What Caves of Qud Has Taught Me About D&D
Image Credit, Kitfox / Freehold Games
While I’m a die-hard analog game fan, every so often, I’ll dip into the world of video gaming. A fact that may be unsurprising is that I often enjoy games in the genre RPGs. Obviously, these are games based off Dungeons and Dragons — they often try to simulate, or mimic in one way or another, an aspect of D&D’s experience. They’re essentially a digitized version of solo role-playing with a graphical aspect, and admin work being outsourced to the computer. However, being based on a computer, it lacks the flexibility that Dungeons and Dragons is known for, and often falls short of the ideal. Today’s topic also does, but it falls short the least of any other game I’ve played.
Caves of Qud is, without a doubt, the closest simulation to Old-School D&D. It’s no plot-driven tale of your hero’s epic adventures throughout the land, but rather: you’re a hideously deformed monstrosity with one life, but you have the potential for something great. The gameplay is the focus here, and while there is a story, it’s not the main focus in favor of leveling up, getting some money and exploring transhumanist post-apocalypse.
This game is so good at following this philosophy that I found that since playing it, I’ve gained some of its powers, and now have a better grasp on how to run D&D. Today, I’d like to share what I’ve learned, because this is a very special video game.
This isn’t a review, per se. Rather, I want to show my impressions upon playing for about 20 hours on what you can gather from it for D&D. For an actual review of the game, check out Ssethtzeentach’s irreverent and highly-quotable review of it here.
Let’s dive into the advice, shall we?
Be Crazy
You arrive at the oasis-hamlet of Joppa, along the far rim of Moghra’yi, the Great Salt Desert. All around you, moisture farmers tend to groves of viridian watervine. There are huts wrought from rock salt and brinestalk. On the horizon, Qud’s jungles strangle chrome steeples and rusted archways to the earth. Further and beyond, the fabled Spindle rises above the fray and pierces the cloud-ribboned sky. You clutch your rifle, or your vibroblade, or your tattered scroll, or your poisonous stinger, or your hypnotized goat. You approach a watervine farmer — he lifts the brim of his straw hat and says, “Live and drink, friend” (Description for Caves of Qud Via Freehold Games).
Caves of Qud contains one of the most creative settings ever conceived. It’s up there with Fallout for incredibly compelling worldbuilding. The game contains familiar fantasy trappings — evil and common demihuman enemies(snapjaws and goblins), various religions, swords, shields, ancient ruins, etc. However, there are so many great twists and shake-ups which make the setting unique. There are no traditional fantasy races, but you’ll find all sorts of bizarre creatures. The camel-like Dromad traders, Goatfolk, and a mysterious ancient and extinct civilization.
These are all presented so genuinely in their world that sometimes I have trouble directly recalling how much is different from “normal fantasy.” To me, the setting blends so naturally into the game, that they feel just… normal. “I slew a croc with my carbide axe” sounds normal to me (though, let’s be honest here, I’d be using an Issachar Rifle).
My point here is: make things weird. It doesn’t have to be standard fantasy, nor whatever the game’s implied tells you to. As long as your players are receptive and comfortable with it, you have full creative license over the game you play. A game system like Cairn has a really rich implied setting — a sort of Victorian cosmic horror take on the usual setting. This is a great example of an off-color variation on D&D settings. Like Qud, it’s familiar and grounded enough to not off-put the players, while also granting a longer leash for some more creative endeavors for the savvy DM.
This advice isn’t revolutionary. As per usual, I have been dunked on, as they say, by Gary Gygax. The original setting of D&D, created by the author of D&D himself, is honestly almost as bizarre as Qud. High-level fighters will challenge unfortunate characters to 1v1 them, dinosaurs and Neanderthals will just chill in the swamps and mountains, and you may occasionally run into an Orluk or a Darseen, whatever those are. You can read more about this weirdness here.
So my imperative to you is: be weird. You don’t even need elaborate designs and detailed worldbuilding, just consistency. As long as the things you present are interesting and genuine, then there’s no way to go wrong.
Horizontal Progression.
You’ve wandered around, killed a bunch of crocodiles, or snap jaws, and now you’ve gained some XP. Now you’ve leveled up. Great! You automatically get bonuses to your health, and attribute points every few levels, but also another king: Skill points and (if you’re a mutant; shocking) Mutant points.
