IZIRION’S ENCHIRIDION

OF THE

WEST MARCHES
A Campaign Guide to the Perilous Wilderness

Written and Designed by Dom Liotti & Sam Sorensen

This is the forge of heroes, where legends are tempered in fire and blood. These are the
relentless perils that will crush the soul of the unworthy and stoke the embers of
greatness. It is here that courage and the spirit of discovery ring true, and it is here
that history will know as the place where the eminent champions of the modern epoch
emerged from ruin and brimstone in triumph.

Welcome to the West Marches.

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 CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION……………………...5 Harvesting Quarry……………………35
Safety Tools…………………………………..5 Hazards………………………………………36
Lines and Veils………………………….5 Weather Hazards……………………..36
The X-Card……………………………….5 Terrain Hazards……………………….38
Content Warnings………………………....6
Colonialism and Racism……………..6 CHAPTER III
What is This Book?.............................7 WORLDBUILDING…………………40
History of the West Marches……….8 The Town…………………………………….40
Two Warnings…………………………..9 Principles………………………………..40
Why Play?.......................................9 Item Crafting…………………………...42
Component Tiers……………………..43
CHAPTER I Creating a Craftsperson…………….44
BASIC CONCEPTS…………………...11 Craftsperson Features……………...44
The Group…………………………………….11 Regions……………………………………….47
The Player Pool………………………...11 Principles………………………………...47
The Character Roster………………..12 Danger Level……………………………49
Mission Parties………………………...12 Environment…………………………...50
Element Overviews……………………….13 Landforms and Structures………...52
The Town…………………………………14 Modifiers………………………………...53
The Wilds………………………………...15 Inhabitants……………………………...55
Missions…………………………………..16 Encounters……………………………...57
The Map…………………………………..17 Factions……………………………………….61
Emergent Narrative………………………18 Principles………………………………...61
Hacking the Game………………………..18 Territory and Influence…………….63
Theming………………………………….64
CHAPTER II Bases………………………………………66
Motivation……………………………….67
WILDERNESS RULES…………..…19
Population……………………………….68
Travel………………………………………....19
Development…………………………...69
Watches…………………………………..19
Dungeons…………………………………….71
Travel Activities………………………..19
Principles………………………………...71
Travel Pace………………………………20
Types of Dungeons…………………...73
Shelter and Sleeping………………….21
Layers of Dungeon History………..74
Tracking………………………………….22
Danger…………………………………….75
Navigation……………………………....23
On Return………………………………..76
Weather……………………………………...26
Dungeon Ecology……………………..77
Precipitation…………………………...26
Dungeon Bosses……………………….80
Wind Speed……………………………..27
Treasure Rooms……………………….81
Temperature…………………………...28
Encounter Design…………………….83
Food & Water………………………………29
Loot………………………………………..86
Survival…………………………………..29
Foraging………………………………….30
CHAPTER IV
Cleanliness……………………………….31
Surveying & Hunting…………………….32
NARRATIVE…………………………..87
Surveying………………………………..32 Mechanics and Narrative……………...87
Hunting…………………………………..34 Principles………………………………..87

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 Do Not Fudge Dice…………………..88
Verisimilitude………………………….89 CHAPTER V
Planning and the Sandbox………..90 APPENDICES……………………….104
Lore…………………………………………….91 Appendix A: Player Options………...104
Principles…………………………………91 Feats for the West
Layers of History……………………...92 Marches…………………...106
Items, Artifacts, and Epic Boons…………………………….108
Treasure…………………….94 Rangers and “Cannot Get Lost”
Legends and Reality………………….94 Features………………………………...108
NPCs……………………………………….95 Character Background Features…………….109
Multiple Perspectives………………..97 Appendix B: Additional and
Emergent Narrative………………………97 Modified Equipment………..109
Regions, Weather, and Appendix C: Progression
Encounters…………………97 Options…………………………..110
Indexical Storytelling……………….98 Character Tiers……………………….110
Show, Don’t Tell……………………..100 Experience Points…………………...110
Player Narrative………………………...100 Appendix D: Playing in Real
Ongoing Mysteries…………………..101 Time……………………………….112
Backstories…………………………….102 Appendix E: License…………………...114
Investment Over Time.……………102

Izirion’s Enchiridion of the West Marches

© 2020 by Dom Liotti and Sam Sorensen
You can find us on Twitter: Dom is @DomLiotti and Sam is @HeadOfTheGoat.

An expanded version of this text is available for purchase in PDF and print. The
expanded version has all of these same rules and text, but also has new content, magic
items, and generation tools, plus full color illustrations and layout.
Here’s the link: Izirion’s Enchiridion of the West Marches

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INTRODUCTION
HOW TO USE THIS BOOK

Safety Tools
Playing a tabletop roleplaying game is usually fun, but there can be moments of stress
and fear and uncertainty. These can oftentimes be good: tension is good for any story,
and moments of difficulty will make your game a more rewarding experience.
That said, it’s important that you, both players and GMs (and audience members,
if you have them), all feel safe at the table. Making certain that everyone still feels
comfortable and secure—even during those moments of intensity—is more important
whatever game you're playing.
We have two main safety tools to recommend; there are many more out there and
we encourage you to do your own research, but these two are robust and reliable.

Lines and Veils

Originally devised by Ron Edwards, lines & veils are two kinds of limits in the game.
Lines are not be crossed: anything designated as a line will not come up in game.
They are places that the game will not go.
Veils are things that, while they can come up in-game, will be “panned away”
from, or “fade-to-black” moments. Veiled moments are things that happen in the story
of the game, but don’t get a spotlight or significant screentime. They can be dealt with,
but avoid graphic details.
Lines and veils both should be discussed before play begins: give all players at the
table a chance to declare them before the moment might arise. It’s a chance to let
everyone decide how comfortable they are ahead of time.

The X-Card
The X-Card is an optional tool created by John Stavropoulos that allows anyone in your
game (including you, the GM) to edit out any content anyone is uncomfortable with as
you play. Since most RPGs are improvisational and we won't know what will happen
until it happens, it's possible the game will go in a direction people don't want. An
X-Card is a simple tool to fix problems as they arise.
To use, at the start of your game, simply say:

“I’d like your help. Your help to make this game fun for everyone. If anything
makes anyone uncomfortable in any way… [ draw X on an index card ] …just
lift this card up, or simply tap it [ place card at the center of the table ]. You

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 don’t have to explain why. It doesn't matter why. When we lift or tap this card,
we simply edit out anything X-Carded. And if there is ever an issue, anyone can
call for a break and we can talk privately. I know it sounds funny but it will help
us play amazing games together and usually I’m the one who uses the X card to
protect myself from all of you! Please help make this game fun for everyone.
Thank you!"

Content Warnings
The content of the West Marches as a format does not significantly deviate from that of
the base game. There will be wilderness to explore, dungeons to delve, monsters to slay,
friends to acquaint, and treasure to be unearthed.
It’s likely, however, that the West Marches will be perhaps more grim than an
ordinary game. Friends will likely be fewer and farther between, the wilds will be more
precarious, and the chances of losing allies will be higher. Violence, stress, certain
horrors, and foul language are quite common.
If any of that is likely to make you or your players uncomfortable, it’s worth
having a frank discussion ahead of time about expectations for the game. Using the
aforementioned safety tools will certainly help, and a GM can certainly bend and shift
the tone of the game, but it will not be easy.
If it turns out that someone at the table doesn’t want to play given the content of
the game, that’s fine! Far better to have them realize that a game is not for them and be
able to make a graceful exit than to get in deep and have to back out.
If you realize that this game isn’t for you, don’t feel bad for a moment about not
playing. The West Marches is a very specific game, and is certainly not for everyone.

Colonialism and Racism

Since its inception in the ‘70s, the base game itself has had profound issues surrounding
racism and the colonialist mindset. Fifth Edition has done little to mitigate these issues,
and if anything, the West Marches only make the longstanding rot more visible.
What does it mean to have a colonialist mindset? Consider, for a moment, the
basic act of an adventure. You, the adventurer, travel far from home, break into a
fortified location, kill or drive out its inhabitants, and then take everything of value they
own. Afterwards, you return home, rich and wealthy, and are lauded as heroes.
You see how this might be an issue? It’s only compounded by the fact that the
game’s reward systems inherently push you towards this sort of behavior: by default, the
most prominent means to advance your characters are through combat, where you must
defeat creatures, typically by killing them.

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 Now, granted, it’s one thing to fight off dragons, beasts, and demons. They are
more or less universally villainous, and the players can usually observe them being
greedy, heartless, murderous monsters.
However, it’s entirely another when the villains are people. Consider drow,
duergar, orcs, goblins: the standing mythology that the game is built on presents them
as fully sentient, and often organized into fully-fledged societies. Whether or not your
specific style of managing the game as a GM explores the marginalization of these
societies in thought-provoking play, the mechanics and language that comprise the fiber
of the game itself presents them as villains. Reading the rules as they are laid down, the
game generalizes villainy and evil to entire groups of people, and that their murder and
conquest is most always justified.
This is racist.
A good GM can solve a lot of this, yes. They can remove racial stat modifiers, they
can build a complex and nuanced world with myriad people, and they can emphasize
empathy, compassion, and community-building.
The challenge is that the rules, as written, will be fighting that GM at practically
every turn along the way. It’s impossible not to acknowledge the damaging,
dehumanizing elements of the game as it is currently written. The game is one that
analogs existing racist attitudes in real life; though this isn’t a problem in itself, by the
nature of its construction it rewards those that take these exploitative and colonialist
behaviors to the extreme.
All that said, the game is extremely fun. It brings a great deal of imagination,
creativity, and joy to thousands—if not millions—of people. You can and should
continue to enjoy the game, even with all of its flaws. But you must acknowledge those
flaws.
In the West Marches, you will travel to a distant, uncharted land in search of
fame, glory, and riches. Even if the Marches are solely inhabited by the most despicable
of all creatures, foul devils and shambling undead and otherworldly aberrations,
characters in the West Marches are not inherently heroic.
True heroism comes from reforming and advancing the existing systems of
society to make significant changes that benefit everyone, including the marginalized
and oppressed. Slaying dragons and looting tombs is fun, but don’t make the mistake of
allowing the spirit of adventure to dull your sensibilities to the deeper questions that
prod endemically at the seams of the game.

What is this book?

Izirion’s Enchiridion of the West Marches is a book that provides you and your table
with all of the tools necessary to run a game in the style of the West Marches, which is a

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close variant of the West Marches, originally devised by Ben Robbins around the year
2000.
Within this book, there are rules to add into your game: systems for governing
weather and travel and special NPCs and more. It’s important to note that these systems
are not content. They aren’t encounters or monsters or scenarios, but rules that
adjudicate parts of the game that previously lacked mechanical detail. The rules that
deal with wilderness survival, for example, add complexity and depth such that players
must now make critical decisions while weighing risk and reward when travelling, much
as they would in combat.
These rules are GM-facing; they’ll affect the players for sure, but will most often
take the form of systemic challenges that players will have to react to or overcome rather
than deploy directly. It’s helpful for players to know, and it’s encouraged for players to
familiarize themselves with the broad strokes of these rules, but you should feel free to
teach them as play occurs, rather than beforehand.
In addition to rules, this book contains a number of guidelines, principles, and
toolsets for creating content. A lot of this content is built into the world: regions,
dungeons, NPCs, encounters, that sort of thing. For creating these, this book contains
numerous tables, charts, and step-by-step guides, so you can easily create excellent
content for your players.
Some of the guides, however, are a little less tangible. They cover more
philosophical and theoretical content, delving into narrative, design, emotion,
aesthetics, and more. These have less concrete step-by-step instructions, and instead
provide you with insight and advice to weigh and consider.
Finally, the book also includes a collection of suggestions, rules tweaks, and
modifications from the base game to the West Marches. This tackles stuff like
encumbrance and carry weight, making mess kits actually helpful, and sorting out vague
background features. It also includes a little player-facing content, like a bunch of feats!
In many ways, this book is primarily for GMs, but it has a fair amount of
player-facing rules as well. You can expect to use it as such.

History of the West Marches

Around the year 2000, a game designer by the name of Ben Robbins began running a
game of 3rd Edition called the West Marches. It was, in his own words, the diametric
opposite of an ordinary game. It had no set meeting time, no regular party, and no
regular plot.
Instead, there was a pool of about 10-15 players, they formed their own parties
and set their own times, and they explored where they chose. It was dangerous, gritty,
and harkened back to the old days of the game, back to B/X, when things were a little
less heroic and a little more deadly.

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 Since then, the West Marches as a format has always been popular among the
community. Thousands of games in the style have been attempted, and significantly
fewer have actually succeeded in doing so. Not none, certainly, but few.
Our hope is to provide a baseline from which campaigns can grow.

Two Warnings
Before you embark on a game set in the West Marches, there are two important pieces of
information, two warnings, you should know:
First, a West Marches game is a lot of work. For the GM and players alike, more
effort will be demanded than in an ordinary game. For the GM, the Marches demand a
layered and pervasive history, in-depth maps and environment design, myriad
dungeons and encounters, and a flexible schedule for players to plan missions. For
players, the Marches demand critical thinking, map-making, note-taking, risk analysis,
social organization, and a level of proactive engagement most tables do not ask for.
Second, a West Marches game excludes certain kinds of campaigns. Intensely
political campaigns, for example, will struggle, as royal courts and cunning advisors are
far and few between in the wilderness of the Marches. Likewise, any campaign set in the
Marches will involve a large amount of exploring, travel, resource management, and
rough-and-tumble gameplay. If this does not sound like your kind of game, you’d best
look elsewhere.
If either of these turn you off, that’s perfectly okay! Once again, it’s far better to
realize that before the campaign begins and make an informed decision—if you commit
too far, leaving becomes all the messier.
Likewise, the Marches are not all that Fifth Edition has to offer! Many campaigns
would have absolutely no use for the rules, guidelines, and content found here, and
that’s fine.

Why Play?
There are three reasons to run a game in the style of the West Marches:

Increased Flexibility
In the West Marches, parties for specific sessions of play are taken from a larger player
roster. That means that not everyone has to play at the same time. No cancelling
sessions because a player or two can’t make it, and no guilt from only being able to play
on an irregular basis.
Since each individual player is not necessarily meant to go on every adventure,
the responsibilities of scheduling sessions and determining who will play in them are
largely shifted onto the players themselves. Provided that an open channel of
communication is available between the GM and all of the players in the roster, much

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less coordination is required to find time to play than a traditional campaign setting
demands.

Emergent Narrative
The stories you can tell in the Marches are like no other in tabletop. As you, the players,
play the game, the impact of your actions will be felt far and wide. They will affect the
NPCs and factions, certainly, but they also will spread to the other players as well. There
is something truly magical about stumbling upon the site of a battle, corpses and burn
marks scattered around, only to discover the telltale evidence that this was your allies’
doing, rather than your enemies.
The narrative of the West Marches is intrinsically tied to the mechanics of the
game: where you go and what you do as players is the story. The GM has no preset plot:
your fate lies in your hands. Once you grasp the liberation that comes from wholly
determining your own story, there is nothing else like it.

The Game At Its Fullest

The West Marches are, in many ways, a more complete fulfillment of the promise of the
game. Many spells, abilities, and features that seem weak or lacking in the base game
blossom in the Marches. When you must carry all of your gear on your back, for
example, Strength is vitally important. Likewise, even the most basic of cantrips, say,
mending, become vitally important: when your rope snaps thirty miles from town, being
able to ensure that it holds secure can become tantamount to survival.
In a lot of ways, the West Marches harken back to the older days of the game, and
embrace its vision more wholeheartedly. This is not to besmirch more modern attitudes
found in Fifth Edition, just that there perhaps might be something lost in the more
bombastic, spectacular games of today. If you yearn for ancient tombs and bloodthirsty
beasts, for sweeping mountains and haunted woods, for true risk and breathtaking
danger—the Marches are the place for you.

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CHAPTER I
BASIC CONCEPTS

The West Marches introduce a number of core concepts that do not exist in the base
game, some in-game and some out. This chapter will introduce and break down each in
some detail; the concepts here will be referenced throughout the rest of the book.
If you’re familiar with the West Marches, this chapter will be quite natural for
you; if you’re not, read closely.

Understand the Base Game First

Before you go any further, you should know the base game. Read the three core books.
Understand the mechanics. Play in a campaign. Learn how the dynamic of the table
works. Make some dungeons and adventures. Be able to design monsters and magic
items from scratch. Run a few sessions. Gain experience.
While we will occasionally tweak, alter, or replace existing rules in the base game,
the vast majority of the content here builds on the core content of Fifth Edition; this is in
no way a wholesale replacement for those rules.
Make sure you go and read those rules, and know them well. This book will still
be here when you’re done.

The Group
Unlike an ordinary game, the West Marches have no set party. Instead, there are a
collection of players, referred to as the “player pool.” Each of these players plays a
character, all of these characters together are called the “character roster.” Finally, each
individual mission that goes out will be composed of a party; these are called “mission
parties.”
Unlike an ordinary party, there can be well over six players in a West Marches
game. It can easily reach ten, fifteen, even twenty players; the more players, the more
demanding the game, but it is entirely doable. As a rule of thumb, you should expect to
run about one session for every five players, per week. Ten to twelve players is a good
starting number.

The Player Pool

The player pool is the group of players that play in your West Marches game. The player
pool is where mission parties come from. If your player pool has, say, a dozen players,
only a fraction of those will be going out on individual missions, but all dozen are
players within the West Marches game as a whole.

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 The player pool is, like all tables, a social group. People gather together to play a
game, yes, but at the end of the day, the game is a social function.
More so than an ordinary game, a West Marches game has intricate, complex
social dynamics. At a regular table, there is a scheduled meeting time with a standard
group of people, making it easy for players to find their place. It might take a few
sessions, but there is a reliable social structure to fall back on, and thus most every
player will find their particularly social niche.
This is not necessarily the case in a West Marches game. Players will be at
different levels of experience with the game, different levels of familiarity with players,
and different levels of power as characters. Because groups are self-decided, it’s possible
that some players will feel sidelined, overlooked, or left out.
The Marches are a complex beast. As GM, you should keep an eye on the
proceedings; it’s impossible to ensure that everyone is happy all the time, but there are
things you can do to help. If one mission party is playing together all the time, break
them up; if one player is domineering all missions, have them sit out; if there are serious
complaints, take the time to listen and respond.

The Character Roster

The character roster is the collection of player characters that are the main adventurers
in your West Marches game. Where the player pool is the group of players, the character
roster is the group of characters. Mission parties draw from the character roster, just as
they draw from the player pool.
Ordinary parties of adventurers are united bands of heroes, bound together by
common cause. A character roster can and often does share a similar unity, but this isn’t
always the case. Everyone in the roster is an adventurer, yes, and they all do traverse out
into the wilds of the Marches, yes, but their reasons for doing so vary wildly.
Some adventurers in the roster are treasure-seekers and fortune-finders, out for
gold and riches; some are questing individuals, looking to achieve some lofty aim or
goal; and some others are refugees or outcasts, come to the Marches with nowhere else
to go.
This disunity, while it can cause contentions, is usually an asset. It drives
characters and missions in different directions, sparks unusual tensions, and pushes
good interpersonal drama. The West Marches are a strange and varied place, and so it
fits that its explorers would be equally strange and varied.

Mission Parties
As missions are decided, parties to achieve those missions will be formed. Generally, a
mission party should be no fewer than three people, and no more than six. If you’re

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confident in your GM’ing ability to provide fun, engaging, and functional play outside
those bounds, feel free to expand them—but three to six is a good baseline.
How and why mission parties are formed is wholly up to the players. Perhaps
they’re choosing their friends and close confidants for a tightly-knit group; perhaps
they’re choosing the most effective and uniquely-suited characters for an efficient party;
most likely, though, they’ll choose whoever can play at the same time they can.
If you, the GM, notice that a particular subset of your player pool has spent
several missions in a row together, encourage them to fragment, to find other players to
go out with. Variety is the spice of life, and so encouraging your players to swap around
their mission parties will keep things interesting.
Once a mission party has been formed, it progresses much like an ordinary party
at an ordinary table. They have different classes and roles, and have to work together to
succeed.

Element Overviews
The West Marches themselves are a vast stretch of territory located to the west of the
known world. They are off the edge of every known map, and are rumored to hold great
riches, horrifying monsters, and ancient ruins. Almost anyone who has ever ventured
into the Marches has not returned.
At the eastern edge of the Marches, at the end of the western-most road, there is a
town. This is where the adventure starts, and this is the place to which every mission
will return. The town itself is small, quiet, and rather boring —there is no adventure
there.
To the east lies the Empire: vast, all-encompassing, and civilized. How your
players’ characters lived in the Empire before they came to the Marches does matter, but
don’t waste your time drawing maps or writing lore. Players will fill in the details they
need about the Empire, but it shouldn’t be a point of interest. All that matters is that to
the east lies boredom and retirement, so every adventurer should be looking west.
While nearly everyone who has gone into the Marches has not returned, there is
one exception: about a hundred years ago, a group of adventurers did manage to
survive, and found riches in the process. These adventurers are all dead or gone now, as
is their map, but their legacy endures—the townsfolk might remember them, and their
bodies and equipment might still lie somewhere in the west.
Still, the West Marches are extremely dangerous. Anyone who ventures out
without planning or preparation will surely perish, and thus any adventurer that wishes
to be successful must be clever, resourceful, and willing to take risks. For those who can
manage this, however, the Marches are full of discovery, wealth, and secrets.

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The Town
The town is one of the central constructs in a West Marches game: it is the safe haven
that players both leave from and return to. Every mission begins in the town, and every
mission ends at the town. It’s where characters can safely rest, talk, re-equip, make
plans, and decide missions.

The Town’s Safety

The town is always safe. Whether this comes from thick walls, a secluded location,
magical wards, or some other means, it must be true. When the characters return to
town, they must know that no harm may come to them.
Don’t over-worry yourself with the narrative behind this, and don’t create some
highly convoluted reason for it. In all likelihood, the town is so small and
inconsequential that any danger big enough to pose a threat to the town has no interest
in it. Sure, a band of cut-throats might try the walls every once in a while, but a dozen
guards and a stout barricade will make short work of idle bandits.

NPCs
In town, there will be a number of friendly NPCs around. At bare minimum, they should
cover the necessities for adventurers: an innkeeper to pour drinks, a blacksmith to forge
weapons and armor, a priest to heal and sanctify, and a mage to identify strange magic.
Depending on the size of the town, there might well be more beyond this;
ordinary civilians, other craftspeople, local guards, travelling merchants, and more.
How many NPCs in town exist beyond the basics are up to you.
It’s also worth noting that the NPCs in town might change; they might move on
and return to the Empire, the players might recruit NPCs from the wilds, refugees might
find their way to the town, and more. While the town itself is rigid, those that come to it
can vary. For more on creating NPCs for the Town, see page 44.

Nothing Wagered, Nothing Gained

It’s vital that there be no adventure to be had in town. Players are naturally risk-averse;
if there is an option to gain similar rewards for lower risk, they will take it. If there is
adventure to be had in the safety of town, they will do that adventure over exploring
every time. To push them to explore, it must be absolute that there is nothing to gain
from staying in town.
If there ever were to be adventure in town, the town would be dangerous by
definition. If their one ‘safe’ spot isn’t actually safe, why should the players trust
anything the GM says again?

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The Wilds
Everything outside of town is considered to be the uncharted wilds. Sprawling plains,
deep forest, soaring mountains, endless tundra, craggy hills—all this and more make up
the wilds. Here and there the players may encounter pockets of civilization or
communities of individuals that aren’t hostile, but these are considered wilderness
nonetheless. The wilds are dangerous, difficult, and the source of all adventure.

Regions
The Marches themselves are not one singular area, but rather are composed of a number
of distinct environments and territories. These distinct sections are collectively referred
to as “regions.” A region is the basic unit by which the Marches themselves are divided;
each region will have its own name, terrain, features, and challenge. When players cross
the border from one region to the next, it should be clear.
Regions are covered in more detail on page 47.

Dungeons
Taken literally, a dungeon is a prison located beneath a castle. In the West Marches, a
dungeon simply refers to an isolated series of chambers or areas that contain encounters
and challenges. Many dungeons are literal dungeons, meaning they are literal prison
systems beneath castles, but they might also be temples, fortresses, mines, or many
other sorts of things.
Dungeons are where most of the monsters, treasure, and significant challenge
can be found in the West Marches. Dungeons are covered in more detail on page 71.

Danger Level
Within a given region or dungeon, it’s important that most encounters and challenges
are of roughly the same level of danger. For combat, this means that the enemies are of
appropriate challenge rating and number; for exploration, this means that the area is
traversable and survivable given the characters’ resources; for interaction, this means
that the challenges presented are solvable with regards to players’ capabilities and tools.
This is not to say that everything must be “balanced.” Dungeons often can and
should be more dangerous than their surrounding regions, and having an uneven spread
of difficulty across adjacent regions makes for interesting exploration. The plains can be
quite safe for a party of level 4 characters, but the mountains a few miles north might be
deadly.
What is important, however, is to ensure that encounters inside a dungeon or
region are of equivalent danger: if the characters can easily best the first encounter, they
should be confident they can handle the rest. If the first encounter nearly destroys them,
by contrast, it would feel cheap to have every subsequent encounter be effortless.

