Different Descriptions of Common Items for Variety

One of the issues I ran into pretty frequently as a beginning DM was that I was thinking of most of the parts of the world as interchangeable. By this, I meant that a longsword was simply a longsword to me--any longsword was essentially the same. This is in part because the game rules dictate that essentially all longswords are the same according to combat rules. But of course, no two longswords are going to be exactly the same. So this is a guide to common items with a variety of descriptions to keep your game fresh. 

Architecture by Culture in My Homebrew Setting

When you describe the setting of your game, the appearance of the world is an important element of what you need to share. In particular, the appearances of buildings matters, as it characterizes both the gameworld and the cultural customs of the races in it. It stands to reason that different cultures would have different architectural styles as they do in real life, so what does each race's architecture look like? Answering this question will allow you to portray a more colorful world as well as helping you to define what each culture is like. Read on for a full description of each race's architecture. 

Before we get into the individual races' architecture, let's address the concept at large. What are we talking about when we address architecture? Building styles, mostly: what materials are used to build things, what shapes and decorations they include, what practical applications these building styles serve. These three ideas will guide what follows. It's worth noting that your worldbuilding has considerable effects on architecture. Plentiful building supplies might be easy or difficult to come by in your world. If there is a history of cultural imperialism, one race's style might overshadow another's. The relative wealth of your world determines the average size and structure of people's homes. In my world, none of these details are especially game-changing. Building supplies are relatively easy but not necessarily inexpensive, so that remains average. Although Daltoners in my world have embraced imperialism, they lack the cultural power to determine anyone else's cultural practices. And my world is relatively low-wealth, so most homes are relatively small unless the person in question is above the lower classes. But just because my world doesn't need special attention in these areas doesn't mean yours won't. Be aware of details like these before you adopt architectural styles. 

Now let's tackle the races' architectural styles one by one. I'll be answering the questions I set out above (materials, shapes, and practical applications) for each race as well as providing sample floorplans for each one. Keep in mind these descriptions where your players make their way through towns; these varying styles can present the image of a diverse community which is also visually interesting. 

Daltoners

The more villainous of my two lines of humans, the Daltoners are strict and forbidding about wasting anything. Born of a resourceless rock in the sea to the East, the Daltoners have always made the very most out of what they have. To that end, their buildings are utilitarian and devoid of decorative features. What that means in practice is that their buildings are square and vary only by size. Other races in Evanoch, when encountering the mercenary way that Daltoners built new settlements, have noted the usefulness of the square building, and now most structures that are built in Evanoch are simply square buildings. Daltoners made their first lasting dwellings of brick, but in Evanoch, they take advantage of whatever materials they can. When given options, Daltoners prefer stone bricks. 

The shape of the Daltoner home is unremarkable except for the fact that it creates the most possible floor space for the least amount of resources. Decoration of Daltoner homes is minimalist; showing uniqueness in Daltoner culture is frowned upon. Common decorations include shrines to the Daltoner Pelor, plaques of the government of Dalton, and portraits of important historical figures. The layout of the house being so utilitarian means that many Daltoners do not view their homes with pride in the same way that other races do. 

Practically speaking, the Daltoner home is focused on use. The entryway in Daltoner homes functions both as a reception area and a public space. More personal relations are allowed into the living room, which also serves as a place for rest. The kitchen is allowed to only the resident or their servants, and private quarters are both highly private and devoid of personal touches. The home, for Daltoners, is a fact of life, and nothing to be considered beyond that. 

The only area of architecture that Daltoners expend real energy is in that of their cathedrals. Their houses of worship to Pelor are marvels of both engineering and aesthetics. The New Dalton Church of Pelor has over 200 pounds of gold used in a carving of Pelor atop the cathedral, rising to a height of 180 feet. 

Faninites

The more peaceful of my two lines of humans, the Faninites are imagined as Viking-like yet peaceful. In order to honor that inspiration, I decided that Faninites traditionally reside in longhouses like the Vikings of our world. But importantly, longhouses are also easy to build and suited for a simple set of needs, and those are great selling points. The native forests of Fanin, the island far to the North, yield enormous firs and spruces as well as redwoods, so Faninite homes are often made of cross-sections of gigantic trees rather than assembled from a collection of smaller ones. Where that is impossible, Faninites will create dense, thickly-walled longhouses out of bundles of trees. 

The shape of a Faninite home is relatively unassuming. It is longer in one direction than another, making use of long cuts of wood for the longer side. Its roof slopes down from the top, giving the interior a triangular shape. The kitchen typically exists in the center of the house, so that smoke can be funneled out of the highest point in the roof. The living room is a casual space, as is the sleeping area. Entire Faninite families commonly share a room, and few Faninites think poorly of entering another Faninite family's private area. Faninites decorate their homes with handicrafts, especially those made by loved ones. Furs and flowers are also prized decorative measures. 

Practically speaking, the simple design of the Faninite home serves only the bare necessities: a place for food and shelter. Because of that, Faninites spend little time at home and more time out in nature, with their community, or working to improve oneself. The home becomes a place where the family regroups and rests at the end of a day rather than a place which is lived in. Since the longhouse is relatively easy to build, the marriage of Faninites is usually marked by the presentation of a new longhouse to start a family in, built by the family of the married couple. 

The largest concentration of Faninites in Evanoch is in the city of Finiel, near the elven capital. In Finiel, there are hundreds of longhouses in stretching neighborhoods, and the residents have taken to decorating them in elaborate scenes, many with taxidermied animals and dolls made of grasses and reeds. The community there holds it as a friendly competition. 

Dwarves

Dwarven architecture is characterized by a mixture of practicality and ostentatiousness. The basis of a dwarven building is in segmentation: the building itself is structured in a way that naturally creates distinct sections of a building for different uses. This reflects the dwarven value of intentionality, having a meaningful purpose for each action taken. Dwarves classically build structures of stone, and only the most hardscrabble dwarf in the least hospitable of settings would build a structure of wood. Stone varieties signify class in dwarven construction: plentiful limestone is used for simple structures, middle class dwarves use granite, and the wealthiest dwarves build their homes of marble. 

The shape of a classic dwarven home exemplifies the segmented construction prized in dwarven culture. It appears from above as a common rectangle with a square removed from one edge. The result is that a dwarven home has a small entryway which lead to two separate halves of the home. One side is meant to be private--personal quarters and washroom--and the other is intended as a public space (kitchen and living area). Decorative measures in dwarven architecture range from simple adornments and curved lines to break up the straight edges up to intricate gargoyles that stand watch over the home. 

Practically speaking, dwarven homes lead the resident to a highly regimented life. The divide between personal and public spheres in the home means that dwarves regard their homes as places of balancing acts, trying to maintain both in the small space that is a dwarven home. It is worth noting that dwarven construction style sacrifices potential space and uses more stone to build in the distinct shape of dwarven homes, but this sacrifice is considered worthwhile, as it allows for the segmented lifestyle dwarves tend toward. 

Dwarves in the capital of Underhar created their buildings by carving them directly into a mountain. The capital itself is mostly underground, and the city is always growing further into the mountain as the city's expert masons create new areas to live out of nothing but solid rock. 

Elves 

Elven architecture is governed by aesthetics moreso than any other race. Elven homes are designed to be unique, and therefore are difficult to generalize about; uniqueness reflects well on the social standing of the homeowner. Elves prize buildings of wood more than stone; the most prestigious elven homes exist as alterations to living trees, but lumber is an acceptable alternative for the less wealthy. Cheap homes are built of softer woods like pine, middle class homes are constructed from birch, and the finest elven homes are made of oak. 

