Sprinkle 8-12 landmarks, microdungeons, or other oddities on your overland map. When you need to quickly generate an adventure, roll a dWhatever to determine where the macguffin or villain is.
For an extra twist that significantly extends the adventure’s duration, roll again for where the macguffin or villain is rumored to be.
Even for the most amoral murderhobos, it’s hard to say no to a child, and by extension a missing child.
Going around the table board-game style, even in moments of roleplay and exploration, is a great way of reminding yourself to keep the spotlight moving, and encouraging players who fall into the backseat into making decisions that propel the game in interesting new directions.
Handing the players a map that you slowly fill in with more details is a lot of fun for both you and them.
This map can be made all the more fun with the addition of flaws, discrepancies, and falsehoods, especially when they communicate more information about the world. Why is the Barony of Fenderburg so much smaller on this map from the Agrappen Dynasty? Why did Fordsbridge collapse? Who the fuck thought there was a town in the middle of the forest here?
Mobility aids can be a great way to not only provide in-world representation, but also make your world all the more fantastical. Dwarvish tank-wheelchair? Using a cloth-wrapped spire of quartz as a crutch?
This is an old and oft-told trick, but it bears repeating. Whenever you can, describe monsters without using their names, then pick up on whatever the players are calling it and call them that yourself. It heightens the mystery of the fantasy and shows that you’re invested in their perceptions and experiences.
When your campaign is feeling sluggish or listless, ask yourself what goal your players are pursuing. If the answer is nebulous or unclear, do some work to fix that. A goal is not the enemy of agency; in fact, it is its friend.
Contrast is heightened by familiarity. If you want to deliver a big emotional impact, get players used to the equilibrium before changing it. An encounter in which a festival breaks into a bloody melee feels more poignant if the festival has been proceeding peacefully and enjoyably for hours of table time.
This advice exists in many forms, but this is my mantra: anxiety may be born from what is known, but deeper horror comes from what isn’t.
When building religious traditions, create stories, not characters.
Idioms encode a lot of world information in very little space, and add to players’ immersion if they’re inclined to use them.
Multiple possible truths, always. Rumors, lies, apocrypha, academic discrepancy…
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