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Missions
At an ordinary table, players come together each week to play; what they do during that
session is variable, without specific structure beyond game mechanics. In the West
Marches, this is a bit different: each session comprises one mission, which is a specific
objective the player characters set out to achieve.
Each mission begins with the party leaving town, and each mission ends with the
party returning to town, and entails the party travelling to some location in the Marches.

Objective
Each mission has its own objective which the player characters attempt to accomplish. A
successful mission is one that succeeds its objective; a failed mission is one that fails it.
Deciding mission objectives is wholly the players’ choice; the GM can veto the players’
mission choice if they feel it is not going to be sufficiently adventurous, but otherwise
mission objectives are solely under player control.
The best missions are ones with a clear, tangible goal. This includes objectives
like “slay the green dragon Skorenag” or “recover the cursed blade Wormwood,” but it
might also include less one-and-done objectives. “Scout the Isle of Redthorn” and
“explore the tunnels beneath the Lakeside Fortress” are both valid mission objectives;
neither has a strict endpoint, but substantial progress can be completed in a single
session, with the players deciding when to return to town.
What is not a good objective is one that is dependent on the presumption of
adventure without certainty. “Go to the Howling Hills and explore the first cavern we
see” is a bad objective because there may or may not be caverns in the Howling Hills.
Even if the players knew there were caverns in the Hills, it would still be a poor mission
objective because there is no way for the GM to know which cavern the players are going
to. The GM creates content on a mission-by-mission basis, and thus “explore the first
dungeon we see” is asking the GM to come up with all possible dungeons.
Instead, there is a rhythm to missions: players scout out a region or two and find
‘hooks’ for adventure—things like camps of bandits, ancient ruins, or monster lairs—but
do not directly interact with them. Then, after returning to town, all players are
informed about the various hooks, and individual missions can be scheduled to deal
with each in turn. After completing most of the dungeons within a region and accruing
more power, players scout the next region, and the cycle continues.

Time
Missions take time, the question is how much. Early on, when dungeons and adventure
are closer to home, missions will be shorter. As the player characters explore, they will
go further afield, and missions will take longer. While a group of player characters are

16
out on a mission, they may not go on other missions, and they may not interact with
characters in town.
How time is tracked at your table will influence how long missions tend to take.
In some games, the GM decides when time is advanced; thus, it’s in the interest of the
players to synchronize their missions and return at roughly the same time. In some
other games, time advances on a per-mission basis; it’s assumed that all player
characters remain in town while an adventuring party is out, and thus missions can be
scheduled in any order. And in some games, time is tracked according to real-time, and
thus players must wait days in real life to plan their missions.
In the words of Gary Gygax: “You cannot have a meaningful campaign if strict
time records are not kept.” Regardless of how you decide to advance time in your game,
you must be certain that the players know how the rules operate, and then you must
abide by those rules.
As your players grow used to the passage of time in the game, there may be
special timed events: a cult must perform a ritual before the next full moon, for example,
or an ancient tomb only reveals itself on the solstice. Adding these events in adds a sense
of reality and urgency to the game, one that forces players to meaningful action.
See Appendix C on page 112 for information on playing the game in real time.

Scheduling
Along with deciding their own mission objectives, players are responsible for scheduling
when to meet in-person to play the game. The GM should provide a rough schedule
ahead of time to the players, but after that, all scheduling is the duty of the players.

The Map
The Marches are vast, wild, and wholly unknown. Because of this, players are
responsible for drawing their own maps of the wilderness. At each session, players
should have a real, paper map in front of them, which they can alter as they choose,
provided they have at least one character who is mapping while travelling. This map is
then carried from session to session; different players can and should work on it. From
time to time, the GM should digitally copy the map, through photo or scan, and put it
somewhere that all players can see. (Managing the game out-of-session is covered in
more detail on page 112).
By default, the map should be a blank piece of unmarked paper. Players are
responsible for the scale, accuracy, and detail of the map, using their own wits. If a
player character is proficient with cartographer’s tools, the GM may provide them with
graph- or hex-paper and a ruler, but that is at the GM’s discretion.
As the Marches are explored, the map will likely expand; when this happens,
staple or tape additional pages on to the map, as needed.

17
 When navigating, players must use objective descriptors, such as “we travel
northwards” or “we walk towards that tower we can see.” They may not simply point to a
location on their map and say “we travel here.” Likewise, the GM should never refer to
the map, nor should they directly confirm locations on the map. NPCs might, from time
to time, make reference to the map or offer suggestions, but this a rare occurrence.

Emergent Narrative
By default, there is no preset “story” to the West Marches. There is no plot, no inciting
incident, no direct narrative arc. Rather, the story that is told over the course of the
campaign is that told by the player characters actions, and their corresponding
consequences.
NPCs might ask the player characters to complete tasks for them, ancient scripts
might point to secret treasure, and villainous monsters might seek to end the world, but
the player characters themselves are under no obligation to complete these. Because of
this, the narrative of the Marches is far more systemic, far more mechanically-driven
than most campaigns. In time, however, story beats will emerge: factions will war,
adventurers will find causes, and drama will be found around every corner.
However, if you, the GM, attempt to create some overarching plot, some distinct
series of events the players must participate in, you will ruin the narrative. The Marches
are there to empower players and to make their choices real, and if you have a
pre-decided story you want to tell, you will quash this power. The narrative should be
drawn from the system and from the players, and naught else.

Hacking the Game

You may use as many or as few of the rules found in this book as you please, and you
may and should alter and adjust them as you see fit. If you are running a campaign in
the traditional style—that is, a non-West Marches game—you will probably want to alter
some of these rules, as they are designed specifically for a West Marches game.
However, if you are running a West Marches game and are considering altering
what’s found here, we encourage you to try these rules out in their entirety first. It may
seem like there are some unusual rules or questionable guidelines, but these systems
have been designed to fit together and with the base game deliberately. If you play for a
while with these rules and still feel like you want to alter them, by all means, go ahead.
Make the rules work for your game, not the other way around.

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CHAPTER II
WILDERNESS RULES

Travel
In the wilderness, there are often great distances that must be traveled to reach
destinations, covering huge swathes of myriad terrain. Most journeys should take
several days, but some are shorter or longer. This section will cover the rules for
adventurers as they traverse the wilds.

Watches
Most activities and events conducted during a day of travel can be divided into
“watches:” a standard unit of time used for longer-term play. In an ordinary 24-hour
day, there are six watches, each equivalent to about four hours. Watches are kind of
“exploration turn,” and are used in navigation, travel activities, weather patterns, and
more.
An ordinary party can travel for two watches, or eight hours. Likewise, to
complete a long rest, a character needs two watches of sleep, or, again, eight hours. This
leaves another two watches during which other activities can be conducted, such as
fighting monsters, delving into dungeons, or foraging for supplies.
It’s important to note that watches do not necessarily synchronize perfectly.
Watches used in weather patterns do not change at the same time a travelling party’s
watches do. Think of watches less as strict locked units as much as a useful shorthand
for gauging occurrences and states over longer lengths of time.

Travel Activities
While characters are journeying, there are a number of activities that they can
undertake in addition to walking. A character can only engage in one travel activity at a
time. A character decides which activity they are engaging in at the start of each watch
that they are travelling.
Most travel activities are done passively while travelling, and thus can be stopped
or started at any time; foraging is the single exception. A character must spend a full
watch foraging in order to reap any benefits. If the party stops travelling and has no
pressing activities, a character could simply continue foraging for their remaining time.
A party member may engage in one of the following activities during a watch:

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 Notice Threats. A character can keep an eye out for danger and threats as the
party travels, making it more difficult for enemies to ambush them, or traps to take
effect. A party member that is noticing threats can use their passive Wisdom
(Perception) score to notice threats.
Search. A character can be searching for a specific object or location as the party
travels, such as a cluster of ruins or rare kind of tree. A party member that is searching
uses their passive Wisdom (Perception) score, against a DC determined by the GM.
Navigate. A character can try to prevent the group from becoming lost as they
traverse the wilds. A party member that is navigating can make Wisdom (Survival)
checks to navigate. A party member can assist the navigator, provided that they are
proficient in Survival.
When an adventurer can tell cardinal directions, such as a character with
the Keen Mind or Explorer feats, they always have advantage made on Wisdom
(Survival) checks made to navigate.
Forage. A character can search for food, water, and other resources, potentially
gathering useful supplies as they travel. Rules for foraging are found on page 30.
Track. A character can follow a trail or set of tracks while pursuing a creature or
group of creatures. Rules for tracking are found on page 22. Generally speaking, a party
does not need both a navigator and a tracker.
Draw a Map. A character can draw a map, helping the party be aware of their
position. No check is required.

Helping While Travelling

Generally speaking, any activity undertaken by a character while travelling can be
assisted by another character, granting advantage on the check. In certain cases, such as
when navigating or tracking, there are certain requisite skill proficiencies or other
features a character must have before they can help.
Features, spells, and other effects that grant a specific bonus to a check, such as a
cleric’s guidance spell, can be used during travel activities. If the effect requires an
action, such as with guidance, the character granting the effect must use their entire
travel activity to do so. If the effect is passive, such as from a magic item, the effect is
simply enacted as on a normal check.

Travel Pace
While adventuring, characters may sometimes wish to travel at a faster pace, and other
times at a slower one, depending on a variety of factors.
While travelling, a group of adventurers can move at a normal, fast, or slow pace,
as shown on the Travel Pace table. The table states how far the party can move in a
period of time and whether the pace has any effect. Travelling at a fast pace makes

20
characters less perceptive and unable to focus on anything but the road, while a slow
travel pace makes it possible to sneak around and to traverse the area more carefully.
Characters can travel for 8 hours - two watches - per day normally, incurring no
penalties. However, a party can push beyond this limit, at the risk of exhaustion. For
each additional hour of travel beyond 8 hours, the characters cover the distance shown
in the Hour column for their pace, and each character must make a Constitution saving
throw at the end of the hour. The DC is 10 + 1 for each hour past 8 hours. On a failed
saving throw, a characters uffers one level of exhaustion.

Travel Pace
Pace Distance per Hour Distance per Watch

Fast 4 miles 16 miles

Normal 3 miles 12 miles

Slow 2 miles 8 miles

Fast Pace. At a fast pace, characters suffer a -5 penalty to passive Wisdom

(Perception) scores, a -5 penalty to Wisdom (Survival) checks made to navigate or track,
and cannot engage in travel activities other than noticing threats, navigating, or
tracking.
Normal Pace. A normal pace has no additional effects.
Slow Pace. At a slow pace, characters are able to travel stealthily, and gain a +5
bonus to Wisdom (Survival) checks made to navigate or track.

Shelter and Sleeping

When making camp for the night in the wilds, there are three critical factors: how cold it
is, how wet you are, and how exposed your campsite is. If any of these factors are not
accounted for, you open yourself to the risk of all sorts of hazards, ranging from mere
unpleasantness to potentially life-threatening diseases.

Warmth
With the exception of temperatures above 70 degrees Fahrenheit (commonly
experienced only in arid climates or the hottest summer months), some additional
source of warmth is required at night beyond basic adventuring clothing.
If a character sleeps with a blanket or bedroll, they suffer no ill effects; if a
character sleeps next to an open campfire or other large source of heat, they will
similarly suffer no ill effects. These two are the most common means of maintaining
warmth at night, but there might be other ways to do so at the GM’s discretion.

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Wetness
While it is quite common for adventurers to swim in lakes, wade through rivers, and
dive into dungeon pools—and thus become thoroughly soaked—it can be quite
dangerous to go to sleep while still wet. Characters might also become wet from
travelling in the rain, interacting with exceptionally watery creatures, bathing, or other
activities.
A wet creature will dry off over the course of one hour, so long as they stay dry the
entire time. If that creature is near a significant source of heat, such as a campfire or
stove, that time is cut in half. Likewise, there may be additional means to quickly dry off
at the GM’s discretion.

Exposure
Beyond simple rain and snow, other forms of exposure, typically wind, can sap away at a
character’s strength. The simplest way to avoid exposure is through shelter, which
shields a party from the outdoors.
Shelter is any structure or formation that has at least three walls and a roof. The
most common sources of shelter in the wilderness are tents, caves, and ruins, but there
may be others, at the GM’s discretion.

Sleeping
In order to avoid ill effects while resting, characters must satisfy all three conditions:
they must stay warm, they must stay dry, and they must stay sheltered.
Over the course of a long rest, if a character does not satisfy any of the above
conditions, they must make a DC 10 Constitution saving throw at the end of their rest or
suffer a level of exhaustion.
For each additional condition a character does not satisfy, the DC increases by 5,
and the character suffers an additional level of exhaustion. For example, if a character is
both cold and exposed to the wind during their rest, they must make a DC 15
Constitution saving throw or suffer two levels of exhaustion. Creatures with resistance to
cold damage have advantage on these saving throws; creatures within immunity to cold
damage automatically succeed.

Tracking
If a character wishes to track another creature or group of creatures over long distances,
they must make a Wisdom (Survival) check for each watch they wish to spend tracking.
The DC varies, depending on the terrain, weather, and creature. If a character is
tracking an army’s passage over muddy terrain on a clear day, no check is required.

22
However, a single individual moving across bare stone floor in a dungeon may prove
much harder.
Another player that is proficient in Survival can assist a character tracking,
granting them advantage on the roll. If a character has some other means of tracking a
creature, such as by magic, they may also assist a tracking character.
The Tracking table provides some example DCs and modifiers, those these may
be altered at the DM’s discretion, depending on the circumstances.

Condition DC

Soft surface, such as mud 10

Dirt or grass 15

Bare stone 20

Each day since the creature has passed +5

Creature left a trail, such as blood -5

Tracker is travelling at a slow pace -5

Tracker is travelling at a fast pace +5

Navigation
There are two basic modes of navigation when travelling the wilderness: directional and
landmark. Landmark navigation depends on nearby landmarks, locations, and
structures to provide the path, while directional navigation occurs when the party is
travelling based on their own sense of direction.
A party decides which mode they will be navigating by on a per-watch basis, at
the same time that they decide travel activities.

Landmark Navigation
Landmark navigation occurs when the party has a clear, visible destination in view: the
snowy cleft mountain, the massive black tree on the hill, or the ruined fortress looming
ahead. So long as the landmark is clearly in view, the party does not need to make
checks to navigate to it.
If the party’s view is not always clear, such as when obscured by intermittent fog
or dense jungle canopy, the party must have the landmark in clear view at least once
every watch. If necessary, the party may stop to get a better view, such as by climbing a
tree or using magic to levitate themselves. At the GM’s discretion, a Wisdom
(Perception) check may be necessary.

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 Landmark navigation can also be used for continuous landmarks or terrain
features, such as following a river, cliffside, or coastline.
If the party wishes to travel to a landmark that is large or non-specific, such as a
range of mountains, it is the GM’s discretion where exactly the party ends up; the
broader the landmark, the more variance in the party’s eventual location.

Directional Navigation
Directional navigation occurs when the party has no clear visible destination, but is
instead travelling based on their own sense of direction, instructions off a map, or
directions from some other source. Under directional navigation, the party chooses a
navigator, and the navigator chooses a direction for the group to travel.
When choosing a direction, the navigator may do so with absolute directions, e.g.
“I would like to travel north.” They may also do so with relative directions, e.g. “I would
like to travel rightward of our current facing.” If the navigator has means to know
cardinal directions with certainty, such as the Keen Mind feat or through a compass,
they may travel in an absolute direction without making a navigation roll.
What a navigator may not do is travel to locations known only by memory, e.g. “I
would like to travel to that ruined temple we found two weeks ago,” nor may the
navigator simply point to the party’s map and declare that they are travelling there.
Once per watch, the navigator must make a Wisdom (Survival) check to ensure
the party is still travelling in the correct direction. The DC is determined by the terrain
type that the party is currently travelling through; to figure out the typical DC for a given
area, see page 50.
If another party member wishes to assist the navigator, they may do so, provided
that they are proficient in Survival or have access to cartographer’s tools. This grants the
navigator advantage on navigation rolls, though the assisting party member counts as
spending their travel time navigating as well, meaning they cannot be on guard for
danger or conducting other travel-time activities.
If the party is travelling at a slow pace, the navigator gains a +5 bonus to the
navigation roll, and travelling at a fast pace imposes a -5 penalty. If the region the party
is travelling through is lightly obscured, such as by fog, the navigation DC increases by 5.
If the region is heavily obscured, such as by a storm, the navigation DC increases by 10.

Getting Lost
If the party navigator succeeds on their roll against the navigation DC, all is well, and
they continue in their intended direction. If the navigator fails the roll, however, the
party begins to go astray. If the navigator fails the roll by 5 or less, the party goes slightly
astray. If the navigator fails the roll by more than 5, their travel route has gone
significantly awry. In either case, the party will likely travel in a direction that is not

24
their intended direction. The GM secretly rolls 1d12 and consults the Slightly or
Significantly Lost tables, respectively. All new directions are relative to their intended
direction.

Slightly Lost
1d12 New Direction

1-4 Diagonally to the left

5-8 Straight ahead

9-12 Diagonally to the right

Significantly Lost
1d12 New Direction

1-2 Directly left

3-5 Diagonally to the left

6-7 Straight ahead

8-10 Diagonally to the right

11-12 Directly right

For example, a party intends to travel to the northwest at a normal pace. The party is in
a forest, and has no landmark, so their navigation DC is 15. The navigator rolls their
Wisdom (Survival) check, and gets a 9. The GM rolls 1d12, since the navigator failed the
roll by more than 5, and gets a 10. Instead of heading straight northwest, the party
travels diagonally to the left of northwest, meaning they instead head straight west.

Visibility
By default, the horizon is approximately 3 miles away, meaning anything without
significant size or elevation cannot be seen past the 3 mile limit. However, larger objects
typically can be seen from a greater distance, meaning that navigating by landmarks
further than 3 miles away is possible, provided there are no obstructions in the way, like
trees, hills, or buildings.
As a broad rule of thumb, a given landmark is visible from 3 miles away, plus one
extra mile for every 100 feet the landmark rises above the surrounding terrain. Thus, a
mountain range rising 8,000 feet above the surrounding land would be visible from
80-85 miles away. However, an individual mountain peak of 8,000 feet surrounded by

25
mountains terrain 7,500 feet high would only be visible from 8 miles away while viewed
from within those mountains.
The GM may call for a Wisdom (Perception) check to attempt to spot particular
landmarks in areas where visibility may be uncertain. If a player wishes to gauge
distance between two locations, the GM should call for an Intelligence (Perception)
check.
In an area that is lightly obscured, visibility is reduced to 1 mile. In an area that is
heavily obscured, visibility is so low that landmark navigation becomes impossible.

Weather
The skies are unpredictable and wild, and often treacherous to explorers. Weather has
the potential to change on each watch, but won’t necessarily do so. The weather on a
given watch has three basic components: precipitation, wind speed, and temperature.
Each of these is randomly determined each watch, based on different factors. The GM
may also select an option directly in certain scenarios.

Precipitation
Precipitation has three modes: no precipitation, a clear day; light precipitation, such as a
shower or flurry; and heavy precipitation, such as a downpour or whiteout. Each of
these modes has, at the turning of the current watch, a chance to change to one of the
other modes. Each mode has its own chances for determining how the weather changes.
The chance to determine which mode will occur next are as follows. You should
feel free to alter these if your world is set in a climate that is not a temperate one.
Likewise, if your climates have large swings in precipitation from rainy seasons to dry
seasons, you should adjust this chart as well.

Precipitation
Clear Skies Light Precipitation Heavy Precipitation

Clear Skies 1-16 17-19 20

Light Precipitation 1-9 10-17 18-20

Heavy Precipitation 1-6 7-13 14-20

For example, the hours of 4:00 to 8:00 a.m. were clear. The GM rolls 1d20, and it comes
up a 9. Therefore, the next watch, from 8:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m., will be clear. At 12:00
p.m., the GM rolls again, and it comes up a 17. The next watch, 12:00 to 4:00 p.m., will
be lightly precipitous. If the GM were to then roll another 17, heavy precipitation would
begin.

26
 Precipitation has one unusual aspect, however, which is that the temperature of
the watch where it is occurring may have an effect. Specifically, if it is below freezing,
precipitation will come down as snow, rather than rain. Given this, there are individual
effects for snow and rain. However, you still determine them in the same fashion, and it
is possible to have snow during the night and rain during the day, and vice versa.
The effects for each mode of precipitation are as follows:

Clear Skies ● No additional effects.

Light Rain ● Disadvantage on ability checks to climb or scale objects and ability
checks made to maintain balance or keep one’s footing.

Light Snow ● The area becomes lightly obscured.

● Advantage on Wisdom (Survival) checks to track creatures.

Heavy Rain ● Disadvantage on ability checks made to climb or scale objects and
ability checks made to maintain balance or keep one’s footing.
● The area becomes lightly obscured.
● Open flames are extinguished.
● Disadvantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks relying on hearing
or scent.
● Disadvantage on Wisdom (Survival) checks to track creatures.
● Advantage on Wisdom (Survival) checks to forage for water.

Heavy Snow ● The area becomes lightly obscured.

● Advantage on Wisdom (Survival) checks to track creatures.
● The area becomes difficult terrain.
● Wisdom (Survival) checks to forage for water automatically
succeed.

Wind Speed
Wind Speed, like precipitation, has three basic modes: no wind, low winds, and high
winds. Each of those modes changes at the end of the current watch, and have varying
chances based on the current mode.
The chance to determine which mode will occur next are as follows. As before, if
your climates are more windy than temperate ones, or if there are seasonal changes, feel
free to alter these rolls.

Wind Speed
No Wind Low Winds High Winds

No Wind 1-14 15-19 20

Low Winds 1-10 11-17 18-20

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 High Winds 1-8 9-14 15-20

When there are high winds occurring simultaneously with heavy precipitation, a serious
storm results. Storms have additional effects that occur in addition to all other effects.
The effects of wind speeds are as follows:

No Wind ● No additional effects.

Low Winds ● Clears light fog, smoke, or fumes.

High Winds ● Disadvantage on ranged weapon attacks.

● Clears all fog, smoke, or fumes.
● Extinguishes open flames.
● Disadvantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks relying on hearing.
● Medium and smaller creatures with a fly speed must return to the
ground at the end of their turn, or fall. Creatures with a hover
speed have their speed halved.

Storm ● The area becomes heavily obscured.

● The area becomes difficult terrain.

Temperature
Temperature changes on watch as the day progresses, like the other components, but
unlike the others, it is based far more on the time of day and season.
In a stereotypical temperate climate, weather in the summer typically gets to
about 80-100 degrees Fahrenheit, and in the winter drops to 0-20 degrees Fahrenheit.
This has a fair degree of leeway, obviously, so you should adjust that to match your
climate.
There are, broadly speaking, four basic levels of temperature that matter:
“regular” weather, which spans roughly 32 degrees Fahrenheit to 100 degrees
Fahrenheit; freezing cold, which occurs between 32 degrees Fahrenheit and 0 degrees
Fahrenheit; extreme cold, which is anything beneath 0 degrees Fahrenheit; and extreme
heat, which is any temperature above 100 degrees.
Regular and freezing weathers’ key distinction—below 32 degrees Fahrenheit,
water freezes and precipitation occurs as snow, and above that mark precipitation
comes down as rain instead. Other than that, there are no mechanical differences.
Extreme heat and extreme cold require additional precautions and safety
measures from adventurers, and is covered on page 36.
There are many means by which you can determine temperature, but three core
principles apply across them all. One, nights should be colder than days, usually by
about 20 degrees Fahrenheit; two, every month should increase or decrease the average

28
temperature, typically by 10-20 degrees Fahrenheit; and three, individual weeks should
vary significantly, by as much as 20-30 degrees Fahrenheit.
How exactly you extrapolate temperature after that is up to you. Some methods
call for randomized rolls down to the watch, some simply declare an average
temperature for the month, and the GM adjusts individual weeks’ and days’
temperatures at their whim.
The choice is yours, but be conscious of your decision and how it will affect
gameplay. At least some randomization is highly encouraged, to preserve the systemic
nature of the game itself.

Food & Water

Folk accustomed to the markets and taverns of cities will find the Marches deeply
inhospitable. Inns are far and few between, if at all, and markets are found only in
wayward peddlers and strange dealers of curios. And yet, to those with the correct
knowledge and skill, the Marches provide a bounty of resources: you just need to know
where to look.

Survival
Characters who don’t eat or drink suffer the effects of exhaustion. Exhaustion caused by
lack of food or water can’t be removed until the character eats or drinks the full required
amount.

Food
A character needs one pound of food per day, and can make food last longer by
subsisting on half rations. Eating half a pound of food in a day counts as half a day
without food.
A character that goes a day eating less than half a pound of food must succeed on
a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or suffer one level of exhaustion.
A character can survive a number of days without food equal to 3 + his or her
Constitution modifier (minimum 1). If a character would suffer a 6th level of exhaustion
from lack of food before they have reached this number of days, they instead remain at 5
levels of exhaustion, but automatically suffer the 6th as soon as they reach their last day.
Each day of normal eating removes one level of exhaustion.