The shape of an elven home is simple: it is a longhouse-like design with a right-angle side jutting out from the end. The elven custom for the wealthy is to build houses that are circular, but in the last century, the swelling of the lower classes has meant that elven homes have started to mimic Faninite homes in their longhouse design, but with the variation of the extended end. Decorative measures in elven homes recall nature; fresh flowers often sit in visible spaces, and wood carvings of natural scenes and animals are considered the height of home decorating. The exteriors of homes are nearly always complete with gardens (often in the space in front of the entrance) and wooden carvings. 

Speaking practically, the elven home allows for flexibility of purpose. Like the dwarves, there is a distinct area for private life, though this is less demanded in elven culture. But the most public space in an elven home is the extended section, called in elven the welparin, or community home. Elves take turns hosting the other elves in their communities in these spaces, which have special connotations as religious spaces as well. Thus, this part of the home is dedicated to connection with the gods and the rest of the community. 

The elven capital of Mishara is home to the largest tree known to humanity, and into its branches and trunk have been carefully cut homes. Those who live in this living tree must routinely cut new growth of the tree back or risk being squeezed out of their homes. 

Half-Elves

Half-elves are the offspring of elves and the human lineage known as Faninites. Likewise, their cultural customs, including architecture, are an amalgam of those races' customs. And yet half-elves are also the most highly regarded artists and freethinkers in the land, and so there is a great variation among half-elf homes. Both elves and Faninites use lumber to build their homes most commonly, and the hierarchy of wood types remains the same: pine at the bottom, then birch, then oak. Because Faninites prize the wood of the keskit tree, some halfling homes are built with its wood in decorative uses. 

Half-elven homes can vary in shape, as many are surprising designs. But the average half-elven home is an extended longhouse which also incorporates the elven tradition of a communal gathering space or welparin. This design places welparin at the center of the house, where in elven tradition it is an asymmetrical addition to the house. This tradition, developed by the half-elves, has caught on with modern elves, and this design of house has become popular outside of the half-elven community. Decorations in half-elven homes reflect the fine arts: paintings, sculpture, anything that captures beauty through creativity. 

Practically speaking, the half-elven home creates a living experience that reinforce the idea of an interconnected system that functions as one via the connection in the home between common life, communal life, and private life. Additionally, the longhouse shape is relatively easy to build, and so half-elves have little trouble beginning again somewhere new, which is helpful because a half-elven cultural custom encourages them to try their hands at as many different things as possible in life. 

The most intricate half-elven homes incorporate nature in their designs. One half-elven estate on Lake Playbor is shaped as a giant octagon, with a dizzying array of hallways and a greenhouse that can feed the entire estate. This home also has a system of mirrors installed so that even the faintest sunlight can completely illuminate the house. 

Halflings

Halfling architecture stems from roots of burrowing; early halfling settlements dug mostly underground structures. But the difficulty of conducting massive social interaction and business when buildings were essentially hidden from view and meeting with other races introduced halflings to the advantages of above-ground buildings. Today, many buildings in the halfling capital of Curagon remain underground, and some halflings that strike out on their own build burrows rather than houses. When halflings construct buildings, as they largely do today, they build low-to-the-ground structures that are at least partially dug out. Because the lumber used is in such small pieces, halflings can opt for nontraditional wood for their buildings; hickory, ash, and cherry (ascending quality) each find their uses in halfling homes. 

When a halfling builds a traditional home, they first build a small house--almost a shack, really--and decorate it as a simple entry hall. Then they get to work burrowing. They create a staircase down until they can leave several feet of supported earth above them. Most halfling homes have only about 3 or 4 feet from floor to ceiling, though some halflings have constructed their homes to allow for larger humanoids as well. The dug-out home is usually four or five times the size of the entry hall. Decorations in halfling homes usually consist of collections of everyday items that the resident finds eyecatching. A sample home might have an end table with a porcelain teapot, a fern, a wooden tankard, and a quill carefully arranged. 

Practically speaking, halflings divide their homes into three rooms. There is a common space for entertaining guests (and which often serves as a study for the resident), a large kitchen area (halflings devote more space to kitchens than any other race), and a private quarters. Only the common space and the entryway should ever be seen by guests. Halflings generally take more pride in the underground portion of the home than the entryway, but in recent generations, halflings have taken to building more complete above-ground homes and more limited underground areas. In these homes, the underground area is considered incredibly private. 

In the halfling capital of Curagon, there are a great many burrows--so many, in fact, that entire stretches of the city have only hatches above ground. Some of the burrows in the city are larger than even the finest house, as they stretch for several stories down into the earth. Construction above these burrows is strictly forbidden, as previous construction attempts proved disastrous. 

Gnomes

Gnomish architecture has changed drastically over the years. Early gnomish buildings were domes, which later evolved into geometric designs, predominantly the icosahedron. However, for the last thousand or so years, gnomish buildings have become hexagonal for maximum use of space. Gnomes build their homes of a combination of wood and stone: the most common gnomish houses have a foot-tall foundation of stonework (mostly large stones set in mortar) with the framework and surfaces made of lumber (maple is prized for its flexibility). 

The gnomish design of a hexagon easily allows for up to six rooms. Many gnomish houses make the living room, study, or private quarters larger at the expensive of an entryway or laboratory, but designs will vary by gnome. The high degree of order conferred by this design is a reflection of the lawful nature of gnomes and their society. Just as gnomish society is mathematically considered, so are all elements of life given their proper place. Gnomes frequently entertain visitors and consider an impressive home (and especially study) to be a mark of social honor and distinction. Decorations in a gnomish home are far-ranging; gnomes try to express themselves through their homes in this way, so it is not uncommon to see a collection of art, personal trophies, religious items, inventions (successful and otherwise), and knickknacks. The more unique these decorations, the more enviable. 

Practically speaking, these homes are not only easy to divide spatially; they also can be closely fitted together. This means that gnomish settlements are dense in construction and give rise to close interactions with neighbors. Community is a highly prized value in gnomish culture, so this proximity is not unwanted. Outside of gnomish communities, gnomes construct hexagonal buildings as a way to honor their gnomish heritage. Gnomes are more likely to build homes large enough to be visited by larger humanoids, but the majority of gnomish homes are small enough only for them (mainly to preserve resources). 

In the gnomish capital of Vestry, thousands of these hexagonal buildings are interlocked like honeycombs for miles. This was an effort of reform during a time of gnomish progress, when buildings were altered to all be uniform and space-efficient. Since that time, hundreds of years ago, all of the capital is a sea of hexagonal houses and businesses. 

Orcs 

The orcish homeland is a small island called Grob. The tribes on this island always meant to keep space from one another, and this premium on real estate meant that tribes grew up, not out. The trademark orcish buildings always have at least two stories. There is little stone on Grob, and so a great effort has been made by orcish populations to harvest lumber from the nearby Shorgon Forest on the mainland. The Shorgon Forest is mostly home to alder, spruce, and cypress, so most of their buildings are constructed from them. In the rest of Evanoch, orcs build with what they can find, preferring oak and ash when their homeland's lumber is unavailable. 

These multi-story houses, expanded by floors when extra rooms are needed, are always built with the possibility of expansion. To that end, the average orcish home in an orcish settlement seems to have scaffolding going above the building's roof; this is the resident looking to grow their home. The interior of orcish homes relies on the balance of four spaces. The living room is a place for family to be together and to entertain guests. The kitchen, nearly as large as the halflings', serves also as dining room and often as a space for curing meats. Upstairs, the trophy room/shrine known as a gorshen can be found. This space is a personal altar for religious worship, and it is traditionally decorated with markers of past victories, especially pelts and treasures. Private quarters are especially guarded, and it is considered a grave offense to enter the private areas of an orc's home. Decoration in orcish homes is especially important in the gorshen, but orcs try to adorn their homes at large with stirring decorations, like paintings of battles, fiercely taxidermied animals, and strange lighting effects. 

