d12 1. You must trick a bard into strumming the Chords of Fate on the Lute of Annihilation 2. Legends tell of thermonuclear weapons beneath megadungeon, lich w/launch codes clearly doesn't give a shit 3. Constant use of magic provokes ecological catastrophe, point of no return long since reached, according to interdisciplinary team of research soothsayers: death spiral for earthly life set to begin after 2d100 further spells cast so choose wisely 4. Giant plug at bottom of World Ocean may be pulled, requires multi-godling strength, there is a certain girdle 5. By swinging the Sword of Living Time PCs might cleave through their most powerful foes, but incidentally slice through Law of Cause/Effect, universe rendered entirely incomprehensible, put away your dice kids 6. Demon-fire Boomerang of Infinite Explosions does it's thing against the forces of chaos but then keeps on going 7. Knocking off godling X creates power vacuum, sphere of influence to be subsumed by godling Y and Z, who hate each other's guts, resultant kaiju-type god war wrecks everything 8. Magic helmet grants awesome psychic/intellectual powers, also transmits signal to Blind Idiot Space Gods that its grazing time on this world 9. Each lich can only be permanently destroyed by unique arcane method, several equally likely possibilities present themselves, but at least one of them destroys the world instead, as the lich explains up front 10. That ent aristocrat was a huge jerk and deserved what he got, but incident was straw that broke camel's back, a state of total war exists between animal & plant kingdoms 11. Seemingly plain, pathetic prisoner hangs on deep dungeon wall w/the other wretched ones, but actually Angel of Thermonuclear Purification under ancient enchantment, makes reasonable argument for release by pointing out intolerable evils in world he could annihilate 12. When you stab demon-lord in face w/Sword of Renewal all evil dies, rays of sunshine break through gloomy skies, hobbits emerge from hiding in their millions, congratulations, everything is boring now
Esoteric items on offer from the local purveyor of dungeoneering equipment. Caveat Emptor!
d12 1. Experimental 50' rope that doubles as fast-burning fuse 2. Water purification tablets of unknown provenance, introduced in sufficient quantities, dungeon pools roil w/fizz utterly toxic to native life 3. Lightweight suction cup/sturdy tubes/mesh arrangement designed to provide sleeping area well above vermin-trodden dungeon floors 4. Semi-translucent suit of jellyfish leather, proof against attacks by most slimes, jellies, oozes, puddings, and other caustic agents 5. Moonstone compass always points toward nearest route to surface, by always I of course mean 62% of the time 6. Twelve implausibly large self-adhesive false mustaches for 1 silver penny 7. Dungeon mood ring changes colors as spells depleted, damage accumulates 8. One-man stretcher with wheels on one end, thick leather girdle on the other for hands-free hauling 9. Hazmat-like suit of cunningly woven garlic fibers for head-to-toe vampire protection 10. Man-harness w/50' leash, fully retractable via fishing reel-style apparatus clipped to belt 11. 10 lb. sack of charcoal briquettes w/lantern-like oven for small dungeon BBQ/emergency warming station 12. All-purpose human replica stuffed dummy, comes fully clothed w/choice of wig, 120 lbs, semi-useless instructions (filled with charming syntax/grammar/translation errors) for use as poor-man's mirror image, transported easily using one-man stretcher (see entry 8)
For when the adventurers take a moment out of their busy schedules for a bit of dumpster-diving, dungeon-style.
d12 1. Skulls, skulls, skulls 2. Decrepit ogre vagrant sleeps one off in shelter made from abundant stacks of pre-cut dungeon masonry 3. Crates and crates of ceramic bottles, all but a handful drained of imported fizzy energy beverage favored by puny humanoids, each worth 5 copper pieces if returned to big city distributor 4. Heaps of dented, punctured cans of anti-fungal concoction w/manufacturer's label, if residue painstakingly collected, enough to ruin a myconid's day 5. Barrels of fungal bits trimmed from unsightly outbreak blooms by dungeon maintenance crew breaking down into slurry of the foulest shit ever 6. Stack of crates filled with shards shattered wine bottles of shockingly posh, tasteful vintage 7. Jumble of oversize humanoid armor beyond repair/reclamation, chest plates burnt, pitted by dragon fire, bits of mail encrusted w/caustic pudding/ooze/slime, rent helmets, vambraces/greaves chewed to uselessness 8. Mothballed fleet of automatic dungeon go-carts gone to rust & rot under rotting tarpaulins, magic batteries utterly depleted, designed for single passenger + small payload to scoot around 10' corridors 9. Swarm of micro-puddings not looking for trouble but violently unwilling to share kitchen scraps 10. Box full of recently forbidden books earmarked for burning but nobody's gotten around to it yet 11. 1000 experimental monster-fodder sausages way past their sell-by date 12. Battering ram customized for dungeon use, declared obsolete since the sentient factions settled their differences
Alternate apex monsters for those occasions when it will be Dungeons & Whatever.
