"We don't belong here." Adventuring in hostile Otherworlds.

[Yora]

I've been doing some hard thinking about why my campaign never really fully turned out like I imagined them and come to the conclusion that I never really took the adventures into the Spiritworld, as was the main idea behind the whole concept of the setting. It's apparently a pretty common GM mistake to start with something mundane and keep the good stuff for later when the characters have become powerful (which they never do because the campaign gets boring first) and limited to special events so they feel really different from the regular program.
So I am determined to change this and try to make explorations of hostile otherworlds a central and regular thing right from the start.

When reading about outstanding adventures or great level design in videogames people often comment how the environments feel actively hostile to the PCs and like places where normal people are not meant to be. And I think I know what they mean, but how do you accomplish that when preparing your own adventure sites?

For my setting I've written down three basic facts about the relationship between people and the hostile world:
Civilization is possible because some spirits let people settle in their domains and keep small areas clear of dangerous beasts and hostile smaller spirits.
Civilization is precarious because spirits are alien and their thoughts and goals incomprehensible.
The wilderness is very dangerous because people are smaller and weaker than the big predators.

I want to structure the setting with small and widely spread out patches of inhabited farmland where things are pretty much normal, surrounded by a huge wilderness that is almost entirely populated by many large and dangerous animals with almost no safe resting places or people to call for help. And finally there's a true otherworld that consists of the Spiritworld and most dungeons. I want to try out having no adventures set in the settled areas, except for malicious witches or secret cults who have brought the otherworld to their lairs with their magic. The wilderness would be a dangerous environment the party has to pass through on their way to underworld dungeons or otherworld portals. Since they can only restock most of their supplies (and replace casualties) in settled areas they need to make sure they get most of them to their destination and also make the return trip before they run out. How to make these wilderness gauntlet runs fun is a different topic, though.

My main question is how you can make the main adventuring sites feel like places that are not meant to be visited by ordinary people and where both the inhabitants and the environment itself are a major threat to their survival. Going with an outright hell where there are only demons that all attack on sight is the easy approach, but I don't find it very interesting for exploration. I really like the idea that people accept that spirits rule the world and their survival depends on not getting underfoot and occasionally convincing spirits to help them. Make a mistake and the spirits might accidentally harm you or decide to destroy you. If anyone has ideas how to make spirits really dangerous without being immediately hostile it would be a huge help to me.

Here are some general ideas I have to make the environment hostile to explorers:

Don't let the party have rechargable magical light sources. When torches and lamps run out they are completely blind when underground (or at least some of them) until they can find something to light on fire or glowing worms or something like that.

Track food and make edible plants really hard to find in dungeons and spiritworlds. Leaves and grass won't feed people and fruits might not be healthy.

Use a lot of water. Even when the party has magic to breath underwater their torches and lamps won't be working there.

Little weak monsters that wait to attack the party until they are weak and need to recover. And not just once, but repeatedly.

Great differences in height and monsters that can fly.

Huge open spaces and monsters with ranged attacks.

Fog that blocks sight and creatures that are sneaky.

Ground that slows characters down or hurts them when they trip. But not the native creatures.

Wind that can make characters fall and interferes with ranged weapons.

Low ceilings that force characters to fight crouched or narrow passages that make large weapons unusable and keeps parties from fighting as a team.

[TheCountAlucard]

From my experience in Exalted, members of the Eclipse Caste could invoke ancient oaths of diplomatic immunity when they and their companions went traveling in strange places - be it the Demon City or the Underworld, Heaven or the Spirit Courts or the inchoate seas of the Wyld, so long as they didn't initiate violence, and were there on legitimate business, they couldn't just be up and attacked for being there.

Clever NPCs could, of course, engage in various loopholes - goading a PC into attacking his gracious host would of course void the circle's immunity. Still, the Eclipse anima power provided easy ways to enable PCs exploring some very strange places.

[raspberrybadger]

Some of the ideas in this thread might help: http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?511604-quot-Weird-forest-quot-encounters

Being stared at by minor spirits/beasts/etc can be a surprisingly powerful psychological effect.

Footprints. Either literal giant footprints or other signs that powerful magic or beasts or whatnot were there.

Ordinary equipment failing. Like, the ground won't seem to hold tent pegs. That kind of thing.

