snappingredwood

[snappingredwood]

I’ve been playing around with a couple of character concepts lately, and I thought I’d share them. These are the kinds of characters that really dig into themes of transformation and identity—stuff I love exploring in D&D.

Cthulhubarian - Path of Beast Barbarian This character started as a straightforward adventurer—a treasure hunter or maybe a mercenary—before their life took a sharp and horrifying turn. During an expedition, they stumbled across something they were never meant to see: an Eldritch Horror, something vast, unknowable, and utterly alien.

The encounter didn’t kill them, but it didn’t leave them unscathed either. They came away marked, their body and mind forever altered. Now, they’re driven by a hunger they can’t explain, let alone satisfy. It’s as if something within them has awakened, constantly clawing for more—more food, more power, more of something.

When they rage, the changes become undeniable. Their body twists and warps, sprouting additional limbs, unblinking eyes, and jagged maws that look ready to consume anything in their path. They’re terrifying on the battlefield, but off it? They’re grappling with what they’ve become and whether they’ll ever truly be human again.

Turned Spirit - Wild, Draconic, or Shadow Sorcerer. This one started as a bandit—someone rough around the edges, living by taking what others had. They weren’t particularly heroic or evil, just trying to get by. One day, though, something happened that changed their path completely: they saved a child from drowning in a river.

They weren’t looking for recognition or gratitude, but that’s exactly what they got. The villagers who witnessed the rescue didn’t recognize them as a bandit. Instead, they assumed this mysterious figure must be a protective spirit of the river.

That could have been the end of it, but things snowballed from there. Every time this character got caught up in another series of events—whether it was accidental or intentional—they ended up saving someone or solving some problem. The villagers’ belief in them grew stronger, and over time, that belief began to warp reality.

Now, they really are becoming what the villagers think they are: a spirit of protection tied to the river and its people. They’ve gained powerful magic as a result, but it’s not without a cost. Every prayer offered to them, every shrine built in their honor, takes away a small piece of who they used to be.

It’s a bittersweet story—on one hand, they’re protecting people and wielding incredible power. On the other, they’re slowly losing their identity, becoming more of a spirit and less of the flawed, human bandit they once were.

What do you think? These are the kinds of characters I love to explore—where the lines between hero, monster, and legend start to blur.

[snappingredwood]

I've had a player that I've been playing with for years now, and he's great, he's respectful and he cares about the games we play. We've been playing D&D 5e the entire time, over the course of at least 5-6 campaigns. He does not know a single rule. Every character he makes is the same character, he is fully fixated on trying to copy Corvo Attano from Dishonored or Batman but Murder.

[snappingredwood]

Somehow, my party has gotten distracted from our sci-fi campaign, to talk about Sonic.

[snappingredwood]

I want to see more people take reflavoring stuff to the extreme.

You wanna be a pyromancer? Have your mage hand be a whip of fire you wrap around something and pull. Have your shield spell be a wall of fire that blinds people and forces them to jump back.

Play a fighter but their backstory is all about their deal with a magical patron, instead of spells and invocations, their pact boons were second wind (the ability to heal and have unnatural luck) and action surge.

Example: the party is trying to break through a locked gate, the rogue breaks their thieves tools, the fighter bounces off the metal. But the wizard casts some spell to open or break the gate, a massive spectral hand rams through and shatters the metal (athletics), or a mystical wisp of energy flows into the lock (sleight of hand), or you, as a chronomancer, rewind time and allow the rogue one more shot (probably you rolling sleight of hand again), or you summon a fiendish brute to help carry you over the gate itself (athletics or acrobatics)

That’s another thing, you don’t need to have an army of Statblocks to be a summoner/conjurer, you can make shit up, you summon a quickling to deliver a message (the message cantrip), your little imp buddy shoots a stream of fire into your attack (you casting the fire bolt cantrip), or your golem manages to bash down the obstacle when the others failed to (in those very funny situations where your fighter gets a natural 1 on trying to break down a door and you get a natural 20)

Anything can be anything, this is a game of make believe where we agree to sit down and collectively hallucinate for several hours.

[snappingredwood]

Curse of Strahd but it’s Greek and Strahd is Hades.

[snappingredwood]

Shadow over Barovia

Alright, so, last night I made a post about me rewriting Curse of Strahd, I woke up today and realized I loved that idea and wanted to do more with it.

You know Curse of Strahd, probably. Classic gothic vampire thing with misty forests, haunted castles, and a guy who’s basically Dracula but with better eyeliner? Well, I’ve decided to blow all of that up and throw it into a dark, crumbling 1920s city. Welcome to my crackhead idea; Shadow over Barovia.

First up; forget the misty medieval valley. In Shadow over Barovia, Barovia is a massive, decaying metropolis. Picture 1920s-style streets; smoky jazz clubs, shady speakeasies, towering skyscrapers, and then give it a twist of cosmic horror. As you do.

At the center of it all is Ravenloft Tower, this massive art deco skyscraper where Rahadin, the founder of our fine city (and definitely not a cult leader), lives. Rahadin is a worshiper of a cosmic entity, that entity is Strahd, but instead of being a vampire warlord, he’s Cthulhu. The more sacrifices that Rahadin gives to Strahd, the more power Strahd gains, and the more warped the city and its people become.

So, here’s how I’m reimagining the locations;

Castle Ravenloft is now Ravenloft Tower; Art Deco Skyscraper, home of Strahds cult.

The Village is now the Old Quarter; your classic slums, old buildings, crumbling alleyways, whispers that haunt your nightmares, the usual.

Vallaki District; used to be the hub of high society. Now? It’s filled with run down theaters, seedy speakeasies, and corrupt politicians pretending everything is fine while the city rots.

Krezk is now the industrial district; factories, smog, and workers who barely remember what the sun looks like. And they might be worshipping strange gods in the shadows.

There’s more but I’m too lazy to list everything right now.

Im also turning the different people and factions into gangs, corporations, politicians, and a few vigilantes for spice.

[snappingredwood]

I’m making an urban, 1920s rewrite of Curse of Strahd, called Shadow over Barovia

In this essay I will

[snappingredwood]

Party has spent the first 30 minutes of session trying to figure out how to walk up stairs