Gen Con Bound

I can still hear the voices of my ancestors calling to me, telling me to avoid giving out personal information on the internet.  But we're all social media's stooges, so I suppose I might as well do this.

Since a couple people have asked: If you want to say hello at Gen Con, I'll no doubt be around — probably bouncing around the vicinity of the Lamentations booth (booth #3010) and shilling the few copies of No Rest for the Wicked likely to make it.  Buy them and I'll devalue them with my signature upon request!

I'll no doubt be flitting around the Atlas Games (booth #1421) or Goodman Games (booth #117) booths, although that's likely to be more of a transient thing.  If you're at the Gong Farmer's Local #282 meeting on Wednesday night, I should be there.

If you want more definitive information to dispatch assassins and end this wretched charade, I am likely to be found at the following places:

Thursday, 2 PM: Playing No Small Crimes in Lankhmar (ICC: 127-128: 14)

Friday, 8 AM: Running Maria in Three Parts (Marriott: Indiana Ballroom C: 1)

Friday, 6 PM: The ENnies! (Union Station: Grand Hall)

Saturday, 12 PM: Running Under Broken Wings (Marriott: Indiana Ballroom C: 2)

Saturday, 5 PM: Playing Once in a Lifetime (Hyatt: Network)

Sunday, 2 PM: The Goodies! (ICC: 127-128)

Spore Week: I Dreamt A Dream Of Human Iniquity, And It Disturbed My Rest

Can a mind think a thought so toxic it becomes a viral meme unto itself, churning and ripping through the other minds it infects?

A dungeon concept to round out Spore Week.

(I'll actually have to revisit and stat it out eventually, but one step at a time.)

Most people on the surface see the strange, purplish, bloated mushroom men of the deepearth — creatures that cannot speak and shun the sun and raise the dead with strange growths — and fear them, assuming them monstrous when they are in fact enlightenment-seeking pacifists.

People always assume all sorts of things about creatures which they do not understand.

And so it was that noted tomb robber Lupus Gaertner (7th-level thief) saw fit to penetrate the subterranean tunnels of the mushroom men and steal their riches, assuming that all under the sun is like himself and values gold from the earth.

He instead sneaked through lightless tunnels, finding no treasure but the strange alchemies of the fungus men and their peace-loving king.  His interrogations yielded nothing, so he slew the myconids' king.

Imagine his surprise when the king's cap sloughed off his head.

Donning the mushroom cap, Lupus found he could command and control the furtive fungus men.  They are clumsy and die in the sunlight, but night raids are better anyway, and stealth is less important when you have overwhelming force

Old Lupus began his slow transformation into the new Mushroom King when he donned the King's Crown, eventually becoming a myconid himself.  But his human ambitions remained, and he only uses the meld as a psychonautical training exercise to better prepare himself and his loyal subjects — a way to astrally case target sites and practice burglary strategies.

The myconids are essentially helpless victims, but the local populace will not see it that way, assuming that the mushroom men's nightly raids are of their own volition.  Even if Lupus is killed, they might continue their raids, simply assuming this is now their work.

About 100 myconids of various sizes lair in the lightless tunnels beneath the earth.  Old Lupus Gaertner is their king, twelve feet tall but still wily and possessing his various thieves' skills and tools in addition to his capabilities as a myconid sovereign.

The mushroom men themselves hold little treasure apart from their fungal and alchemical preparations: three potions of anointment (special poisons brewed by the mushroom men that elevate a 5 HD myconid adult to a 6 HD myconid sovereign; they are deadly poisons — save vs. poison or die — if consumed by non-myconids), and five potions of another type.  (You can use these strange growths to round out the potions, or you can roll on the potions table from some source like Labyrinth Lord.  I generated oil of etherealness, potion of giant control, potion of growth, potion of plant control, and potion of poison.)  Lupus tightly controls the myconids' alchemy, always trying to maintain his control.  (He is especially worried about those potions of anointment, as he wants to keep his hegemony over the myconid circles, but he keeps them in case they ever come in handy.  Especially because they form a deadly poison to humans.)

Although myconids don't usually keep treasure, Lupus stashed his old loot throughout the complex before completing his transformation, not to mention what he and the myconids have gathered on raids.  He probably has the equivalent of Hoard Class X stashed throughout the underground complex, although what he plans on doing with all that money is anyone's guess.