More or less friendly offers can be the best way to communicate alienness. Something like: they think the PCs might want the last breath of a giant turtle, or they want to buy the first vowel sound you made. Friendly encounters make it easier to convey different assumptions, goals, and so on - and they deny PCs the emotions of combat to put aside any creepiness or unease.

[Potato_Priest]

Track food and make edible plants really hard to find in dungeons and spiritworlds. Leaves and grass won't feed people and fruits might not be healthy.


I've never had a problem with players getting an easy living off of plants. They generally make off with the flesh from large and meaty monsters instead. It's hard to justify those not having much food on them, unless they all spontaneously explode into dust when they die.

[LokiRagnarok]

You are in the Spirit World. How nutritious is a corpse of a spirit going to be?

[Beneath]

Do you know how to prepare that monster? Is it carrying any human-communicable diseases? Is the flesh poisonous?

[Mechalich]

I really like the idea that people accept that spirits rule the world and their survival depends on not getting underfoot and occasionally convincing spirits to help them. Make a mistake and the spirits might accidentally harm you or decide to destroy you. If anyone has ideas how to make spirits really dangerous without being immediately hostile it would be a huge help to me.

This is tricky. You have to make sure that you don't simply make the spirits alien in an erratic and incomprehensible way, because that means you're just doing die rolls to figure out what happens at random with each encounter, but at the same time the spirits shouldn't be vulnerable to the same hackneyed appeals over and over again because the players will just exploit the same method with every encounter to bypass the anger of the spirits.

I think what you might be looking for is something like the Demon Negotiation system found in certain Atlus games (like the Shin Megami Tensei and Devil Summoner games) where each demon has a personality trait that governs how it responds to certain appeals like bribery, discussion, intimidation, and so forth combined with a random element. Sometimes if negotiation goes well demons may give you money, or heal you, or join your party, and sometimes they'll cheat you or just attack outright.

[Yora]

Clever NPCs could, of course, engage in various loopholes - goading a PC into attacking his gracious host would of course void the circle's immunity.


This is tricky. You have to make sure that you don't simply make the spirits alien in an erratic and incomprehensible way, because that means you're just doing die rolls to figure out what happens at random with each encounter, but at the same time the spirits shouldn't be vulnerable to the same hackneyed appeals over and over again because the players will just exploit the same method with every encounter to bypass the anger of the spirits.

Perhaps do something where there are certain rules about things that will make certain groups of spirits really hostile. Doesn't have to mean that they immediately attack and the spirits don't have to be particularly powerful so the players can learn about these rules before they accidentally make a really powerful enemy. Then in the future they will know that they have to avoid certain things or get into big trouble, which might be really inconvenient and get in the way of their progress.

[WbtE]

Somebody has to say it, so - "Map tricks!"

The Otherworlds should be barely navigable, relying on the guidance of friendly spirits or - less confidently - searching for landmarks in a shifting sea of paths. If your group doesn't normally draw a map, include details about the turns they've taken and then when they say, "We go back the way we came," hit them with something like, "Which way was that again?" If they do map, be sure to invoke map changes at semi-regular intervals. (Having a map shift as a "random encounter" is a good option.)

I would let my players get away with classic moves like using a trail of breadcrumbs, but I am a kind and generous person so don't feel obliged to do the same.

[Yora]

Oh yeah, guides are an awesome idea. Having alien minds and very different ideas of what it safe and convenient, the paths spirits recommend to parties could easily get really weird or dangerous. And you better don't make your guide think that you're complaining about how they lead you or they may decide it's no longer worth their time to help you if you are ungreatful for their efforts.

That really applies to any advice you get from spirits.

[raspberrybadger]

Agreed that guides are great for this. They can warn players about alien politics, customs, and paths. That way the players don't have to figure out that they can only walk through this gate backwards, having left behind all salt - they just have to do it. If they trust the guide. It also lets you introduce small but weird bribes, and weird taboos to avoid angering the locals.

[Yora]

"Then you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest. With a herring!"

[NRSASD]

I'm setting up a campaign where the PCs will be hapless travelers who accidentally get sucked into the Spirit World-equivalent. Drawing from the older Celtic and American folklore, I'm thinking about making the food found in the Spirit World a very dangerous proposition. Any spirit world food gives the players' perks that help them better adjust to the environment (easier navigation, inherently knowing weaknesses of spirit creatures, etc.), but the more they eat the more they lose touch with who they are. Maybe difficulty communicating with their gods, an aversion to human food, etc. After a certain threshold, the players won't be able to return to their homeland, and more importantly, no longer want to, because they are no longer human.