Water
A character needs one gallon of water per day, or two gallons per day if the weather is
hot, typically above 100 degrees Fahrenheit. A character who drinks only half that much
water must succeed on a DC 15 Constitution saving throw or suffer one level of

29
exhaustion at the end of the day. A character with access to even less water
automatically suffers one level of exhaustion at the end of the day.
A character must split their water consumption into at least two watches; that is,
they cannot drink an entire gallon at one time and nothing else.
If the character already has one or more levels of exhaustion, the character takes
two levels in either case.
Each day of normal drinking removes one level of exhaustion.

Foraging
When spending lengths of time in the wilderness, explorers often prefer to forage and
hunt for their food, rather than lug around rations.
Over the course of a watch, a character can forage for food or water; if the party is
travelling, this can only be done while travelling at a slow or normal pace. At the
conclusion of watch, the character makes a Wisdom (Survival) check, with the DC
determined by the region the party is travelling through. If the party travelled through
more than one region over the course of a watch, use the DC for whichever the party
spent the most time in.
On a failure, the character finds nothing. On a success, the character finds an
amount equal to 1d6 + Wisdom modifier, either in pounds (for food) or gallons (for
water). The sources of food and water are determined at the GM’s discretion, based on
the region the party is travelling through.
Most food found is either raw meat from hunted animals that must be cooked, or
readily-eaten plant matter, such as nuts and berries.
If a character would like to find certain kinds of food only, typically to avoid the
need to light a fire, they suffer disadvantage.
Water collected while foraging generally has a higher risk of being unclean, and
as such has a cleanliness DC of 10.

Fishing
If a character would like to fish for their food, typically when travelling over water
instead of land or when near a body of water, they must have a set of fishing tackle.
Fishing otherwise follows the same rules as normal foraging.

Foraging for Resources

Sometimes, a character will want to forage for resources other than food and water, such
as firewood. In this case, they should still make a Wisdom (Survival) roll, with a DC
determined by the region. However, the exact quantity of resources is dependent on the
GM’s discretion; in many cases, it’s more suitable to have the quantities found in units
other than weight, such as hours of light provided by a given amount of firewood.

30
Cleanliness
Adventurers to the Marches are hardy folk certainly, but even still, consuming food or
water found in the Marches can be dangerous. Hunted game can carry plague or
maggots, fruits and vegetables may be rotted through, and water can carry foul disease.
If counteractive measures are not taken, these can lay even the mightiest of adventurers
low.

Unclean Water
Water encountered in the wilderness sometimes has diseases or impurities running
through it, or is otherwise unsuitable for drinking. Well-water, rainwater, water from
streams or rivers, and lakewater are all safe to drink.
All other sources, such as stagnant swamp water, water found in puddles or in
plants, pooled water underground, or other, less savory sources, is unclean. Water can
be purified through the purify food and drink spell or similar, or by being boiled for 1
minute.
If a character drinks water that has not been purified, they must make a
Constitution saving throw one hour after ingestion. The DC of the saving throw is
determined by the source of the water: the purer the source, the higher the likelihood
that the water is clean.

Source of Water DC

Puddle or Plant 10

Swamp or Brackish 20

Salt Water 30

On a failure, the character immediately suffers one level of exhaustion. If a character

fails the saving throw by 5 or more, they suffer two levels of exhaustion instead.

Unclean Food
While rations are the classic sustenance of adventurers, many prefer a break for
something less bland, or else don’t wish to be bother carrying the rations. Ordinary food,
however, will eventually rot, increasing the risk of disease. Similarly, consuming certain
uncooked foods also carries a chance of disease.
Generally speaking, most food rots after one week; foods like grains, tropical
fruit, most vegetables, and most cooked dishes. Raw meat of all varieties rots after 24

31
hours, as do most dairy products. Spells such as purify food and drink will remove any
spoiling and potential diseases from rotten food, but it will not restore food matter that
has rotted away.
Some foods can go longer without rotting, and a few rare types of foodstuffs, like
certain cheeses, do not rot at all. Furthermore, many foodstuffs can be preserved,
typically either through airtight storage or heavy salting, which extends the amount of
time before the food spoils. These items and effects are determined at the GM’s
discretion.
If a character consumes food that is unclean, they must make a Constitution
saving throw one hour after ingestion. The DC of the save is determined by the source of
food: the more rotten the food is, the higher the likelihood of disease.
Creatures that have natural adaptations against food sources that would normally
carry the risk of illness, such as Lizardfolk eating raw meat, automatically succeed on
appropriate Constitution saving throws from eating unclean food.

Food Source DC

Raw Meat 10

Rotten Meat or Dairy 25

Rotten Food (Non-Meat) 20

On a failure, the character immediately suffers one level of exhaustion. If a character

fails the saving throw by 5 or more, they suffer two levels of exhaustion instead.

Surveying & Hunting

When deep into the Marches, player characters may find themselves wondering exactly
what a new region holds: the dread beasts, fell monsters, and ancient evils. Once those
are known, it is naturally the first instinct of adventurers to follow those creatures to
their lair, and put an end to them.

Surveying
When in a region of the Marches, an adventurer can spend time in the wilds, searching
for signs of local creatures, so as to ascertain what dwells in the region.
Over the course of a watch, a character may survey an entire region to determine
what sorts of creatures dwell there. At the end of the watch, the character makes an
Intelligence (Nature) check: they discover evidence of each creatures based on its Survey
DC.
Another character can assist in surveying, provided they are proficient in Nature.

32
 Characters may not survey while travelling, but a watch spent surveying still
counts toward overall travel time for the day.

Survey DC
The Survey DC reflects the overall difficulty of finding evidence of a creature in a given
region. When a character succeeds to survey, it doesn’t mean that they have specifically
found that creature, merely that they have found evidence that the creature lives in that
region.
While there may be specific subsets of creatures within a given group, such as a
Hobgoblin Captain leading a group of Hobgoblins, the Survey DC reflects the group as a
whole, and as such should use the stat block of the most common monster in the group.
The Survey DC for a creature begins at 10, and the Survey DC table provides
modifiers and adjustments to each creature’s Survey DCs. The GM may adjust these DCs
further at their discretion, in the case of rare or unusual protections against being
noticed.

Modifier DC

Default 10

Creatures have a climbing speed +2

Creatures have a flying speed +5

Creatures have a swimming speed +5

Creatures have a bonus to Dexterity (Stealth) +creature’s stealth bonus

Creatures are smaller than medium +2 per size smaller

Creatures are larger than medium -2 per size larger

Creatures are rare or small in number +5

Creatures are common or large in number -5

For example, consider the Howling Hills. The Hills’ inhabitants include wild elk, a band
of goblins, a colony of giant spiders, and a pair of wyverns.
The elk Survey DC starts at 10. They have no climb, fly, or swim speed, and thus
their DC is unaffected. They have no stealth bonus, nor are they larger or smaller than
medium, and thus their DC still unaffected. They are quite common in the Hills, and
thus their DC is lowered by 5. In total, the elk Survey DC is 5.

33
 The goblin Survey DC starts at 10. They have no climb, fly, or swim, and thus
their DC is unaffected. They have a stealth bonus of +6, and thus their DC increases by
6. They are also small, one size smaller than medium, and thus their DC increases by 2.
There is a band of them, which, while more than a handful, is relatively small compared
to the overall hills, thus not affecting their DC. In total, the goblin Survey DC is 18.
The giant spider Survey DC starts at 10. They have a climb speed, and thus their
DC increases by 2. They have a stealth bonus of +7, and thus their DC increases by 7.
They are large, one size larger than medium, and thus their DC decreases by 2. There is
a colony of them, making them quite common, thus decreasing their DC by 5. In total,
the giant spider Survey DC is 14.
The wyvern Survey DC starts at 10. They have a fly speed, and thus their DC
increases by 5. They have no stealth bonus, and thus their DC is unaffected. Wyverns are
large, one size larger than medium, and thus their DC decreases by 2. There are a pair of
wyverns in the Hills, which is quite low for a whole region, thus their DC increases by 5.
In total, the wyvern Survey DC is 18.
If a character were to survey the Howling Hills, they would need at least a 5 to
find evidence of elk, a 14 to find evidence of giant spiders, and an 18 to find evidence of
both the wyverns and the goblins.

Hunting
After a region has been surveyed, there may come a time when adventurers would like to
hunt down a creature they know dwells in the area, whether to exterminate it, to collect
the natural resources its body holds, or perhaps just to talk, for instance.
A character can only successfully hunt a creature that is known to make its home
in the region, whether that knowledge was gained from surveying the region or not.
Over the course of a watch, a character may attempt to hunt a creature to its lair or other
resting spot. At the end of the watch, the character makes a Wisdom (Survival) check
against the creatures’ Survey DC. On a success, the character finds the lair, resting place,
or home of the hunted creature.
A character may assist another in hunting, provided they are proficient in
Survival.
Characters may not hunt while travelling, but the watch spent hunting still counts
towards overall travel time for the day.
While hunting normally leads to the central lair of a given group of creatures,
such as the goblin’s camp or spider-queen’s nest, in the case of highly widespread
creatures, such as elk, it leads to only one such lair. Hunting elk, for example, might lead
to one clearing with many sleeping elk, but there will still be other elk in the region. By
contrast, hunting down the single pair of wyverns leads to those particular wyverns’ lair,
as they are the only in the region.

34
Harvesting Quarry
The carcasses of monsters in the West Marches often contain powerful reagents: the
magic-reflecting shell of a great, ancient snail, or the nigh-impenetrable carapace of a
tarrasque, for instance. When a character successfully hunts prey, they might choose to
harvest these reagents for use in crafting magical items, armor, and weapons.
A single unit of material harvested from a creature can be used in the crafting of a
single item. For more on the rules of crafting, see page 42 in the Town section.
A character can make an Intelligence (Nature) check to harvest parts from the
corpse of a monster. The amount of usable material that can be harvested successfully is
based on the creature’s size, as well as the result of the check that the player makes to
harvest it. Refer to the Harvestable Parts by Size table to determine the base number of
units of material that can be harvested from a single creature. The maximum number of
units of harvestable material on a single monster is equal to that number plus 1 for every
5 CR of the creature. For example, the maximum number of harvestable units of
material on an ancient black dragon is 9, since it has a base of 5 and its CR is 21.
Then, refer to the Harvest DC table to determine what fraction of the maximum
units of harvestable material could be recovered from the creature based on the player’s
skill check.

HARVESTABLE PARTS BY SIZE

Size Base Units of Material

Tiny 1

Small 1

Medium 2

Large 3

Huge 4

Gargantuan 5

HARVEST DC
Percentage of Max. Units of Material DC

0% 0

25% 5

35
 50% 10

75% 15

100% 20

A check doesn’t need to be made to determine the amount of edible material that is
harvested from small animals like rabbits or game like elk. It’s assumed that
adventurers know how to clean commonplace animals for the purposes of hunting for
food.
As a GM, you should use your discretion when determining the weight of a unit of
material harvested from a creature. A unit of material does not necessarily equate to a
single amount of pounds of that material, but rather that unit of material’s utility in
terms of crafting. A chunk of a purple worm’s spine could weigh 80 pounds, and the
wing of a fairy could weigh practically nothing, but both could represent a single unit of
material.

Hazards
Pools of bubbling lava, layers of leaves hiding treacherous quicksand, a frozen lake
cracking beneath iron boots, a mountainside collapsing onto the path, sand kicked up in
a maelstrom that rips and tears - all of these may be encountered while traversing the
wilds, and none of them are bode well for any traveller coming by.
These dangers are meant to be used to craft dynamic, interesting locations and
encounters. They should complement the region the player characters are travelling
through, to serve as a reminder of its unique dangers.

Weather Hazards
In addition to ordinary weather patterns—which can pose a challenge all on their
own—there are rarer, more dangerous kinds of weather or climate patterns that might
pose fresh hazards to players exploring the wilderness.
These hazards often vary with the seasons: extreme cold and icy waterways are
highly dangerous in winter, but sandstorms and extreme heat might rarely occur outside
of the summer. Use them as you see fit.

Extreme Cold
It is assumed that the ordinary clothing and gear adventurers carry with them can
withstand normal temperature swings of cold winters. However, when the temperature
drops with severity, simple exposure can be deadly. When a creature is exposed to

36
temperatures below 0 degrees Fahrenheit, they must make a DC 10 Constitution saving
throw at the end of each hour or suffer one level of exhaustion.
If a creature has resistance or immunity to cold damage, is naturally adapted to
cold-weather climates, or is wearing cold-weather gear, they automatically succeed on
this saving throw.

Extreme Heat
As with cold weather, it is assumed that an adventurer’s ordinary gear is sufficiently
light (or can be taken off with enough ease) to deal with ordinary heat swings of
summer. That said, severe heat can still be deadly. When a creature is exposed to
temperatures above 100 degrees Fahrenheit, they must make a Constitution saving
throw at the end of each hour or suffer one level of exhaustion. If a creature has not had
sufficient drinking water, they have disadvantage on these saving throws. The DC begins
at 5, and increases by 1 for each additional hour; if a creature is wearing heavy or
medium armor, the DC increases by 2 each hour instead.
If a creature has resistance or immunity to fire damage or is naturally adapted to
hot-weather climates, they automatically succeed on this saving throw.

Extreme Storms
Occasionally, extreme winds will combine with heavy rain or snow to form an extreme
storm: a cyclone, hurricane, tornado, or worse. Inside the storm, all movement speed is
halved, the area is heavily obscured, all creatures automatically fail all Wisdom
(Perception) checks relying on sight, sound, or smell.
Any creature or object weighing less than 300 lb. must make a DC 20 Strength
saving throw at the end of each round or be thrown 6d10 feet in a random direction,
suffering 6d6 bludgeoning damage on impact with any other object or the ground.
Creatures that weigh less than 150 pounds have disadvantage on these saving throws.

Fog
There are two basic kinds of fog: light fog and heavy fog. An area covered in light fog -
such as a mist-clad mountainside—is considered lightly obscured. An area covered in
heavy fog - such as a shrouded ghost town—is considered heavily obscured.
Fog is somewhat irregular compared to ordinary weather patterns, but is most
prevalent early in the morning, around dawn, and is more common in autumn than
other seasons.

Sandstorms
In especially arid environments, high winds can kick up huge storms of sand, dust, and
gritty dirt. Sandstorms follow the same rules as regular storms, but with the addition

37
that each exposed character must make a DC 10 Constitution saving throw at the end of
each minute or suffer 1d10 slashing damage.

Frigid Water
When submerged in water that is 40 degrees Fahrenheit or less, a creature can spend a
number of minutes equal to its Constitution modifier without issue.
After that, at the end of each minute, the creature must make a DC 10
Constitution saving throw or suffer one level of exhaustion.
If a creature has resistance or immunity to cold damage or is naturally adapted to
living in frigid waters, they automatically succeed on this saving throw.

Slippery Ice
When a creature moves across slippery ice, they must succeed on a DC 10 Dexterity
saving throw or be knocked prone.
If a creature moves at half speed while on the ice, they have advantage on the
saving throw. If a creature dashes while on the ice, they have disadvantage on the saving
throw.

Thin Ice
A given 10-foot patch of thin ice can hold approximately 3d10 ✕ 10 pounds. As soon as
more weight is placed on the patch, the ice shatters.
Thin ice almost always has frigid water beneath.

Terrain Hazards
Some hazards are built right into the terrain of a region. They’re naturally-occurring,
difficult to predict, and often deadly. These hazards rarely change with the seasons,
instead being present all year round.

Geysers
If a creature stands within 20 feet of the geyser’s vent when it erupts, the creature
immediately takes 6d6 fire damage as they are scalded with boiling water. If a creature
stands directly over the geyser’s vent when it erupts, they immediately take an
additional 6d6 bludgeoning damage and must succeed on a DC 20 Strength saving
throw or be pushed back 10 feet and knocked prone.

Lava
When a creature first enters lava on its turn, the creature immediately takes 10d10 fire
damage, and takes an additional 10d10 damage at the start of each of its turns while

38
standing in or otherwise touching the lava. If a creature is fully submerged in the lava,
they take 18d10 fire damage at the start of each of their turns.

Rockslides and Avalanches

When a rockslide or avalanche begins, roll 1d10, or 2d10 if it is exceptionally large.
A creature within the path of the rockslide or avalanche must make a Dexterity
saving throw with a DC equal to 10 + the previous number rolled. On a failure, a
creature suffers 1d10 bludgeoning damage per number rolled and is knocked prone. If
the creature failed the saving throw by 5 or more, they are restrained, and must succeed
on a DC 20 Strength check to free themselves.
If a creature is restrained in this way by an avalanche, they cannot breathe (see
PHB 183 on rules for suffocation).

Quicksand
When a creature enters an area of quicksand, they immediately sink 1d4 + 1 feet into the
quicksand, and are restrained. At the start of each of the creature’s turned, it sinks an
additional 1d4 feet deeper into the quicksand.
While a creature is not completely submerged, it can attempt to escape by using
its action to make a Strength check with a DC equal to 10 plus the number of feet the
creature has sunk into the quicksand. A creature outside the quicksand can attempt to
pull another creature out of the quicksand by making the same Strength check.
If a creature is completely submerged, it cannot breathe (see PHB 183 on rules
for suffocation).

39
CHAPTER III
WORLDBUILDING

The Town
The Town is the place in the West Marches where characters spend their time when
they’re not venturing out into the wilderness of the Marches. The Town might not be an
actual town, but rather a single building, or even a sizeable village with multiple
amenities. Roll on the Town Types table below to determine the broad strokes of the
Town, or formulate one of your own.

Principles
It is up to the GM to decide the exact parameters of the Town, but no matter what form
the Town takes in your game, consider the following to be the fundamental principles of
any Town:

Eye of the Storm

No matter what, no danger from the Marches may penetrate the physical or
metaphorical walls of the Town. Even factions that seek the player characters’
destruction will not pursue them there; perhaps there are magical wards surrounding
the Town, or a fey contract binds it to peace.
This does not mean that non-player characters cannot enter the Town at all; in
fact, the Town itself can be home to many NPCs with various utility, and agents from the
Marches at large might sparingly come to convene with the players themselves without
the pretense of combat. The absence of violence does not connote the absence of
tension.
All that said, the player characters are always safe within the Town.

Directional Expansion
The Town should be situated at an extreme of your map: this book has assumed thus far
that your Town is situated on the easternmost edge of the region of play, but it could be
any of the other four cardinal directions or somewhere in between. It could be at the
very center of the map, with the players expanding outwards. It could be that the Town
sits quite literally atop the wilds, and so the characters must delve downwards into the
earth.
No matter where your Town lies in relation to the rest of the region of play, the
critical detail is that players and characters alike must be able to look back someday and
understand how far they have come. Limiting expansion to single direction also makes it

40
easy for players to make reasonable estimates about the difficulty of tasks as they get
further from the Town. Generally speaking, the further the characters get from the
Town, the more treacherous the wilds should become.

Nothing Wagered, Nothing Gained

As a rule of thumb, player characters should not reap benefits from any activity that
does not require them to risk their lives. Activities like crafting and building typically
take place within the Town, but only as the final step in the process of crafting or
building: the NPCs within the town can offer goods and services, certainly, but all of
these must be bought with gold or earned with resources that require risk to life and
limb to gather.

TOWN TYPES
d20 Town

1 Shipwreck of a prison boat.

2 Imperial colony or military outpost.

3 Industrial boom town, where the Marches’ natural resources are gathered.

4 Settlement built around a mysterious magical beacon.

5 Temple dedicated to long-dead gods.

6 Camp within a sacred forest grove.

7 Hamlet built into a monstrous landmark, such as a massive footprint or ancient skeleton.

8 Remote magical research station.

9 Large cave in the side of coastal bluffs.

10 Settlement constructed around natural hot springs.

11 Ruins of a once-great fortress.

12 Wagon train now permanently in place.

13 Underground network of tunnels and shafts.

14 Waterborne web of rickety ships and rafts.

15 Grand, ramshackle manor, all ancient halls and forgotten wings.

16 Village built on the remains of an overgrown graveyard.

17 Enclave built around a huge otherworldly rock.

41
 18 Camp in a high mountain pass.

19 Small pocket dimension beneath the roots of a great tree.

20 A single decrepit inn.

Craftspeople and Artificers

The Town is not only home to adventurers, but also to wayward souls, pioneers,
refugees, artisans, storytellers, and any number of other colorful individuals. Though
not all of the inhabitants of the Town need to have special skills, consider populating the
Town with some skilled craftspeople: non-player characters with specific abilities that
the player characters in your game can make use of for the purposes of crafting items,
gaining intelligence, and developing the Town.
It is up to you to determine the motivations and dispositions of the Town’s
craftspeople; it is through them that the player characters will develop a care and
appreciation for the Town and the world of the Marches as a whole, and it is only with
their help that the Town will grow and prosper.

Item Crafting
Typically, the skills and crafting expertise offered by these characters can be bought with
gold for the cost of the requested item or service as described in the core books. A
craftsperson in the Town might give items or services to players on loan in emergency
situations (perhaps with interest), provided that that craftsperson likes the characters
well enough, and that their disposition permits it.
For crafting magical items, a more involved approach is often necessary. If a
special component, described below, is required to craft a certain item, the value of that
item may be removed from the overall cost to craft the item at the GM’s discretion. The
exact components used to craft the item should be chosen by the GM and reflect the
nature item to be crafted. For example, a piece of the shell of a flail snail, which is
notorious for resisting magical effects, might be required to craft a shield that reflects
spells.
Characters might recover such components of power from their adventures
without knowing their specific purpose in crafting, or they might ask a craftsperson
what sorts of components would be required to obtain a specific enchantment, then seek
those components out. In the former case, any craftsperson capable of creating a
magical item, including spell scrolls and potions, can appraise a given component’s use
as it relates to their specific field of expertise. For more on collecting components, refer
to the Foraging section on page 30 as well as the Hunting section on page 34.

42
Component Tiers
Different material components that can be used in the crafting process, naturally, are
available in varying degrees of power. Generally speaking, the rarer and more dangerous
a creature is, the more powerful the material components that can be harvested from its
corpse become. By the same token, natural resources like herbs become more powerful
the rarer and more dangerous they are to find or recover.
Refer to the Component Rarity by CR table to determine which material
components harvested from monsters are suitable as crafting components for items of
each rarity.

COMPONENT RARITY BY CR
Monster CR Component Rarity

1-4 Common

5-10 Uncommon

11-17 Rare

18-23 Very Rare

24-30 Legendary

To determine the component rarity of herbs, metal ores, or other material from
nonliving sources, consider the danger level of the region in which those materials can
be found. The rarer materials that can be found in your world should only be located in
its most dangerous areas. Characters should make Intelligence (Nature) checks as
normal in order to forage per the rules in the Foraging section on page 30.

Developing Artifice
Craftspeople can become better at their trade over time if the player characters facilitate
their growth. Recovering special tools of the trade, artifacts, or other means of power
and granting them to a craftsperson in the Town might allow that craftsperson to realize
a fuller potential. When this happens, consider increasing the potency or efficiency with
which a craftsperson can execute their trade. For instance, the town cursebreaker might
gain the ability to cast the greater restoration spell if she is given the amulet recovered
from the depths of a forgotten shrine, or the mundane smith might gain the ability to
work magical metals if given access to a magical source of heat, like the heart of a fire
elemental.

43
 Design your Town’s craftspeople with upward mobility in mind. When you do,
you incentivize the players to become invested in the Town, as well as give them another
opportunity to take control of their priorities as a party.

Craftspeople in the World

It is entirely possible for craftspeople with some or all of the features listed below to
exist in the world outside of the Town. These might be ancient smiths, powerful magi, or
wandering tinkerers, to name a few examples. These craftspeople might innately be of a
higher rank than those in the Town, so as to incentivize players’ venturing to meet them
when they have need of more potent services.
If these outland craftspeople exist in your world, it is recommended that you
belay upgrading craftspeople within the Town, and refrain from allowing player
characters to convince these outlanders to take up residence in the Town. Remember:
nothing wagered, nothing gained. Make special craftspeople feel special.

Creating a Craftsperson
On top of your normal methods of creating an NPC, create a craftsperson by picking one
to three (or any number you so desire) of the Craftsperson Features, described at the
end of this section, which represent the craftperson’s expertise in terms of what goods
and services they are able to provide for the Town, and by extension, for the player
characters.
Consider the craftperson’s background. Remember that normal people do not
come to the West Marches. Why is this craftsperson here? Why would they offer services
to the player characters? What do they gain from their relationship to the Town?

Craftsperson Features
Choose a number of these features to grant to each craftsperson within and outside the
Town which will define their expertise as well as their role in the Marches.

Arcane Crafting and Services

Some residents of the Town are wizards, mages, artificers, enchanters, alchemists, or
other magically-inclined individuals. They might know the basics of spellcraft, arcane
theory, enchanting, and perhaps other disciplines.

Arcane Scroll Crafting. The craftsperson is able to fabricate scrolls which

contain arcane spells. Use the normal magic item crafting rules to determine the cost
and time taken to craft a spell scroll. To craft a scroll, the craftsperson also needs two
components, described in the Spell Scroll Components table. The craftsperson can
create scrolls of spells from one or more of the bard, wizard, or warlock spell list only.

