, and incurring the wrath of a Dragon is a curse than can last many generations.

Edward Burne-Jones

Magic as Archetype

The aged Wizard searching through ancient tomes of great proportion. The Sorcerer's Apprentice, secretly learning his master's secrets. A Druid transforming into one animal after another in a magical chase. A Bard commanding the winds to dance to his tune as he plays his harp. A Saint healing the lame and the blind.

Magical ability abounds in myth, legend, and folklore. These stories come from real places, real times, and real people. Choosing the the cultures from which these stories sprang guides and colors any approach to designing a magic system in a Table Top Role Playing Game. These choices can answer some fundamental questions guiding the gamification of magic into a coherent system while striving to keep it from feeling purely utilitarian. In other words, keeping magic magical.

My design goals aren't so much designing a magic system from scratch, but interpreting OSR magic through a lens that captures a folkloric feeling by considering the cultural influences behind the familiar archetypes. To that end, I have created categories describing different approaches to magic using cultural references.

1) Ars Goetia

The term Ars Goetia comes from The Lesser Key of Solomon which is specifically is a list of spirits along with rituals on how to conjure and command them. It is a formulaic approach to magic I find satisfactory for a game system. It fits the archetype of the wizard studying a spell book, while raising the idea that these spirits have their own consciousness. It raises the issue of possible spell failure, and what the repercussions of such failure might be. In such a system, I envision a "Mage Hand" not as some vague focus of shape-able energy, but as a weak physical manifestation of a sentient being. Magic in this sense is not merely a force like electricity, but a negotiation with a being that has a mind of its own.

To emphasize the this conscious aspect of magic, I was drawn to the life of occultist John Dee and the idea of a Shewstone as a focus to communicate with spirits. The TV series Requiem is a fascinating treatment of this idea, in which the language of spirits is not merely spoken, but sung. Combining these ideas, in my system magic from the school of Ars Goetia is learned through spell books, but must be sung into a Shewstone to summon and command spirits to do the caster's bidding.

2) Ars Natura

Using Ars Goetia as a creative cue for my naming conventions, Ars Natura is based on the concept of animism. The idea that every natural thing - tree, river, spring, or stone - is imbued with its own conscious spirit. Ars Natura is the art of communicating with these spirits. It is the power wielded by druids to change the weather, befriend beasts, clear forest pathways or entangle others, to heal, and to keep the undead at bay.

3) Ars Glamourus

Glamour is a word used to describe the magical illusions of fairies. I've made Ars Glamourus a type of magic used by bards to cast powerful enchantments. Not only visual illusions, but spells that overcome the will of the target, such as charm, suggestion, and command fall under this category.

4) Ars Ancestra

Ancestral worship is common throughout cultures across the world. I have made Ars Ancestra a type of magic that appeals to the dead for wisdom and protection. The Celtic practice of keeping the heads of the deceased in their home is a big inspiration for this. The tale of severed head of Bran the Blessed is a fascinating one!

5) Ars Divinica

Lastly we come to the idea of supernatural powers granted to mortals directly by the gods themselves. Using the AD&D Paladin as my starting point, I created an "aspect" I call Sainted. That is, a god or gods have chosen and individual and made them a saint, bestowing them with the power to perform miracles. The saint has not chosen this, but has been chosen, for reasons known only to the gods themselves.

Conclusion

I'll be exploring each of these concepts in detail in further blog posts, revising this post to link to those as I create them. The unifying thoughts behind each of these "schools" of magic is that they are based on some type of cultural reference and archetype, and in each of them, magic is alive. It is no mere utilitarian formulation of words and gestures that bring about a predictable outcome by manipulating mindless energy. It is a negotiation with entities who's agendas may be hidden from or even incomprehensible to the caster!

John Waterhouse

Gods and Monsters and Fey, Oh My! (Or My Unified Field Theory)

"Syncretism: The practice of combining different beliefs and various schools of thought. Syncretism involves the merging or assimilation of several originally discrete traditions, especially in theology and mythology of religion, thus asserting an underlying unity" - Wikipedia

Myth and folklore have a long history of syncretism. Many of the tales we know contain bits and pieces from different times and different cultures, taking them all and weaving them together in an entirely new creation that appeals to our narrative instincts and paints a satisfying picture with a distinct flavor.

My own efforts at doing this begin with two ideas of Empedocles (5th century BCE) and Paracelcus (16th century) as my starting point. The first from Empedocles is that there is a set of basic elements out of which everything consists. The four classics are Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. To these I add Time. (If for no other reason than I love time travel stories!) The second is the that there are beings that are aligned to each of these elements in an essential way. Paracelcus claims four basic categories of these beings: Gnomes (earth), Undines (water), Sylphs (air), and Salamanders (fire). I have added Elves (time) to this list. 

My thesis, if you will, is as follows:

• Creatures are living things created by the Gods
• Plants and Animals are Creatures
• Creatures are made up of all five elements
• A being made up of a single element is not a Creature
• Anything not a Creature is either a God, a Monster, or  Fey being

I built upon this foundation by starting with the pantheon. A god for each of the five elements, plus two gods to rule over the Creatures. The Green Man for the plant kingdom, the The Horned God for the animal kingdom. Seven creator gods who created The World in seven days.

Next I looked at the existing monsters in D&D for an pattern that stood out. Among Stone Giants, Fire Giants, Frost Giants, Red Dragons and White Dragons, I saw what could be interpreted as themes of the core elements. So for each of my five elements, (Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Time) there is a sub-category of Dragon, and a sub-category of Giant. To these I also added Trolls, Hags, and Goblins.