For maximum gonzo, the player characters play a circle of myconids trying to find out why this other circle has suddenly started attacking humans and drawing entirely too much attention to the local mushroom men.

Spore Week: The Crown of the Mushroom King

Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

Is there an actual King of all Mushrooms?  Is this just a particularly venerable myconid sovereign?  Or is there an actual mycelial king lurking somewhere in the Deepearth, secretly lording over all fungi?

Regardless, there is a crown, and it is said to belong to the Mushroom King.

(Who knows how it works?  Fungal sovereignty no doubt works differently than the monarchies of humans and demihumans.)

The crown appears to be a standard sort of mushroom cap in a rich purple color.  It is shaped to fit on standard humanoid-sized heads, although it's elastic enough to be a little forgiving.

Why do the caps conform to human symbolism, anyway?

Regardless, whomever acquires and wears the cap of the mushroom king effectively gains the spore-based powers of a myconid sovereign.  Other myconids will follow your orders more or less without question.  Additionally, as per the AD&D Monstrous Manual, pages 264-265, the character can use each of the following spore types six times per day:

• Distress: This spore type is used to alert other myconids to danger or a need for aid. The cloud expands at a rate of 40 feet per round, expanding to its maximum of 120 feet in three rounds.
• Reproducer: These spores are only emitted at the proper time for growing new myconids so the population can be rigidly controlled. They are also automatically ejected by a dying myconid.
• Rapport: These spores are primarily used in the melding process. However, they can be used by the myconids to communicate with other species, since the fungus men do not talk. A small cloud of spores is aimed at one person; if the person fails a saving throw vs. poison (it can choose to fail), it can go into telepathic rapport, speaking mind-to-mind with the myconid as if it were normal speech. The range of this effect is 40 feet and the duration is 60 minutes.
• Pacifier: This type of spore cloud may be spewed at a single creature. If the creature fails its saving throw vs. poison, it becomes totally passive, unable to do anything. The affected creature only observes; it is unable to perform any action even if attacked. The range of this effect is 40 feet and the duration is 6 rounds. The duration of this effect is a number of rounds equal to the Hit Dice of the myconid.
• Hallucinator: This type of spore is usually used in the melding ritual, but a myconid can project them at an attacker. The spore cloud may be shot at one creature, and if that creature fails its saving throw vs. poison, it suffers violent hallucinations for 60 minutes. Hallucinating creatures react as follows (roll 1d20): 1-10 Cower and whimper; 11-15 Stare into nothingness; 16-18 Flee shrieking in a random direction; 19-20 Try to kill the closest creature. The range of this effect is 40 feet.
• Animator: The king uses these spores to infect a dead animal or creature. A purple fungus quickly covers the corpse, taking over the dead body systems and putting it to work, animating the corpse to resemble a zombie (AC 10, Move 9, HD 1, hp 4, #AT 2, Dmg bony claws for 1-3/1-3). It is not undead and cannot be turned by priests. It always strikes last in a round. The body continues to rot and the fungus gradually replaces the missing parts, becoming specialized to take over their functions. Eventually, however, the decay proceeds too far, and the body stops functioning, able to rest at last. Animation takes place 1d4 days after infection, and the corpse is animated for 1d4+1 weeks before it decays. Animated creatures will follow simple orders given by the animator (with rapport spores) to the best of their ability. Orders take priority over self-preservation.

If you're using 5e rules, the character wearing the crown can use the animating spores, hallucination spores, pacifying spores, and rapport spores from the myconid sovereign stat block (Monster Manual, page 232).  The crown requires attunement, and counts as a very rare item.

You know what's coming, right?

Of course, there are side effects to joining with another species.  Wearers find that the cap does not easily come off; indeed, after the wearer dons the cap, it joins with them and reacts as a part of the body.  (Attempts to pry it off are exceedingly painful.  If someone makes a good faith attempt to pull it off, it stays put and deals 1d4 damage.)  This precludes the use of helms, and at the GM's discretion, worsens the character's Armor Class by one or two points as the head is now a much larger target.  (It is possible that the character can get a custom helm manufactured, but that sucker is going to be heavy.  To avoid collapsing your neck from the strain, you'll probably end up having to wear custom armor that makes you look like the Juggernaut.  Or maybe druids or elves can manufacture something appropriate.)