44
 Identification. The craftsperson can cast the identify spell to identify the
properties of a magical item for the price of 50 gp per item.
Enchanting. The craftsperson can bestow magical effects on mundane items,
such as rings, staves, weapons, and armor. If the craftsperson is given one of these items
along with a specific magical item component as described in the Other Magical Item
Components table, they can transform the item into a specific magical item of the same
type as the base item, using the normal magical item crafting rules as if they were
fabricating the item from scratch.
Potion Crafting. The craftsperson is an alchemist, capable of synthesizing
potions from herbs and magical reagents. Use the normal magic item crafting rules to
determine the cost and time taken to craft a potion.

Divine Crafting and Services

Some residents of the Town are priests, clerics, clergy, or other individuals with a special
connection to the divine forces at play. They can render the special services associated
with those professions for the player characters, and can come in handy for healing,
cursebreaking, and providing moral support.

Healing and Cursebreaking. The craftsperson is capable of casting spells

from either the cleric or druid spell list, which they will do as a service for a cost of 50 gp
× the level of the spell to be cast.
Divine Scroll Crafting. The craftsperson is able to fabricate scrolls which
contain divine spells. Use the normal magic item crafting rules to determine the cost
and time taken to craft a spell scroll. To craft a scroll, the craftsperson also needs two
components, described in the Spell Scroll Components table. The craftsperson can
create scrolls of spells from one or both of the cleric and druid spell lists only.

Building and Vehicle Crafting

Not everyone in the Town has magical inclinations, of course. There are plenty of
laborers that would be more than happy to use some of the player characters’
hard-earned treasure to create buildings, vehicles, and other structures with which to
edify the Town.

Fabricate Structures. The craftsperson and a small team of hirelings can

create any structure described in the Building a Stronghold section of the DMG (128)
provided that they are given the requisite payment and time to build the structure.
Fabricate Land Vehicles. The craftsperson and a small team of hirelings can
create any nonliving land vehicle described in the Mounts and Vehicles section of the

45
PHB (157), provided that they are given the requisite payment and time to build the
vehicle.
Shipwrighting. The craftsperson and a small team of hirelings can create any
water vehicle described in the Mounts and Vehicles section of the PHB (157) provided
that they are given the requisite payment and time to build the vehicle.

Mount Services
Along with the normal crop of livestock and agriculture that sustains the Town, there
are some craftspeople that make it their business to provide animal mounts for any who
will purchase them. With treacherous travel ahead, player characters will be happy to
have a good horse (or perhaps something else) to rely on.

Equine Husbandry. The craftsperson operates a small ranch where they raise
horses and mules. These creatures can be purchased for their gold cost as described in
the Mounts and Vehicles section of the PHB (157), provided that the animals are mature
and fit for travel.
Exotic Mounts. The craftsperson operates a ranch on which they raise more
exotic animals for use as mounts or companions. These creatures can be purchased for
their gold cost as described in the Mounts and Vehicles section of the PHB if they are
listed there, or for 1,000 gp × the Challenge Rating of the animal or monster if they are
not. Players should be aware that the creatures they purchase may not necessarily come
tamed.

General Services
There are plenty of regular services that can be offered by residents of the Town, from
the local shopkeep to the bartender to the smith. These humble positions are crucial for
keeping a Town running, after all.

Ingredient Appraisal. If the craftsperson spends 1 day studying a substantial

sample of a plant indigenous to the West Marches, they can determine its use in potion
crafting. The specific potion that can be crafted with the sample in question is up to the
GM’s discretion.
Material Appraisal. The craftsperson can identify metals present within an
existing item or ore by testing its properties. If the craftsperson spends 1 hour
examining a sample of an unknown metal, they are able to identify it; if not by name,
then by its specific properties and uses in crafting items.
Mundane Item Crafting. The craftsperson can craft any non-magical piece of
equipment, including weapons, armor, and adventuring gear listed in the PHB for the

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normal gold cost of the item. The time that the item takes to craft is contingent on its
cost and rarity, as described in the DMG.

Regions
The West Marches are vast and sprawling, stretching further west without end.
However, within the Marches themselves, chunks of similar terrain can be divided up
into regions—a section of territory that shares similar qualities, inhabitants, and
features.

Principles
The principles of designing regions are thus: make them discrete, make them unique,
and make them dangerous.

Discrete
It should be obvious to players when they cross the threshold from one region to the
next. Communicating these differences matters both because it lets them make their
map more accurately and signals that this is a new region to scout, but also because it
warns them of potential danger. When players travel into a new region, they should be
alert for threats.
The most straightforward way to distinguish two regions is to make them two
separate environments: forests and plains, mountains and coastline, hills and the
underground. Conversely, this means that within a single region, there should not be
more than one environment. A single hill in the plains or a forest lake is fine, but if a
single region combines two environments, players’ expectations will come into conflict
with the reality of the game. This is in part because the distinctions between regions also
mean that a region’s effects, such as poisonous flora or constant rainstorms, should be
confined to that region; as soon as these cross region lines, the lines become confused,
and so too will your players.
If you must have two of the same environments next to each other, be certain to
leave other clues: coniferous trees change to deciduous, for example, or rolling hills turn
to rocky crags. These varied descriptions should signal change to your players, even if
the environment itself does not overtly transform.
Another useful way to distinguish environments is via natural or artificial barrier:
perhaps a river runs between the hills and the desert, or a cliffside marks the shift from
mountains to coastline, or an ancient road cuts through the eaves between mountain
and plain, or a mystical barrier of force divides the great forest in two. These kinds of
barriers are clear markers to players; if the barrier is harder to cross, such as a lava flow

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or towering cliffside, it can also serve as an indicator of the challenge of the region
beyond.

Unique
Each region should feel like its own special location, unlike anywhere else in the
Marches. This is done for both gameplay and thematic reasons: from a gameplay
perspective, this keeps things fresh and exciting and engaging, and incentivizes
expansion. No player wants stale content, and so it is important that each region has its
own unique draw. From a thematic perspective, the Marches themselves should get
wilder and stranger the deeper the players explore; making each region special
reinforces the wild and untamed nature of the Marches.
Because there are limited numbers of total environments that exist, even in a
fantasy world, the key to making each region unique is to begin adding other factors.
This might be strange inhabitants, unusual magical effects, bizarre weather patterns,
ancient structures, or something else entirely. These, when compounded with the
normal variations in environments, will help to make individual regions unique.
On top of this, each region should be memorable; with only a brief description,
players should start recognizing areas they’ve been to before. In order to best achieve
this, each region should have a key phrase: a short, descriptive phrase that is used every
time that region is visited. For a relatively ordinary forest, the phrase might be “narrow
grey pine trees.” For a range of haunted hills, the phrase might be “jagged crags dusted
with mist.” For an ancient battlefield, this phrase might be “ashen soil hiding shattered
bones.”
When players enter this region, you should work the key phrase into your
description of the region itself. You can and should expand the description beyond the
key phrase alone, but it is critical to include it. As players hear the key phrase used over
and over again, they will associate it with the region; as soon as they enter that region,
even if lost, they will know where they are.

Dangerous
Danger unites. If a region is not dangerous, players will not work together and quickly
grow bored. The Marches are the most feared and unknown territory in the world, and
your regions should reflect that. Do not be afraid to have random encounters that are
extremely dangerous. Present great difficulty to your players in the terrain. Have clever,
aggressive monsters abound.
That said, be certain to telegraph all of this information ahead of time. Leave
tracks and trails for the players to stumble across; have NPCs warn the players of a
region’s danger; place natural formations that hint towards greater danger.

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 In designing a region’s difficulty, there are two main guidelines to follow: first,
the farther from town, the more dangerous the region. Second, a region’s difficulty
should be consistent within itself.
Both of these are somewhat flexible. While the difficulty curve of regions should
generally get higher the further they are from town, it can be a good idea to have a few
more dangerous regions closer to home. It lets players experiment and make riskier
missions, and it also helps to ensure that they stay on their toes; if there’s a region close
to home that’s dangerous, who knows what might lie further beyond?
Within a region itself, it’s important the random encounters are all roughly of the
same difficulty. Players will use random encounters as a metric for the overall challenge
of the region, and so it is important to keep them of consistent difficulty. That said, so
long as they are well-telegraphed, a few specific spots of increased difficulty can be
beneficial. Stray too close to the dragon’s mountaintop lair, for example, and the dragon
is more likely to descend. Players can see the dragon from a distance, and so have ample
opportunity to not run afoul of the beast itself. In general, however, random encounters
should maintain similar difficulty to allow players to get a gauge of the region as a
whole.
As an overarching rule of thumb, the more difficulty deviates from the
established, expected difficulty of the region or broader area, the more telegraphing is
required.

Danger Level
When you design a region, you should decide on one danger level for the region as a
whole. The simplest way to start designing a region is by determining what level of
adventurer the area is suited for. An average combat encounter in the region should be
of medium difficulty for five adventurers of that level, according to page 81 of the DMG.
Once you decide on a danger level for the region, you should adhere to it. Some
encounters might be a little harder, some might be a little easier, but by and large it
should be safe to assume that encounters in the region will be of that danger level.
Dungeons or specific locations can be of higher danger, but abrupt changes in the level
of danger that the players can expect from an area should always be well-telegraphed.
There are plenty of other ways to add nuance to the amount of danger posed by a
region. Perhaps food is scarce there, or the natural environment is extremely
inhospitable. When you add these extra danger factors into a region, consider adjusting
the difficulty of combat encounters proportionally so that the level of danger in the
region does not compound too unpredictably.

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Environment
The environment of a region refers to its geological and ecological makeup; examples
include forest, hills, mountains, or desert. Environment will determine a region’s travel
speed, availability of food and water, difficulty to navigate, and will play a large part in
the inhabitants of the region.
These are expressed as a region’s travel speed, food DC, water DC, and navigation
DC. The following list provides a general guideline for environments. You can and
should feel free to adjust these as fits your game: an exceptionally lush mountain range
might have a lower food and water DC, for example, while a highly dense forest might
have a higher navigation DC.

ENVIRONMENTS
Environment Travel Speed Food DC Water DC Navigation DC

Arctic No effect 15 13 10

Coastal ½ speed 10 15 13

Desert No effect 18 20 13

Forest ½ speed 10 10 15

Grassland No effect 10 13 10

Hills ½ speed 13 10 15

Mountains ¼ speed 15 15 18

Swamp ¼ speed 13 10 18

Underground ½ speed 18 18 18

Urban ½ speed 15 13 13

Wasteland No effect 20 20 10

Combining Environments
Many regions are comprised of more than one environment, such as forested
mountains, desert hills, or a coastal swamp. When this occurs, use the slowest travel
time, the highest navigation DC, and the lowest food and water DCs.
For example, consider the Shards, an icy range of snow-covered mountains. The
Shards, being arctic mountains, have a travel speed of ¼ speed, food DC 15, water DC
13, and navigation DC 18.

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 Combining environments can often be a good way to vary regions, to make them
feel unique and special. Because the Marches are a fantasy world, do not be afraid to
combine environments in unusual ways: a swampy desert might be the result of some
ancient curse, or underground grasslands might be due to druidic influence.

More Environments
These environments are a good baseline, but they do not cover all possible variations or
options. A forest of giant fungi, for example, might have a have a lower food and water
DC, but be more difficult to navigate due to mind-altering gases. A series of floating
mountains might be nigh-impossible to find water on, but easily navigated due to their
great height.
Use these environments as a framework to jump off from, to indulge your wild
fantasies and your most far-flung regions. The Marches are a strange and wondrous
place—do not be afraid to use your imagination!

Climate
Consider the general climate for the whole of the Marches. Where are they on the overall
map of the world? While the Marches are most commonly thought of as being on the
western edge of the Empire, this isn’t necessarily the case. The South, North, and East
Marches are all equally viable—as are, perhaps, the Upper and Lower Marches, or even
the Inner and Outer Marches.
Whichever, decide on a rough, general climate for the region as a whole. This is a
fantasy world, however, and thus climates may vary more than they would in the real
world. It is entirely feasible that the southern reaches of a sub-equatorial Marches are
frozen entirely solid in ice, while the northern, only a couple hundred miles away, are
sunny and balmy. Likewise, if a specific region is unusually warm or cold, do not worry
over-much—magic has many strange effects, not the least of which is altering climate.
You can use the following table as a baseline for a region’s climate, but do not be
afraid to expand further.

REGION CLIMATE
d6 Climate

1 Tropical; hot and wet

2 Subtropical; warm and wet

3 Arid; warm and dry

4 Temperate; cool and wet

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 5 Subarctic; cool and dry

6 Arctic; cold and dry

Landforms and Structures

In addition to a region’s environment, part of what makes it unique is its landforms and
structures. Many regions contain castles and temples, villages and hamlets, streams and
hills, clearings and gullies—while yes, these are technically landforms and structures,
they are not enough to distinguish a region. To do so, they must be defining; they must
be the focal point of the entire region, or at bare minimum a critical aspect of it.
These set-piece landmarks will make the region distinguishable and unique, yes,
but they will also serve your players in forming an understanding of the region’s place in
world’s layered history. Consider the following as you design your landforms and
structures: How do they help players contextualize their surroundings? Can they be used
to navigate? Do they house a dungeon? Do other factions or monsters know about
them? For structures, what are they there for, or what were they before falling into ruin?
How do they tie in with the Marches’ ancient past, if applicable?

LANDFORMS AND STRUCTURES

d10 Landform

1 Bluffs, extreme cliffs, or a chasm.

2 Massive mountain peak.

3 Volcano.

4 Huge tunnel or pit.

5 Enormous tree.

6 Web of lakes and streams.

7 Ruined fortress.

8 Ancient road, bridge, or stairs.

9 Faction stronghold.

10 Huge river or waterfall.

Landforms and Structures as Telegraphing

In many situations, these landforms and structures can be used as the barrier between
two regions. If you do so, consider the implication of the landform or structure itself: if

52
the entirety of the Marches thus far have been wholly uncivilized, for example, an
enduring road will serve as a marker of more dangerous inhabitants. Sharp contrast to
the existing regions and the previously-known area of the Marches will register as
danger to your players.
Likewise, because these landforms and structures are often significantly more
visible than the surrounding region, they can serve as an easy marker of threat. If a huge
mountain has a dragon circling it, players know to stay away; if an ancient stronghold
flies banners of an enemy faction, players know to be wary; if a volcano still flows, all
players will exercise caution.

Landforms and Structures in Narrative

Players are drawn to that which stands out. If they see something large and strange and
enticing, they will go towards it—in a campaign with few pure “plot” hooks, curiosity will
always drive players. Because of this, major landforms and structures are a good place to
locate key pieces of lore and information.
In a basic sense, players are more likely to go to large, obvious structures, and
thus more likely to learn whatever information you place there. In a more nuanced
capacity, however, the major landforms and structures of a region can be used to
illustrate broader points of the history of a particular region.
In a region that was once the site of an ancient battle now turned to barren
wasteland, a still-active volcano might have been summoned by the winning side. In a
spreading cursed forest, a towering single tree might hold the heart of a vengeful druid
that laid the curse on the whole wood. In a water-ridden marshland, the enormous
whirlpool in the center might be why the region was abandoned by its former people.
The major landmarks of a region should define the region, and thus its lore. Link
these together, and your region will be all the more excellent.

Modifiers
While regions are composed of environments and landforms, they also are often affected
by other, stranger forces. In many cases, these are more natural: wildlife behavior,
weather patterns, or flora growths. In others, it might be magical: curses, enchantments,
or long-lasting invocations. Whatever the cause, these kinds of additional effects within
a region are referred to as modifiers.
Early on, as the players are first exploring the Marches, modifiers should
generally be less present, or if they are present, less impactful. The regions closer to
town are more about letting players learn the rules of the game, get a sense of what the
Marches are about, and find their footing in general. Layering heavy modifiers on top of
early regions is more likely to confuse players than it is to make for a better game.

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 As the players explore farther from town, however, modifiers can and should
grow more common and more extreme. At the farthest reaches of the Marches, there
very well could be no regions left without intense modifiers.

REGION MODIFIERS
d20 Modifier

1 Anyone who spends the night in the region is aged magically by 1 year.

2 Every few hours, sudden lightning strikes near the party

3 Weather ranging into extreme heat or extreme cold in sudden shifts.

4 A ghostly whispering suffuses the region; anyone there is unable to escape it.

5 Fey magic abounds, meaning there is a small chance travellers will be transported elsewhere.

6 As night falls, the quantity of monsters increases threefold.

7 Pockets of quicksand dot the region, sometimes obvious and sometimes hidden.

8 Rockslides and avalanches are very common.

9 Misleading waystones and road-signs abound.

10 Any food consumed is unsatisfying; hair and nails grow at a rapid rate.

11 Unease and discomfort suffuse the area; relaxation is impossible.

12 Murders of crows follow travellers, marking them for unfriendly eyes.

13 Unending storms and fell weather wrack the region.

14 Each morning, there is a high chance heavy fog has rolled in overnight.

15 Geysers burst through the earth often, and in unpredictable locations.

16 Any blood spilt quickly draws in ravenous beasts.

17 Flash floods sweep through the regions irregularly.

18 Any metal left in the region overnight quickly begins to rust and decay.

19 The region is riddled with cliffs, gorges, and gullies, slowing travel.

20 Volcanic eruptions alter the terrain near-constantly.

Modifiers’ Difficulty Level

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These region modifiers are presented primarily without specific mechanical difficulty
attached. This is done because a region’s modifier should vary with the region’s
difficulty level on the whole. In a low-level region with the modifier that “spilt blood
draws hungry beasts,” the beasts might be simple animals, and it takes them a few
minutes to arrive, giving the players time to flee or prepare. In a high-level region with
the same modifier, the “beasts” might be bloodthirsty vampires that teleport in to a
scene the moment blood leaves the body.
As you design regions, be careful in which modifiers you apply and how. As
always, the list above is suggestion; you can and should feel free to expand beyond these.
Shifting each individual factor in a region’s modifier—time, severity, resource drain,
frequency, DCs, and others—will allow you to settle on the region’s difficulty in more
detail.

Modifiers as Narrative
As with landforms and environments, the modifiers to a region can directly inform the
narrative of that region as a whole. Consider what causes the modifier to even exist in
the region in the first place: is it an ancient curse, laid down by a necromancer? Is it due
to the region’s location between two mountain ranges? Is it due to the existence of a
portal to another realm?
In many cases, the modifier has some variety of magical origin, often a very old or
obscure one. Despite this—or perhaps because of it—a region’s particular modifier can
often be illuminating to the region’s broader history. Modifiers are often what players
notice early when exploring a region, and thus more present when they attempt to
uncover a region’s narrative.
A region’s modifier does not reveal or explicate the region’s broader narrative so
much as it does show its aftereffects. A region haunted by ghostly soldiers might once
have been the site of forgotten battles; a region where the rain runs red with blood
might house a mage practicing profane rituals; a region where the water is poisonous
might be inhabited by bands of venomous reptilian humanoids. Seeing the modifier
does not make the region’s broader narrative immediately obvious, but rather reinforces
its impact on the whole.

Inhabitants
The inhabitants of a region are comprised of all living things that dwell within the
region: animals, people, and monsters. In most cases, the inhabitants of a region will be
determined by the region’s environment: forests, mountains, plains, the
underground—all have different natural inhabitants. As you design your region,
consider what manner of inhabitants, if any, dwell within.

55
 If you are struggling to think of what might dwell in a region, consult DMG
Appendix B, which contains lists of creatures sorted by environment.

Settlements
Settlements in the Marches are far and few between. They are well-defended and
well-hidden; any settlements that aren’t will surely perish. Most settlements are hostile
to outsiders, and thus will be to any adventurers that come knocking.
The rare few that allow outsiders in should be a place of temporary respite, where
adventurers can grab a safe night’s sleep and resupply, but little more. As with the town,
if there is adventure to be had in areas that are less dangerous, players will do
everything in their power to stay there.
Hostile settlements should be placed at key barrier locations between regions: a
narrow mountain pass, a strip of land between two seas, or the only road through the
forests. These hostile settlements can be used in the same way as key structures and
landforms for telegraphing: a group of low-level players will balk at a fortress full of
hobgoblins, informing them to keep away until they’ve reached a certain level of power.
The few friendly settlements that exist should be in out-of-the-way locations;
place them too close to prime dungeons and unexplored regions, and they will become a
way-stop for every mission. This lowers the intended difficulty of nearby dungeons and
regions, as it provides player characters with an easy place to launch from, and an easy
place to retreat to. Force your players to commit; don’t put friendly settlements in
convenient locations.

Inhabitants as Narrative
As with all parts of a region, the inhabitants of a region contribute to the overall
narrative and history of the region. In the case of animals and non-sentient monsters,
they should be used to reinforce the particular narrative of the region as a whole.
Lycanthropes might prowl a region overseen by an accursed king; sentient plants dwell
in a region close to the Fey; fiends hunt in broad daylight when a portal is nearby.
As with modifiers, monstrous inhabitants of a region are less explanatory of the
narrative of the region itself as much as they reinforcements of it. They demonstrate the
current nature of the region—and thus the end result of the region’s history—firsthand,
rather than provide direct explication.
Humanoid inhabitants of the region should be treated with care. For more detail
about NPCs and their relation to world lore, see page 95.

Legendary Monsters
In addition to the more ordinary inhabitants of a region, consider adding in a legendary
monster—a beast of tremendous power, the showstopper of the region. Legendary

56
monsters are often far more dangerous than the surrounding region, but compensate by
being significantly more obvious. Legendary monsters should be able to be seen coming
from far away, giving low-level players plenty of time to escape. When they do go to fight
the monster, make sure it’s their direct intent, not just some chance encounter.
Legendary monsters, while impressive on their own, should be built up by the
surrounding regions’ inhabitants. Players will undoubtedly be curious about the
legendary monsters, and will dig into any and all information about them. Because of
this, legendary monsters are a prime locus for the region’s (or even several regions’)
narrative. As players increase in power by completing dungeons and other missions in
the legendary monster’s region, they should be uncovering more and more lore and
information about it.
For more detail on conveying information through terrible foes, see page 80.

LEGENDARY MONSTERS
d10 Monster

1 A great sentient tree, slowly drifting across the world.

2 A dragon turtle large enough to be mistaken for an island itself.

3 An undersea leviathan or kraken.

4 A three-headed purple worm.

5 A long-dead tyrant, brought to life through profane ritual.

6 A conclave of many-eyed deep ones.

7 A demon lord seated atop a throne of contempt.

8 An avenging angel of flame and light.

9 A mechanical colossus the size of a mountain.

10 The tarrasque itself.

Encounters
As player characters travel through a region, they will tangle with the region’s
inhabitants, hazards, and other dangers. These dangers are all broadly referred to as
“encounters,” meaning any sort of situation or scenario that puts the player characters
at risk and has the potential to drain them of resources.
These regional encounters are separate from the encounters within a dungeon.
They follow different guidelines and are more randomly determined, as opposed to a
dungeon’s more constructed, scripted encounters.

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 Regional encounters have a chance to occur every watch—once every four hours.
At the beginning of each watch, roll 1d100 to see if an encounter will occur during that
watch; when the encounter occurs within that watch precisely is up to you.

Encounter Chance
By default, a region has a 10% encounter chance. This means an encounter will occur on
average about once every ten watches, or roughly every day and a half. However, there
are a number of factors that can affect this chance: on a very basic level, a more
dangerous region should have a higher chance, and a less dangerous region should have
a lower chance. As a good rule of thumb, encounter chance should never decrease to
lower than 5%—the Marches are simply too unpredictable, and the chance of danger is
always present.
The following factors might also come into effect when considering encounter
chance. Bear in mind that these are not universal, and should be determined on a
region-by-region basis, as well as the current situation at the start of the watch. These
aren’t all of the factors that might play into determining the encounter chance in a
region. If there is a circumstance not listed that you as a GM feel should come into play,
you should reserve the right to impose it at your discretion.
Night. Many regions have nocturnal predators, thus increasing the chance of an
encounter during night-time watches.
Weather. As the weather grows worse, visibility and other senses decrease in
effectiveness, thus reducing the chance of an encounter.
Fresh meat. If the party is carrying freshly-killed meat, such as from foraging
for food, predators are more likely to be drawn to camp.
Trail. If the party leaves an obvious trail, such as from blood, the chance of a
predator tracking them increases.
Light. Light attracts the eye, and thus attention, especially at night. Keeping
open flames increases the chance of an encounter.
Noise. As with light, loud noises attract predators. Playing music, raised voices,
or other sources of high volume draw attention, increasing the chance of an encounter.
Hidden. If the party has taken the time and effort to hide their camp from
prying eyes, the chance of an encounter decreases.
Proximity. If the party is close to a hostile lair or encampment, they are more
likely to run afoul of the locals, increasing their chance of an encounter.
Magic. Depending on the kind of magic, this can increase or decrease a party’s
chance of encountering danger; benevolent magic might hide them, while fell curses
might draw even worse dangers.