Practically speaking, there has been an unintended side effect of the multi-story homes of orcs. At the beginning of time, orcs linked their private and public lives often; it was a powerful statement for an orc to keep everything out of the public eye. But since orcs began building homes so long ago, their thinking about these realms has changed. Downstairs in their homes are private spaces, and one must physically ascend to reach the more private areas. In modern orcish culture, personal privacy is paramount to survival. 

In the orcish homeland of Grob, the settlements reach considerable heights. The most powerful chieftain in the land resides in a house which climbs 28 stories into the air, employing a network of support beams anchored on the ground and on nearby buildings. It is possible to spot an orcish settlement from far away due to its stacked housing. 

Technologies to Be Available in Your Gameworld

Your gameworld can be characterized by any number of features. The way you treat magic in the game is one of these features, and another is how you characterize the setting. The intersection of these ideas is where you define the technologies in your world. The tech you decide to include will not only add characterization to the world, but it will also define what is and is not possible in the world. And importantly, technologies also create storytelling opportunities, as players can use these technologies to get ahead in the story. Below, I've developed a list of technologies you can deploy in your game; read on for ways that you can develop your gameworld's technologies to intensify your game by restricting or expanding the tech available. 

Before I get into the list, I want to draw attention to one of the ways that technologies have affected my games. I have seen players use new technologies to develop cutting-edge businesses, and I have seen them deploy technologies for the sake of exploring new ideas. In Listen Check, for instance, a gnomish inventor had developed a device which stored as a simple paperback book, but which could grow and take the form of various pieces of furniture. The players all invested in this inventor's device--Soren in particular poured funds into the project--and not only were they able to rebuild their home out of these transforming pieces of furniture, but they became quite rich from their investments. You can see how even one invention can change the course of a story. 

More recently, I developed several inventions for the mystery campaign. I designed the list of inventions as a letter from the inventor Lyssbetonk Cogswagon, who was offering the player characters the aid of one invention to help them in their investigations. That letter includes a total of 11 technologies, including simple ones like an automatic field plower and an automated assistant (both of which stand to shake things up in most campaigns), but also more notable devices, like anti-gravity boots, a weather controller, and something called an Undoer, which allows the wearer to travel back in time five seconds, leaving the rest of the world behind. In the context of the campaign, these technologies are world-changing to a certain extent, but the real idea here is that the inventions are part of the mystery--the player characters have to determine which inventions are involved in the conspiracy and be able to counteract them. So you see that technologies can serve purposes other than simply changing what actions are available; they can also contribute to the story you're telling. 

So let's get into some specific technologies. Deploy these in your gameworld however you see fit, recognizing that technologies change what players are capable of in your world. The players' uses of technology will surprise you. My mystery campaigners ended up asking for help with a Liquid Multiplier to turn a single healing potion into hundreds of sellable doses of healing potion--that's something I didn't anticipate. So, with the recognition that technologies can disrupt your game in the same chaotic fashion as any other ability granted to the players, let's consider some technologies for your world, moving from least to most transformative (and considering eliminating taken-for-granted technologies). 

1. Purified Water: In medieval times, water was not reliably clean, and most folks just drank ale, which was easier to reliably safely produce. In your world, you can develop the technology of purified water to allow people to safely and reliably drink pure water if you so choose. But you can just as easily rule that purified water is outside the realm of possibility, and portray people as drinking ale as a safer alternative. Clean water also has a huge impact on agriculture, and you might play in a world where people preserve water for crops and drink other things to ensure a good harvest. If you include pure water in your game, consider only the most upscale establishments the holders of pure water. 
2. Agricultural Harvesters: In medieval times, harvesting crops was an arduous process, but today, complex devices make the process much easier. Your world can share this development: inventors eager to reduce labor in the field can create rolling machines which pluck any crop from the ground and store it. You might have one all-in-one device handle all crops, or a specialized machine for each crop; the device could be cheap enough to be revolutionizing agriculture, and it may be expensive enough that most farmers must save carefully to afford one. Whatever you choose, these harvesters will be game-changers which will multiply the free time of farmers who have it. 
3. The Printing Press: This is not a wild invention in the way that many TRPG inventions are wild--this technology simply determines the spread of information in your world. It's worth considering how popular the printing press is in your world so that you understand how many books there are and thereby what the average person knows about a given topic. I've decided that the printing press is relatively new in my world, but gaining considerable traction, so that printed books have only just become popular and widely available. You might also run a world with no printing press in order to keep written records rare. Printing press availability also affects libraries and newspapers, so make this choice carefully. 
4. Clocks and Watches: Clocks are one of civilization's earliest inventions, but early clocks were unwieldy and large. You might rule that only such large clocks exist in your world, but you can push the line of technology in either direction: you might rule that clocks generally do not exist at all, meaning that player characters must approximate time by the sun's position, or you might rule that clocks are so useful that the technology of timekeeping has rushed to meet demand, and there are even small watches which can reliably keep time. Determining the commonness of timekeeping can help to characterize your world and put pressure on time-related activities. 
5. Musical Instruments: Instruments in a traditional D&D world include period instruments like lutes, lyres, and harps, but these instruments don't have to be the full range of musical possibilities. In the mystery campaign, Montana plays a guitar even though the instrument wouldn't be invented until the very end of the medieval period. But musical expression in the game is more about self-expression than historical reenactment, so you can have in-game characters develop modern instruments. In my world, halflings are renowned as experimenters in the world of music, so I could easily determine that halflings invented the guitar and other instruments to satisfy my players. 
6. Plumbing: Traditional medieval worlds have only the most basic hygienic inventions; science had not yet shown us that disease thrives in unhealthy conditions, and so people did not have things like plumbing yet. But I like to think that magic increases the capabilities of engineers, and that the kind of wealth disparity that exists in my world would lead to the development of technologies that only help the rich. So why not include basic plumbing? The wealthy have the ability to fill a bathtub without carrying water, they can use more sophisticated technology than an outhouse, and they have running water to wash their hands. This opens a narrative possibility of a disease that affects mostly the poor, but the rich have immunity because of their plumbing. 
7. Photography: The ingredients required for early photography were all commonly available to people in medieval settings; the daguerreotype, the earliest publicly available photography method, required silver, iodine, and mercury. In a world with plentiful apothecaries, each of these substances would be relatively easy to find. So why not include photography in your world? These early photographs take time and resources to create, so using it would still require a person to work hard for the fruits of their labor. This would introduce changes into the way that persons of interest are tracked, as perfect reproductions would be available to the public.
8. Use of Existing Magic as Technology: This is one of my favorite ways to make my gameworld more interesting. Consider the magic that exists in the world and how those spells would supplement other aims. In my homebrew setting, powerful wizards are employed by a courier service to teleport couriers all across the continent. Thus, from this spell, there is a whole business that keeps the world informed and connected. The above example of Listen Check uses this format too: the furniture inventor was using a shrink/enlarge spell paired with engineering for his devices. If you have an idea for how a spell might affect the world, keep imagining the details until you know how it affects the world. From there, you'll soon have a unique way for magic to express your world's details. 
9. Flying Machines: As far back as Leonardo da Vinci, there are designs for flying machines. You might introduce a variety of flying machine in your world, and you have lots of options. You could go with the single-person design that da Vinci developed, an early biplane which could hold a passenger or two, or something else entirely. I include this idea because flight is at the heart of the human imagination going back as far as we can remember, and it seems only natural that people in the gameworld would strive to fly as well. With limited flight, travel changes drastically, and all manner of new complications arise--consider how dramatic a skill check to keep the device in the air would be. 
10. Social Programs: I'm writing from the United States, where social programs have long taken a backseat to "economical freedom," but that doesn't mean that your gameworld can't have them. In my homebrew setting, gnomes have a very socialistic government, so they use magic and extensive recordkeeping to provide everyone in their society with the resources they need. Technology gets used in this system: every gnome has a personal artifact, like a ring or a card-shaped metal plate, which can be scanned by a government official before providing aid in order to track social programs. Gnomes' roles as inventors also mean that these social programs take advantage of some of the highest-profile devices in the known world. 
11. Fortune Tellers and Mediums: In the real world, fortune tellers and mediums are people who we can't really be sure have any contact with the supernatural. But in D&D, with the existence of spells like "Weal or Woe," fortune telling is a pretty exact science. Because spellcasters and other mediums have access to very real magic and information that lies outside of everyday life, people in the gameworld would come to rely on them for accurate information about what lies ahead. Where fortune tellers in our world are a "special occasion" type of visit for most of us, fortune tellers in D&D might be a regular visit for all manner of people. These figures can provide your game with dramatic tension, storytelling opportunities, and memorable predictions. 
12. Communication Devices: One of the greatest factors that makes our modern world different from a medieval setting is the speed of communication. Today, we can send a text message almost instantaneously to someone on the opposite side of the world, but a D&D setting usually requires you to travel to the location of who you want to speak with. I like to imagine that people within the gameworld sense that communication could be sped up and use magic with technology to change that. Perhaps your communication device is like an early telephone, with a whole structure that must be wired to its connection, and perhaps your communication device is simply an earpiece that allows the wearer to speak with whoever has the matched earpiece. Whatever you decide, speeding up communication and removing proximity from the equation will change the pace of your adventure and intensify the relationship of whoever your characters speak to. 
13. Magic Identifier: In a world where magic runs rampant and people afflicted with spells may not know how to counter them, it makes sense that someone would develop a mechanical device which can identify magic. This device, which I imagine as a scanner similar to a tv remote control, can confirm that magic has been cast on a person and can potentially diagnose the exact spell used. In conjunction with the treatment of a professional, this device could free the person from any manner of magical effects and curses; additionally, it frees up a range of identifying spells for the professional to use to help people. The Magic Identifier is likely a one-off invention by an enterprising individual, but you could also have it somewhat mass-produced if your gameworld considers magic to be as much a liability as a benefit. 
14. Gunpowder: The ingredients of gunpowder were freely available to people in medieval times--saltpeter, charcoal, and sulphur all occur pretty regularly in the world, especially from miners. I'm not suggesting that you give your D&D players full-on firearms--that would be quite a different game altogether. Rather, gunpowder can be used in small explosive charges, allowing your player characters to build bombs. Of course, just because the ingredients of gunpowder are available doesn't mean that they're easily available, and you can ration how much your players have access to in order to keep them from overwhelming all their enemies with explosives. 
15. Resurrection: There are a number of spells directly dedicated to raising fallen characters. These spells are designed so that the players don't have to lose their characters if they die, but the spells create story complications that can be difficult to deal with. Years ago, I had a party split in which one half of my players decided to kill a king and the other half decided to defend the king. One of the assassins succeeded in regicide, and the cleric on the defending party wanted to resurrect him. How could I decide between the split parties? I had to invalidate one side or another. I decided that "Resurrection" as a spell could only raise the king for one week, at which point he would permanently die--a sort of compromise. I mention this because "Resurrection" has unintended consequences when applied to NPCs. If "Resurrection" is widely available in your world, it should exist in a way that reflects the societal impact of death being escapable. If it's widely available, there should be spellcasters who specialize in casting the spell almost exclusively. If you reduce the power of the spell like I did, remember that it needs to be consistent across your gameworld. 