Maybe you get used to it after a while, and regain your full Armor Class.  That all depends on how generous your GM might be.

At this point, sufficiently high-level restoration magic can still remove the cap.  (Remove Curse doesn't work, though, as strictly speaking, it's not a curse  It's just part of you now.)

Every week you wear it, make a saving throw vs. poison.  On a failed save, you begin the transformation into a myconid over the course of 1d6 weeks.  At the end of this time, switch your race or class: you're permanently a myconid now, and the cap has bonded with you permanently.  (Good news, though: if you're using 5e attunement, it stops being attuned when you become a myconid.  It's part of you now, although you're unlikely to find another magic hat that will fit you.)

It's up to the GM if you eventually become so absorbed by your myconid sovereign mindset that you become an NPC, but that seems a likely outcome for most afflicted with the Crown.

If the wearer is slain, the cap detaches, ready for another host.

Probably best to remove it before then.

Spore Week: Strange Growths of the Beeheath Undermarket

You saved his village!  He's so proud of you!

Adventurers recently cleared out the stretch of sewer beneath the Beeheath Market Square, and in the process, found a circle of myconids living within the storage rooms of the old Gewerbestadt Night Market.

In time, as sewer workers survey the site and begin shoring up the old aqueducts, the myconids will no doubt encounter humanity and become exposed to commerce and trade and human values.

Such is the way of things.

At that time, travelers will no doubt want to trade for their wondrous fungal remedies.  The myconids do not understand trade — you can just give people stuff they need, after all — but it is the way of these strange mammalian things, so they will adapt.

They don't sell many standard goods, other than rations at standard prices.  (Hope you like mushrooms!)  For the discerning adventurer, here are some nonstandard goods they might sell.  Alternately, since the characters arguably helped them by clearing out the sewers of vermin, perhaps they just have one of these waiting when next they visit!  (Coincidentally, the next one grows to maturity the visit after the last one is consumed.  Funny how that timing works.)

As any mycologist can tell you, identifying fungi is difficult, even if you're well-trained.  Characters can only identify what a given fungus is and does at great difficulty, if at all.  (It's probably easier to identify it after you've eaten it, though.)  Assume the descriptions below are guidelines; the fungi can have greater similarities if you want to make future identification more difficult.

The myconids don't know what these mushrooms do to non-fungal lifeforms, so they can't help you.  They're very interested to know what happens when you consume these mushrooms, though.

The face of a dedicated scientist.

Assign prices to the following.  (10gp or 25gp per syllable in the name is a good rule of thumb.)  Alternatively, roll 1d12 to see which type of mushroom is available on any given visit:

1. I Dreamt A Dream Of Fullness, Of Wholeness, And It Was My Entirety
A standard healing potion: like a cure light wounds spell (1d6+1 hp) in an old-school game, or a potion of healing (2d4+2 hp) in a 5e game.
A brownish, greyish morel with a warm, nutty flavor.

2. I Had A Dream Of The Cosmos, And It Was I, And I Was It
You know it was coming.  Replicates the effects of an enlarge spell for an hour.  (For old school games, assume it grants double size and double Strength-based damage for the duration.)
A sticky red-and-white spotted toadstool.  Tastes sour, like illusions of grandeur.

3. For the Eukarya Is Mykarya, All Are Connected, All Are Siblings In The World
The consumer must make a saving throw vs. poison.  (Or a DC 13 Constitution check.)  On a failed save, the consumer begins the transformation into a slime mold.  This takes a turn (10 minutes), and is quite painful.  However, once complete, the character can ooze through cracks as small as one inch without difficulty (and without slowing down), and the character can cling to walls and ceilings, moving at standard rates without climbing checks.  The character's equipment is left behind, but the ooze-character makes a dandy scout.  At the end of every hour, the character makes the same saving throw vs. poison, turning back into themselves (albeit bereft of equipment) on a successful save.  If the character fails five such saving throws in a row, the change is permanent.  (Although appropriate magic can probably reverse the transformation.)
A patch of purple-brown mold with an acrid aroma but pleasing, cotton candy taste.

4. The Motive Force Of The Mind Sets The Whole World Into Motion
The consumer gains +1d6 Intelligence for an hour.  (Alternately, for a 5e-type game, gain advantage on Intelligence checks as per enhance ability.)  The character can probably do calculations in their head for the duration.
A juicy purple toadstool, it probably leaves stains on the inside of your pack.  Tastes like cool lemonade on a hot desert day.

