Ravenloft and Stephen King's Terror vs. Horror

 The degree to which players become more powerful as they level in D&D's 5th Edition is pretty huge. As casters get access to more powerful spells and martial characters get various ways to do more damage with their attacks - or get broader access to magical weapons - player characters start to carve through foes that would, earlier in their careers, have been major problems.

I actually think that the clearest way that characters become more powerful is simply their rising maximum HP. The Commoner stat block is meant to represent a typical ordinary civilian of average ability, and they have 4 hit points. While this looks really bad, consider this: a dagger is one of the least powerful weapons in the game, dealing only 1d4 damage on a hit, plus modifiers. If you were to walk up to an ordinary person and stab them (which, you know, please don't. That's attempted murder at least,) that would be a very significant injury. If you hit them in a vital organ, like the heart, lungs, throat, or a major artery, you could kill them - which is basically what would be the equivalent of rolling a 4 on the die.

But even the squishiest of D&D classes, the Sorcerer and Wizard, start off with, at minimum, 6 hit points (and likely more, as either of these classes should probably invest a bit in Con for both HP and concentration,) meaning that unless they crit, a commoner can't take them out with a single stab with a dagger. And that's just at level 1.

If you take the "standard" HP boost with each level, you get to add 4+Con every level, meaning you've got at minimum 10 HP by level 2 (assuming you don't have a negative Con modifier, and I cannot imagine anyone taking a negative Con modifier on a character they want to, you know, survive.) If you roll your health, you're going to have at minimum 7 HP, or on average 9.5, and if you do the Mercer-style "roll but you can always re-roll 1s" style, it's an average of 4 on the die.

(As a side note, I just realized that Mercer's style does actually give you the same average as the "standard" amount. I think I had previously treated rolling 1 as a single re-roll that could still give you a 1, rather than basically ignoring 1s and re-rolling until you roll something else. Another way to think of it is this method turns 1d8 into (1d7)+1)

Anyway, the point is, let's imagine a classic slasher killer like Jason Voorhees. This guy's definitely stronger than average, maybe even really at the pinnacle of human strength at +5. And his trademark machete is, we'll say, the equivalent of a longsword. That means that when he hits an unsuspecting teenager (who would likely have the commoner stat block, though maybe with a -1 or -2 to Intelligence and/or Wisdom) he's doing, on average, 9.5 damage - more than enough to kill his victim outright - no death saves, no nothing, just a splatter of blood and a bunch of trauma for the little kid who wandered into the TV room while his teenage cousins were watching a movie (genuinely not an experience I had, but it feels very right for my age group, who always wanted to seem cool to our older, Gen-X cousins.)

But as we saw, a 2nd level Wizard is already at a point where they will usually survive a slash from Jason, even if they have a +0 to Con. And that Wizard also probably has a Fighter or Paladin friend who can then attack back at Jason, giving the Wizard time to hook their thumbs together and burn the crap out of Mr. Voorhees with a bunch of fire from their fingers.

By level 5, our, again, shrimpy, +0 Con Wizard has 30 health, meaning that Jason's got to get them on average four times to take him down, and I don't think Jason even has multiattack!

And therein lies the problem:

Stephen King defines three types of fear: gross-out, horror, and terror. I'll just stand on my soap box and say that I think his definition of horror and his one for terror should be swapped, but I'll use his definitions just because, well, Stephen King is a much more prominent authority on the subject than I am and more people are likely familiar with his terminology than what I think it should be.

Gross-Out is just gory nastiness - bodies being ripped apart, oozing blood, rotting corpses, etc.

Horror (in his terms) is a clear and obvious threat coming at you - a monster charging you or grabbing you with its claws.

Terror (again in his terms,) though, is a creeping sense of dread, where ambiguity leaves you frozen in the state before your animal brain chooses between fight or flight, where you might not even be sure if there is a threat yet, but you feel afraid. This is the creepy house where you could swear you hear whispering coming from another room that's supposed to be abandoned, or a dark basement in which a strange man is standing facing the wall and won't turn around to face you even when you say hello.

Stephen King's terror is really what makes the horror genre tick - the anticipation is the mood that a good horror story focuses on, those ambiguities in which you're hesitant to turn the page (or continue watching the scene in the case of movies). Paradoxically, once the horror starts - the monster jumps out - the tension is actually relaxed. Yes, you might flinch at the very moment of the jump-scare, but this is generally when the music (and soundtrack in general) gets louder, and the focus is action rather than mood, where either the character is desperately running away from the monster or is now being brutally slain (you can get some suspense out of these sequences by making it an open question if the character will make it out, but it has a very different feel.)

(Ok, one more little soapbox moment: the reason I think "terror" better describes what King defines as "horror" is in part tied to my having spent much of my teen and early adult years in the War on Terror era. When I think of "terror," I think of people in downtown New York running for their lives as the WTC towers collapsed - a very clear and obvious danger. By contrast, when I think of horror, I think of the horror genre, and as I previously described, I think that said genre works best in its eerie anticipation.)

In a D&D game, however, regardless of what class you're playing, the type of character you play is one who has basically made a career out of fighting monsters. And, to be frank, I've always felt that the fantasy and horror genres are actually pretty much the same, except for some differences in tone and expectation. Fantasy is horror in which the protagonists are well-equipped to fight the monsters. Your heroes in fantasy are not the in-over-their-heads teens at Camp Crystal Lake, but are instead trained knights, mages, and martial artists who know exactly what they need to do to kick monsters' asses.