That's 15 ideas for ways that technology (especially paired with magic) can be a part of your gameworld. You can and should consider the ways that other elements of the game would affect society and other technology, and if you do so, you can turn any idea into a working technology in your world. Remember to have your world reflect the change made by the technology, as this is often the most important and interesting way it will show up in your game. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: an argument against min-maxing, an age calculator for D&D races, and a one-shot based on Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Until next time, happy gaming!

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Temple Descriptions for Each Deity

In Dungeons & Dragons, the gods can be constant figures. I've written before about my homebrew rules for gods, and they stand the chance to be major forces in your gameworld. But whether the gods are important figures in your game or not, temples are an everyday part of living in a D&D world. People within the world know that deities exist and can exert forces on the world, and they devote time and energy to the worship of these gods. The temples they build are perhaps the greatest display of how people commit to the gods. This list describes the standard design of each god's temples, and you can use its format to design temples for the deities in your campaign. Read on for the full list. 

The general thing to keep in mind when it comes to designing a deity's temple is two-part: who is the god, and how do common people interact with them? A temple design should take into account both ideas. My list below contains the 19 canon deities from D&D 3.5 (the gods who feature in my gameworld), but let's use an example from outside that selection by way of example. The Eastweald campaign initially featured a cleric/rogue who worshipped the Silver Flame. The Silver Flame is lawful good, associated with the domains of Good and Protection, and their favored weapon is a longbow. The Silver Flame speaks through a proxy, the Voice of the Silver Flame. We can use this information to create a temple for the Silver Flame.

For starters, the building should be orderly and structured, as the Silver Flame is aligned to law. There should be lots of regular angles and a sense of solidity. Let's say that the temple itself is shaped like a hexagon when viewed from above; that shape is evocative to me of structure and regularity. The Silver Flame considers Protection one of her domains, so at least part of the function of the temple should be to help good people. To reflect this, we'll have a sanctuary room where out-of-luck people can request help. The detail of the longbow could be ignored, but we might also use it to decorate the temple; the icon of the Silver Flame resembles an arrowhead, so we might have a stone longbow with a crystal arrowhead adorning the temple. Finally, we have the detail of the proxy; unlike other temples, where people come to worship in their own way, there will be a staff of clerics who work at a temple of the Silver Flame. There should be a speaker to interpret the Silver Flame's teachings, defenders of those seeking asylum, and a caretaker to keep the temple functional and clean. 

Of course, not all temples will be built the same way. That depends as much on the intention and resources of the temple builder as on the deity's characteristics. But by creating a framework for what a temple generally looks like, you can provide your players with the general description worked out for the temple and tweak the details depending on the specific temple. Just as architecture descriptions can spice up the game for your players, descriptions of temples can make inherently magical and remarkable places actually seem as legendary as they are. Let's move on to the temple descriptions:

Boccob

Temples of Boccob are exceedingly rare, and the deity is essentially uninvolved in the affairs of humanoids. A few temples exist, and they are quiet, small, secretive places. The only publicly known temple of Boccob exists in the city of Talon Gorge, where religious freedom is taken very seriously. Temples of Boccob are more often libraries of secret knowledge than actual temples of worship.

Corellon Larethian

Temples of Corellon Larethian are places of social integration, as elves of all classes and backgrounds come together to thank Larethian for the everyday blessings the elven god is believed to bestow. Small communities build their temples to Larethian in simple designs, often rectangular buildings just big enough to accommodate the community. Larger communities build their temples in crescent moon shapes, with the main temple area in the largest part of the building and supplemental rooms in the smaller edges of the building. Clerics of Corellon Larethian are often on-hand to provide healing and blessings to members of the church. The greatest temple of Corellon Larethian is in the elven capital of Mishara, and it is one of the most visited temples in the known world, as it serves as a pilgrimage for elves all over the continent.