Skill points translate to skills. Most of the time, you need a couple levels to get any, but the ones you do get are almost always worth it. Skills are never a “+1 to axes” or “+2 to guns when wet” or other minor stat boosts. They are always interesting at the very least. From the ability to dismember people with axes; to dual-wielding pistols; to the ability to gather, disassemble and craft new artifacts, the skills are always awesome.
It’s not the specific system that I want to highlight here, but rather the mindset. There can / should be boons given to the players beyond just stat increases. These shouldn’t be picked off a menu, like in Qud, but rather gained through the events of the fiction. The game Cairn, that I referenced before has some great advice which, while leaning away from system agnostic, is still great advice. You can check that out here. From minor bonuses to the player’s favorite weapon type (of which I have a guide on how to make weapons more compelling), to better utilizing stealth due to a lucky roll, as long as the players have engaged with the world uniquely, then they should be rewarded uniquely.
Relationships.
If you are to open the inventory screen in Caves of Qud you may scroll over to a tab depicting your relationships with the various factions in the game. All ten gazillion of them. While there are not too many different factions, there are a significant amount, and the game keeps detailed track of your relationships with them. While this level of detail is unfeasible, I still think you should attempt this. Factions are important because they show how the players actions have directly affected the world. Maybe they did something to piss off the “default good guy” faction, and now they’re banned from temples. How can they get back into their good graces? When they screw with the plans of one of the evil factions, then the players may be seen as more serious threats, and they respond accordingly. One key thing about Caves of Qud, though, is that relationship is not universal. The enemy of your enemy is not always your friend, and nor are friendly factions necessarily amiable towards another. What you’re looking for here is depth at the cost of width. You don’t need to find the multiple allegiances belonging to every peasant, but rather a “big names” kind of deal. The orcs and goblins are one faction, but the hobgoblins hate the orcs. The civilized land is ruled by one regional faction, but the wizards are independent and operate above borders. The necromancers in the region want the orcs and goblins to win their turf war, but they’re afraid of openly supporting them. And the players are dropped into this mess like horseflies intent on screwing with as many people as they can. As long as it doesn’t overtake the game, this background politicking, even at the microscopic level in the dungeon, helps inform and ground the world in reality.
Randomization
If you’ve had a character decapitated, forcefully defenestrated, or shot to death by a pig, you might not notice how much is randomized upon the start of the world. Every time you die and start a new world, every part of the map is regenerated and changed. A holy shrine found in one save file will be completely absent in another, or the lair belonging to the legendary gorilla queen has mysteriously vanished. Despite this, the major locations and structures of the game, from the Six-day Stilt in the Moghra’yi desert to the spindle, looming over all in the distance.
This is the gold-standard for how wilderness exploration should work.
The spaces in-between towns and other bastions of civilization are wild and uncharted. Who knows what you’ll find along the way? The cities, towns, and villages are mostly safe, kept in check by the draconian law enforcement that is necessary in a fantasy world, but beyond those… all bets are off; anything can happen.
You need to embrace randomization as a DM. I’ve spoken about it in the past, but it is incredibly difficult to create bespoke locations at all, let alone enough for an entire region. On top of that, it keeps a border between your choices and the players. It’s not your fault for putting an ogre two hexes away from town - they just got a bad roll. Regardless, the ogre is right in front of you; what do you do?
Allowing things to arise as they may make the game all the more engaging. Bizarre and crazy things happen in real life every day. The question for the players is: how prepared are you for the event of everything going wrong? The savvy player will ensure that he carries some extra rations, ammo, maybe some holy water or wolfsbane for undead or werewolves. Perhaps a backup sword, or maybe a crossbow, just in case. However, there are tradeoffs to every action. You can only carry so much stuff, so what do you prioritize? The wilderness is a crazy place, and it becomes all the more crazy when it’s emergent.
This leads cleanly onto my next point.