5. The Deepest Root Lies Not In The Earth, But In Oneself
You can communicate telepathically with nearby intelligent creatures (creatures of higher than animal intelligence that you can see within 60 feet) for the duration.  They cannot communicate back, though.
A brownish-orange bracket, chewing it tastes of nutty wood and a mild metallic aftertaste.

6. The Fruit Was Birthed In The Mind, And It Will Take Root In All Minds
You grow fruiting bodies that rupture, sporulating in a cloud around you.  For 1d6 rounds, you can order people to do things as per a suggestion spell.  They fall under this compulsion for only 1d6 turns (ten-minute increments for you new school folks), but it requires no further concentration from you to enact.  This spell only affects creatures that breathe and can understand your language.  They can roll a save vs. poison to resist the compulsion.  (For 5e-type games, roll a DC 13 Constitution saving throw to resist the suggestion.)
A white puffball, tasting of exotic fruits and ambition.

7. I Dreamt I Was An Animal Capable of Speech, And The Other Animals Did Hasten To My Words
You grow fruiting bodies that rupture, sporulating in a cloud around you.  For 1d6 turns (ten-minute increments), those nearby must roll a save vs. poison or else be affected as if by charm person.  The charm effect wears off when the duration ends.  As per a regular charm person spell, the affected parties know that you did something to them when the spell wears off.  They get saves if you ask them to do something harmful, as normal.  (Again, DC 13 Constitution saving throw to resist 5e charm person.)
A pink puffball, tasting of port wine and sorrow.

8. The Deepest Root Lies Not In The Earth, But In Oneself, But Oneself Is The Microcosm
For an hour, any creature coming within 30 feet of you must make a saving throw vs. poison or else be affected by your rapport spores.  (5e: DC 13 Constitution saving throw.)  While under the influence of these spores, creatures can communicate telepathically with you or any other creature under the influence of rapport spores, so long as they are within 30 feet.  (However, all creatures thus networked hear this communication, even affected enemies.)  You can likewise communicate with the network.  This affects any living creature smarter than an insect (Intelligence 2+), so long as it isn't an alien spirit (like an elemental.)  The effect ends when the duration ends.
A yellow puffball, tasting of salt and tin.

9. The Dream Of The Fungus-Mind Lives Within Me, Now
The consumer must make a save vs. poison or else be affected by confusion for 1d6 hours.  (Again, DC 13 Constitution saving throw to avoid confusion.)  You are gripped with terrifying hallucinations for the duration.  Hopefully, your companions have something to keep you restrained.
A morel with a washed-out brown color, tasting faintly of strawberries.

10. I Dreamt Not Of The Mycelia, For They Dreamt Of Me First
Hoo, boy.  If someone eats this, they make a saving throw vs. poison.  (DC 13 Constitution saving throw.)  The fungus has a will and controls the character for 1d6 hours.  (That is, the GM controls your character for 1d6 hours.)  What it wants is best left to the mind of the GM, but it's probably strange and alien.  (If you're stuck for ideas, it probably wants to spread, or to spread the meld.  What do your friends do when they catch you seeding local wells with fungal spores?)  You do not remember what you do in this time.
A sticky yellow toadstool, tasting acrid and strange.

11. What Is A God But A New Life Upon The Face Of The World
The consumer makes a save vs. poison.  (DC 13 Con save.)  Failure indicates the spores take root.  Over the next 1d6 hours, a fruiting body appears and grows before falling off.  It gains 10 pounds per hour.  When it falls off, it becomes a 1 HD myconid — AC unarmored, 1 slam attack for 1d4 damage, and its only special powers are to release spores that alert other myconids of danger.  It withers and dies if exposed to direct sunlight for more than an hour.  (If using 5e, use the stats for a myconid sprout.)  It has no particular loyalty to you, although it is likely to regard you as a parent if well-treated.  But are you willing to nurture this thing until it grows into an adult?
A toadstool with a fibrous, bracket-like consistency.  Tastes like wood and nostalgia.