Ehlonna

Temples of Ehlonna rarely appear in settlements, and when they do, only at the edge of the smallest towns. The temples themselves are usually built in circular shapes with windows all around the building. A few temples of Ehlonna have fine stained glass scenes in their windows, depicting nature and animals. Temples of Ehlonna never have assigned clerics; followers of Ehlonna are self-sustaining and turn to the god directly for help rather than using an intermediary. The floor of these temples classically has the emblem of Ehlonna carved in, and the temples are more often wood than stone. Wildlife around temples of Ehlonna tend to be more peaceful and stronger than normal creatures and plants.

Erythnul

Temples of Erythnul are kept secret at all costs. Only devoted followers of the god of slaughter learn the locations of these temples, for fear that protectors of the Good would discover and ransack the temples. Temples of Erythnul most often appear in mid-size to large cities, carefully disguised as abandoned buildings and shady businesses. Inside temples of Erythnul, there is nearly always a basin filled with blood; the blood slowly is consumed by Erythnul and must be replenished with fresh kills, and if the basin goes completely empty, the temple loses its tie to Erythnul. Temples of Erythnul take the form of twisting and turning buildings with snaking hallways that disorient even regular visitors. No one works at temples of Erythnul, and it is considered the joint duty of all parishioners to keep the temple at its best. The most frequently-visited temple of Erythnul is in the industrial city of Ringsdale, where the basin of blood has never been emptied in over 250 years.

Fharlanghn

Temples of Fharlanghn exist in major cities, but most lie on major and minor roads across the continent. Travelers can recognize these temples by the symbol of Fharlanghn depicted on the outside; the door of any temple of Fharlanghn bears the simple icon. The temples themselves are sometimes more akin to camps than buildings; Fharlanghn's temples are open air and have only basic architectural foundation. Outside each temple of Fharlanghn is a circular path which is meant to remind followers that every journey keeps going. Visitors to these temples often walk around this path when encountering the temple as a good luck charm, and it is considered bad taste to skip walking in the circle, even in a hurry. No one tends to temples of Fharlanghn, and it is the responsibility of any traveler who stops by to tend to the cleanliness and order of the temple.

Garl Glittergold

Temples of Garl Glittergold appear in major and minor cities where gnomes are plentiful; the largest is in Vestry, the gnomish capital, and it is among the most extravagant temples in the known world. Temples of Garl Glittergold are built of stone with significant gold inlays; the more gold, the finer the temple if considered. At least one gold cloud is standard in all temples of this deity. Moreso than most temples, those of Garl Glittergold take in funds from parishioners, mostly in the aim of providing public services to the less fortunate. A temple of Garl Glittergold generally has at least 3 people who work there: a healer, a public servant, and a community leader. The pentagonal buildings that form temples of Garl Glittergold are as much public service organizations as they are spiritual centers.

Gruumsh

Temples of Gruumsh are hard to find outside of the orcish homelands of Grob, where they appear commonly--though there is a Common Worship Charter allowing people freedom of religion, there is still concern about the evil orcish god's influence spreading. Temples of Gruumsh are built generally in round designs in stone, and the eye of Gruumsh is uniformly depicted on the floor of the temple. In the orcish lands, many temples of Gruumsh also function as armories, but this function is eliminated in other humanoid lands. Orcish temples of Gruumsh are worked by both a spiritual leader and a combat expert; in other lands, only the spiritual leader appears, but often quietly working in the role of combat expert as well. The greatest temple of Gruumsh appears on the island of Grob, and the combat expert for this temple is also the Ragnar (or prime leader) of the orcish people.

Heironeous

Temples of Heironeous were once among the most popular in the land, but over the last 300 years, people have become less concerned with fabled good-versus-evil and more concerned with day-to-day blessings, which are not the domain of Heironeous. The remaining temples of Heironeous are sites where only the most committed do-gooders congregate to work together on their goals. The temples themselves are usually two-story stone buildings; the first floor is a grand temple adorned with fine metalwork, and the second story serves as a home for the staff of the temple. The staff consists of both a spiritual leader and a philosopher; the spiritual leader tends to healing and questions of faith, while the philosopher is responsible for ensuring that the church changes with the times and reflects both current values and tradition. The greatest temple of Heironeous exists in Finiel, a half-elven city which has stood as a beacon of good values for generations.

Hextor

Temples of Hextor were once difficult to find when his brother Heironeous was more popular, but recent decades have seen a small surge in the popularity of Hextor. Temples of Hextor are kept somewhat secret to protect the identities of their evil members, but that is increasingly changing with time. A temple of Hextor is a small, square building with no windows and a steel door. Inside are chairs for public gatherings and a granite altar engraved with Hextor's holy symbol. These temples generally have one person working there: the cleric of Hextor is responsible for caretaking the building, community outreach to gain new members, conveying Hextor's wishes to the community, and any other tasks necessary for the prospering of the temple. The greatest temple of Hextor lies in the port city of Torga, where many government officials are secret worshippers of Hextor.

Kord

Temples of Kord are sites of celebration and competition more than traditional temples. The temples themselves are mid-size round buildings with the symbol of Kord etched into the floor, but only serious spiritual questions are considered inside; most of the temple's work happens in the street in front of the temple. Nearly all temples of Kord have enormous public squares where follower wrestle, share feats of strength, and discuss how to deal with public issues according to their code. A temple of Kord generally has one servant: their role combines caretaking and spiritual guidance with community outreach, as followers of Kord take a protective stance over their communities. The great temples of Kord are in Grob (the orcish capital) and Underhar (the dwarven capital); Grob's temple is the physically largest, and Underhar's temple has the most parishioners.

Moradin

Temples of Moradin are among the most architecturally unique in the world. While some modest temples constructed in small communities build the structure in common shapes, most temples of Moradin are built in the outline of Moradin's anvil. These temples generally have four rooms: a public worship area, an area for the poor to request assistance, quarters for the clerics, and a library of religious texts. The temples of Moradin are among the most heavily-staffed: there are generally at least three healers, two religious leaders, several caretakers, and an entire group of trainees for temple leadership. Temples of Moradin are highly integrated into their communities. Because of the large staff of temples of Moradin, collections for these temples are usually higher than most other temples.

Nerull

Temples of Nerull, once considered the most ghastly of all temples, have become increasingly popular in recent years. Public perception of the deity has changed from a malevolent reaper to a caretaker for a natural process, and so temples of Nerull have begun to appear in some communities with close relationships to nature. Because most of Nerull's temples are relatively new, their architecture is markedly different from other temples. Temples of Nerull are built like apartment buildings: there are several private rooms available to parishioners rather than a collective space for worship (due to the private nature of a relationship with Nerull). These temples are tended to only sparingly by a caretaker, who is responsible for keeping the temple clean for new visitors, and this caretaker often has another job to sustain themselves. The greatest temple of Nerull exists in the mid-size city of Such, where gnomish and halfling beliefs about death and nature have given rise to a population of Nerull followers.