ENCOUNTER CHANCE CONDITIONS

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 Condition % Chance Modifier

Default 10%

Dangerous region Up to +20%

Safe region Up to -10%

Night +10%

Light rain or snow -10%

Heavy rain or snow -15%

Storm -20%

Fresh meat +5%

Obvious trail +10%

Bright light +15%

Loud noise +10%

Hidden camp -10%

Proximity to hostiles Up to +20%

Magical effects Up to +/-30%

You can and should feel free to adjust these modifiers as you see fit, and should add in
additional modifiers as necessary. These should serve as a baseline to work from, rather
than the end-all be-all.

Encounter Tables
Once it has been determined that an encounter will occur, roll on the region’s encounter
table. These tables are composed of monsters that inhabit the region that the party is
likely to run across, as well as naturally dangerous encounters—rockfalls, quicksand,
lava flows, and the like.
You should compile your encounter tables from the inhabitants of the region. In
general, encounters should only be with dangerous monsters of the region—an
encounter with a herd of deer is not particularly dangerous, and thus not conducive to
good gameplay.
Your encounter table should be random. In some cases it can be better to simply
decide which encounter will happen—such as if the party is camped very close to a

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hostile encampment—but most of the time, randomly determining the encounter better
represents the region.
As a rule of thumb, each region should have between five and eight varieties of
common monsters to encounter; fewer will feel repetitive, but too many more and the
region might be too unpredictable. The table itself should be based on a standard die
roll; any die between a d8 and a d20 will work well. Bear in mind that the chance of
encountering each monster does need not to be equal; more common monsters should
be more common on the roll.
In addition to the region’s own monsters, encounter tables should include one or
two monsters from neighboring regions. These should be low-chance encounters; it’s
uncommon for monsters to wander in from a nearby region, but it does happen.
Finally, an encounter table should always have a slight chance of two encounters
happening simultaneously—an owlbear tussling with a band of orcs is suddenly a
complicated situation, as is the party and opposing basilisks all sinking into quicksand
together.

Encounter Danger
The danger of each encounter on your region’s encounter table should be fixed. There is
a tendency in the base game to have encounters be something along the lines of “1d4
bullettes” or “3d6 sahuagin.” This is not good design for the West Marches. One bullette
is a dramatically different fight from four bullettes, just as six sahuagin compared to
fifteen sahuagin is entirely unlike. If encounters swing wildly, players won’t be able to
accurately gauge the region’s danger—as that region will not have a reliable danger level.
Most of the time, it is perfectly acceptable to simply say “2 bullettes” or “10
sahuagin.” If these encounters happen to repeat a lot, players might start to notice, but
this is unlikely, and even if they do, little harm will come of it. The Marches are a
fundamentally different experience to the base game, and your players will appreciate
the reliability.
If you must add in randomization to each encounter, consider mitigating the
randomness. “7+1d6 sahuagin” ranges from eight to thirteen, which is still a sizeable
difference, but is no longer as dramatic a swing in danger level, and still averages ten or
eleven, as does 3d6. Do not be afraid to use a 1d4, 1d3, or 1d2.

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Factions
The factions within the Marches give it life and provide much of the more complex
conflict in a West Marches game. Typically, factions are composed of sentient beings
with goals and intentions; there is a reason that the faction is situated in the Marches,
and more times than not that reason brings them into contact (and potentially conflict)
with the players.
Understand the factions that are present in each region, and use the players’
engagement with those areas to explore their inhabitant factions’ disposition toward the
player characters. Know how the factions in your game fit into the layers of history
within your world. How old is their legacy? What powers do they answer to? Also
consider their day-to-day operations. Do they have scouts? How do they feed themselves
and deal with the normal threats within the Marches?
Be judicious in your creation of factions. Having several factions is good, as it
lends a layer of narrative and political complexity to the game, but adding too many
factions can make the Marches feel too civilized.

Principles
Why have factions at all? Why not just have a wilderness full of individual dungeons and
isolated pockets of people?
The answer is pacing. Even a monstrously large, tremendously brutal dungeon
will still likely take less than ten sessions to complete. With factions, however, there can
be narratives and conflicts that grow and build over the course of months, with light
interactions and skirmishes over the course of dozens of sessions. As players learn more
about a faction and get closer to reaching a resolution, tension will grow; when they
eventually face off against their final challenge with the faction, be it armed conflict or
not, the payoff will be huge.
Without these kinds of longer-reaching groups and chances for story to develop,
it can be difficult to have any kind of cohesion or connection across the Marches as a
whole.
With that in mind, there are three key principles to designing the factions of your
Marches: keep them primarily villainous, keep them connected to the Marches, and
keep them from being all-powerful.

Villainy
The West Marches are a brutal, unforgiving place; they’ve never been breached by the
Empire with any amount of success, and you should demonstrate that to be true.
Beyond that, however, if players discover a faction that is primarily friendly to their
cause and is significant, they will likely try to form an alliance or even directly join that
faction.

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 The player characters, as a group, should be independent. While they may owe
debts or favors to factions, simply joining another extant faction shifts the priorities of
the game. Even worse, it’s possible that some players will want to join an existing faction
and others won’t, and the group will threaten to splinter.
Therefore, you should keep the factions of the Marches villainous. They don’t
need to necessarily be strictly evil, but they should be antagonistic towards the player
characters.
This means that if you’re making a primarily-humanoid faction, you need to give
them clear reason to be evil; “they’re orcs, they deserve to die” is both poor writing and
profoundly bigoted. Humanoids can and often will be evil, but this should be proved
through actions and deeds rather than genetics. Cultists, zealots, conquerors,
necromancers, pirates, brigands—all are good examples of villainous humanoids whose
evil stems from a more real and complex place than their race.
Keep your factions primarily evil. They can still make deals and interact
politically with the player characters, but they should do it from a position of intent to
conquer or destroy.

Connection
The West Marches are old; they’re covered in ruins and ancient sites, with all manner of
history lost to time. Uncovering that history bit by bit, discovering whatever’s left, and
piecing together the story of what happened before—all are essential parts of the
Marches.
The factions within the Marches should reflect this. Factions should have, in
purpose or makeup or history, an intrinsic connection the history of the Marches. They
should be connected to the broader lore than the players are actively seeking to uncover.
How exactly this connections manifests is up to you. In some cases, a faction
might inhabit the ruins of a predecessor nation, and thus take on some half-forgotten
elements of that nation. In others, a faction might share the same goal as the players—to
uncover and divine a specific piece of history, potentially one that might grant them
power. In still others, a faction might be composed of living remnants of a bygone
civilization. Whatever you choose, tying a faction to the Marches’ history will solidify its
cause and importance.

Weakness
The West Marches are difficult to thrive in, nigh impossible. Individual packs of
monsters might thrive, but no group of sentient beings can do more than scrape by. That
harsh, unforgiving reality is a central tenet of the Marches.
Because of this, if any one faction were to rise significantly in power, the question
would be asked: why haven’t they taken over the Marches yet? Factions control turf,

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possibly even whole regions, but none can wholly control the Marches. If they did, the
West Marches would cease to be.
This is not to say that you should make the factions of the Marches weak; by no
means is this the case. Factions should be dangerous and powerful, certainly—they just
shouldn’t be unstoppable in power. A dragon or two with a cult full of kobolds is a
powerful faction, but not powerful enough to take the whole of the Marches; an entire
council of a dozen dragons might well have enough strength to dominate whole
countries. There’s a balance to it; both examples are extremely dangerous, but one
might threaten to upset the logic behind the world as a whole.
Furthermore, like most content in the Marches, on a meta level factions exist to
be overcome as challenges for the players. Yes, you can and should have factions
powerful enough to scare off players for months, but at a certain point, the players
should stand some kind of chance against every faction.

Territory and Influence

Part of what makes factions distinct from, say, a single dungeon or keep full of enemies,
is that factions are spread out. They have outposts and holdings in multiple locations,
they’re spread out over miles of territory, and often lay claim to large chunks of
wilderness as their own.
Factions should, in nearly all cases, control multiple key locations. These could be
caches of natural resources, important ruins, strategic strongholds, or other valuable
sites. The territory between those key locations should, in most cases, be broadly
considered to be under the control of that faction. The faction will use the land to their
benefit, set up further outposts and structures, and take notice of interlopers.
That’s not to say that factions should know everything that occurs in their
territory always, or even that their territory is at all built up. A faction of fey, for
example, might deliberately eschew artificial structures, just as a faction of underground
dwarves might not notice everything happening on the surface. Factional control is
porous, and keeping close tabs in medieval wilderness is difficult at best.

Regions’ Influence on Factions

As you design a faction, take stock of where they are located, what terrain surrounds
them, and what territory they lay claim to. The region that a faction is located in can
determine all manner of details: their equipment, their transportation, their holdings,
their language, their outlook. All of these and more can and should take cues from their
surrounding region. A faction that dwells in a rich, lush valley is going to be far more
friendly and open than a faction that resides in a demon-bitten wasteland.
Likewise, certain groups of creatures are native to certain biomes, or else have
preference for them. As a very obvious example, mer-people are typically found

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exclusively underwater, and are among the very few types of humanoids that can
successfully dwell there. As another, winged creatures of all varieties find more success
in mountainous regions, where their ability to fly allows them to surpass much of the
otherwise-treacherous terrain of the mountains.
Certain factions trend towards certain regions, and all factions take some level of
influence from the regions they dwell within.

Factions’ Influence on Regions

Just as the region a faction occupies can alter how it behaves, so too can a faction alter
its own territory. On a very basic level, most factions construct some manner of
structure, be it temples or castles or villages, which in turn alter the landscape they
dwell on. Similarly, most factions mark territory in some way, even with something
simple as flags or paint, which delineates their borders.
On a slightly more complicated level, factions influence other creatures within a
region. If, for example, a faction of lycanthropes takes up residence in a forest and
begins to grow, it’s very likely their food sources—wild game of all varieties—will start to
dwindle after hunting. This holds true for all carnivores, but also extends to other
factions, hated enemies, natural resources, and essentially anything else a given faction
might acquire or consume.
If a faction possesses significant magic, their ability to alter their territory only
grows further: magic can build structures with ease, inscribe wards and enchantments,
alter weather, and more. As magical influence grows, planar portals might be opened,
undead might begin to roam, strange effects might manifest, plants might awaken, and
all manner of other strange phenomena might spring into existence.
Factional influence over their territory is a powerful narrative tool, as well as a
mechanical one. If human bones are hung from trees, it will signal to players to be wary
of hostile factions. Find the harmony between territory and faction, and use it.

Theming
Each faction should have a unique theming that conveys their design, disposition, and
goals. Their territory should inform their feel in this respect, and their main base is
often a visually-impactful set piece.
As you build a faction, try to nail down a single word or small phrase that
foundationally characterizes the faction you are trying to create. If the term is too
similar to another faction’s, think of a different one; push yourself in previously
unthought-of directions. This will help all of your factions to feel completely unique,
their motivations and dispositions will vary in more compelling ways, and ultimately
your players will have a more colorful and diverse set of ideals to contend with.

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 Use easy visual hooks to draw the players in, encouraging them always to explore
new areas and make contact with new factions. As they interact with a faction in more
detail, show different perspectives and angles on their reigning theme; let other
elements of the faction be influenced by their theme.

FACTION THEME
d20 Aesthetic d20 Aesthetic

1 Fearsome. 11 Forsaken.

2 Natural. 12 Mad.

3 Mystical. 13 Majestic.

4 Impartial. 14 Nomadic.

5 Otherworldly. 15 Draconian.

6 Judgmental. 16 Sordid.

7 Materialistic. 17 Servile.

8 Knowing. 18 Dysfunctional.

9 Conquerous. 19 Primal.

10 Industrious. 20 Ancient.

Theme and Culture

Groups of people always have a shared culture; it is inescapable that shared modes of
behavior will spread between people and eventually begin to coalesce. This is a good
thing! Giving factions distinct culture will make for interesting drama, meaningful
stories, and verisimilitudinous worlds.
In many ways, a theme and a culture are indistinguishable; both govern basic
behaviors and common customs. They diverge, however, in implementation: themes are
abstract, removed, somewhat isolated concepts. Theming resides more in the design
ethos and the intended feeling of the players, where culture is more actively present.
Culture pervades the people of a given faction, and is largely determined by the
behaviors of those people.
Where themes exist to provide a guideline and intention for you as designer,
culture exists as its own narrative component of a faction, born from the emergent social
characteristics of the faction itself.

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Bases
Every faction needs a good base of operations, the location that serves as the center of
the faction’s territory as a whole. Depending on the faction, these bases can vary a great
deal, but every faction needs one.
Bases should be impressive. They should be large, striking centerpieces,
structures that convey the theme and purpose of a faction. When players see them in the
distance, they should feel fear and awe.

FACTION BASES
d20 Base d20 Base

1 Hidden forest outpost. 11 Volcanic forge.

2 Underground catacombs. 12 Artificial island.

3 Grand cathedral. 13 Skeleton of a gargantuan beast.

4 Enormous shadowy pit. 14 Hollow mountain.

5 Floating cloud castle. 15 Sprawling ruins.

6 Underwater caverns. 16 Always-moving caravan.

7 Gilded palace. 17 Secluded monastery.

8 Mystical tower. 18 Massive warship.

9 Sealed vault, tomb, or crypt. 19 Impenetrable fortress.

10 Ancient labyrinth. 20 Demiplane.

Bases and Narrative

As mentioned, factions should be inherently tied to the Marches, and there is no better
way to demonstrate that connection than through a faction’s central base. As you design
a faction’s base, consider how the original structure came to be in the first place. In
some cases, the faction themselves might have built it, but this is uncommon. The
Marches are full of ancient ruins and half-rotted lairs—far more likely that a faction
found an already-existing site and repurposed it for their own.
Regardless of where the base itself came from, consider how and why a faction
utilizes it as their base. Is it practicality? A defensible location? A powerful magical site?
A particularly fearsome position to look down from? Whichever, be thoughtful in what a
faction’s base says about a faction as a whole. Because bases are often the first thing that
adventurers see of a faction, it will significantly influence how players think of that
faction as a whole.

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 Beyond this, a faction’s base can very well serve as the lynchpin to their overall
connection to the Marches. A band of cultists residing in a maze of catacombs, for
example, might have their origins tied to a god formed in the wake of a tremendous
battle—a battle whose fallen now reside in those catacombs. Centering a faction,
physically and narratively, around their base will build powerful resonance.

Motivation
A faction’s motivation defines its reasons for existing in the Marches. Factions in the
Marches should all have a motivation, a drive that both informs and is informed by their
base theme. Consider creating both short and long term goals for the faction, and come
up with a plan for how the faction intends to reach those goals. As part of that process,
consider how the player characters fit into the faction’s goals. Will leaders of the faction
see the player characters as a potential ally? An obstacle to be overcome? Perhaps an
asset to be taken advantage of?
Likewise, examine potential player goals in relation to a faction’s motivation. If a
faction’s and players’ goals align, they might serve as uneasy allies; if a faction’s goals
stand in direct opposition to the players’, they will surely be enemies.

FACTION GOAL
d20 Goal d20 Goal

1 Obey their leader’s wishes. 11 Seek the chosen one.

2 Restore a broken artifact. 12 Create a legendary object.

3 Dominate all life. 13 Slay an unstoppable monster.

4 Protect a sacred location. 14 Free an imprisoned being.

5 Reclaim lost territory. 15 Escape an impending doom.

6 Convert others to their beliefs. 16 Prove themselves worthy.

7 Avenge an ancient wrong. 17 Destroy an accursed site.

8 Resurrect a dead power. 18 Bring everything to their level.

9 Learn forgotten secrets. 19 Open a planar portal.

10 Control a source of resources. 20 Earn a single Wish.

Telegraphing Goals
By and large, a faction’s goals should be either very obvious or highly mysterious. A
faction that seeks to conquer the whole of the Marches, for example, will make that

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known to anyone and everyone by simple matter of it involving everyone. By contrast, a
faction seeking to return a dead god to life by means of profane ritual will, in all
likelihood, strive to keep that goal a secret as long as possible.
Both are engaging and interesting options for players to deal with. In obvious
cases, it presents and immediate challenge to be dealt with, granting the players a
measure of freedom and agency in how they go about interacting with the faction. In
mysterious cases, it lends an air of uncertainty and the unknown to the entire faction,
which will pique players’ curiosity and drive them to know more.
Whichever the case, make sure the players know it. It does no good for players to
think they have an entire faction figured out only to suddenly realize they don’t, just as
it’s frustrating to believe a faction to be cloaked in mystery only to have the rug pulled
out from under them. Blatant or secretive, make a faction’s relationship with their goals
known.

Achieving Goals
Because the West Marches are a place of ruin, most factions will never achieve their
goal. They make steps or advances, certainly, but actively achieving a goal is rare.
If a faction is progressing significantly towards achieving their goal, make it
known to the players. Drop hints wherever you can, put visible signals of that
advancement around the surrounding regions, and have NPCs make mention that
something unusual is happening. There is no feeling worse for players than a sudden
shift in the status quo without them realizing it or ever being able to influence it. Give
the players ample opportunity to stop (or possibly aid) the faction in reaching their
endpoint.
That said, if, after giving plenty of opportunity to be halted, a faction reaches
their goal, make it a big deal. Lights in the sky, fire in the night, blood in the streets—the
works. Let a faction achieving their goals change the entirety of the Marches.
If you feel the urge to resist this change, don’t. There isn’t a storyline to wreck,
there aren’t critical plot points to hit, there are no key NPCs that need to live. If you’ve
given the players a dozen chances to hit the Cult of the Sleeping Depths, for example,
and they haven’t, despite clear telegraphing? Summon the kraken.
The West Marches are at their best when players are in over their heads.

Population
The exact population of a faction, the people and creatures that make it up, largely are
determined by a faction’s territory, theming, and goals. Faction populations that don’t
fit their region will likely not survive; a band of cold-blooded lizardfolk, for example,
would very likely freeze in frigid mountains, just as a group of humans would not fare
well in a swamps that flood regularly.

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 Because of this, you should let the population of a faction be more deterministic;
choose what makes sense for the faction as a whole.

FACTION POPULACE
d20 Populace d20 Populace

1 Cultists or clergy. 11 Machines and automata.

2 Faeries or fae-folk. 12 Seafolk or mer-people.

3 Mages or witches. 13 Scholars or academics.

4 Monsters or beasts. 14 Artisans or craftspeople.

5 Pirates or brigands. 15 Marauders or raiders.

6 Soldiers or warriors. 16 Undead or necromancers.

7 Travelers or nomads. 17 Draconids and their minions.

8 Knights or heroes. 18 Plants and animals.

9 Monster hunters. 19 Giants or their kin.

10 Extraplanar beings. 20 A single linked mind.

Faction Hierarchies
After settling on a faction’s population, consider the hierarchy and social structure
within that faction as a whole. What ranks, classes, or divides exist among its society?
How do they determine leadership, or whether there are leaders at all? How does the
faction operate on a moment-t0-moment basis?
All of these questions need to be answered, and the population breakdown of a
faction will strongly influence that. As you go about designing a faction’s population,
keep all of them in mind, and think about their relevance to the players. The exact
rankings of a hobgoblin legion, for example, probably don’t matter, but the fact that the
legion is highly rigid in its structure does very much matter. Don’t waste time and effort
building in unnecessary details; focus instead on the core social structures that define
the faction.

Development
Factions, like the rest of the Marches, are highly emergent; there are no preset beats
they will hit or storylines they will follow. Instead, they should behave more
systemically, reacting to changes and stimuli as they go. These changes will likely come

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from the players, but they might also be drawn from other factions, or possibly some
long sequence of chain reactions born over time.
Early on, it’s not a bad idea to have more random developments. We have several
presented here to consider, but after a time, you might find them unnecessary; drama
and tension will grow between factions and players on their own, and so developments
will occur based on what happens in the game.

FACTION DEVELOPMENT
d20 Development

1 The faction recovers an artifact that the player characters were searching for.

2 There is an abrupt change in the faction’s leadership.

3 The faction suffers heavy losses to a monster or another faction.

4 The faction claims a ruin or other strategic location.

5 The faction fortifies their base.

6 Members of the faction are captured by another.

7 An unexpected element discovers the faction’s base.

8 A splinter group breaks away from the faction.

9 The faction loses control of one of their outposts.

10 Natural disaster strikes the faction, at their base or elsewhere.

11 The faction unearths lost knowledge or ancient secrets.

12 The next step in the faction’s grand master plan is executed.

13 The faction lures the player characters into a trap.

14 A contract or agreement is made between two factions.

15 A covenant between the faction and another is broken.

16 The faction moves to war against another.

17 A once-lost source of power, such as an ally or artifact, suddenly reappears.

18 The faction’s rank-and-file members grow displeased.

19 The faction triggers a long-forgotten curse or malediction.

20 The faction is contacted by denizens of another plane.

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Dungeons
Throughout the West Marches, relics of the past and visages of present horrors seed the
land with darkness and mystery. Ruins of long-lost civilizations, camps of terrible
monsters, convents of maleficent beings, and more all comprise a tapestry of challenges
that bind the world together. These are the dungeons of the West Marches, the places
and structures that serve as strongholds for the player characters in your game to
conquer.
In the context of your West Marches game, “dungeons” refer to any isolated
series of areas that contain hostile enemies or challenges. Often, this is a literal dungeon
beneath a castle, but it might also be a ghost town, abandoned temple, monster hive, or
something else similar.

Principles
The principles of creating dungeons fall around three essential questions: First, what’s
the hook? Second, how is difficulty telegraphed? And third, what do they learn? As you
create dungeons, ensure that you can answer each of these questions for the dungeon
itself.

The Hook
The West Marches are vast, cluttered, and full of things for adventurers to do. This
means that, for an average dungeon, there is a lot of competition. Your players will not
be able to do everything, and thus will have to prioritize. The hook, then, is that which
draws the player in; the obvious, noteworthy, easily-visible thing that captures the
players’ attention.
Hooks come in a variety of forms. The most well-known is the quest hook, in
which a quest, usually given by an NPC, directs the player characters towards the
dungeon. Another common hook is that of simple curiosity: if a mine entrance glows red
at dusk or a graveyard emanates strange song, players will come simply to satisfy their
own curiosity. Another hook is more monstrous: if players observe a monster going to or
from a location, they’ll be drawn to it with the promise of treasure. Dragons are most
well-known for this, but there are other hoarders in the Marches.
Whatever the hook for your dungeon, it should be intriguing, noticeable, and
mysterious. The hook is to lure players to the dungeon, to tempt them with dangers and
riches within, and to keep it on their minds when planning missions.

Telegraphing Danger
When players first encounter a dungeon, they will be uncertain about it. If they are
clever players, they will poke and prod, looking for a sign of how challenging the

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dungeon will be. If they are foolish players, they will charge straight in, risking life and
limb in pursuit of glory.
Whichever the case, it is important that a dungeon telegraph its difficulty, and do
it early. This means that, before the dungeon begins in earnest, there must be a way for
players to determine its overall difficulty, to gauge their own strength relative to the
dungeon’s. If you don’t telegraph a dungeon’s difficulty, players will either get in far over
their heads far too quickly and die a grisly death, or else will be afraid of dungeons, and
thus consistently over-leveled for the dungeons they do complete.
The most straightforward way to telegraph danger in a dungeon is to have an
encounter that players can easily retreat from. Often, this is the guardian of the door of
the dungeon or the first encounter of the dungeon itself. Players have yet to go deep into
the dungeon proper, and thus are able to retreat early if things awry. While locking
players in dungeons might seem an exciting challenge, it is arguably the most dangerous
trap of all, as it means that if they misjudged the dungeon’s overall danger, they are
doomed.
Other ways to telegraph danger include: locking the key the dungeon behind
another encounter (or entire dungeon), thus requiring players to defeat that initial
encounter to begin the dungeon; being warned of the dungeon by reliable NPCs, ones
that the players can trust the word of; placing the dungeon in a hard-to-reach location,
such as the top of a cliff (requiring flight) or deep underwater (requiring water
breathing).
However you decide to do so, it is vital to telegraph the danger of a dungeon
before the players fully commit. Doing otherwise will get them killed or make players far
too skittish, and make the experience worse for everyone.

Information Learned
Along with experience and treasure, information is one of the great currencies of the
Marches. Initially, the players will have absolutely no idea what is happening the
Marches; they will have fragments of lore and snippets of history, but will always be
seeking more knowledge. Because of this, dungeons should not only pose challenge and
reward loot, but also illuminate secrets.
As you create your dungeon, consider what information is implicit in its physical
creation: worked stone bears different significance than raw earth, which bears different
significance than overgrown flagstones. Players will take notice of even the smallest
details, and so you should be deliberate in your choices. The garb of enemies, the make
of treasure, the languages used, the architecture of the space—all and more carry
implicit information, and thus should be carefully accounted for.
Beyond the implicit information, many dungeons can provide other, more direct
sources of information. Scrolls and writings, reliefs and carvings, prophecies and

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decrees—all can be found in dungeons, and thus all can provide insight into the world.
NPCs can do the same, though they require more caution and restraint. For more
information on lore and incorporating it elegantly into your game, see page 91.
More than the literal information conveyed, however, it’s important that
dungeons convey that knowledge in the first place. If players complete a dungeon and
there is absolutely no new insight to be gleaned, they will feel cheated. That said, if
players complete a dungeon in a region they’ve outclassed and only find information
they already know—that is good dungeon design. Information, like loot and experience,
should always be pushing players further out, deeper into the Marches.