12. I Dreamt Of Home, Of My Truest Self, Of The Meld That Lurks In All Our Selves
Make a save vs. poison or a DC 13 Constitution save.  On a failed save, the consumer falls into a deep slumber lasting 1d4 days.  The consumer's body swells and grows during this time, becoming strange and purplish.  At the end of this time, the consumer's body ruptures, revealing a myconid inside.  The myconid retains the original character's memories and statistics, although it exchanges the original character's race for its own.  (If using the race-as-class variation, it becomes a myconid with the same XP as the original character.)  As with For the Eukarya Is Mykarya, All Are Connected, All Are Siblings In The World, appropriately potent restoration magic might reverse the transformation.
A purple mushroom looking disturbingly like a little myconid.  Smells like the top of a baby's head and has a subtle, musky flavor.  Tastes like home.

Spore Week: Psychonauts of the Cosmic Overmind, Addendum

"Chalk it up to forced consciousness expansion."

After contemplating the Psychonauts of the Cosmic Overmind campaign setup for the past couple of months, I have an opportunity to include it as a side quest sort of thing, so here are the rest of the rules.  I should probably blame my distant memories of Chaosium's Dreamlands supplement for this sort of thing.

If the myconid sovereign hits you with enough rapport spores and hallucination spores, you'll eventually start tripping so hard your mind finds itself in the astral plane.  From there, you could end up anywhere in the multiverse.

Game-wise, this is an excuse for the GM to run any adventure they have lying around, whether or not it's connected to the current plot.  (You can even run another system if you want — run Monsterhearts for a session, and let your fantasy adventurers ponder the raw, existential dread of high school.)  I personally recommend something quite different in tone: take your vanilla fantasy to the Hill Cantons, or Wishery, or the Domains of Dread, or Carcosa, or some other distant vista of your choosing.

The multiverse is yours to explore!

Adventures take no time at all: at most, you're sitting in the myconids' meld for eight hours, but you might spend hours, days, weeks, or months of experiential time in the midst of your long, strange trip.

Characters retain their standard equipment.  If they lose or spend something, they have broken it, eaten it, tossed it away, or otherwise ruined it in a moment of psilocybin-wrought psychosis.  (It's up the GM how recoverable a given piece of equipment is.)  If they acquire equipment in the meld, it does not return to the world with them when the trip ends.  However, it does stay consistently in their minds, and journeys with them across their sojourns into the meld.  (Within reason, of course: if you decide you're running Delta Green this week, but last week they found Blackrazor in White Plume Mountain, maybe they only have their standard issue stuff for this foray.  Or maybe you're going totally gonzo, and yes, they do have the fabled Blackrazor.  Your call.)

If they come up with some clever way to recover their dream-equipment, let them have it.  (At high levels, stuff like plane shift becomes an option.  But I have no doubt that some enterprising lower-level party might undertake a quest to find equipment they left in the meld.)

If you die in the meld, you might die in real life.  Give the players a save vs. death, or a Constitution check, or a system shock roll, or a DC 17 Constitution saving throw, or whatever your death-avoidance mechanic is in your home system.  If they fail, they die for real.  (Alternately, you could go all Dreamlands on it and say that character who die have a bad trip and can never rejoin the meld thereafter.  Perhaps they never dream again, either.)

This is your brain on the meld.

Spore Week: Playable Myconids

Welcome to Spore Week!

(There's no special occasion, I just realized I had a couple of fungus-themed posts on the horizon, so why not make a whole thing of it.)

First up: Myconids.

Join the power of the meld.

Most myconids are furtive, peaceful, and spend most of their time in hallucinogenic rapport they call "the meld."  They consider this to be the reason for their existence.

But occasionally, some myconids go native and seek to explore the world physically rather than metaphorically.  (Scholars postulate that these myconids grew on the corpses of humanoids, and so absorbed humanoid hormones and memories as part of their growth cycle.  But sometimes they just happen without rhyme or reason.)

As such, we present playable myconids for Basic, Advanced, and fifth edition fantasy adventure game variants.

Myconids (Basic Race-as-Class)

Prime Requisite (if your game uses it): Wisdom
HD: d6
Thac0/to-hit: As cleric
Saves: As dwarf
Armor and Weapons: Myconids are typically pacifists and are neither proficient in armor nor weapons, although they can use shields.  However, they can attack with their fists and they become tougher as they age, as described below.
XP: As magic-user; myconids only progress to the ninth level of experience, as described below.