Obad-hai

Temples of Obad-hai occasionally appear in cities as shrines for travelling nature enthusiasts, but most temple are located in the wild. City temples of Obad-hai are simple wooden buildings with a shrine inside, as well as a few plants to make the place more natural. But wilderness temples of Obad-hai are wild things; resembling oversized pagodas, these simple structures do not bear the holy symbol of Obad-hai as other temples adorn with symbols of the corresponding deity. Rather, they are partially curated and partially wild collections of plants. Travelers who arrive at these temples are invited to use the present plants for potions and salves if they wish, and it is common practice for visitors to plant a new plant or at least tend to those there. No one tends to temples of Obad-hai, although some dedicated followers check on the temples often. The greatest temple of Obad-hai resides just west of the gnomish capital, Vestry; in the heart of the greatest woods of the continent, this temple of Obad-hai stretches for nearly a mile and has been tended to by thousands.

Olidammara

Though temples of Olidammara do not have the evil reputation of other temples like Erythnul's, temples of Olidammara nonetheless remain secretive. Every major city, and quite a few minor ones, has a temple to Olidammara, though most residents in those cities do not know about it. A temple of Olidammara always appears as an unremarkable building, such as an abandoned shack or a nondescript house. Inside, however, will be a collection of masks in homage to Olidammara's holy symbol. No one works at temples of Olidammara; it is the responsibility of visitors to tend to the temple themselves. No dues are expected from visitors, but they do have the responsibility to work to keep the temple secret and functioning. Word of these temples spreads by word of mouth from rogue to rogue. The greatest temple of Olidammara lies in Curagon, the halfling capital, and this specific temple has an enormous mask formed from dozens of smaller masks.

Pelor

There are two distinct types of temples of Pelor: temples of Pelor, the sun god, and temples of the Dalton Church of Pelor, a violent reinterpretation of the deity.

Temples of Pelor vary more than most gods'. Small communities, especially farmers, build simple temples to Pelor in the hopes that he will smile on their agricultural work. Healers in small communities also worship Pelor, and these small temples always have a dedicated healer and spiritual guide. Larger cities' temples to Pelor are more concerned with the healing element of Pelor's powers, and they often have closer to three healers on hand. In fact, the most reliable way to receive healing in the world is to head to a temple of Pelor. Fine temples depict Pelor's holy symbol in gold on the wall of the temple, but simpler temples use brass or a similar metal. The greatest temple of Pelor exists in Talon Gorge, where it serves large communities of farmers and healers alike; this temple stretches for two city blocks and employs at least 5 healers at any given time.

Temples of the Dalton Church of Pelor exist only in settlements with large populations of the line of humans known as Daltoners; this generally means that the Daltoner capital (New Dalton) and nearby communities are the site of these intimidating temples. These temples are built to be huge and imposing, with a fierce and perhaps even cruel image of Pelor staring down from both the inside and outside of the temple. Daltoners pour as much wealth and status into their temples as possible, including making solid gold symbols of Pelor to decorate the temples with. Like other temples of Pelor, there are quite a number of people employed by a Dalton Church of Pelor temple: a Cardinal, several underlings and servants to the Cardinal, a small deployment of healers (who charge considerable amounts for their work), and a fleet of caretakers who keep the temple shining. Most temples of the Dalton Church of Pelor demand sacrifices on a daily basis (almost always a farm animal), and these temples have special areas for both holding the animals and sacrificing them.

St. Cuthbert

Temples of St. Cuthbert are simple affairs, and they have only recently become more common as the recently deified god has gained notoriety across the land. Most temples of St. Cuthbert are built of both wood and stone for a sturdy construction, and steel versions of his holy symbol hang from the walls of these temples. Only one person works at a temple of St. Cuthbert: a single devotee of the god works around the clock to perform all duties necessary to the temple. Healers who worship St. Cuthbert have been gaining increased popularity, and in some communities, temples of St. Cuthbert are used for healing as much as temples of Pelor. The greatest temple of St. Cuthbert exists in the city of Ringsdale, where residents have built a gaudy cathedral to the deity, who has chosen to avoid associating with the temple because he is uncomfortable with the extravagance of it.

Vecna

A temple of Vecna was once a relatively common sight, but as public cooperation has become an increasingly popular motivation for the people of Evanoch, the value of secrets has changed. The average temple of Vecna exists hidden within or just outside of major cities, but a good number of Vecna's followers simply create their own secret makeshift shrines to the god. When public temples do exist, they are sprawling buildings with unassuming appearances. Most often, a door will lead to a series of hallways or underground tunnels, and the building will look abandoned. But after searching the building's tunnels and hallways, followers of Vecna will discover a shrine with a symbol of Vecna, usually needlepointed or crocheted. The greatest temple of Vecna exists on the outskirts of the elven capital in a city called Cintan; there, an entire abandoned mine system houses a shrine to Vecna and a magical library of secrets reside, as well as a holy symbol formed by a preserved hand and eyeball.

Wee Jas

A temple of Wee Jas is hard to find. Evil gods' temples are elusive because they must be secret, but Wee Jas's temples are on the wane. Where once Wee Jas claimed as followers most who revere the life-death cycle, many of these followers now claim Nerull as their god. As a result, spellcasters are the most common among Wee Jas's followers, and they are known for keeping their religious lives secondary to their education in spellcasting. Nevertheless, temples of Wee Jas exist across the continent here and there, mostly outside of major cities. A temple of Wee Jas is built in a circle, with a large skylight placed at the center of the building. Etched into the floor is a clockface, and the skylight's sunlight functions as a timekeeper. Most temples of Wee Jas are unattended, although a few of the bigger temples get regular attention from dedicated followers. The greatest temple of Wee Jas is in Mishara, where it is a part of the great Misharan Library; people are able to research in the library and request help with anything else at the temple.

Yondalla

Temples of Yondalla are sites of joy; these wooden buildings resemble oversized houses, meant to make parishioners feel at home. Inside the temples, there is little to indicate that it is a temple at all--only the crest of Yondalla hanging from the wall gives it away. Otherwise, the temple is just a large living room, where parishioners come to socialize with their communities and work together to solve community issues. While the other racial deities generally frown on other races visiting their temples, Yondalla openly invites all people to take part in her bounty and maternalism. Generally, temples of Yondalla have one official working: an elder woman from the community who administers healing, advice, spiritual guidance, and whatever support she can. Temples of Yondalla are supported by donations from the community, but people are expected to contribute only as much as they can. The greatest temple of Yondalla is in Curagon, the halfling capital: this enormous round building can hold up to 200 people and was built to be large enough for non-halflings, who have to stoop down to enter most temples of Yondalla.

That's 20 different temple descriptions, all matched to the deities they represent. Now when my players enter a temple, I know exactly what they're walking into and can describe it in a way that makes the scene more detailed and memorable. These temple descriptions can be especially helpful if you have a character in your party who is particularly religious or is a cleric. And your homebrew gods can have unique temples with just a bit of work like what I've set down above. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: details on agriculture in your gameworld, how to design a one-shot from a movie, and how to create player character notes as an in-game document. Until next time, happy gaming!

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How to Help Players Customize Their Characters' Appearances

You've probably seen it in just about every video game you've ever played: customizable appearances. Some games' entire reward systems are new pieces of fashion or armor and weapons. Just because they do it doesn't mean you have to, but customizing appearances is an immensely satisfying thing for players to do, which is why so many games include it. You can allow for and even encourage players to express themselves and their characters by customizing their appearances, and all it takes is a bit of creativity and a willingness to let the players guide the process. 

The easiest way to let players express their appearance is through their clothing. It's something that we can take for granted that at least most of a character's clothing match their sense of style, so have your players describe their clothing and appearance otherwise when they introduce themselves and continue to describe outfits so that other players get a sense of their characters. You can create opportunities for players to get even more invested by providing clothing shops in the towns they visit and allowing them to add new items to their wardrobe. Act like a salesperson: give information about anything they ask about, but guide them to a few specific items you think they'll like. Unless the players are asking for something that couldn't exist in your setting, have it be in stock. Anything special (like a tuxedo in a fantasy setting, for instance) will take a custom commission. 

