#basic dnd

In 2024 you might scoff at this, because it feels an awful lot like they just sold you half a module and told you to finish that. This is an unfair read, but this is a genuinely good habit to instill early into a GM. Too many times have I seen a new DM just, run books entirely stock and then be confused why it went badly. This breaks the back of that habit very, very early.

For those of you that remain unconvinced, in the OAR re-release of Into the Borderlands they included three stocked versions of B1 (I recommend Version A). But: keep in mind! You could not tune into Critical Role, there was not a DND club at every major school, and the discipline of TTRPG design itself did not exist yet. This was a stab at teaching DND entirely via text, so we will see in time how good a stab they took at it.

Oh, and before I exit the intro blurb, let's say it explicitly: this is the first standalone Basic Dungeons and Dragons module. It was a pack-in with the Holmes basic set (which means you got the Tower of Zenopus AND B1, a pretty tidy bargain), alongside some depressing little dice chits, a little blue rulebook, and a coupon for some dice that are bad-in-a-highly-charming way. We are spoiled for dice now, back then you had to ink your own in CRAYON.

ANYHOW, let's begin.

Firstly, Carr begins with explaining some broad principles to an aspiring new GM, like the concept of keying, minions, xp, difficulty, GM arts, et c. He also recommends narrating the party as having already arrived at the dungeon, a conceit I think more GMs should entertain -- we all know that "we meet in a tavern" is a little played out, but I think it's played out mainly because it's done badly - meeting in the tavern served no purpose because the GM ultimately wanted to just hurry up to the dungeon.

The adventure proper starts with a quick blurb about two famous characters who in the wayback times built a stronghold, did some adventurin', fought some wars, but are now long gone. A separate account of this is included in the player-facing section (whatever happened to player-facing sections?).

We are given ol' reliable, a rumors table, where we learn very little of interest: The dungeon is called Quasaqueton -- a real place in Iowa, apparently the duo were slavers, and apparently the dungeon itself talks. It's generally wet and miserable here, and wandering about are a variety of very standard enemies (orcs, kobolds, trogs, rats). That's, basically all we get on the dungeon itself, so let's enter the highlights reel:

The very first thing that happens in the dungeon is simply adorable. Two magic mouths demand the party to defend their treasure-hunting ways, and then promptly tell them they're going to die oooOoOOOOooOoo! in a sufficiently melodramatic way. It also bugs you every time you revisit, which will turn it into a comedy on revisit. There is also the grisly remains of a previous party, as if to imply that these newbies are about to get HAZED. Given that this was likely the new GM and players' first go, I'd call even odds on it being a slaughter.

It is at about room V where I realize why roman numerals died off, as trying to figure out where room 5 is when there's many, many rooms with a V marking. Letters are preferable to roman numerals but truly it was a good day when we switched to circled Arabic numerals.

There is just something inherently funny about going into a wizard's closet and discovering that said wizard was a boring person with normal clothes and a bunch of mundane books about weather and plants. We also find out Zelligar has been absent for 30+ years from his closet-bookkeeping.

Teaching the kids early that wizards are assholes, in Zelligar's practice room there's a permanent illusion of treasure. It doesn't kill you like a Gary treasure would, it just makes you sad.

There is a weirdly elaborate table of jars? And one of the jars is a living black cat in suspended animation? The purpose of this room is, and I quote, "to surprise and/or mystify the adventurers, as well as to provide some fun for the DM". There is no treasure or monsters pre-stocked in most any of these rooms (as per the conceit) but I think it would be GM malpractice to not put SOME kind of fucked up jarred magic item here. That there is no potions in this room feels particularly odd?

There's a riddle in the wizard's lab that, isn't actually a riddle? It's just talking funny. Large swaths of this dungeon feel like they should be a funhouse and have loot pinatas scattered around, this is one such room. Instead, it's…just kind of a self-aggrandizing sign, like a weird motivational poster.

I know the conceit of the dungeon is that this is someone's home and stronghold but it kind of just feels like someone's Minecraft fort? I really feel like we're going to walk into a room full of chests contain 94 doors and 4,000 grass seeds any minute now. And I guess that food is 30 years old? The inscrutable letter codes make me long for a dAlphabet.

It feels kinda weird that fire beetles fell out of use. "Magic lightning bugs that infinitely fuel lanterns without igniting in swamp gas" is a super handy conceit.

We have a super classic portcullis trap with a elegant twist: because the lever to lift the trap is strength-based (sum of strength scores), it almost definitionally separates the squishies from the tanks. The downside is, unfortunately, that it's functionally a save or die trap despite not instantly killing you?

It's also really interesting how the fantasy of bending the bars went away. That used to be such a big thing in the superman tv show era. I have yet to have a modern player even consider it. Not surprising it stopped being in rulebooks though.