Types of Dungeons
Very few dungeons are built as a series of encounters for a band of adventuring heroes
to overcome. This may be obvious to you, but it cannot be forgotten. Dungeons were
made, in their original incarnation by their original creators, for some explicit purpose,
or perhaps multiple purposes. A literal dungeon is built to hold prisoners, a temple is
built for worship, a vault is built to protect treasures, and so on.
Often, the best starting place in designing a dungeon is to consider the dungeon’s
original purpose, which may still be its current purpose. This in turn informs how the
dungeon itself should be designed.
These common, overarching purposes across dungeons lend some level of
similarity across dungeons with the same original purpose: similar layouts, enemies,
encounters, and narratives. This general lumping of commonalities are collectively
referred to as the dungeon’s basic type.

DUNGEON TYPES
d20 Dungeon d20 Dungeon

1 Fortress. 11 Maze.

2 Temple. 12 Nest.

3 Catacombs. 13 Tomb.

4 Caverns. 14 Palace.

5 Death Trap. 15 Vault.

6 Forge. 16 Mine.

7 Manor. 17 Sewer.

8 Shrine. 18 Lair.

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 9 Library. 19 Mountainside.

10 Laboratory. 20 Planar Gate.

Obviously, there are many more types of dungeons than these, and many variations of
these dungeons not mentioned.

Layers of Dungeon History

As with all things in the West Marches, dungeons are layered in history (for more on
layers of history in general, see page 92). Nothing simply just exists; everything in a
dungeon must come from somewhere. In the case of dungeons, layers of history might
very well refer to actual, physical layers, built of wood and stone and blood.
Given that the West Marches are ancient and much-forgotten, there is a high
chance that many existing dungeons are built on the remnants of older, forgotten
dungeons. A goblin camp, for example, might be made in the ruins of a temple to a
forgotten god, which in turn is built on the site of an ancient tomb. A cult might take up
residence in an abandoned fortress built by giants, which was likewise situated atop an
age-old mining shaft. A dragon might make its lair in a fortress built by dwarves, itself
designed around the tunnels dug by a purple worm. Layers upon layers upon layers.
Building in layers to dungeons is the best way to demonstrate the depth and
complexity of your Marches, of all the history and knowledge that players might
uncover.

Layered Exploration
As player characters explore a dungeon, they should explore not only the most recent
elements of history, but also the history that might be found there. In most cases, the
deeper history of a dungeon is a prize for inquisitive players: inobservant and overeager
players might miss such hidden secrets, but players that dig deep should be rewarded
with knowledge.
Because of this, it can be a good idea to hide answers to longer, overarching
questions concerning lore and history beneath a layer of history. Orcs dwelling in
ancient catacombs pay no mind to the inscriptions on dead kings’ tombs, but for
adventurers in search of secrets, those tombs may be a treasure trove. However, given
that the orcs do not directly guard the tombs, players are unlikely to view them as
treasure inherently; it takes a curious eye to realize their value.
Exploring through the various layers of history present in a dungeon can, in many
cases, be as rewarding as the combat and physical challenges of the dungeon itself.

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Mechanical Layers
Ancient things are dangerous; every adventurer worth their salt knows this. If players
descend into a region of the dungeon that suddenly shifts towards the very old and
long-forgotten, they will know to be on their guard.
You can use this to your advantage: the layers of history in your dungeon can very
easily become layers of challenge as well. Consider, for a moment, the passage deeper
into catacombs marked with a forgotten tongue, carved in an unusual fashion, as if by
flame. This will draw the curiosity and fear of all players; this is a good thing. Layers of
history will lure players ever deeper into the Marches, but it will bring with them
challenge. Ancient things are dangerous; make this true in the Marches.
For more information are tiers of danger in dungeons, see the next section.

Danger
Dungeons should, above all, be dangerous. Dungeons are where monsters thrive, foes
build in strength, and evil constantly lurks. It’s entirely possible to have a series of
rooms, underground, that were once used as a prison—this is a dungeon, yes, but
without monsters and challenge, it is no true dungeon.

Baseline Difficulty
By default, dungeons can be a higher difficulty than the surrounding regions. This is not
to say that every dungeon should be more dangerous, just that players are far, far less
likely to stumble by chance into a dungeon than they are an entire region. Because of
this, dungeons have the option to be significantly beyond the region’s power level:
players only willfully go into dungeons, so if they choose something beyond their power,
that is on them.
That said, like regions, dungeons should maintain the same level of difficulty
across the encounters. Some can be considered “medium” difficulty and some “hard”
difficulty, but overall, the encounters should be appropriate across a single level of
challenge. To do otherwise will, as with other areas of the game, unfairly kill players or
make them far too skittish.

Dungeon Tiers
In some cases, it can be appropriate to have different “tiers” of dungeon built into the
same overall structure. Consider an abandoned seaside castle: the top levels have been
taken over by bloodthirsty sahuagin, but the lower levels may be infested with angry
water elementals. The top half of the castle is one level of danger, the lower levels are
another.
This sort of dungeon design allows you to effectively roll two dungeons into one,
and there are all manner of interesting narrative beats that can derive from having

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tiered dungeon threat levels in this way. It is important, however, to clearly demarcate
the levels of dungeon if you do this; if the next room in a dungeon suddenly jumps in
difficulty with no warning, your dungeon has poor design. Be sure to make your
telegraphing extra clear ahead of time, and to have the first encounter or two be easily
backed-out of.

Attrition and Rests

More than anything, Fifth Edition is a game of attrition and resource conservation. If
fully rested, a party can take on nearly any encounter, regardless of the supposed
danger. On the flipside, if a party has been through a gauntlet of encounters, even
once-easy fights can rapidly grow difficult, even for a high-level party.
Because of this, while the danger level of a dungeon is influenced by its average
encounter level and the like, it is also strongly determined from the sheer number of
encounters in the dungeon. More specifically, difficulty is influenced by how many
encounters must be completed before the party is able to rest. If a party can take a short
rest between every encounter, they will have little difficulty with a dungeon; if a party
can take a long rest between every encounter, they will crush the dungeon with
impunity.
As you design dungeons, be careful to take into account how many encounters
there are and the ability of the party to rest—more than the encounters themselves, this
will determine how the dungeon fares.

On Return
Players leave dungeons unfinished for many reasons. Sometimes, players will attempt a
dungeon, defeat one or two encounters, realize it is too difficult for them, and retreat.
Sometimes, players will find a massive sprawling mega-dungeon, teeming with enemies,
meaning they must deal with the dungeon in chunks. Sometimes, players will clear the
majority of a dungeon, but find a single treasure room that is too well-guarded for them,
and so must return later. And sometimes, players will delve into a dungeon, lose a party
member or three, and be forced to flee for fear of death.
All of these are perfectly fine! It’s alright for player characters to clear part of a
dungeon on a mission, retreat and return home, and then schedule another mission to
finish it off at a later date. This sort of backtracking allows players an opportunity to
form personal goals and a stronger relationship to the fixtures within the Marches.
Allow players to prioritize their dungeon excursions in this way. Remember,
players should be able to create their own goals and pursue them without explicit
direction from non-player characters.In a traditional game, it might be expected that
once the party enters the dungeon, they will either emerge in victory or defeat, never to
return regardless of the outcome. In the West Marches, however, the framing devices

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and system-driven nature of these rules and tenets affords the game a capacity to
explore the grey areas between winning and losing, between frustration and satisfaction.
By creating dungeons that must be returned to later, you diverge from this traditional
format, and can unlock the possibility of more interesting conflict than the game is
traditionally capable of bringing out.

Locked Doors
In some dungeons, there will be doors, barriers, walls, and other such blockages that, in
order to pass, demand some token. This might be a key, a pass-code, a magic item, a
certain bit of knowledge, or something else that can only be acquired elsewhere. In
essence, these kinds of locked doors require something that can only be gotten outside
of the current dungeon, and thus demand that players return. (Obviously, enemies will
sometimes just lock doors, to be picked or broken or magically breached. These are fine,
and a good gameplay challenge. This refers to “locked doors” in a more metaphorical
sense, as obstacles that demand a later return to the dungeon.)
On the one hand, these can present a fun mystery for players: they will wonder
and grow curious, and seek the necessary solution to the locked door. It can drive them
to further exploration, to engage with more of the world.
On the flipside, these locked doors can be frustrating. All players have the instinct
to complete everything presented, and so to be presented with an impasse can sap their
overall enjoyment of a dungeon. It means that they cannot simply be done with this
dungeon, and that they must return at a later date. Viewed in a certain light, a locked
door is a dictate from the GM—“You must do this to advance.”
Because of this, use these locked doors sparingly. When built up to and presented
well, the are a compelling and exciting prospect, but when placed without forethought,
they are nothing more than an aggrievance.

Dungeon Ecology
Dungeons are not just fixtures for the player characters to enter, pillage, and forget
about. They can serve as the perfect clime for rare plants, a habitat for roaming
monsters, or even an advantageous position for enemy factions to set up a base. When a
dungeon is left alone for long enough, consider changing the terms of engagement with
it unexpectedly; this is a fantastic way to breathe life into the world of the Marches, and
adds variety to the experience of returning to a dungeon.
Different kinds of change can happen when the player characters leave a
dungeon. A breached dungeon poses a special opportunity to certain external forces
that might make it their home, clean up the player characters’ mess, or cash in on a
detail that the player characters missed. Otherwise, if the dungeon’s inhabitants are left

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to their own devices, or the dungeon’s master is left undefeated, the dungeon’s current
dwellers might execute plans of their own.

External Forces
If the stone door to a tomb is cracked open, dead monsters lay about, and it’s clear that
the front three rooms of the tomb are empty, the dungeon enters open season for
scavengers and opportunists.
In some cases, these may be natural: wild beasts might be drawn to the scent of
blood, mushrooms and fungi sprout on corpses, and sunlight streams into forgotten
crypts. In some cases, these may be more monstrous: corpse-eaters begin feasting, a
wandering monster makes a new den, or a local band of goblinoids takes up residence.
And in some cases, these opportunists may be entirely unnatural: undead begin to stir,
fiends are summoned by the bloodshed, or aberrant beings might take a sudden interest.
Whatever the cause, external forces can easily move into or around the dungeon,
suddenly changing the nature of the challenge. Depending on the time that the player
characters have been away, these external forces may just be moving in, or they may
have already set up long-term habitation.
When appropriate, a nearby faction might seize the opportunity to claim a
dungeon, whether for its treasures or as a new outpost. For more information on
factions and their behavior, see page 61.

Current Dwellers
If adventurers delve into a nest of giant spiders and only breach the first three rooms,
the spider queen still dwells within, and thus her brood shall spread once more. In many
dungeons, if the source of the evil within is not extinguished, it is highly likely that
whatever evils once dwelt in the dungeon will return.
In some cases, as with our spider queen, these may natural: beasts breed, soldiers
recruit, and plants regrow. In other cases, as is more likely, the cause is more unnatural:
monsters spawn forth from pits, necromancers raise undead anew, and more beings
from the planes are summoned. On top of this, physical artifice is employed as well,
regardless of the source of the evil: walls rebuilt, traps reset, and defenses reinforced.
Unlike external forces, current dwellers in dungeons are less likely to alter the
nature of the dungeon overall in a dramatic fashion. Instead, they tend to redouble their
efforts, adding further strength to their existing methods. Because of this, players
returning to unfinished dungeons will likely have a clearer idea of what to expect.
However, just as player characters learn more about a dungeon by delving into it,
wily and cunning enemies learn more about the adventurers that come to their door. If,
for example, adventurers storm a mage’s tower and then retreat, a learned mage will
remember them and their methods, and thus be more prepared. Traps might be set to

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ensnare specific characters, spells will be prepared to counter those already used, and
overall, clever enemies will shift their tactics to exploit the players’ weaknesses.
It’s also worth considering factions, and their behavior around half-finished
dungeons. Bold and proud factions tend to reinforce dungeons that have been partially
cleared, but more skittish factions might abandon them. Likewise, nearby factions
should take notice if a rival’s base of operations has been cleared, and will act according
to their own methods. For more on factions and their behavior, see page 61.

The point of systemically encouraging dungeons to change while the player characters
are out is to layer a sense of persistence onto them. If players are made to understand
that the actions they take (or don’t take) to affect the spaces in your world are
meaningful or have unintended consequences, your world will feel more whole as a
result. Changing a dungeon in this way is yet another tool in your arsenal as a GM to
convey the power of the players’ actions.
If you need to quickly come up with a way to mutate the terms of engagement for
a dungeon to signify the passage of time in your game, roll on the table below. Consider
creating tables specific to the details of your world, or even to those of specific
dungeons:

WHILE YOU WERE AWAY...

d20 Meanwhile...

1 Rooms or whole wings of the dungeon collapsed.

2 The main entrance was filled in, naturally or artificially.

3 The floor of the dungeon caved in, exposing deeper layers.

4 Underground-dwellers accidentally tunneled into the dungeon.

5 The dungeon was overtaken by a nearby faction.

6 All the traps and defenses in the dungeon were sprung.

7 A wandering fey has bewitched the denizens of the dungeon.

8 The dungeon’s original creator or creators returned, at least temporarily.

9 A desperate thief or runaway stashed some new artifact in the dungeon.

10 Enterprising goblins have taken up residence in the abandoned part of the dungeon.

11 New layers of traps and riddles were added.

12 A family of owlbears moved into the dungeon.

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 13 A source of clean water has formed, through natural springs or rainfall.

14 A necromancer has begun plundering the dungeon for bodies.

15 A different band of would-be dungeoneers are in the midst of clearing the dungeon.

16 Corpse-eaters of some variety have begun infesting the dungeon.

17 A cache of natural resources, such as gold or rare mushrooms, has been found within.

18 Another entrance, natural or artificial, has opened into the dungeon.

19 Gelatinous oozes have begun consuming everything in the dungeon.

20 A portal to another plane opened within the dungeon.

Dungeon Bosses
In the context of Fifth Edition—and most games as a whole—a boss refers to a singular
enemy that is in charge of an entire dungeon. This is the general that commands their
hobgoblin legions, the necromancer that raises their undead, and the dragon that rules
their kobolds. They are the biggest, baddest monster in the dungeon, and they know it.
In most cases, the boss of a particular dungeon is the final foe to be defeated, and
thus guards the most valuable treasure. They are the most challenging single enemy,
and they represent the dungeon as a whole. A well-designed boss fight can bring an
entire dungeon together from a mechanical, narrative, and thematic perspective.

Boss Difficulty
Bosses should be dangerous, first and foremost. They should be a fight to remember, to
cherish, to savor. A good boss fight will have players at the edge of their seats for the
entire encounter; relief after a victory should be palpable.
That said, the difficulty of a boss encounter, like all combat in Fifth Edition, is
based on attrition. If players have the chance to complete a full rest before facing the
boss, they will crush them; if they have just fought through six nigh-deadly chambers,
they stand no chance. Bosses should always have some fights between them and the past
long rest; short rests are more variable, depending on the cleverness of the party.
Furthermore, if a boss is the single enemy in the room and is not equipped with
legendary actions, they will be defeated. A party of three to six adventurers simply has
too many actions, too many health pools, for a single enemy to defeat. If the boss
monster has legendary actions, that evens the score, but not entirely. If a boss is a single
enemy and does not have legendary actions, they should always have some additional,
lower-level enemies with them.

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 These lower-level enemies, their minions, serve myriad purposes: they soften up
the party, they require more tactics to deal with, they even out the action economy of the
encounter, they enable certain party- and boss-strategies, and they let the players feel
good as they strive to defeat a challenging enemy. Minions are important in a boss fight,
and should be included more often than not.

Bosses as Narrative
Singular, powerful enemies capture the imagination. They are the focal point of an
entire dungeon, and can often serve as the lynchpin to a dungeon’s—or even whole
region’s—narrative. Consider the necromancer in a forest haunted by undead; they are
the cause of all the evils, the source of all challenge, and the single recurring point across
the region. Their allies and minions praise their name; their enemies curse them.
Whether or not the players know their name, they will recognize that this particular
necromancer has caused them a great deal of stress, and thus will aim to defeat them.
Players set goals based on the challenges they face, and boss monsters are emblematic of
that entire process.
While this is excellent narrative on its own, bosses can also serve as key pieces of
the region’s lore. Depending on how old the boss is, they may be a recent occupant, a
weathered foe, an ancient evil, or an elder being long forgotten. In the case of all of the
older bosses, they often serve as the last relic or remnant of a bygone age. Because the
boss endures when others have fallen, they must contain answers, and so players will be
drawn to them.
As you design the bosses of your dungeons, consider how they achieved such
power, and what they must have done along the way. The more powerful the enemy, the
longer their trail of ruin. Enemies of significant import should be be mentioned, in
hurried whisper and scrawled script, early and often. Their reputation, their legend,
should be built over time. When players do face them, they will be all the more curious,
and thus all the more driven to discover their secrets.

Treasure Rooms
One of the common types of challenge unique to the West Marches is the treasure room.
A treasure room is a singular encounter, or perhaps short set of encounters, that is of
significantly greater challenge than the rest of the dungeon, but contains significantly
greater treasure. Most often, this is simply an exceptionally difficult combat encounter,
but might also include a physical aspect, such as being underwater or across a huge gap.
Treasure rooms are an important draw of the Marches; they push dungeons
towards the more unpredictable, more wild, more self-determined. When first
encountering, say, an Iron Golem, the current party will be spooked, and decide to
return later. Once they’ve returned to town and explained to the other characters that

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there is an Iron Golem guarding a treasure room, other players will start thinking, and
start making plans.
This is good gameplay! Huge, specific challenges that can be taken on at any time
are an excellent way for players to flex their creativity. They can devise their own
schemes, plan in detail, and try to take on challenges significantly above their own level.
Part of what enables the West Marches as a setting to work so completely is the
flexibility and freedom to take on challenges at players’ own pace.
With that in mind, however, it is possible to over-do treasure rooms. As
mentioned with the aforementioned locked doors, players gravitate towards completing
all available content. If they cannot do so, whether by being outclassed in power level or
by heavily-blocked door, they will feel bad in the moment. Sometimes, this is alright;
treasure rooms do have value. However, if there are too many treasure rooms, it will
begin to feel as if every dungeon is impossible to complete, and players will lose
motivation to continue. This is doubly true if the loot in the primary dungeon is weak or
lackluster; nothing feels worse than having your accomplishments overshadowed.

Compartmentalizing
Dungeons are compartmentalized. The monsters and enemies that dwell inside a
dungeon, while they may have some influence over the region, do not often leave the
dungeon. Monsters from other rooms might very well attack mid-dungeon, but it would
be strange design indeed to have monsters from an entirely separate dungeon attack
mid-dungeon.
The same holds true of treasure rooms. Treasure rooms should be
compartmentalized; that is, they should be their own distinct challenge within the
dungeon as a whole. If the huge, powerful monster that guards the treasure room
attacks players elsewhere in the dungeon, that is not a treasure room, that is a boss
fight. Treasure rooms need to stay confined, and their guardians should not attack
players unless provoked.

Treasure Room Difficulty

As with boss fights, treasure rooms should be dangerous, first and foremost. However,
as with bosses, the difficulty of a treasure room is dependent on attrition: the number of
encounters players had to deal with beforehand, and thus how many resources they
were forced to spend.
Due to the fact that treasure rooms are designed with the explicit goal of skipping
them the first time and then returning, there is a high chance that players tackling
treasure rooms will be fully rested. Because of this, you should not hesitate to have
treasure rooms be exceptionally difficult relative to both the dungeon around them and
the region as a whole.

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 Furthermore, treasure rooms are an excellent place to have encounters where
players must juggle multiple factors all at once. A fight with a Sphinx is one thing; a fight
with a Sphinx in a room that is missing three-quarters of its floor and is also slowly
filling with deadly gas is entirely another. These additional factors must, of course, be
telegraphed in detail ahead of time, but they make for excellent encounters. Because
treasure rooms are observed before being tackled—more so than most dungeon
rooms—it is more acceptable to have a large variety of challenges all built into one
encounter. Players will see and record those to plan around, as a group; if they don’t,
that’s their own fault.

Treasure Rooms as Narrative

As you build your treasure rooms, carefully consider how and why the narrative of that
treasure room exists. Why is there a special section of the dungeon that’s been
separated? Why is there a single significant challenge protecting it? Why is the best loot
in the dungeon placed only in this chamber?
If not answered well, treasure rooms will feel arbitrary. They will feel too game-y,
too unexplained, too placed there solely for the challenge. The best-designed treasure
rooms are oddities, exceptions, and anomalies to the normal story of the dungeon. They
should be strange, intriguing, unusual, and, above all, tempting. If players do not get a
taste of what power lies beyond the deadliest threats, they will not return.

Encounter Design
Combat is at the heart of the game’s rules. Most encounters involve combat, characters’
power is measured in their ability to win combats, and most experience is earned
through combat. Having challenging and engaging combat is a core component of an
overall positive game experience.
Too often, it’s easy for GMs to slip into simple fights in blank, 60’ x 60’ rooms,
where the only goal is to butcher the enemies before they can kill you. These are boring
combats; they do not make for exciting gameplay. To combat this, there are five factors
to consider to make for good gameplay: darkness and visibility, water and other terrain,
verticality, hazards, and focusing combat outside of pure damage.

Darkness and Visibility

Nearly all monsters in Fifth Edition are equipped with darkvision or some other means
to see without light. Many player characters are as well, but it is far less common; in
most parties, there will be at least one character that requires a source of light to see.
Any monster with even a bare modicum of intelligence knows this, and will use it to
their advantage. (Also, remember the distinction between dim light and darkness, and
how those rules vary!)

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 Fights that shift from being well-lit to being in sudden darkness are exciting.
When half the party suddenly is blind, it demands solutions in the moment, often
imperfect ones. Juggling weapons and light is stressful, but makes for tense, gripping
fights, ones that will not be forgotten.
Even if the party is entirely composed of characters that can see in the dark, there
are still ways for visibility to come into play. Fog, mist, smoke, sand, and steam can all
obscure sightlines; many spells can summon these, too. Furthermore, many monsters
have darkvision at ranges beyond ordinary player characters’—being peppered with
arrows from a place you cannot see is a tough challenge, regardless of level.
Visibility forces your players to think of other means of detection, and changes
the power levels of a fight with ease.

Water and Terrain

The archetypal dungeon has a floor made of worked, flat stone. This is a useful baseline,
but gets boring fast. Likewise, many combats take place outside of dungeons, where
terrain and footing is anything but certain.
A forest floor choked with roots and undergrowth; a craggy hillside, dotted with
stones; a frozen lake, solid in places but weak in others—all are examples of terrain that
suddenly shift the dynamic of a fight. They require attention, careful movement, and
unusual, shifting strategies.
Likewise, water in any shape or form dramatically changes a fight. At its most
simple, a combat that is entirely underwater follows different rules. However, there are
many watery fights that are not so simple: a fight in a half-sunken marsh, or in a rickety
rowboat, or in a room slowly filling with water. Each presents a different challenge for
the players to tackle outside of combat, and allows a different set of abilities to come
into play.
Water and terrain hem movement and traversal, and demand rigor and tough
decision-making from players.

Verticality
All creatures in the game have a walking speed. Some creatures in the game have a
climbing speed; some fewer have a flying speed. Any monster equipped with either
should make full use of it, and even many that do not. Any variation in height in a
combat, be it from trees or cliffsides or floating buildings, is good.
Verticality makes ranges of spells and weapons more nuanced, adds in more
dynamic movement in the fight, and introduces the threat of gravity. There is an
assumption that verticality is beneficial only to ranged attackers, but this is untrue.
Melee attackers have myriad more options, from pushing to climbing to dropping large

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objects; characters with strong physical statistics, for climbing and not falling, will find
themselves at an advantage.
Verticality adds dynamism and an additional dimension to combat, and unlocks
all manner of new strategies.

Hazards
Nothing makes combat more exciting than additional threats from the environment. In
a marshland, this might be pools of quicksand; in a volcanic region, this might be
sudden geysers; underground, it is the threat of cave-ins. Hazards themselves are
detailed on page 36.
In combat, hazards are both something to fear and something to welcome.
Sudden rockslides can crush an ally, but if triggered with intent, they can also decimate
an enemy. If a player knows that loud noises bring avalanches, they can wait until the
enemy is the ideal position to bring down the mountain.
From a design perspective, hazards can sometimes be tricky to communicate
well. Like all encounters, they must be telegraphed; this can be done on a
region-by-region basis, but it is also good to remind players of it in-combat. One
effective way to demonstrate a hazard is to have the first sign—such as ice cracking
beneath weight or an oncoming flash flood—not affect the combat directly, instead
striking somewhere a safe distance away. As the encounter or dungeon progresses,
players will learn to spot the signs of such hazards, and will be able to turn them to their
own advantage.