Another element of appearance customization that you can easily implement is tattoo artists. I'll admit I'm biased (I have full sleeves, knuckle tattoos, and a few other pieces), but I think tattoos are rad. And when the player themselves doesn't have to endure being needled repeatedly for hours, tattoos are an even more attractive prospect. I will simply introduce to a scene a traveling tattoo artist who offers reasonable rates and seems quite talented. If the tattoo idea proves popular, the artist can become a recurring part of your campaign. Tattoos can be a great way for players to personalize their characters, and they can affect the story as well; a character who rolls a 15 on an Intimidate check might be a little more impressive when the character is covered in tough-looking tattoos. Players should be encouraged to design their own tattoos, but the artist is willing to suggest classics, like a snake, a wolf, a heart, the name of a loved one, sun-and-moon, or a dagger. [Details on tattoos in my world can be found here.]

Players may want to alter their physical appearance for a variety of reasons. When I ran Listen Check, one of the characters ran afoul of the law and wanted to create a non-magical alter ego. In cases like that, why not provide a scene in which the player goes under the knife? In the show, I created the Patchwork Man, a monstrous figure who had experimented on himself to learn surgery. The scene was tense, the Patchwork Man was creepy, and the players were on the edge of their seats. It was a good digression from the story that contributed to the story in big ways, as that character now needed to collect his "old" affairs as his "new" self.

Then you have the matter of actual gear. Most TRPGs attribute statistics to various types of gear, but you can still get imaginative with different styles. I think about it this way: Dungeons & Dragons, at least, exists in a world of artisans. Unlike in Skyrim, no two pieces of leather armor would ever look exactly alike. In fact, artisans can make more money by selling more specialized pieces than just industrially turned-out products. So your description of gear should match; provide customized descriptions for pieces of armor. I like to offer 2 or 3 of the same item, but each with a different design. It would sound like so: "You're looking for light armor, eh? I've got this padded armor that triple wrapped in burlap, and this other beige padded armor that comes with a matched padded helm. Then I've got leather: this one is shaped like a cascade of leaves, in the elven style; this one is made or stacked layers that would absorb a punch like nothing; this one in the dwarven style, with squared off edges. And I've got two studded leathers: this dark-stained gnomish build with double the normal amount of studs, and this craftsman cut that looks like a tortoise's shell." That's a lot more information than you would normally provide during a shopping trip, but the players will appreciate it--and may even custom commission a piece with a design of their own choosing. [Check out detailed descriptions of common items here.]

Just as armor is treated in this way, so are weapons. For the same artisan reason, weapons should generally have more to them than just the type of weapon. Weapon descriptions should again offer 2-3 options for players and describe both unique traits about it and its general appearance. If you want to get more detailed, please do! But the bare minimum is what I've outlined here. In practice: "Ahh, it's a dagger you want? I have three fine daggers are a handful of average blades I wouldn't sell such a discerning customer. Here's this one, a stiletto with a blood groove favored by halfling assassins. Then we have an orcish hunting blade, long and curved with a topaz set into the grip. And finally, a short, wide blade, meant more for chopping than stabbing. Great grip; impossible to drop." Now if the character decides to buy one of these blades, they'll be picturing it this way every time they use it in combat. That's worth taking the time to extend shopping trips. 

Magic items likewise deserve time and attention for description. In fact, magic items are supposed to be fantastical. In my homebrew world, even non-magic users can tell when a spell has been cast in some cases just from the feeling in the air. You don't have to go that far, but your description of magic items should suggest that they're more than meets the eye. Let's use a classic example: a wand of magic missile. Maybe a wizard looking to conceal the fact that they're using a wand would want a simple stick that could be mistaken for nothing useful, but for vendors selling the wands, it's beneficial that the wand itself look powerful and enticing. Let's say a character in your campaign walks in to buy a wand of magic missile. Is that the end of the transaction? I hope not. Offer some designs for that wand: one with lightning bolts carved into the wand, one with fingerbone-like segments, and one with a symbol of Boccob burned into its handle. That's a much more interesting deal than simply buying a wand. 

I'm sure that there are some GMs who scoff at this advice. "We can't even see the characters anyway. Why do these detail we can't see matter?" But the players can and do take these details to heart. Part of roleplaying is experiencing the full range of the character's reality, and appearances are an important part of that. Part of what makes the game fun is agency, and allowing your players the agency to design every aspect of their appearance is an expression that will get them invested.

Once you've gotten your players used to the idea that they can affect the details of their character's life through small actions like deciding cosmetic differences for them, they'll start to realize that they can assert that same agency elsewhere in the game. Shopping trips are an easy way to open the door for players to really express themselves. 

That's all for now. Coming soon: TRPGs as a therapeutic tool, how to write good riddles for your party, and a list of homebrew magic items. Until next time, happy gaming!

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How to Describe Magic

I've discussed description before--how to describe critical rolls, how to describe combat, and how to describe narrative details. Description is perhaps your greatest tool as a GM, so it's important to use it to the fullest potential to create scenes for your players. And just as description is the key to GMing, magic is the key to a lively fantasy world. This means that your descriptions of magic will be especially important in painting a colorful picture of your gameworld. This guide will present some considerations to make when you describe magic so your players get a real sense of how magic functions in your world. 

The first question to ask yourself is whether you're going to use the magic rules of a game like D&D as presented or if you're going to approach it from the homebrew perspective. You can deviate from the rules as far as you would like. I created a custom magic system with room to separate from the game's mechanics, and it's surprisingly easy to do something like it. But for the sake of this guide, let's say that you're walking a middle path: you're using the D&D rules for magic and you're allowing mostly cosmetic changes to the way the spells work. This raises more questions for you to answer about how magic works. 

One of the most basic details of a spell is what it looks like. Some official D&D spells provide simple description of what a spell looks like--Magic Missile, for instance, reads, "You create three glowing darts of magical force. Each dart hits a creature of your choice that you can see within range. A dart deals 1d4 + 1 force damage to its target. The darts all strike simultaneously, and you can direct them to hit one creature or several." We get some basic information here: the spell creates three glowing darts which strike their target(s) simultaneously. Other spells offer much less information. Inflict Wounds, as an example, simply reads, "Make a melee spell attack against a creature you can reach. On a hit, the target takes 3d10 necrotic damage." This spell doesn't really tells us what it looks like at all. In my opinion, there aren't many spells at all that offer concrete details on what a spell looks like, and I believe that is so that you as the GM can offer those details on your own. 

So how can we spice up these descriptions? Let's start with Magic Missile. We have three glowing darts. But that's only three pieces of information: three, glowing, darts. We want to provide our players with more than that. So you could decide that all three darts are pale green in color and that their glowing light is faint. We can add that the darts are shaped like arrows or perhaps simply d4-like pyramids. We can describe the darts as moving slowly at first and then accelerating faster and faster into their targets; we could also describe them as flashing quickly through the air and exploding in dazzling bursts of light when they strike. The important thing is that the details make Magic Missile seem interesting and unique. And when a player casts Magic Missile again, you can return to your earlier description to keep things standard, or give it a different twist if it expresses how the situation has changed. 