There is one of the regulation early DND troll traps, where a mapping party is to be intentionally tricked and given false descriptions because a doorway is also a teleporter. It is explained somewhat poorly, which is particularly unfortunate for a tutorial dungeon, but the jist is that once they pass through the doorway you should rotate your map and act like you haven't started describing rooms turned 90 degrees. Because early DND kind-of assumes the party moves as a blob while in dungeoncrawl mode, you can't get split up by this, despite the fact that "realistically" it would totally do that. A weird quirk of this description is that, I have no idea when they bold words. You think they're bolding for emphasis but it's acting like they're bolding keywords, but prior to this they only bold spell names and the bar-lifting. Afterward it's mostly spells and a sole keyword.

I'm getting mixed messages here. I get why it's here, but come on.

The coverart is a reference to a specific garden room which has overgrown in the wizard's absence. It is, ultimately, just a pretty room with a slight hazard if a random encounter happens there. "The room on the cover is inexplicable and unrelated to the rest of the dungeon" is funhouse-y behavior IMO, but the rest of the dungeon is a series of vaguely plausible rooms assembled in a maze-y way. Which is as good a segue as any to briefly talk about the overall layout.

This is a bad layout. This is a layout you come up with when you are just procgenning maze dungeons over and over again. As we have demonstrated in previous posts, this is just kind of how it was in the 70s. This kind of works as a mapping challenge, but mostly it comes across as tedious for everyone involved. Who would make a living space like this? Even the most cooked adventurer on the planet would not install multiple maze corridors for…no reason? AND THE EXCESS OF SECRET DOORS. A friend described this as "a map you could almost make in Wolfenstein 3D", which is actually a great metric. If I can make your map in Wolf3D, it's bad.

There is a genre of dungeon room I like to call "gambler's traps", which is when the room contains like 10+ weird things that you can poke, and if you happen to poke the right ones you get some nice things, and if you poke the wrong ones you get pain. Invariably, you will have a player who tries to poke every one of them, offsetting the whole room. Pools of stuff are traditional, so we get pools. Tragically, every pool with a conceivably fun effect magically stops working outside the pool (come ON Carr!) and many are just pointless A few of them are totally devastating (one of them silences your voice for d6 hours), a few of them are slightly good. In what is a complete dick move, there is an acidic pool with a key at the bottom that does absolutely nothing.

Sigh you find the guy who advised the building of Quasqueton's room, with documents about the construction of it, but explicitly no information that could possibly help adventurers. One of the few magic items in this dungeon is locked in a drawer, but odds are it's nothing interesting (pray for your +1 Ring of Protection)

So the big maze corridor has a regulation spring-loaded trapdoor, which dumps you downstairs sans inventory into freezing cold water. Kinda mean but, sure. Traps are kind of an underrated artform, I feel like GMs as a group have just given up on them. That being said, traps like this one…do not sell me on traps as a concept.

…

Surprisingly, 1978 wasn't too much to talk about? I don't generally think of Gary as an "innovator" in module design space. His main contribution is taking things that already exist and making them feel more natural. Which is not to say that I now buy into Gygaxian Naturalism as this great feat, more than a lot of his competition at the time was seemingly intentionally anti-Naturalism. Their work feels like the reaction to me, Gary is just staying the course of "this should make an amount of sense". Although, his random dungeon monsters mishmash still feels as nonsensical as all hell.

The Halls of Mystery (From Dragon 21, December 1978)

And as threatened, we're going to have a very brief section on The Halls of Mystery, which holds the dubious honor of 1st Dragon Magazine dungeon. I would throw the full header at you, but everything is by Don Turnbull. You may recognize his name, at publication time he works for Games Workshop and he will be heading up TSR, Inc.'s UK branch starting in 1980, leading to the much-beloved Fiend Folio.

So. Not much to say about this, actually, It's a very large room with some branches. The main schtick of the Halls is that the main chamber contains several mirrors, some of which are magical. There's a big riddle on the desk on the south side, the riddle solution is actually quite obvious (say Excalibur three times -- and hey, Don told us the answer and rationale of the puzzle! Thanks Don!). When you move the central cylinder, it teleports you to the corresponding position in the dungeon. The rest is a lightweight stocking of the dungeon with monsters, treasure, et c. If you're keeping score, this is a Zelda puzzle. It's very cute and lightweight and honestly it's so neutrally written (no statistics are given and it would be trivially easy to restock it at any level) that you could genuinely use it in 2024 with very little effort. It's adorable! It is also wonderfully lean, clocking in at two total pages and frankly it's super refreshing to have such a light read of a module here.

