A fellow player surprised my Pen & Paper-group and me with a remarkable gift: in a burst of seemingly manic energy, he transformed the 150-page player summary of our first campaign into a Kanka-Wiki. Check it out, it’s fantastic!
Our first Dungeons & Dragons campaign, “Princes of the Apocalypse,” marked my debut as a long-term Game Master. As I delved into the Kanka’s character, location, and journal sections, I found myself reflecting on the lessons learned. What worked? What didn’t? How did the campaign book assist me, and where did it fall short? And most interestingly, what would I do differently today?
This, coupled with wanting to show off the awesome Wiki, inspired this post. Attention, spoilers ahead!
The initial dozen sessions progressed smoothly. Players delved into their first dungeons, fostered NPC connections in the town of Red Larch, and experienced dramatic character deaths and introductions of new characters. The campaign book provided enough inspiration for roleplaying intriguing NPCs and offered engaging adventure locations to explore. However, much of it was buried in WAY TOO MUCH text, requiring significant rewriting for practical use at the table. But isn’t this what GMing is about? (No.. No, it isn’t.)
As we ventured into our first major dungeon, I fell into a trap, set up by traditional D&D dungeon presentation – revealing inhabitants and features room by room.
In a fighting scene, happening in a secluded area of a large cavern, a player used the VERY loud spell «Thunderwave». The suddenly pretty worried players brought up the question, whether this would alarm the rest of the dungeon’s denizens. My pretty concerned thoughts: «Oh boy, I’m frakked, right? The dungeon is actualy above the PC’s level, and if they get swarmed by all the inhabitants, that’ll be one of theses dreaded TPKs (Total Party Kills) ending the whole campaign! Also am I really supposed to scim through several pages of room descriptions, to check for all the enemies? This can’t be how it’s meant to be run, right?»
So i concluded: «Don’t worry! This is D&D. Dungeons are meant to be explored room by room and the monsters next door won’t recognize, what’s happening. Feels stupid, I know, but I think that’s how the game is meant to be played.» (It isn’t).
Only much later a blog post introduced me to and a Master’s Talk reminded me of the concept of «Adversary Rosters» So, first lesson: Use Adversary Rosters. If you want to know what they are about, check out the mentioned blog post or this presentation.
Another lesson emerged when my players surprised me with their unexpected actions at the Cult of the Eternal Flame’s hideout. Confronted with the Cult’s forces conducting an evil ritual, the players chose to retreat and never return. This left me figuring out the consequences of the ritual’s completion, since the book lacked a description of the ritual’s goal.
And goals in general. I realized I had no clue what the four Cults and their iconic leaders actually wanted and what they did to reach their goals. They just sat in their dungeons waiting for the players to show up and kill them until the last one would be confronted while summoning his elemental Overlord. Very villainous. And boring.
So I took the Fire Cult’s leader, Vannifer, out of her dungeon and let her ritual-empowered army rampage through the valley. This led to the cinematic Battle of Beliard, with clashing armies, the feeling of «Ooops.. We caused this..» in my players, and the glorious defeat of a Cult Leader, dying for her cause on the field of battle.
The lesson: Villains need goals and agendas including consequences upon their completion.
Reflecting on these experiences, I would change the following, if running this campaign again:
- Define distinct goals and subgoals for each cult, promoting opposition between them.
- Utilize the faction system from “Worlds Without Number” to simulate faction activities.
- Incorporate Adversary Rosters for dungeon management.
Despite its design flaws, “Princes of the Apocalypse” offers a variety of villains and factions and the sandbox design provides the players with ample agency.
For us it lead to a cinematic epilogue and an awesome Kanka-Wiki that ties it all together and induces countless memories!