Myconids appear to be toadstool-like humanoids, with spongy flesh in colors from purple to grey.  Adventurous myconids are usually around 6' tall and weigh about 120 pounds.

Myconids usually live underground, and so have the ability to see in the dark with infravision up to 60 feet.  Myconids' hardy constitutions are reflected in their saving throws.  A myconid will speak the common tongue, its own alignment language, and can communicate with other myconids through the use of spores.

The typically dry conditions of the surface force myconids to imbibe double the amount of water per day as other humanoids.  This requirement is waived in cool underground places (like the typical dungeon or cavern) and possibly in places with plenty of humidity and lots of cover (like a rainforest).

Starting at third level, myconids can release spores at foes once per day.  It gains the following options as it levels up:

• At third level, the myconid may choose to release pacifier spores.  This targets one creature within 40 feet.  If the creature fails its saving throw vs. poison, it becomes totally passive, unable to do anything, although it is still aware of its surroundings.  This effect lasts for a number of rounds equal to the myconid's level.
• At fifth level, the myconid may choose to release hallucinator spores.  This targets one creature within 40 feet.  If the creature fails its saving throw vs. poison, it is affected as the target of a confusion spell.  This effect lasts for a number of rounds equal to the myconid's level.
• At seventh level, the myconid may choose to release animator spores.  This targets one dead creature.  Over the course of 1d4 days, the creature is raised as a zombie.  (Use the standard zombie statistics from your game of choice.)  It is not undead and cannot be turned.  It follows the myconid's simple instructions (delivered by myconid spores), and lasts 1d4+1 weeks before decaying and becoming useless.  A myconid can typically only control one such zombie at a time.

Myconids do not use weapons or armor, but become increasingly tough over time.  Their hides become tougher and better able to resist damage, and they have a natural slam attack that becomes more powerful the strong the myconid becomes.  Player character myconids naturally develop according to the following chart:

MYCONID SPECIAL ABILITIES
Class Level	AC Bonus	Unarmed Attack Damage
1	0	1d4
2	-1	1d4
3	-1	2d4
4	-2	2d4
5	-2	3d4
6	-3	3d4
7	-3	4d4
8	-4	5d4
9	-4	6d4

Reaching 9th Level: When a myconid reaches 9th level, it has the option of sporulating and creating a circle of myconids.  2d6 HD 1 myconids will arrive to follow the elder myconid.  Myconids do not progress beyond the ninth level of ability, and typically retire to become myconid sovereigns.

Myconids (Advanced Edition Race)

Requirements: WIS 9
Ability Modifiers: WIS +1, CHA -1
Ability Min/Max: STR 3/18, DEX 3/18, CON 6/18, INT 3/16, WIS 8/19, CHA 3/14

Myconids appear to be toadstool-like humanoids, with spongy flesh in colors from purple to grey.  Adventurous myconids are usually around 6' tall and weigh about 120 pounds.

Myconids usually live underground, and so have the ability to see in the dark with infravision up to 60 feet.  Myconids' hardy constitutions grant them a +4 to saving throws against poison.  A myconid will speak the common tongue, its own alignment language, and can communicate with other myconids through the use of spores.

The typically dry conditions of the surface force myconids to imbibe double the amount of water per day as other humanoids.  This requirement is waived in cool underground places (like the typical dungeon or cavern) and possibly in places with plenty of humidity and lots of cover (like a rainforest).

Starting at third level, myconids can release spores at foes once per day.  It gains the following options as it levels up:

• At third level, the myconid may choose to release pacifier spores.  This targets one creature within 40 feet.  If the creature fails its saving throw vs. poison, it becomes totally passive, unable to do anything, although it is still aware of its surroundings.  This effect lasts for a number of rounds equal to the myconid's level.
• At fifth level, the myconid may choose to release hallucinator spores.  This targets one creature within 40 feet.  If the creature fails its saving throw vs. poison, it is affected as the target of a confusion spell.  This effect lasts for a number of rounds equal to the myconid's level.
• At seventh level, the myconid may choose to release animator spores.  This targets one dead creature.  Over the course of 1d4 days, the creature is raised as a zombie.  (Use the standard zombie statistics from your game of choice.)  It is not undead and cannot be turned.  It follows the myconid's simple instructions (delivered by myconid spores), and lasts 1d4+1 weeks before decaying and becoming useless.  A myconid can typically only control one such zombie at a time.