Focus Combat Outside of Damage

The most basic element of combat is the attack roll. It is the thing that is rolled most
often, that deals direct damage, and can be said to have the most impact on a fight.
However, if combat were only about dealing damage, there would be no need for any
combat rules other than simple attack rolls; we would simply roll once or twice to see
who fought better, and that would be it.
Combat is at its best when there is an additional goal to be had other than simply
seeing the enemy slain. This can take on many forms: solving a puzzle, fleeing a
chamber, carrying off loot, protecting a friend, breaching deeper into the dungeon—all
are good goals to have outside of strict damage. It gives players a goal other than simply
“dealing maximum damage,” and pushes them to new spaces of play and design.
It also adds tension to the fight. It’s tough to defeat a Chimera, yes, but if you
must do so while also attempting to complete a ritual to seal away an ancient curse, that
is all the more tense. Other goals add ticking clocks, rogue elements, sudden
contingencies, and more—all in service of good combat, and good drama.

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 Focusing combat outside of pure damage will allow players to shine in
unexpected ways, and build the stakes and tension of combat on the whole.

Loot
When players clear a tier of a dungeon, award them with treasure appropriate for that
dungeon segment’s tier. Much of the economy of the West Marches, including the price
and availability of certain services offered by the inhabitants of the Town (see the Town
section for details) as well as the internal exchange rate of goods and services that
players can offer to one another, are contingent on the balance of loot. Since gathering
treasure from dungeons is essentially the only way for players to gain wealth in the West
Marches, and considering that that wealth is useless in the untamed wilderness except
in the form of magical items that enhance the player characters’ abilities to gain more
wealth, and as capital with which to procure services from Townspeople, always
consider balancing the contents of treasure rooms against what players can accomplish
with the treasure they take from dungeons with respect to their own character
development as well as the development of the Town.
Avoid tailoring magical items specifically for player characters in a West Marches
game. This common practice, while it has its virtues at many tables, interferes with
some of the most powerful aspects of the West Marches. Nothing erodes the facade of
the world not having been made specifically to facilitate the player characters’ success
more quickly than an item that is all too conveniently placed.
That’s not to say that player characters cannot succeed, of course, or that they
cannot find items that they can make use of. It simply means that the GM of a West
Marches game is responsible for placing the configuration of the world before certain
conventional aspects of rewarding players.
For instance, a dungeon which rewards a dragon slayer in the treasure at its
completion because the party’s fighter would like one is an underdeveloped reason for
that specific item to have been rewarded. However, a dungeon that rewards a dragon
slayer because an ancient order of knights sealed it within the dungeon’s vault as their
final act before being overwhelmed by draconic forces in hopes that someday someone
would find it and beat back the dragons that saw to their demise, or anything else
equally steeped in history, is a much more compelling reward.
Treasure founded in the Marches’ layers of history that exists without stepping on
the players’ ability to make decisions about that treasure that they recover allows them
to take part in those layers of history, and thus become more engaged with the world.

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CHAPTER IV
NARRATIVE

At the core of all roleplaying games lies narrative, and Fifth Edition is no different. In
the West Marches, however, narrative takes on a different role: there is no preset story,
no core plot line, and no specifics the story must fulfill. This chapter delves deeper into
the theory of how stories are told in roleplaying games, and how to best adjust and fit
those stories into the West Marches.
The story of the West Marches is the story of what the player characters do. What
missions they take on, what quests they set for themselves, what history they uncover,
and what deeds they accomplish. If the players hold something to be important to their
story, it is; if they deem something useless to their narrative, it is as well.
You as the GM will set the stage, but is the players who are the actors.

Mechanics and Narrative

Because the West Marches have no plot or central storyline, the primary tools left to tell
a story are the mechanics of the game. You, the GM, can use the mechanics of the game,
just as the players can, too.
Mechanics are the shared rules about how the world, and thus the story, operates.
Dice are rolled when the outcome of a story beat is in question; the modifiers to a die
roll reflect the conditions of the world. Things cannot happen in the West Marches
simply because the GM or players want them to; they must be reflected in the
mechanics. New mechanics can be written, certainly—that’s what this whole book is
about—but things cannot be done just “for the story.”

Principles
The principles of mastering mechanics and narrative in the West Marches are linked:
the mechanics are the narrative, and the narrative is the mechanics. What this means is
that everything that happens in terms of the mechanics—attack rolls, ability checks,
saving throws—is reflected in the narrative, and that everything that happens in the
narrative—travel, exploration, combat, social interaction—is reflected in the mechanics.
Mechanics are designed to describe specific elements of the narrative, primarily
those revolving around uncertainty. Attack rolls describe the uncertainty of combat; one
attack roll is one attack against an enemy. We do not describe the exact blows of combat
or the precise ways in which the enemy is damaged: we abstract these into the attack
modifier and hitpoints. This process is true of every other mechanic in the game: it
represents something in the world of the story, which we as players abide by.

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 Because of this, you should—cannot, even—treat the mechanics and the narrative
as two separate components. They are one and the same: the mechanics are the
narrative, and the narrative is the mechanics. If you or any of your players ask what the
“story” of the West Marches, tell them to look to what they do; exploring, fighting,
interacting. The story of the Marches are that which your players tell through action.

Do Not Fudge Dice

There is a tendency among GMs of all manner of roleplaying games to “fudge” dice—that
is, to change the results of their own (hidden) dice rolls. GMs do this to ensure
particular story beats go as planned, to spare or damn their players, to build or reduce
tension, and for myriad other reasons. Many GMs argue that fudging dice is good for the
game, as it allows you to exercise finer control over the experience.
In the West Marches, do not fudge dice.
There are numerous reasons for this, but three stand out: it robs the players of
choice, it undermines the unpredictability of the Marches, and it addresses symptoms,
not causes.
Do not fudge dice.

Player Choice
The West Marches, as both a setting and a structure for the game, emphasize player
choice. It is the players that decide where they go, what their goals are, what they do on
a mission, and how they solve the problems presented. If the players do not decide to do
something, it does not happen.
Part of what grants players this freedom is the promise that their actions will
have real impact. As GM of a West Marches game, you are agreeing that it is by their
determination that the game occurs, not some predestined plan. It means that you and
the players both know what they do matters.
To ignore the results of dice is to override the rules of the game. It is a statement
by you, the GM, that your word and decision matter more than the other players’, who
cannot change the results of their dice. It places your will higher than theirs, and thus
denies them the chance to freely make choices.

Unpredictability
The West Marches, in terms of mechanics, is system-driven. Much of the game is
contingent on dice rolls to generate content: weather, navigation, hazards, combat—all
hinge on the roll of dice. Because there are no pre-decided plot elements or rigid
certainties in the courses of an adventure, the game instead turns to dice.
Dice are used because they are an agreement between player, GM, and designer
on the basic tenets of how the world works. Rules are an expression of reality, and we

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use dice to simulate those parts of reality that we cannot perfectly control. In the
Marches, there are a lot of parts that cannot be controlled, and so we use a lot of dice.
Part of the experience of the Marches is that success is, in large and small ways
alike, contingent on chance. That unpredictability, the knowledge that sometimes the
world will treat you well and sometimes treat you poorly, is essential to the game. It
fuels the drama, the tension. When you fudge dice, you remove this drama; rather than
the future being unknown, you make it known—but only to you, the GM.

Symptoms, not Causes

Some GMs fudge dice because their encounters take an unexpected swing; some fudge
dice because their players are about to miss some important content; some fudge dice
because they want (or don’t want) a specific moment to occur.
In each of these cases, fudging dice addresses the symptom of the problem, not
the cause. Fudging dice is a patch, a band-aid, rather than truly getting to the root of the
issue and solving that.
Combat taking an unexpected swing is either born of dice—in which case it’s just
an outlier, and not to be corrected—or it is because the fight was poorly designed, or
worse, poorly telegraphed. Missing important content occurs when a region or dungeon
isn’t designed properly, as it directs players in a way other than that which the GM
intended. The chance of specific moments occurring or not is to be embraced, rather
than reviled.
In each case, fudging dice is not a long-term solution to design or methodological
issues. Read your notes, think critically about your design, and revise constantly. Do not
fudge dice.

Verisimilitude
“Verisimilitude” can be reasonably defined as “the quality of appearing true.” It refers to
things—people, places, events, and so on—that feel legitimate, correct, real. This is
separate from realism, loosely defined as that “which resembles real life,” and
simulationism, generally defined as the quality of things being “would they actually
would be.” These are all a little rough-and-ready in terms of strict definition, but the
distinction is important.
Realism is what resembles our world, real life, as it is. In a fantasy setting,
realism goes out the window from the start. It’s a common argument that “fantasy
doesn’t need to seem real, since there’s dragons and magic!”
This is wrong.
Yes, obviously, fantasy settings contain dragons and magic, but that does not
excuse wild improbabilities, wild leaps of logic, or errant behavioral patterns. A core
part of telling a story set in a fictional setting is establishing the rules of the setting, and

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then adhering to them. If you craft characters that should, by the rules of the setting,
behave in a certain way but then do not, or if you build a region that claims to uphold
strict laws yet then breaks them, the world will seem fake.
You don’t need to make a world that is “realistic,” but you do need to make one
that can withstand scrutiny; not realism, but verisimilitude.

Planning and the Sandbox

There is a sentiment within certain design circles that you, as GM, should “plan for what
the players will do.”
This is impossible.
Obviously, on some level, you should plan. You should build regions, craft lore
and history, and design dungeons and encounters. All of that is good and necessary. But
at no point in the process should you dictate how the player behave or what the players
will do.
Rather, you should design without the players in mind. When designing, say, a
fortress, don’t build it to have pre-planned entrances or distinct methods of approach.
Instead, just design as the its original builders would have, present it honestly, and let
the players figure out what they do. When you design a faction, don’t do with the intent
of players following a specific “plotline” or “quest chain,” instead just design the faction
along the lines of how its members would actually behave, flaws and all, and let the
players interact how they will.
Build the pieces as they’d exist according to the rules of your setting, and then let
the players interact with them how they will.
This, broadly, can be thought of as “sandbox” design. You aren’t building a
rollercoaster for the players to ride, you’re giving them a sandbox to play in. It’s a shift
towards the more open, the more non-linear, the more creative. It encourages to think
for themselves and take decisive action, rather than hunt for the next “plot hook” or
otherwise try to figure out what you, the GM, want them to do.
Sandbox design is encouraged because it forces the narrative to rely on the
mechanical. Within this less structured style of play, there can be no definitive,
pre-planned narrative beats, nor can there be a distinct storyline the players are forced
into following. Instead, the story that is created, the story told by a session of play, is
that of the mechanical interactions.
Sandbox design means there are no stories created ahead of time, only the stories
that the players tell using the mechanics of the game.

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Lore
Lore, as the term is used in role-playing games, refers to the collection of knowledge,
history, and worldbuilding that exists in the larger world of the game’s main stage.
It is all of the things that have come before or exist elsewhere.

Principles
Many, many novice GMs go supremely overboard when writing lore. They write dozens,
if not hundreds, of pages of history and documentation and stuff. Players do it, too,
sometimes. It’s an easy trap to fall into, to become so wrapped up in the sprawling
timelines and maps that you miss the forest for the trees.
In many campaigns, lore is less relevant. There are events in motion at the center
of the game’s world, active and alive, that drive the players. The dusty histories and
ancient legends matter less.
That is not the case in the Marches. The Marches are set in the ruins of bygone
history, where the once great and mighty lie dead and buried, and scavengers pick over
the vestiges. In this setting, where much lies still already, lore matters a great deal.
There are three core principles to crafting lore that is useful, rather than a
hindrance: first, that story takes precedence; second, that history exists to be
discovered; and third, that lore must be meaningful and relevant.

Story Takes Precedence

The real first principle is that story isn’t lore. The story of the game is that which is told
through mechanics; the lore is written by the GM, and is not active or current.
In every case, story takes precedence. The lore exists to serve the story. That is,
when you write lore for your Marches, it should always exist to make the current,
existing game more interesting. It should exist to build tension, to inspire wonder, and
to fuel exciting, engaging play.
If you find yourself lore simply because it’s “cool,” or because you’re excited to
show off your characters to the players, you’re doing it wrong. Lore exists to better the
game, not provide you with fuel for your ego. If you want to write nothing but lore in
isolation and never have anyone touch it, go write a novel.

Lore is to be Discovered
In the Marches, information is a commodity. Missions provide loot and experience, yes,
but they also provide knowledge, secrets, wisdom. There will be some players who, when
presented with a mysterious ruined statue or an ancient arcane rune, will be unable to
resist its siren song.

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 Discovering something long-buried, something secret and strange, is highly,
highly enjoyable. Players adore feeling as though they are the first to learn hidden
knowledge.
You should design the lore of your world with this in mind. Establish history, and
then fragment it, break it, and scatter it about. Drop clues and hints and suggestions
everywhere; let your players work to uncover the mysteries.

Lore Must be Meaningful

Information can only be a commodity if it provides meaning. On a very basic level, this
means that every single item and unit of lore—places, names, people, events, monsters,
everything—must provide some amount of meaning to the broader game as a whole.
Meaning comes in many varieties. On a very mercenary level, meaning can be the
method by which greater treasures are acquired: if the inscriptions on the towers of the
four tallest hills are all put together, they reveal the location of a dead king’s hoard. If
the name of a dead god is spoken while wielding a sword forged from silver, a dragon’s
weakness will be exposed. Lore can and should provide these kinds of mechanical
bonuses and incentives: they provide direct impact on the game, and are easy
motivators for players.
However, lore can also be meaningful in a narrative, thematic way. If players are
searching for an ancient lost city but then discover that the city was deliberately hidden
away, that changes their search. It means that than being heroic rescuers, they are
instead actively going against the will of some other force. Lore contextualizes, alters
perceptions, and challenges beliefs. It will force your players to think deeply and
critically, to apply themselves to the narrative challenges of the Marches.

Layers of History
All fantasy is post-apocalyptic. Nearly every fantasy setting takes place in an age after
the fall of a great civilization. Ancient ruins, magical artifacts, forgotten magic—all imply
the existence of a group of now-gone predecessors that were more powerful than what is
now known.
However, history is more complicated than a simple collapse of a single
civilization. Other groups emerge, ruins are built upon, names change. Eventually, those
also turn to ruin, and are built upon in turn, and the cycle continues. Just as in real life,
history comes in layers.
These layers of history define the landscape of the game, figuratively and literally.
As players discover more of the previous ages and dig deeper into the mysteries of the
game, they will have to sort through myriad layers to understand exactly what occurred.

Common Layers

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For you, the designer, layers of history are most helpfully thought of in terms of time.
There are, generally, five layers of history, growing broader in scope as they recede
further from the present day:
The Current. The current layer of history is that which happens in-game:
remnants that adventurers leave behind, signs of exploration and investigation—corpses
and scorch marks, in all likelihood. The stories told here are known directly, experienced
firsthand by the player characters.
The Recent. Going back, you have the most recent layer of history: that of
recent growth and development, done by those peoples living in the Marches currently.
It’s older than that of the adventurers, since this recent layer may include well include
full towns and fortresses, but it’s not so old as to be forgotten. This layer exists within
the living memory of those who currently reside in the Marches; its stories are, unless
deliberately obscured, well-known and likely true.
The Old. These are the histories of those who came not so long ago, but not so
recently as to be known. This the layer of great-great-grandparents: people who are now
dead, but may be remembered by the eldest of those still living. The structures, artifacts,
and events of this layer are likely still affecting the modern day directly, still in use. The
stories and tales of this layer are mostly true, but may have exaggerated or reduced
elements—the greater the story, the greater the exaggeration.
The Historical. This is a much larger, longer layer of history. This is far from
modern memory, only known through oral tradition, preserved texts, and weathered
ruin. Whatever occurred in this layer is now known only in vague terms, without specific
detail—and what is recorded may be untrustworthy. It’s here that legends and myths
begin to develop; it’s here that separating truth from fiction grows nearly impossible.
The events, structures, and artifacts of this time are very rare and difficult to discern,
but likely contain great power.
The Ancient. This is the layer of gods and heroes, one that subsists solely on
doubtful myth and hazy legend. There are no written records, no clear traditions, and
absolutely no one alive from this era. Strange elder beings—dragons, aberrants, and
worse—might remember this time, possibly, but even that is clouded. The artifacts and
structures of this era are immensely powerful, but impossibly rare.
These layers are, obviously, not binding. In a fantasy setting, it’s entirely possible
for people live to hundreds or even thousands of years, and thus the layers grow
together.

Using Layers in Design

As you construct your Marches, across regions and dungeons alike, consider the history
that has come before. Every structure, both natural and artificial, must come from
somewhere.

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 Layers of history can inform your designs by clueing your players into key details.
If they can discover that the goblin-infested cavern they’re clearing is, in fact, the start of
a dwarven mine, they will start looking for ways to access the mine, and the gold within.
If they realize that the naturally-formed chasm they cross was actually carved in battle
between a storm giant and a sorcerer-dragon, they will search for relics of that battle. If
they understand that the corpses they find in the woods are actually accursed soldiers
from a bygone empire, it will inform how they traverse the area.
Furthermore, because players enjoy solving mysteries, unravelling the layered
timelines of history will prove a fun challenge for them. As they explore more and more
of your Marches, they will begin to understand how history flows, and that
transition—from fear and uncertainty to mastery and understanding—is fantastically
enjoyable.

Items, Artifacts, and Treasure

While some players very well may be motivated by a simple desire for knowledge, that is
not universal. Some players are motivated solely by power increases, garnered through
the acquisition of treasure and loot. This is a good thing. Having myriad motivations
within your player pool will make for a varied, exciting experience.
Still, the question remains: how do you draw in the less history-oriented players?
How do you convey the mysteries of your lore to them?
The answer is loot; more broadly, the answer is to put the lore that matters on
things that players will care about. Monsters, especially boss monsters, are an easy
choice, but monsters are fleeting, as they will likely be slain by the player characters.
Treasure, however, is much more permanent, and thus more likely to be examined
closely.
Put the important lore in your game on the treasure the player characters will get.
Let players examine it in detail, guess at its mysteries, and propose answers. If unsolved
mysteries confront the players every time they swing their sword, they cannot ignore
those mysteries. They will gnaw and worry at the players, and drive them to find
solutions.
Obviously, you should still put lore elsewhere, but bear in mind that players
examine that which they wield.

Legends and Reality

The Marches are a place of myth; they stand at the western edge of the known world,
and all manner of tales and stories whirl and circulate about them. This is a good thing;
these tales provide a rich backdrop for adventure, and mean the players always have
something to look forward to.

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 Matching these legends in reality, however, can be difficult. Players old and new
know that would-be old wives’ tales and strange stories uttered around campfires carry
truth to them. They know to be watchful, to take notes and ask questions, and they know
to examine stories with scrutiny.
Play a legend too close to its tales, and there will be no surprise, no wonderment.
Play a legend too far from its myths, however, and the players will feel blindsided and
disappointed. Both of these extremes are not good; the correct balance lies somewhere
in the middle.
Consider these ideas while you craft the most powerful characters, artifacts, and
places of your world. What myths and legends have less powerful individuals heard
about them? How, and for what reason, did the legends diverge from the truth? What
can players learn from comparing different sources of conflicting information? These
are all powerful questions to keep in mind while you weave the tapestry of your
Marches’ history (and set up the context of its present).
Consider also how the players will interact with the legends that your world tells.
Will they stumble across a forgotten crypt, filled with statues of the ancient gods? Will a
knowledgeable goblin scholar convey a load of embellished tales? In any case, make sure
you understand the way that the players will piece together the disparate information
that comes forth through the design of your legends, dungeons, monsters, factions, and
NPCs. Invite their misconceptions. Allow them to spin their wheels and act on false
information. This might seem counterintuitive, but the less you as a GM forcibly guide
your players, the more meaningful their victories will be, and the ringing of the bell of
truth will be infinitely more satisfying to finally hear.

NPCs
NPCs occupy a tricky corner of the Marches: they’re necessary and present, yet cannot
hold all the answers. The slow reveal of information is critical to a satisfying campaign,
yet if NPCs can simply explain everything, the mystery is lost.
Because of this, NPCs must be both useful and possessed of valuable information,
but also not too forthcoming or too helpful. They must be present, yet not relied upon.

The “Lore Dump”

An often-mocked trope in roleplaying games is the “lore dump;” a conversation in which
one or two NPCs explains, in great detail and at length, the current goings-on of the
world of the campaign. It’s a long, sometimes dreary, conversation, often dreaded by
more veteran players.
Still, the lore dump is effective: it lets players ask questions, prod at the world,
examine things in greater detail. By having an NPC who can explain the current state of

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the world accurately and effectively, it puts the players in a good position to take
decisive action.
In the West Marches, you cannot and should not have NPCs dump lore on the
players.
Obviously, it’s bad storytelling: dumping lore is unsubtle and bland and not at all
engaging. It’s also, however, a little more complicated: if the players meet an NPC who is
forthcoming with all of the hidden information that the players do not know, they will
do everything in their power to obtain that information. They will talk, coerce, and
possibly even torture NPCs that they think hold valuable knowledge.
If you have an NPC that is available that has significant knowledge, the players
will seek to obtain it.
In a video game or less open game, it’s easy to prevent players running wild with
questions: dialogue can be limited, questions can be restrained, and lids can be kept on.
Not so here; the game is inherently open-ended when it comes to discussion and
questions, and thus it is difficult to prevent players from learning information NPCs
possess.
At all times, be wary of what your NPCs know, and be certain they cannot or will
not explain overmuch.

Unhelpful NPCs
Because of this, NPCs in the Marches should be unhelpful. That’s not to say they must
needs be evil or cruel or unfriendly (though they may very well be), but that the amount
of help they can provide to the player characters is limited.
Unless they are very special, NPCs in the Marches should have one or more of the
following characteristics:
Uninformed. Certain NPCs will be as in-the-dark as the players, perhaps more
so, and thus unable to help the player characters. They’re willing, potentially, but have
no useful information to provide.
Delusional. These NPCs are those that believe the world to be a certain way, or
hold certain facts as true, and are unwilling to change. This delusion might be the result
of magical enchantment, deliberate coercion, or simple conceitedness. Whatever it is,
these NPCs believe they are helpful, but are not.
Villainous. These are NPCs that are well-informed about secrets the players
would like to know, but won’t tell them. They’re enemy bosses, sly information-brokers,
and callous foes. In some cases, these NPCs might even pretend to inform the player
characters, but in fact be leading them astray, whether through pure deception or
tactical omission.
Broken. Some NPCs do possess the information that the players want to know,
but are incapable or unable of telling the player characters due to severe trauma or

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damage. This is often the result of dread curses or fell maledictions, but might also be
more psychological in nature. In these cases, be sensitive and careful with your players;
making light of trauma is a fast way to isolate your players and leave them ill at ease.
Dead. Many NPCs the players would like to talk to are dead. Some limited
contact might be made through magic, but it’s unlikely.

Multiple Perspectives
Rashomon, the landmark 1950 Kurosawa film, is highly instructive in how you can and
should convey the lore of your setting. Over the course of the film, the audience sees the
same event occur from a series of different perspectives; each time, the events that
transpire a little different, culminating in a finale that reveals the truth.
You should strive to do the same with your lore. Across people, factions, and
layers of history, the legends and histories of your Marches should be tangled, nuanced,
complex, and multilayered. With every major event, different people and records should
offer different accounts of exactly what happened.
There are two reasons for doing this: first, it’s an extra level of challenge and
engagement for your players. They will have to cross-reference their notes and
recollections, examine what they once held to be true, and push themselves to solve the
riddles nested throughout the Marches. Second, however, is that it’s truer to life: history
is never as simple as textbooks make it out to be, and you should strive to emulate the
nuance and complexity of real life.

Emergent Narrative
The West Marches, as Robbins famously said, have no story. There is no plot, no critical
quest, and no overarching narrative plan. Everything is reliant on the players and their
actions within the broader world. The story of the game is defined by player action and
rolls of the dice.
This kind of narrative, one that is unplanned and driven by systems, is called
emergent narrative. It grows and evolves based on the systems of the game, rather than
anything preplanned—it emerges.
There are several places this kind of narrative can emerge from, which this
chapter covers.

Regions, Weather, and Encounters

On a very base level, one of the most impactful elements on the story that the players
will end up telling is the landscape of the Marches themselves. This manifests in three
key ways: the regions the player characters travel through, the weather and climate that
affects them, and the random encounters that they run into along the way.

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Regions
Most regions of the Marches carry some variety of core, underlying narrative: the source
of the accursed undead, the cause of the poisonous rain, the reason for the unnaturally
frigid weather. Because regional effects are nearly always present, players are exposed to
them often, and thus they are very likely to affect the narrative of the adventure.
Furthermore, many regions culminate towards one larger endpoint, such as
ending a magical effect or defeating a regional boss, which in turn the players will be
pushed towards. Because the physical landscape is such a constant issue to be dealt with
by the players, it will always affect the narrative.

Weather
Weather functions much the same as regions on a narrative level; the weather is
omnipresent, and thus impossible to avoid in the telling of stories. A hike through the
mountains in high summer is very, very different than a hike through the mountains in
deep winter. It affects travel, food supplies, combat, sleeping, and nearly every other
aspect of an adventure. Like regions, it is a constant challenge to overcome, and so
molds all other narratives.