Make Exploration Interesting
As per the Caves of Qud wiki, when traveling through the land of Qud, you have a base 10% chance to increase the chance of stumbling upon an interesting encounter. While this number can be modulated to around 40%, when maximized, the base amount feels just right. It’s low enough that you won’t be tripping over interesting locations, as that will undoubtedly become stale, but high enough that there’s an okay chance of getting it. Plus, the number is easily-representable with a d20, with a 10% chance being equal to or less than 2 on the d20. You can even have granular control over it. Maybe you use a parallel progression system, and rangers or druids can gain a higher percentage, and you can increase by 5% each step of the d20 (a 20% chance would be a 4-in-20, and a 40% would be 8-in-20, for instance). Allowing random locales and events to occur in the wilderness makes getting lost fun. Sure you’ve been thrown off your destination, but you might find some exciting stuff. Maybe it’s an enemy lair, maybe a collapsed dolmen, maybe it’s a witch’s hut, or a mysterious tavern in the woods. At the very least, landmarks help orient the world the players live in, not just for exploration, but also so the world feels connected and interesting.
The most similar system that I’ve found to generate “qud-like” locations similar to this comes from an OD&D Retro Clone, Delving Deeper. Its wilderness exploration tables are fascinating and offer a lot of support for this kind of discovery-based play. Depending on the terrain, you roll 2d6, and you will probably find nothing. But occasionally, you’ll stumble upon a village, river lair, trail or even a stronghold. Personally, I would roll that 10% every time they step into an open hex which would guarantee a location of some sort. Regardless of your method, you need to make hexcrawling rapturous for your players, because otherwise, they’ll just mentally check out.
If you want some great hexcrawling procedures, check out GFC’s amazing blog post and video about the topic. They’re well-crafted and make it easy for both sides of the table
The Scripture of Qud
I think that Ssethtzeentach says this better than I ever could. The real Caves of Qud is “A series of challenges that appear impossible, until you realize: every problem has a solution. (…) The entire system is, by design, designed to be subverted. The sandbox wants you to break it.” This is the philosophy you should carry forth into your D&D games.
You’re not creating plots, scenes or set-pieces, but rather challenges to overcome. The game is what your players accomplish — the story you create together. That story needs to be interesting and the challenge is interesting. If the players go to the dungeon and make their way through a perfectly crafted experience — The entrance’s guardian, a couple traps, maybe a puzzle, culminating in a boss battle where they get the Quest Item they need, that’s all well and good. It may even be challenging, but was it designed to be subverted? Were they not just following the breadcrumbs you’ve laid down?
If your string of dominos only has one way it could possibly be knocked over, that isn’t fun. Especially if it has the illusion of many different possibilities. Rather, set up the domino, and say “you get a benefit for this domino falling,” leave it at that and watch them go (Honestly, this is giving me a few ideas for a new dungeon). It’s not about “beating the players” or anything like that, but ensuring they are not just mindlessly following the glowing marker. The only way for the players to lose is by not having fun, and the removal of choice (i.e. inflexibility with the order you do the content, puzzles with only one possible solution and really any kind of authoritarian DMing) is never fun.
Accept Your Limitations
I want to make a note here. While Caves of Qud is the gold-standard for RPG video games, it is by no means the gold standard of tabletop. This is a crucial distinction, as it does a lot of things which are either unwieldy, or plainly unfeasible to do at the table.
In my opinion (this is all subjective, of course) you should not create an incredibly in-depth leveling system. Nor should you detail a 500 entry log of the players’ standings with every creature in the book. Rather, these are mindsets and ethos to fall into. Having these horizontal, fiction-based character developments makes the players interface better with the story that arises from their adventures. Tracking their relationships with major players will help inform who and what may be antagonistic to them, and both of these help them connect greater with the world.
At the end of the day, you’re (probably; the dead internet theory is looking more and more plausible every day) not a computer. Therefore, you shouldn’t feel the need to compete with one. You cannot ever keep track of the different systems, interconnectivity, leveling, etc. required to fully emulate a computer RPG like Caves of Qud. The best you can do is harvest its good ideas, while leaving the bad or unusable ones on the watervine.
If you’re at all interested in the game, it’s currently on sale for about $23 USD on Steam and GOG. While it may not be for everyone, if you have a willingness to experience the closest simulation of Dungeons and Dragons that has ever existed, I implore you to try it out.
Follow for more retroactive justification for wasting my time playing video games (I’m only half-kidding). Maybe I’ll talk about Morrowind or something. Now that’s a cool setting.
Live and Drink, water-sibs.
This blog is, and always will be, 100% human-generated.