With this hierarchy, possible combinations are Fire-Dragon, Earth-Troll, and Water-Hag, or Time-Goblin. I then looked at myth and folklore to find examples that fit withing these categories. I'll be delving into more detail on each of these, but my Kobolds (drawn from German myth) are now Earth-Goblins, more closely resembling the Pech (Introduced to D&D in The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth).

These monsters are closely related to the Fey. Beings who are also aligned to a single elements. It now becomes interesting to consider what makes a Gnome or Dwarf a Fey being, while a Kobold is a monster.

From one point of view, I don't think such distinctions matter. But my goal is to come up with a set of rules that does not depart too far from standard OSR systems. This means clearly defining what qualifies as a Person, a Monster, or a Sylvan Being if possible for the sake of interpreting spell descriptions.

Part of my reason for writing this blog is to think through all this, and see the holes I have yet to fill. I run a human-only PC campaign, so it is fairly easy for me to define a "person" as a human, as I have eliminated the category of Demi-Human. Hold Person only works therefore, on humans.

I could just classify Fey as monsters, so you would need to cast Hold Monster to affect an Elf or Dwarf. But this doesn't feel right to me, and I think Hold Fey or Hold Sylvan Being would be more apt. I could classify Monsters as Fey beings, which makes more sense, so Hold Monster becomes Hold Sylvan Being or Hold Fey. However, this does not address the issue of monsters that are monsters because they are cursed, which is another favorite folklore motif of mine.

So I have yet to solve the puzzle, what makes one a Fey being and the other a Monster. Free Will something something curse something mortality something...

Marcel Rieder

The Archetype of the Devil in Folklore

Just as The Church is an inescapable archetype when reading European folklore, The Devil himself appears again and again. Note this is not the head spinning, vomiting, foul talking version of The Fiend that possesses people and contends in battles of will against exorcists. Nor is he the aggrieved fallen angel with ice running through his veins contending with Michael as his nemesis.

On the contrary, he looks, sounds, and dresses no different than your or I. He is articulate, polite, and gifted with a silver tongue the envy of every salesman. He is often clad in tall boots to hide his cloven hoof which is nonetheless betrayed by his slight limp.

He has argued the law with Daniel Webster, strolled at midnight with Young Goodman Brown, given Robert Johnson his talent, and closed a deal with Dr. Faustus. He has even been bested by a blacksmith or two as well as old Katie Grey. None dare speak his name, and so refer to him as Old Nick or Old Scratch.

Incorporating this motif into a TTRPG can be a challenge. In story, the Devil's desire is nothing short of the soul itself. Yet in a role playing game, souls don't tend to mean much to a player. They can reap the benefit of a deal by having their character become more powerful, and only "pay the price" when the character dies, at which point they simply generate a new character as usual.

In order to make introducing Old Nick into your campaign interesting, you can change his motivations to something that affects the players during the actual game. I've approached this problem by taking a cue from The Godfather. Nick is a trader in favors. And while he may do a favor for you today, someday he will come calling on you for a favor in return - a favor you can't refuse.

This employs another folktale motif of the "rash promise", where the character agrees to something that either seems harmless or insignificant, or that they think they can avoid fulfilling in some creative way. In story this promise often becomes a first born child, a princess, or something as precious. In a role playing game, this offers excellent opportunity for reasons for a Player Character to embark on an adventure. The  storytelling aspects of this are wide open. Powerful artifacts, secret places, an unlikely foes and allies can all be woven into fulfilling or attempting to avoid fulfilling the Promise.

And if somehow the player manages to have Old Nick owe them a favor, you can create all sorts of creative ways for Himself to fulfill that wish.

Artist Unknown

Monsters in a Low Fantasy Setting

 It seems every other fantasy world that was published after J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings has a variation on his orcs as armies of marauding monsters. And while Tolkien did not invent the "orc" per-se, his use of it a a horde monster was fairly novel. Whether they are called Trollocs, Gargoyles, Draconians, etc... fantasy worlds tend to feature swarms of monsters that raze villages and lay siege to castles. Wisdom in the dungeon wrote an interesting post about this: https://wisdominthedungeon.blogspot.com/2024/12/tolkien-and-d-ramble-about-two.html

Lord Dunsany does some interesting things with his Gibbelins and Gnoles, but rather than send raiding parties out into The Fields We Know, they lie in wait in their own remote lairs for the foolish and greedy to seek out their treasures.

Yet our world is filled with stories about creatures beyond those categorized by naturalists that dwell in our forests, mountains, swamps, tombs, and other places off the beaten path. Giants and Dragons, Trolls and Hags, Goblins and Ghouls, and Vampires and Werewolves are just some of the threats that can populate a low fantasy setting while still preserving the feeling that locked doors, lit hearths, and warm beds remain places of comfort and safety.

Heraldic devices of Wyverns, Griffons, and Unicorns suggest that these creatures also, rare though they may be, also reside in The Fields We Know. Localized "cryptids" like The Jersey Devil, The Goatman, Mothman, Bigfoot, and Nessie are known in nearly every region on earth and are also ripe for inspiration for low fantasy settings.

Even the Devil himself can make an appearance. Whether he makes a dramatic Faustian entry, gets outsmarted by a blacksmith, meets you at the crossroads, or walks with you down a lane at night, Old Nick is a reliable standby for mingling with mortals in The Fields We Know. Even stranger things might be summoned into the world by those mad enough to perform such rituals.

There is ample room to populate your world with monstrous things, yet keep them at arms length from a quiet village on a sunny spring day where the birds are chirping, children are playing, and brewers and bakers go about their business with a whistle on their lips. 

Arthur Rackham