d12 1. Super-powered, hyper-muscular demigods tower over regular humans, world carved into ever-shifting tapestry of fiefdoms each w/demigod patron, driven to amass most fabulous treasures of the world, constant wars of item-specific acquisition 2. Eleven immortal tortoises left over from Dawn Times vary in size from colossal to stupendously huge, each guards single site of ancient power/megadungeon, communicate telepathically w/one another, breath atomic fire but once/century but it's a thermonuclear doozy 3. Giant winged dogs of regal bearing occupy mountaintops, run gamut from benevolent to diabolical, understand human tongues but communicate exclusively in complex language of whines, howls, whimpers, woofs, hoard/bury treasures according to their own incomprehensible urges 4. Kong-sized royal apes in their heyday, titles of nobility represent full range/relative political power (see Subtable, below), recognize their own system of territories at odds with human political map, build vast walls to hamper human activities 5. Genius giant levitating koi, extended fins billow about majestically, sage-like wisdom sometimes available, more frequently destructive rays emit from toothless maws, bones made of gravity-defying gold 6. Profusion of uniquely inhuman chaos godlings emerge from spawning grounds in the Underworld, employ mind control powers to secure flocks of worshipers, amass wealth, make war upon each other 7. Numerous sea serpents ranging in size from tiny to enormous, intellect develops over slow growth cycle, control all sea trade/warfare, extort vast fortunes in gems from human sea powers for unknown purposes 8. Magic users warp/mutate as they grow in power, eventually becoming insane, terrifying chaos monsters alone in their depopulated towers w/all their unspendable money 9. Perpetually famished segmented swine grow to great serpentine immensity, dwell singly in vast territories due to enormous caloric requirements, despise humankind but obsessed w/human culinary achievements, descend upon farms lands/cities w/indiscriminate gluttony, every part of bodies worth a fortune 10. Giant war-bots left over from prior civilization stand inert like part of the landscape until monkeyed with by sorcery, spell variants abound, none perfect yet, several now accidentally rendered autonomous, fight one another on sight, essentially made out of treasure 11. Godzilla sized race of mantids once ruled the Earth, but got old/sleepy, awaken once in a while to go on killing sprees then mate, numbers remain stable due to murderous nature of coupling, lay single egg atop pile of treasure to be consumed by hatchling, guard jealously for length of gestation: 100 years 12. No creature on earth can hope to match the ferocity of titanic steel-furred earthquake shrews, insatiable appetites keep purple worm population to acceptable minimum, gut loaded with treasures, burrow w/lightning speed, show up unexpectedly, highly articulate, excellent senses of humor, but can only talk for a moment before feeding must commence
Subtable: Sample Royal Apes Roll d6 for each column, adjust for gender as desired
1. Duke 1. Klang 2. Viscount 2. Grak 3. Prince 3. Urkk 4. Baron 4. Chok 5. King 5. Spang 6. Marquess 6. Chung
Perfectly healthy Blind Antler Man from Operation Unfathomable
Widespread, atypical, highly disruptive monster behaviors and altered states of consciousness result from unknown spores/germs/curse/damnation/deranging gas/etc. disseminated throughout the dungeon. Generate additional side effects as required by rolling again.