Myconids may select from the following classes, with the indicated level limits:

MYCONID CLASSES AVAILABLE
Class	Level Limit
Fighter	9
Magic-User	5
Illusionist	7
Thief	9

Myconid thieves receive the following bonuses and penalties to thief abilities:

MYCONID THIEF SKILL ADJUSTMENTS
Skill	Adjustment
Pick Locks	-5%
Pick Pockets	-5%
Move Silently	+5%
Hide in Shadows	+5%

If you're using Advanced Edition starting ages and age stages, myconids usually start at 1d4+4 years old.  They are considered adolescents from ages 2-4, adults from age 5-12, middle aged from ages 13-16, elderly from ages 17-20, and venerable from ages 21-24.

Myconids (5e Race)

As per standard 5e race design, player character myconids have somewhat different capabilities from standard Monster Manual-derived myconids.  Player character myconids are considered humanoids.

Ability Score Increase. Your Constitution score increases by 1, and your Wisdom score increases by 2.
Age. Myconids mature quickly, typically considered adults at age 4.  They rarely live longer than thirty years, although some specimens may be truly ancient.
Alignment. The orderly, harmonious society of myconids typically gives them lawful mindsets.  They trend neutral, connected as they are with the unbiased attitude of nature.
Size. Myconids are typically around 6 feet tall and weigh around 120 pounds.  Your size is Medium.
Speed. Your base walking speed is 30 feet.
Superior Darkvision. You can see in dim light within 120 feet of you as if it were bright light, and in darkness as if it were dim light.  You can't discern color in darkness, only shades of gray.
Fungal Essence. You have advantage on saving throws against being charmed or poisoned, and you have resistance against poison damage.
Sunlight Sensitivity. You have disadvantage on attack rolls and on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on sight when you, the target of your attack, or whatever you are trying to perceive is in direct sunlight.
Sporulation. You know the message cantrip requiring no material components. Once you reach 3rd level, you can cast comprehend languages when you finish a long rest, requiring no material components to do so.  Once you reach 5th level, you can cast calm emotions when you finish a long rest.  Wisdom is your spellcasting ability for these spells.
Languages. You can speak, read, and write Common and Undercommon.

The Obligatory Cavegirl Review

A quick aside: I'll collect these on a page or sidebar eventually, but I'm just putting it here for now.  If you're on the fence about No Rest for the Wicked in print or pdf, Emmy "Cavegirl" Allen wrote a very kind review of it that hits many of the salient points.

Read it here.

If it sounds like something you would enjoy, why not check it out?

They grow up so fast.

And to tease actual content (!), brace yourselves, because next week is Spore Week.

No Rest for the Wicked

IT'S ALIVE!

From the back cover:

The year is 1632 and the wars of religion engulf Europe.

Can you imagine it? A war so total, everywhere you have ever known and everywhere you might know is touched by it. It’s taken friends and family members. Maybe it swallowed your village whole. Perhaps it even took you, conscripted by a King or an Emperor or a Pope you have never met.

You probably can’t imagine a life devoured by war while you’re cozy and safe, rolling dice around a table with your friends, but the land remembers. History remembers. Look at the global powers in World War I and you will see the war continued after a three-century truce. Track the global population over time and you will see the divot where pike-and-shot killed those the plague did not. Bore into Arctic ice and measure the lead content and you will see the drop when there were no more men to smelt iron.

So, when you seek an inn to stay for the night, why are you so surprised to find the war has arrived ahead of you?

An adventure suitable for low level characters for use with Lamentations of the Flame Princess Weird Fantasy Role-Playing and other traditional role-playing games.

For those of you unfamiliar, I wrote an adventure for Lamentations of the Flame Princess.  It keeps with many of the conventions of recent LotFP adventures: it uses the house system, it's set during the Thirty Years' War, it's grim and gritty.

(If you want more information, I posted about it and included some shots of the book here.)

As the description indicates, the player characters arrive at an inn to find the war arrived ahead of them.  Will they stop this tragedy, or feed it?

I feel like it works best if the player characters don't know this inn is the adventure, but your mileage may vary.  Drop it in a hex somewhere and you're ready to go.

If you grab a copy, let me know what you think!