[Yora]

Some old D&D adventures had fruits and ponds that would permanently change some of the abilities of characters. Usually beneficial and harmful ones right next to each other. Apparently these are remembered very fondly. (Though those were for campaigns where sudden character death was an expected part of adventuring.)
I think if the effects aren't too extreme and make characters unplayable they should be pretty fun.

[Frozen_Feet]

Out of existing supplements and games, Lamentations of the Flame Princess adventures Death Frost Doom, Death Love Doom and Red & Pleasant Land are great inspirations. So are Praedor and STALKER from Burger Games.

These share many elements relevant to your idea. So do my games, so let me share a few ideas. When I want to build an eerie atmosphere, here are things I use:

Lack of ontological inertia/object permanence: normally, once observed, things tend to remain as they are unless acted on by additional forces. Not so here. Things tend to remain as they are only when directly observed or cared by a conscious actor. When not being observed, things are liable to vanish or change dramatically. F. Ex. when you throw a rock to a place no-one can see, it will not hit anything - and when you move so you should see it, you will not find it, as it ceased to be as you ceased to observe it.

Terrain overlap: this usually only becomes apparent when a group gets separated from each other, though a group being careful with their mapping might notice it when things cease to add up. Terrain overlap means that two areas should, by all normal measurements, be right next to another, or even occupy the same space, but things in these two areas are non-interacting. The most radical version is where two or more people seem to occupy identical terrain and reached it through seemingly identical means - yet, they cannot perceive each other, suggesting they are in different locations.

Infinite stairs and corridors are common source of terrain overlap, and also easiest to spot. Here's a pathway which follows a seemingly straightforward, predictable path, and by every measurement should intersect with or reach other known locations. Yet, they don't.

Discontinuous spaces AKA portals: any phenomenom where two spaces are connected in a way which limits interaction between them. The most common example is a gateway leading to a different world, dimension, etc.. the gateway is the only spot where the two areas interact. Otherwise you cannot reach one from the other and the two don't fit together. May give appearance of terrain overlap if the treshold of discontinuity is not noticed. Obviously disconnected spaces may appear to violate logic and are good for triggering a paranormal feeling. An example would be a room that's half frozen and half on fire, with the fire doing nothing to the ice and vice versa.

Causeless phenomena: shadows without bodies, lights without sources, sounds with no-one to make them, sudden changes in temperature or gravity. All things which normally imply presence of something, with that something absent.

Symbolic terrain: places where some aspects of the environment have symbolic connection to other aspects, and alterations to the former cause changes in the latter. Modern people are actually used to this: any icon-based graphical computer UI meant for controlling an external device is an example of this. Now you just have to go wild an introduce wacky analogous versions of this. Maybe the arrangement of doors in the next room depends on configuration of a chessboard in this one. Or maybe the shape and color of your clothes dictate how the passageways of the castle twist and turn ahead of you.

Art: art tells something about values and aesthetics of creatures dwelling there. If all the books are bound in human skin or all statues are made of human bones... yeah.

Lack of oxygen/unbreathable air: this a sneakier variant of underwater adventures. Fires extinquish when oxygen is not present. Or worse, fires may cause an explosion. This limits available sources of light and warmth. Furthermore, residents of the area might not be bothered by this, so observing their behaviour will not alert to the presence of danger. In my games goblins can breathe carbon-dioxide, carbon-monoxide, methane, and several other heavier-than-air or poisonous gases just fine. This means some of their dwellings are inaccessible or intraversible to humans.

Incompatible dietary requirements: otherwordly food is either unpalatable or poisonous to humans. For example, in my games elves are extreme omnivorous scavengers. They make food out of poisonous berries, rotten carcasses, and literal crap, making their meals inedible or even lethal to humans.

Innocent danger: related to the above: the creatures with needs different from humans are not necessarily aware of such differences or dangers they might pose. An elf doesn't know its food is lethal to humans. It also doesn't know that its body is capable of carrying toxins and diseases to which it is itself immune, but which might make a human ill through a simple show of affection, such as a kiss, or, oh, breathing the same air.