Then we have the Inflict Wounds spell. We have very little to go off of here--all we really know is that the target takes necrotic damage. But that's still enough to go on. Imagine for a moment what this spell looks like in your mind. 3d10 necrotic damage averages to about 15 damage, which is a fair amount for early-level characters. And necrotic damage is especially brutal, as it directly removes life from the target. We can use these details to describe the spell more effectively. When the caster touches their target for the attack, there is a snapping sound and a burst of silver light from the place they touch their target. Then we can describe how the skin around the touched area quickly becomes dry and veiny. We can add that the target shouts in pain and grasps at the wounded area. We could even consider whether the target drops their weapon in pain and shock or decides to surrender rather than face such a blow again. The details give way to more details--this is how good narration functions. 

The visual details of a spell are important because they characterize spells which otherwise are simply rules. Whether you're in combat or not, it's a good idea to take a moment to describe what it all looks like. The easiest way to do this is to develop a sense of what colors different spells are represented by. You don't need to do a lot of work to accomplish this--just use your emotional associations with each color to associate effects with different hues. By way of example, I use green for vibrant energy like the Magic Missile spell above or anything that is nature-related. Light blue energy is for healing, reddish colors are for damaging spells, and white light is associated for me with spells that call on divine entities. You can and should think about how each color is related to an effect in your mind and use that as a key to what spells look like. 

A small note on using emotional associations for descriptions: you can do this for other effects as well. Magic is supposed to be otherworldly but still intuitive, and your associations are the perfect source for something that is both otherworldly (filtered through your subconscious) and intuitive (it fundamentally makes sense without thinking about it). And after all, this is really the place where GMing will come naturally to you--in the place that makes sense to you without working at it. Allow yourself into this place when you GM and you'll find that the results will reflect your vision for a gameworld better than you anticipate. 

The level of a spell is important, too. It follows logically that a cantrip shouldn't seem as impressive as a 9th-level spell. So take the level into consideration when you describe a spell. D&D's spells are already rated on a scale of 1-10 (cantrip through 9th level), so just think of the spell's level as a rating of how powerful it should be. A cantrip should be impressive enough as a spell in the first place, especially for a beginning party, but you should be ready to bump up the level of detail as the spells and the player characters become more powerful. Let's look at a pair of examples to illustrate this point. 

Let's say you're running a game with some 8th-level characters. That means your spellcasters have access to 4th-level spells. So when the wizard in your party casts Magic Missile (a 1st-level spell), you want to use your sense of what a 2 out of 10 is (since a 1st-level spell is the second step toward the top). When the wizard casts the spell, you describe its power as being a bit below moderate. Now when those three green glowing darts fire through the air, you can tell the other players that their characters feel a rush of wind and the sensation of static electricity from the impact of the darts. But when that same wizard casts Banishment (a 4th-level spell), we're now working with a higher threshold of power. We can relate this to a 5 our of 10 (since a 4th-level spell is the fifth step towards the top) and up the impact of the spell's effects. Now when the same wizard casts Banishment, we say that a creature is enveloped by dark purple lights which swirl around them before enveloping them; after a crash of thunder, they are gone. The thunderclap evokes some of the higher power we're talking about, but we can add more. When the thunderclap sounds, a smell of sulphur and burning hair fills the area. Now the effect of magic are far greater, and you can describe the different spells in a consistent way. 

Another aspect of spellcasting involves whether or not a spell succeeds. Some spells like Magic Missile automatically hit, but most involve a roll on the target's part to avoid at least part of the effect of the spell. A successful hit with a spell should be described as outlined above, but a failed spell requires a different tactic. Let's use the Banishment spell as an example. A wizard casts Banishment on a foe, and the foe rolls high enough to avoid being banished. But the spell still happened, so we need to describe it failing. I like to have my failed spells function as intended up until the moment of effect. So our failed Banishment spell encloses the enemy with the dark purple light and a sound of thunder in the distance booms closer, but the thunderclap dissipates with a hissing sound as the foe stands against the spell. The dark purple light wavers in the air and collapses, the foe standing with a resolute look on their face. Details like this create a sense of the spell's functioning and its failure in a way that dramatizes the spell despite its failure. 

What I have described so far is how to deal with spells in combat. But many spells are cast outside of combat, particularly in roleplaying campaigns. Because the momentum of combat is quick-paced, we generally want to offer detailed but brief descriptions of magic. If a few players are controlling melee combatants who roll to hit and end their turns, it doesn't make sense to take several minutes to go into the details of a spell. You want to temper your description given the demands of combat's pace. But out of combat, there are no such limits. I recommend taking out-of-combat spells further and describing more details as they appear. Let's consider some examples. 

The spell Remove Curse is a 3rd-level spell which removes malignant effects from a cursed individual. Let's say one of the members of a party is cursed in combat, and after the enemy has been dealt with, the party wants to remove the curse. Now we have the time and space to really get into the effect of the spell. You will have already described the effect of the Curse spell, and we'll say for the sake of example that you have described it as a dark red cloud that hums around the target, a whining sound and a wave of heat emanating from the target. That red cloud remains after combat. When the party's wizard casts Remove Curse, we describe it as outlined above: a pale bluish light in a sparking ball moves slowly from the caster toward the cursed individual; it crackles with energy as it encounters the cursed person, getting louder and brighter as its aura collides with the red aura. After a few moments of crackling energy, the pale blue turns white, and a loud snapping sound marks the disappearance of the curse. The person who had been cursed feels physically exhausted for a time, but can feel the strength returning to them as the seconds pass. 

This description is a touch longer than the earlier spell descriptions. And it works well because the moment of a player becoming uncursed is an important moment, and it deserves to be observed in detail by the players. This makes the wizard who cast the spell a valuable asset to the team, and the description of how the spell functions lends power to the wizard. Let's look at an example that's totally removed from a combat application to see how it can enrich a narrative moment. 

We'll use the spell Fabricate for this example. Fabricate allows a user to create an item out of a selection of resources, such as a wooden bridge from a clump of trees. The wizard in our party wants to create several outfits of average clothing from a heap of linen. When they cast the spell, it's time to provide the details we can. So as the wizard casts while standing over the heap of linen, you describe a vibrant yellow light emerging from the wizard's fingertips, coalescing into a swirling cloud of energy over the heap of linen. Tendrils of the yellow energy reach down from the cloud and begin to manipulate the linen, folding and stretching each piece. The linens move faster and faster until a blast of orange light explodes; when the player characters blink away the burst of light, five sets of linen outfits are laid side-by-side on the ground where the heap was. The clothing is warm to the touch, and the area smells faintly of fresh cloth. 

This description takes the foundation of the spell and fills in details so that it will entertain the players. It creates an impression of the power the wizard holds. And it makes a narrative moment out of what could otherwise simply be the wizard obtaining a set of clothing. Your players will take note of your descriptions and try to cast spells in ways that make the most of the detailed spell descriptions you provide. 

A final note on describing magic: it's easy for a magic spell to seem more impressive than someone trying to strike an enemy with a sword. And you don't want your players who are melee specialists to feel as though they aren't as powerful or valuable as spellcasters. My advice is to offer the best descriptions you can of magic and try to match that intensity with your combat descriptions--there are plenty of ways to make a melee attack more exciting than simply rolling the dice. Once your players are receiving detailed descriptions of their actions in and even out of combat, they will be eager to best their previous actions in terms of excitement. Once you have communicated that magic is something to get excited about, your players will get into the spirit of it and have fun with their use of spells. And that's your goal as a GM: get your players invested in the process of playing and making decisions. 

That's all for now. Good luck turning magic descriptions into something that enriches your game.As always, if there's something I didn't cover here or you would like to see written about here, comment below! Look out for a guide to the accessories you need to play, a guide to building a strong party, and uses for my expanded Wild Surge Table. Until next time, happy gaming!

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