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Think They Heard Us?

Attention Dice and Dungeon Crawling. Old thoughts on a subsystem for stealth with a bit more nuance.

6/30/26

Dungeon Crawling should be scary. It's dark, supernatural, teeming with potential enemies, and unknown. 1 in 6 chance for random encounters captures this fine but doesn't account for escalation. Here's two unnecessarily complex takes on simulating your players infiltrating a hostile space.

Click to Expand, Read More Here

Let’s Contextualize these two subsystems: They exist in a dungeon crawl (dungeons are anywhere hostile where movement is limited and stealth is smart)

Moving slowly and quietly is free, it costs you time, rations, torches. You roll this Attention Die/Pool when:

Players rest or take a fast action action (10 minutes vs safer, standard 30 minute actions) in a room.
Every movement turn when choosing to move quickly
- Players save torches and food but run a higher risk of discovery
Players make noise
- Combat (every other round if you feel generous)
- On failures during skill checks
- When choosing to destroy things
  - Breaking doors down, smashing crates, smashing walls

The Attention Dice

Start at d4. Increase die every roll over half die max

Green d4

1-4 is nothing, all clear

Yellow d8,d12

5-9: minor attention, signs of danger. Roll on your encounter table and telegraph that potential encounter

10-12: danger is close, telegraphed encounter next turn, players get initiative.

Red d20

13-18: Immediate encounter. Roll for distance, attitude, and distance. And of course, Initiative!

19: Ambush from the random encounter table

20: Immediate boss encounter/Elite ambush. Maybe players stumble into the boss lair, maybe they are tracked down and roll vs surprise.

Fleeing enemy = color increase. If you’re already at Red, then roll 2d20 and keep the higher dice, consequences next round.

Scout fail - +1d (roll an additional die, take the higher result)

Resting without setting watch or a failed roll: +1d

Long rest - +2d. No sleeping in dungeons without extreme risk

If you know ball, you can see where I borrowed from Blades in the Dark here!

Circle back next week as we talk about the second incarnation of this subsystem that steals from Grimwilds!

Almatter Farm I & II

4/20/26

Two sisters struggle to manage a much-too-large farm, much-too-empty farm. Strange memories come and go.

A bit of horror and world-building. Picking up where Ordin Willowbrim left off, continuing the retelling of a story that started in my Blackflame Crusade DnD campaign from 2019-22.

CW: Memory Loss, Existential Terror, Body Horror, Gore

Click to Expand and read here!

There truly was too much work for just two young women here on this property. It was all we could do to keep place clean and the groundhogs under control. A massive pig sty with no pigs. Bales of hay for just two sheep. An animal-driven plow with no ox or ass to pull it. I hauled on my oversized muck boots and apron, securing them with fabric strips so I wouldn't be hampered by their size as I mentally plotted out the day.

Our dairy cow Drina was still inconsolable. She cried out all through the night and continued rush the pen gate when we entered the barn, panicked and straining at the wooden posts on her pen. Her udders remained swollen despite daily milking and nursing. Her calf, so tiny it could be a twin, did not leave its spot in the corner. The poor thing trembled despite the pleasant weather and blanket draped over it and its eyes remained transfixed on the groundhog-burrow on the other side of the barn. I sighed and made a mental note to cover it up before one of the animals stepped in it and hurt themselves.

Come to think of it, I couldn't remember ever actually seeing any of the pests. After a few minutes, I was able to calm Drina enough to collect some milk and coax her calf into feeding. Running my hand through its shaggy brown fur, my eyes landed on the golden ring on my finger. I caught myself smiling softly, despite the throbbing in my temples.

As I scrubbed the milk buckets clean, I planned how to best deal with the groundhog problem. I could try to use one of the bows around the property, but they were too heavy for me to draw to full. They were all wrong too, arrow rests on the wrong side as if they were made for an awkward-handed hunter. Same story as the wheat scythe, too, actually. Every damn tool on this farm was too big for me and my sister, built like they were made for some left-handed man. I idly fingered the golden band on my left hand. --My thoughts fell on it as my headache surged and I realized I couldn't remember where I'd gotten it. Was it a gift from my mother? No, that was all wrong, the inscription on the inside had a man's name.

My breath hitched. M.. Mar... Mark? Panic rising, I dropped the milk buckets. My mind reeled. The throbbing waves of pain extended down the sides of my neck. I tore the metal band from my finger, ignoring the sting, and felt for the indented letters. I could not read them through the tears. I choked back hysterical sobs and clawed at my eyes, trying to clear them. My blood was ice. I couldn't breathe.

The memories flitted to life like sparks from an anvil and then disappeared just as fast, no matter how hard I clung to them. A kind face. A gentle laugh. A broad chest that quivered as he read his vows. Strong hands wrapped around mine, guiding a left-handed arrow into proper position on a hunting bow. Summer afternoons spent chasing the hogs we'd been gifted after the wedding feast- Then nothing. Gone like sand passing through fingers.

"Forever Always, Marcus & Lucille", it read. Then, something like the sound of fingernails nails against steel flooded my ears, drowning out the wild, desperate laughter coming from my throat. It was a terrible, nonsensical melody. It came from everywhere at once. No. It was always there. How had I never noticed? I threw my wedding band as far as I could and screamed. --

I woke up under a blanket with a warm towel on my forehead, my sister's hands on mine, stroking gently. I could still feel the chill of the damp soil on my clothes. I could still see the pale, vaguely humanoid face full of jagged teeth from my dreams....