d12 1. Population drawn inexorably to dungeon pools, subterranean rivers, lakes, etc. by sudden compulsion to immerse/cleanse themselves, battles break out for control of waters between terrestrial factions & aquatic denizens 2. Delusions of grandeur fill dungeon with would-be field marshals, captains of industry, messiahs, avatars of various godlings, all simultaneously vying for admiration, esteem, worship of one another 3. Manic obsession w/cleanliness has overtaken sentient dungeon occupants, watch as they busily scrub, sweep, mop, dust, polish, chemically cleanse walls, floors, doors, pits, traps, bringing an unprecedented sparkle & freshness to dungeon environment 4. Irrational edginess expresses itself in loud, pointless squabbles among allies, rules lawyering, totally unnecessary acts of violence, mayhem, prickly servitors put out by master's typical commands, surly dungeon noblesse heap meaningless punishment upon underlings, even non-intelligent inhabitants seem grumpy as hell 5. For period of 1d6 hours, dungeon dwellers fuction at half their normal intelligence, foggy minded, forgetful, and twice as credulous 6. Even the most chaotic overtaken by uncontrollable urge to restructure dungeon society into extremely orderly new arrangement, binding documents drafted by wisest undead, ratified by representatives of every faction, strong anti-adventurer measures among first acts of new ruling body 7. Monsters find human beings irresistibly charming/lovable, make best attempts to roughly woo adventurers into warm friendship, offer food & drink, betray secrets of rival factions, provide insider dungeon information in effort to secure long-term relationships 8. Weird catatonia takes hold, creatures stagger around zombie-like, drool copiously, no longer able to control bodily functions, show zero interest in adventurers, 1 in 6 chance of snapping out of it en masse per ten minutes 9. Sensory abilities temporarily enhanced exponentially, literally seeing through walls, hearing things a mile away, cannot be surprised, attempts at stealth (even at professional level) useless 10. Outbreak of insatiable hunger w/side order of cannibalism-of-convenience, but more than willing to eat anything/one 11. Denizens giddy w/wild-eyed, sweaty, artificially-induced self confidence, will take any risk secure in the knowledge of inevitable victory, positive can-do attitude of evil 12. For period of 1d6 hours, dungeon dwellers function at exponentially enhanced level of intelligence, Algonquin Round Tables of giants theoretically solve world's problems while exceptionally gifted puny humanoids pursue their predilections with a preternatural acuity soon to vanish, formerly dumb brutes take opportunity to comment on foibles of so-called intelligent species
d12 1. Import Emporium down by the docks sells healing potions by the crate from dodgy overseas manufacturer, 50% failure rate, 5% toxicity rate, employee must vouch for you 2. See the obese gnome under the giant toadstool near sewage treatment facility, he's got the good stuff 3. Street vendor specializing in doodads, knickknacks, tchotchkes, also has small behind-the-counter selection, he wears a really tall fez 4. When the third house on the left on Ambush Alley flies the green flag, that means potions are in stock, all customers probed by wand of sheriff detection before entry 5. Leave a detailed message plus small bag of gold under the giant trash bin behind the tavern, return & check for an unmarked crate just before sunrise 6. My good friend the street alchemist is a little eccentric: you must engage him in unarmed combat before he'll sell you anything, it's usually non-lethal 7. You can try the Forest Lady. She lives in a shack outside the city walls just inside the edge of the woods, a pack of wolf-dogs live around there too. She might be a witch. 8. No, no, what you want to do is leave your money in a sack at the edge of Nearby Swamp with a detailed note. When you come back the next morning there should be a giant frog waiting for you. It will open its mouth and reveal your purchase. No, really. 9. The lady who plays the double-necked lute at the tavern knows a guy who knows this other dude 10. If the levitating monk in the park senses you've made a substantial donation to his temple, he will indicate with his eyes where to go 11. There's a hidden tree house in the forest that has what you need, but you have to bribe the password out of somebody because, well, they have a lot of lightning strikes right in that area 12. If you go to the town square and shout "Basilisk!" at the top of your lungs, eventually someone will approach you (see subtable below)
Subtable: Who Approaches You When You Scream Out "Basilisk!" In the Town Square d6 1. Flim-flam artist aims to hose you out of your gold, promises speedy return w/the goods, slithers off forever 2. Actual potion dealer with long heavy coat loaded w/the goods, so sketchy, paranoid, speaks only in code 3. Street creep eager to act as unauthorized middle-man steps in quickly, mark-up 200%, zooms off to intercept dude from entry 2 4. Mendicant w/menacing build had a weird dream about a basilisk last night, wants to discuss 5. Constabulary looking for a quick bribe (80%) or recreational beat-down (20%) 6. Barbarian fresh from ill-fated adventure featuring a basilisk would rather you not say that word