Random Encounters
Random encounters are, by their very nature, random; it’s difficult to predict when and
how they will occur. That said, there are some ways that players can affect their chances
(see page 57), and that can affect their stories as time goes on.
More broadly, though, because random encounters are dealt with en route to a
dungeon or other mission, they can dramatically affect that mission as a whole. Dealing
with a dungeon fresh and ready to go is a wholly different experience than dealing with a
dungeon while the rogue’s halfway dead and the cleric’s missing a third of their spells.
Random encounters introduce unexpected elements, and those unexpected
elements in turn make the narrative to predict, and thus more emergent with the
system.

Indexical Storytelling
Indexical storytelling can broadly be defined as the telling of stories through individual
symbols or icons called “indices.” Consider the dungeon chamber which holds a broken
shield, a cracked sword, splatters of blood along the wall, and then a long trail of blood
interspersed with huge bloody claw-prints.
What story does that tell?
It’s interpretable, but you probably thought of a story in which a monster entered
a chamber, defeated a would-be dungeoneer, and then dragged them deeper within. It’s
a simple story, but it’s one entirely told through artifacts of gameplay—indices. Humans

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as players are highly talented in coming up with possible solutions and through-lines for
individual indices presented to them.
There are two broad modes of indexical storytelling within the context of the
West Marches: indices of the designer, and indices of the players. Each has its use, and
both should be considered throughout the processes of design and play.

Indices of the Designer

As a designer and GM, you can use storytelling indices to great effect. Any item or
symbol you place in an environment, like a dungeon or ruin, can be used to help craft a
narrative. Carefully consider the elements you might find in a given area as you create
them.
Consider the example of the bloody-clawed monster above; if you leave that in a
dungeon, especially fresh, players will immediately be on the lookout. They will check
every creature they see for claws and blood, and they’ll be on the lookout for other items
left behind by the dead adventurer.
Compare this to if you simply had an NPC explain to the players that there was a
monster within. It’d be bland, and boring, and trite. Players know there’s a hundred
monsters within a dungeon any day of the week. To compel them forward, use indices; it
engages their imagination and their critical thinking skills, and keeps them guessing.
As designer of your game, you can and should place indices in locations players
go; it strengthens your narrative, encourages interaction, and betters play.

Indices of the Players

When designing a dungeon, the indices you place there are remains of previous NPCs,
monsters, and effects. They’re deliberate, they’re designed, they carefully maintained.
However, adventurers also leave indices: campsites, bloodstains, magical
after-effects, dumped gear, scorch marks, footprints, open doors & chests, structural
damage, chalk markings, and all kinds of other indices. These exist within the world of
the game, as permanent markers of adventurer activity.
Keep track of these indices. Write them down in your notes, alter your maps
accordingly, and then refer to them later.
For you, they provide fuel for future problems for players to solve: clever enemies
will track the player characters by their indices; their structural damage might balloon
in size; the fires they light might burn a whole forest. If you set up these problems
correctly, so players can track them to their source, they emphasize the power and
impact of players’ actions, which is always a good thing.
For players, they can also provide interesting and unusual mysteries to resolve.
Because much of the core loop of the West Marches revolves around comparing
incomplete information and returning to existing locations, the remains that other

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players leave behind can be highly influential. If player characters scrawl notes in chalk
on the walls of a dungeon, for example, any future adventurers might well be able to
refer to those notes. If they’re outside, however, they might get rained on and so blur,
and thus create a new kind of mystery for the player characters to puzzle over.
Part of the wonder of the West Marches as a structure is in examining that which
came before, specifically that which was brought about previously by players.

Show, Don’t Tell

It’s an old writing adage, that you should always show, rather than tell. In literature, it
means that you should leave readers to make their own assumptions and draw their own
conclusions, rather than simply tell them how things are.
That is doubly true in the West Marches.
Only ever describe to the players that which they know to be objectively true.
Describe sensations, experiences, layouts—hard, descriptive terminology, things that
can measured and examined empirically.
Do not tell them the names of locations. Do not use relative distances or
descriptions. If they come up with clever (or, you know, “clever”) nicknames for people
and places, do not use them. Once you start confirming things to be true, there stops
being an element of unknown information, and instead simply an element of “get the
GM to confirm what we think is true.”
Because the West Marches is such a fundamentally procedural style of play, it
means that there is little room for the prescribed or predetermined; simply describe as
they are.
In the case of mysteries, of puzzles, of indices, of anything that hints towards a
larger narrative, do not describe that narrative. Describe the component parts that make
up that larger narrative as they appear, and let your players in the details.
This is difficult, in more ways than one! It is a fundamentally different kind of
storytelling, to rely solely on the existing mechanisms of what the player characters can
perceive and what conclusions their players can draw. It’s also simply difficult to
construct evidence and indices of events and occurrences that have already happened,
especially in such a way as to make them solvable for your players.
It’s a challenge for sure, but do not give up. Start small, start basic, and
remember to only describe what they experience, not the overall message you want your
players to receive.

Player Narrative
The West Marches do not follow the archetypal story arcs of a fantasy story. There are
very, very few fantasy stories in which the heroes depart into the wilderness, wander
about lost for several days, get caught in a snowstorm, fight some kobolds on the side of

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the road, and then come home. Those protagonists face no personal moral challenges,
no deep examinations of their psyches, and are not pushed into situations that demand
character growth.

Ongoing Mysteries
As players explore the West Marches, they will begin to uncover secrets and mysteries
and lore—but they will do so at uneven rates, in different locations, at various times.
Over time, there will develop a discontinuity of information across the player pool. Some
players will know a lot, others know less, and no one player will know all of the
information belonging to the patchwork knowledge base.
This is a good thing! It pushes players to work together, to write logs and
accounts, to plan and discuss, and to share as much information as they can.
This discontinuity generates interest in players; it draws them towards answering
questions, solving mysteries, and filling in the gaps in their knowledge. It’s likely that
some of your players will eventually make this discovery process their primary source of
narrative over the course of your game of West Marches.
Encourage this. A character driven by a quest for knowledge is a character that
already has tension: there is uncertainty, there is challenge, and there is hard motivation
to act upon. This is not uncommon; many players at many tables are motivated by a
thirst for knowledge.
The key distinction that emerges in the West Marches is that, due to the
incomplete nature of the knowledge being pursued, the exact questions and beliefs that
emerge around that knowledge vary. Players will begin to take different stances, argue
for different positions, and hold different beliefs. As time wears on, there will be new
discoveries made, new knowledge gained, and new theories proposed. Individual
players’ characters will be forced into changing their positions, or else abiding by their
older beliefs.
This tension—that of competing beliefs founded on uncertain truths—is a
powerful one. It is resonant with the uncertainties of real life; it mirrors, on some level,
that lack of knowledge we all face. Use it wisely, and this theme and carry your game.

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Backstories
There exists a tendency among certain players to build a huge, elaborate backstory,
often times constructed in a very silo-like fashion: isolated, distinct, and unrelated to
other players’. Over the course of the campaign, these players intend to explore that
backstory and have it culminate around them.
This is not good design for characters in the West Marches.
Because the Marches themselves are so unstructured, it means that if a character
must have a specific event, enemy, or artifact exist—to hunt down their parents’ killer,
say—there is no reliable way to have that event or enemy occur. Because the GM does
not decide what content the players see, they cannot guarantee that a player will have a
certain moment that they need.
Characters can and should have backstory and history; they should arrive in the
Marches in one way, and then grow and change over time. But they cannot rely on
having key moments in their future planned ahead of time, nor can they expect to have
strict control over the pacing and direction of their narrative.

Reactive Character Growth

Rather than have a mountain of lore to sit upon and then advance their character from,
players instead should embrace a more variable, reactive narrative, one driven by
uncertain events thrust upon them. This style of character development is far less
predictable, and far more dependent on the events of a mission.
Consider, for example, a mission wherein the adventurers make it to a dungeon,
press deep within its chambers, and defeat a large monster. That mission is, basically, a
success. Then, consider an identical mission party and goal, but the party is caught in a
sandstorm, run afoul of some undead, barely make it to the dungeon, and two
characters are slaughtered in the first chamber. That mission is a failure.
Before dice hit the table, those missions were identical; once the session actually
started, however, the primary narrative of each is dramatically different, all due to dice
rolls. Embrace this unpredictability; let character growth stem from the events that
actually happen to them, rather than a preconceived notion of how a character “should”
progress.

Investment Over Time

There is a fear that emerges among players of the West Marches that, because there is
no preset plot and no guarantee that their characters will do certain things, players will
struggle to invest in their characters.
This, of course, is mistaken. Because of the degree of narrative freedom given to
players, it’s easier to invest in their characters: the decisions the characters make carry
weight, and because of the brutality of the Marches, every moment is precious.

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 However, there does exist a common fault point in players developing their
characters: a belief that it is only their interest in their character that sustains them.
That is to say, a belief that so long as a player likes their character, nothing else matters.
This is incorrect. If the only player to care about a character is that character’s
player, they will eventually grow old. Sustained interest in a character comes not only
from their creator’s passion, but from care and interest from other players. When the
player pool all cares about each other’s characters, possibly even more so than their own
character, significant investment will emerge.
While it occurs in all kinds of ways, one of the best ways to get other people
invested in one player’s character is to have that character change, especially if that
change stems from interaction with another character. We, as humans, connect with
more characters that struggle than characters that succeed. In roleplaying, there is no
experience better than collaboratively telling the story of characters struggling, together.

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CHAPTER V
APPENDICES

Appendix A: Player Options

The West Marches are not a place that normal people go; dire circumstance or lofty
ambition might drive a person to them, but the Marches are no place for ordinary folk.
Though it is most likely that individual characters’ time in the Marches will be violent
and brief, they—the characters and their relationships to one another—remain the
Marches’ most integral part. Thus, the most important aspect of making a character
intended for the West Marches is finding a central tension grounded in their reason for
being there: reside in that tension, let it inform the way that your characters react to the
world and to other party members’ actions, use it drive your character forward in the
face of adversity.
Making a successful character for the West Marches can be a more difficult task
than for other campaigns or settings. It’s crucial to think about what a new character can
bring to the table, especially with regard to the survivalism rules outlined in the
Wilderness Travel section. A character’s utility outside of combat, role within a party of
fellow adventurers, and ability to hold their own survival in survival scenarios: all are
vital to making an effective explorer of the Marches.
Though it is possible to play a West Marches game with characters for whom
ability scores were rolled, it is recommended that all characters in a West Marches game
utilize the Point Buy rules for determining character ability scores, found in the PHB.
Given that West Marches games typically consist of a larger player pool, this
recommendation is based on a need for consistency and predictability in the power level
of all players.

Imperial Castouts
Characters in the Marches all have at least one thing in common: they have left the
relative safety of the Empire in favor of the extreme danger and uncertain futures of the
West Marches. The reason for a character to leave the Empire is foundational to their
story, and should serve to explain why a person should ever willingly take up residence
in a place as hostile as the Marches.
These reasons for leaving should be built into your character’s central tension;
they aren’t an entire tension in and of themselves, but should serve, at least in part, to
inform a character’s own internal conflict.

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REASONS FOR LEAVING
d20 Reason

1 On the run from a powerful Imperial authority.

2 Revels in the lawlessness of the Marches.

3 Shipwrecked on the Marches.

4 Found Imperial life to be irrevocably dull.

5 Compelled to venture to the Marches in a vision from a god.

6 Seduced by the promise of treasure or lost secrets.

7 Hunting someone who has fled to the Marches.

8 Honorbound to cleanse the Marches of evil (or good).

9 Exiled from the Empire.

10 Abandoned in the Marches by family.

11 Desires territory, land, and conquest.

12 Ordered on a mission from the Empire.

13 Protecting someone else already going to the Marches.

14 Belief in a prophecy, real or otherwise.

15 Sentenced to the Marches as a penal colonist.

16 Escaping from the guilt of a past mistake.

17 Seeking a ruin, thought long lost.

18 Driven by raw ego to prove combat prowess.

19 Bound by some magical contract or covenant.

20 Lost en route elsewhere, with no means to return.

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Feats for the West Marches
Characters that come to the West Marches are often hardened by survivalist tactics,
finding an affinity with the elements and making a home in the unforgiving wilderness.
Use the following optional feats to realize these aspects in your own character.

Explorer. Attuned to integrants of geography and the currents of history, you gain the
following benefits:
❖ Your Intelligence or Wisdom score increases by 1.
❖ You gain proficiency in cartographer’s tools.
❖ You always know which way is north.
❖ You have advantage on checks made to determine distance, checks made to spot
distant or obscured landmarks, and checks made to determine the age of a
location or object, such as an ancient ruin or the treasure within.

Iron Gut. Able to place your mind over matter where sustenance is concerned, you
gain the following benefits:
❖ Your Constitution score increases by 1.
❖ You gain resistance to poison damage, and have advantage on saving throws
made to resist being poisoned.
❖ You have advantage on saving throws to avoid disease or other ill effects from
eating food or drinking water that is unclean.
❖ You only need half as much food and water as normal.

Nomad. Consumed by a wanderlust that drives your body beyond conventional limits,
you gain the following benefits:
❖ Your Constitution or Wisdom score increases by 1.
❖ You have advantage on saving throws made to resist the effects of travelling for
more than eight hours per day.
❖ When you take a long rest, you only need four hours of sleep. The remaining time
can be spent performing light activity, such as keeping watch or reading a book. If
you are a race that needs less than 8 hours of sleep to gain the benefits of a long
rest, this has no additional effect.
❖ Over the course of one minute, you can examine the sky and determine what the
weather will be for the next eight hours. You must take a long rest before using
this ability again.

Sea Dog. Having learned the ebb and flow of the watery depths, you gain the following
benefits:
❖ Your Strength or Constitution score increases by 1.

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 ❖ You gain a swimming speed equal to your walking speed.
❖ The amount of time you can hold your breath underwater doubles.
❖ You have advantage on Wisdom (Animal Handling) checks made to interact with
creatures with a swim speed.

Sharp Eyed. With the unyielding vigilance of the apex predator, you gain the following
benefits:
❖ Your Wisdom score increases by 1.
❖ Your passive Wisdom (Perception) score increases by 5.
❖ While travelling, you can notice threats while engaged in another activity.
❖ You have advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks made as part of the Search
action or to observe creatures within the immediate area.

Strong Back. The things you bear are more important than the body that bears them.
You gain the following benefits:
❖ Your Strength or Constitution score increases by 1.
❖ You count as if you were one size category larger for the purpose of determining
your carrying capacity.
❖ You have advantage on Strength checks made to push, lift, or pull objects.
❖ You have advantage on Strength (Athletics) checks made to shove a creature.

Survivalist. You speak with the land. You are the land. You gain the following benefits:
❖ Your Wisdom or Intelligence score increases by 1.
❖ When you succeed on a Wisdom (Survival) check to forage for food, you roll an
extra d6 to determine how much.
❖ You have advantage on Wisdom (Survival) and Intelligence (Nature) checks made
to harvest body parts from a creature.
❖ You have advantage on Wisdom (Survival) checks made to hunt creatures, as well
as Intelligence (Nature) checks made to survey a region.

Thick Skin. Your body revels in the natural violence of climatic extremes. You gain the
following benefits:
❖ You gain resistance to fire damage and cold damage, and thus are also immune to
the effects of extreme heat, extreme cold, and frigid water.
❖ You have advantage on saving throws made to resist the effects of weather, such
as sleeping while wet or exposed.

Wayfinder. Treacherous land does little to hinder your unrelenting advance. You gain
the following benefits:

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 ❖ You do not suffer penalties to rolls made to navigate while travelling at a fast
pace.
❖ You ignore difficult terrain.
❖ When travelling, difficult terrain does not slow your group’s travel.
❖ Your speed increases by 10 feet.

Windjammer. The sea is your home; the salty air speaks a language that guides you to
your destiny. You gain the following benefits:
❖ Your Wisdom score increases by 1.
❖ You gain proficiency in navigator’s tools and water vehicles.
❖ You do not suffer penalties to rolls made to navigate while traveling by water
during inclement weather, including low visibility.
❖ Your proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses your
water vehicles proficiency.

Epic Boons
The West Marches, in stories of the Empire, are the forge where heroes are made. A
character in the West Marches might earn one of the following features upon
discovering a powerful artifact, being marked by an ancient deity, or completing a task
that alters the course of the history of the Marches substantially.
Players should by no means expect to receive one of these boons over the course
of a character’s development, even at the highest tier of play; there are no preset paths
or methods to earn these benefits. Nonetheless, consider granting boons from the Epic
Boons section of the DMG when appropriate for your game.

Rangers and “Cannot Get Lost” Features

The ranger’s 1st-level feature Natural Explore states that a ranger “cannot be lost except
by magical means.”
This feature, already somewhat unclear, is antithetical to the design of the West
Marches, which prominently features players having to navigate on their own wits.
Getting lost is a natural part of exploration, and should be embraced.
Any time a feature states that a character cannot be lost, you should replace it
with the following:

When you are in the wilderness, you can at any time retrace your steps exactly
the way you came, until you return to the Town. Once you return to the Town, this
ability resets.

108
This means that rangers can always find their way home, and can find their way to
locations they’ve been to on the same mission. It’s a powerful tool, certainly, useful for
all kinds of expeditions. However, it doesn’t extend past one mission, which means that
after a ranger returns to town, they have to rely on their knowledge and the map, just
like everyone else.

Character Background Features

Characters should select backgrounds for their characters as normal, and they gain all of
the proficiencies, items, and languages as normal.
However, the majority of background features as they are written are meant for a
campaign and style of play within an existing world, one with a more normal amount of
wilderness, cities, villages, and other terrain features.
Given that West Marches takes place almost exclusively within uncharted
wilderness, nearly all background features have minimal use, with the exception of a
few, which are exceedingly powerful.
Because of this, it is highly recommended that you simply ignore background
features in their entirety. Characters still gain the other benefits from their background,
such as skills, languages, and equipment, but the other features should not be observed.

Appendix B: Additional and Modified Equipment

This section expands on the rules for items found in the PHB. Equipment listed here as
the same weight and cost as listed, but with these additional or modified effects.
Bedroll. Keeps you warm at night, preventing the effects of cold weather while
taking a long rest.
Blanket. Keeps you warm at night, but lacks the padding of a bedroll. While
taking a long rest with a blanket prevents the effects of cold weather, when you finish a
long rest during which you slept in only a blanket, you regain only one quarter of your
spent Hit Dice (minimum of one die).
Cold Weather Gear. A set of thick, insulated clothing, designed for extremely
cold conditions. Cold weather gear weighs 8 lb., and makes the wearer immune to the
effects of extreme cold.
Mess Kit. So long as they are kept clean, proper utensils and cooking supplies
allow a character to reduce the risk of foodborne illness. When eating with a mess kit,
Constitution saves made to resist disease from unclean food are made with advantage.
Rations. Rations are made-to-last food wrapped in protective packaging.
Rations never rot, can be submerged in water without issue, and suffer no ill effects
from extreme heat.

109
 Tent. A tent provides shelter for two Medium or smaller creatures. Up to four
Medium creatures can fit into a tent if necessary, but all creatures regain no spent Hit
Dice upon finishing a long rest.

Appendix C: Progression Options

This appendix contains optional modifications to existing Experience Point based
progression which serve to encourage good player behavior as well as productive
engagement with the world of the West Marches and the other player characters in your
game. Consider implementing some or all of these rules in your game:

Character Tiers
The West Marches are an extremely dangerous place. The creatures, people, and even
the climates there are rarely friendly, if ever. Adventurers and explorers lead brief lives
characterized by violence, trauma, and strife; their woes are many, and the road is long,
but those who travel it reap unimaginable rewards.
The death of a character in the West Marches is impactful. It’s highly
recommended that you observe the following rule concerning the death of characters in
your game:

Tiers of Play
There are four tiers that players can attain. The first includes characters of levels 1-4.
The second, characters of levels 5-10. The third, 11-16, and the fourth, 17-20. When a
character dies, their player’s next character begins at the bottom of the dead character’s
tier; for example, Robin’s character, Alphaeus, dies at level 3. Robin’s new character,
Belisaria, begins at level 1. Once Belisaria makes it to level 5, any character that Robin
plays (for example, Corcoran) would begin at level 5, in the event that Belisaria dies.

Experience Points
It is highly recommended that you utilize an XP-based progression system. Using XP
allows expectations for the rate of progression of characters to be more manageable and
concrete, in turn leveraging player discouragement that can arise from the use of less
quantifiable means of tracking progression that the game has to offer.
Additionally, using XP allows players to form educated judgments about the
areas of the map that contain challenges that are appropriately difficult for their level,
and encourages them to engage specifically with those challenges rather than remaining
in regions for which they are over-leveled.
Reward experience points at the end of a mission, when the player characters
return to the Town. Any experience earned from the mission (not including roleplaying

110
and log-keeping experience, described below) should be split evenly among the party
members that make it back to the Town alive after a mission.
In addition to an XP-based system for progression, consider employing the
following extra opportunities for the players in your game to earn additional experience
points outside of combat, bearing in mind that experience points gained by these means
should also be split among the party members that return to the Town:

Discovery Experience
When players visit a new region or dungeon, meet an important character, or uncover a
pivotal secret, grant them an amount of experience points that increases proportionally
to the importance or significance of the discovery and the difficulty of the surrounding
region. While the exact number of experience points granted for discovery should be
largely at the GM’s discretion, consider the values in the Discovery Experience table as a
good general guide.
Discovery should be awarded to the entire party; that is, it is divided amongst the
characters in the party when they return to the Town at the end of a mission. Only
award experience once per discovery, even if characters that did not discover it
themselves become privy to it for the first time.

DISCOVERY EXPERIENCE
Significance Description Experience

Insignificant A discovery with no significant consequence; something obvious, or Easy

something that will not generally affect the way player characters
approach any situation, such as the knowledge that elk inhabit a
region.

Noteworthy Something not immediately obvious which players would be Medium

well-advised to make a note of, such as the presence of a special
monster in a region, meeting a significant NPC, or spying a
significant structure from afar.

Important Something hidden, new, or secret which has come fully to light. This Hard
includes visiting a prominent new area, meeting the leader of a
faction, and delving into a dungeon for the first time, for example.

Pivotal Something extremely important to understanding the fundamental Deadly

fabric of the West Marches as a whole, such as the revealing of the
true nature of a god, the discovery of an artifact, or anything else that
will profoundly affect the way player characters will approach
situations.

111
Roleplaying Experience
When player characters engage in any of the following behaviors during roleplay on a
mission, award them with an amount of experience points equal to 200 𝗑 that
character’s tier. If they engaged in the same behavior more than once during a mission,
award them double that amount.

1. You make a significant decision that is influenced by your race, class, or

background.
2. You make a significant decision that is influenced by your personality
traits, ideals, bonds, or flaws.
3. You make a significant decision that is influenced by existing or past
relationships with other party members.
4. You learn or teach lore or knowledge that is believed to be true and
significant.
5. You have a gritty, verisimilitudinous scene—a slice of life for the
professional adventurer.
6. You make a decision that affects all of the roster, the Marches as a whole,
or an entire faction.

It’s recommended that players make notes of instances on a mission where they fulfilled
any of the above behaviors. At the end of the mission, each player in turn should report
the behaviors they engaged in on that mission and award experience points as
necessary, with the GM as final arbiter of which behaviors were impactful enough to
warrant the reward.
Roleplaying experience can be granted to multiple characters for the same
decision or scene, if it applies to more than one character.

Log-keeping Experience
If a player writes a thorough and complete log, in character, of a mission they were on,
award them with an amount of experience points equal to 200 𝗑 that character’s tier.
Logs should be kept in a readily-available location, such as an online directory.
Logs can be referenced at any time outside of session, but shouldn’t be referenced in
session.

Appendix D: On Playing in Real Time

In some social settings that allow the players in a West Marches game to be more
consistently and regularly available for missions, such as on a college campus, it can be
possible to run the game in real time. That is, for every day that passes in real life, so too

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does a day pass in game time. This means that a party that embarked on a mission that
lasts three weeks, for example, cannot participate in the game at all for 21 days.
Playing in real time can make a world of difference in terms of how simple it is to
keep track of where each player character is in the space of the game because it
implicitly applies a temporality to the game world that has a real-world analog; one that
we as players and GMs are inherently accustomed to.
It also means that it becomes possible to play the game at all times, in a way; for
example, the GM might set up a mode of communication that players can use to have
conversations with NPCs and with one another while in the Town without having to
worry about how much time has passed in game as those conversations run their course.
Additionally, playing in real time opens the door for a blurring of the lines
between the game world and reality; for example, the GM might create a dungeon that is
only accessible to the characters on a specific cycle of the moon, an NPC that only
appears once every two weeks in real time, or a deadline for a mission to rescue a
character or deal to be fulfilled -- dated ultimatums like these implicitly carry a weight of
urgency that transcends the construct of separation of player and character by virtue of
their enforcement by the march of real time.
Playing in real time does not mean that players in a party on a four-day mission,
for example, must play D&D for four days straight, though the mission is said to have
begun on the day in real time on which the session was played. It simply means that
when a party plays a session in which four days pass in game, the players whose
characters comprised that party cannot interact with the game for four days of real time
thereafter. By logical extension, things that happened on the second day of the mission
in game are thought of to have happened on the day after the session was played in real
time, and so forth.
Playing in real time can be fun, rewarding, and interesting. It poses a unique
tabletop gaming experience that the versatility of a West Marches campaign is
inherently well-suited for.

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Appendix E: License
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