And, consequently, I have no fancy cover to show you! Just this hand-drawn little map:

The Tower is unique in that it is the first module on this list that I have actually run for a real party. Now, granted, I did not run the Tower in Holmes Basic (I ran it in Fantasy AGE 2nd edition), but nonetheless -- it's the first one I have personal knowledge of. And I love it quite a bit.

So historywise Holmes Basic has a lot going on that I cannot quickly explain, so simply accept that Eric Holmes offered and was eventually hired to re-edit Original Dungeons and Dragons ("Little Brown Booklets") into a less labyrinthine mess. This was an extremely good call, and the Basic productline would go on to live for a very very long time in one form or another, only getting seriously changed much later by Frank Mentzer in 1983. There is a lot of Corporate Politics wrapped up in the release of ADND vs Basic vs Original DND, with concerns about copyrights and royalties and extremely Type A Gary Gygax not wanting to share his toys with the others. And, done.

The Tower is interesting from a historical standpoint in that whereas The Tower of the Frog is "here is a dungeon, here is what that looks like", Tower of Zenopus is "here is how to make a dungeon, and this is a dungeon that will teach players how to play". There will be far better attempts at those two goals, but nonetheless Tower represents a module that genuinely holds up in 2024 with some cleanup. It was given a loving nod in 5e's Ghosts of Saltmarsh by having the neighboring Portown be a little up the coast from Saltmarsh and I strongly recommend having that be your second adventure after the haunted house.

So, what's Tower's backstory? Both more and less than you'd expect. Zenopus built the tower next to the graveyard, it was suddenly engulfed in green flame, Zenopus was killed "by some powerful force he had unleashe din the depths of the tower", and it sat around for a bit. The villagers saw spooky shit going on there and smashed it with a catapult. Your party has assembled in the Green Dragon Inn and is going to investigate for phat lewt. Go on, scamp!

The structure of the tower is unusually genius for an early module, in that it features a lot of routing loops that allow for nonlinear but clear movement through the dungeon. The overall structure is, ultimately, a rimmed wheel, an outer ring connected by spokes to the hub. The shape hides this well but not too well, which is perfect for the new DM. So here's the room by room highlights:

The party enters on a four-way intersection, each taking you to a different feature of the dungeon. I have heard this dungeon describes as "like a theme park with four wings" and that's an apt descriptor here -- you're picking between the rat area, the pirates area, the wizard area, and the tomb area.

A very cute and simple puzzle, which is one of those most precious things in life: a four-way room freely opens from the outside, but only lets you out from one door. A statue in the center points towards the door that is currently open, and the statue can be spun to change the door. It's a neat little trick in that if the party gets separated during combat, anyone in this room can't assist anymore unless they work out the trap, but outside of combat it is largely a non-issue so long as they take the time to puzzle it out.

A pretty standard but new for the time tell that the wizard has a petrification wand with a little garden of stony adventurers. It's a classic for a reason.

A regulation water-rush trap that separates the party with the current -- again, a certified classic, creating tension by making fair encounters that are hard if the players get separated by traps

Ye olde "question answering mask" with, again, a precious simple puzzle: a tiny little riddle. If you parse out that the mask is powered by the sundial, you can abuse your light sources to make it be 4pm.

G i a n t c r a b, the most classic of scary "normal monsters", because it is armored and hits hard but people still immediately understand "oh fuck it's a crab" in the way they understand a bear is a serious issue

Giant spiders ambush from the ceiling silently. Zenopus really is a classics fest, but in 2024 that's kind of novel simply because THIS type of classic isn't done anymore.

For reasons I cannot fathom, the local pirates have taken to smuggling in the Tower because it's connected to the sea. This works in Ghosts because Portown is abandoned and so it's far away, but as-mentioned in the original module the tower has to be suuuuper far away from town, but also near enough to be the graveyard, for it to be a good smuggler's den. Regardless, there's a canned setpiece in the sea access room where pirates are coming on boats with a kidnapped noble lady from Portown. They're moving in on skiffs when, a giant octopus attacks! It's very, very good. This is, for my money, the best room in the dungeon and also one of the best moments in DND until we get all the way to N1's tavern.

In the center of the dungeon is a staircase leading up into the remains of the tower -- I made a rather major change from the original here, the original is merely an old alchemist's laboratory complete with a pet ape.

Instead of the alchemy lab, for my adventure I made a rather large change: the original module suggests expanding downwards because That Is How It Was Done in 1974. Instead, I went up. The horrible thing Zenopus discovered had formed a shadowy parallel dimension, so they were in a pocket dimension where the old tower was, even though in the prime material plane it was simply rubble. This blog is not About My Modifications but, that's my free tip about the tower if you ever run it -- subvert the old timey expectations by making it an upward dungeon instead of a downward dungeon, with the power of weird magic.