Indeed, if you look at the Evil Dead trilogy (which is really weird because the second movie is more of a remake than a sequel) the first one is kind of your standard "teens go to a remote location and are picked off one-by-one by supernatural evil" kind of 80s horror movie, with a very strong emphasis on gross-out effects. In the second, the breakout character of Ash turns the tables by the end, becoming a monster-hunting badass with a chainsaw attached to the stump of his severed hand.

By the third movie (my favorite by far,) Army of Darkness, the series has transitioned entirely to fantasy, even transporting to the Middle Ages, where Ash leads the defense of a castle against an army of skeletons.

Basically, I think that a D&D horror game is, in almost all cases, going to be distinguished more in aesthetic than actual mechanics. The party is always going to want to, or at least try to, fight the monsters that attack them, rather than always run away. They're not commoners, whose smartest move is to get the hell away from that hockey-mask-wearing, machete-swinging brute.

You could say that a horror version of the game will be balanced against the party - far more deadly encounters, and enemies that the party will have a very tough time facing, which might force them to retreat.

But that's not really outside the realm of fantasy either. If you look at Lord of the Rings, the Fellowship's pursuit by the Balrog is absolutely such a situation - this guy outclasses us, so we gotta run. But that sequence, even if there's a sense of dread and doom, does not have the same feel as a horror movie.

Furthermore, the sequence at the end of Fellowship in which the Uruk-hai attack is similar - the Uruk-hai even manage to kill a party member. Indeed, the Uruk-hai are more or less an entire race of Jason Voorheeses - similarly violent, similarly tough to kill... for an average person. But by that point, the party is basically all at least level 4 or something, so they can carve through orcs with ease. It's really just through overwhelming numbers that the orcs are able to take down Boromir.

I think, thus, that the key to making a horror D&D game is to really emphasize King's "terror." The "jump scare" moment is going to turn into standard D&D combat one way or another, but the build-up to it will be what gives your players a fright.

Fighting Sul Khatesh

 5th Edition definitely favors the players. By tier 4 (levels 17-20) it's insanely hard to throw a tough enough enemy to actually beat them, or even make them all that nervous. I recently ran a level 18 one-shot in which I had Orcus use his undead-summoning abilities to bring in two death knights and an adult blue dracolich and the party (which was six level 18 characters with, perhaps, a generous assortment of magic items) took him to town, with only the cleric dropping unconscious during the fight (I did manage to bloody some of them.)

I've come to the conclusion that almost every foe you want to be a big, epic battle, should be preceded by a pretty serious marathon of other fights to drain resources from the party. If even Orcus with maxed-out health (which I recommend for any "boss" monster) can go down that easily, you've really got to pull no punches when building encounters meant to challenge the group.

As a sidenote: player power here is a feature, not a bug. You want the party to succeed and win their battles. But I do sometimes worry about making things boring if they aren't deadly enough. Given how relatively easy it is to get some resurrection magic (especially in later levels,) I think it's not that unreasonable to want boss fights to see at least two party members knocked out, and maybe even killed (as long as there's an expectation that they can be brought back.) I'm always cheering for my players, but I want them to feel like they really pulled their win from the jaws of defeat, rather than yawning through another easy fight. (That being said, the way I build my characters, I tend to want them to pull off everything impeccably and do massive damage on every round, so maybe DM me and Player me have to have a talk.)

Still, a single solo monster attacking the party starts to feel really hard to pose a threat at higher levels.

But then there's Sul Khatesh.

Now, Sul Khatesh, one of the two Overlords from Eberron, has a beefy CR - she's 28, which makes her tied for 3rd highest CR in the whole edition (Tiamat and the Tarrasque share 1st, so I skip 2nd,) sharing that rank with the other Overlord, Rak Tulkhesh.

Rak Tulkhesh is sort of the ultimate weapon swarm - literally, he's a giant fiend surrounded by a cloud of slashing weapons. He's got a boatload of health and does a massive amount of damage.

Sul Khatesh, by contrast, is focused on magic, with tons of powerful At Will spells (including counterspell, shield, fireball, and lightning bolt. If she gives up her reaction, she can basically sit at 27 AC at all times, which actually makes her as tank-y as my Eldritch Knight Fighter...)

She's also got a sort of Eldritch Blast equivalent attack, and a magic staff, though you'll probably only use these as legendary actions.

So far, she doesn't look that scary with 475 HP, which is a lot, but not insurmountable (maxed it's 700).

But then we get to Arcane Cataclysm.

This once-a-day action calls down three 40-ft radius (which is utterly massive) spheres of disruptive magic that do 11d12 (about 71) force damage to anyone who fails a dex save (oh yeah, the DC is 26, so good luck.) But again, that's just damage. No big deal, right?

Well, the spheres that explode linger as anti-magic zones for an hour.

That's disruptive, to be sure, but given how spellcasting-focused she is, it just means constricting the battlefield, right?

No, because her magic is immune to them.

So Sul Khatesh drops these massive spheres - just one of which is likely taking up most of your battle map - and then steps inside, and she's now immune to everything the spellcasters are doing to her.

Oh, and also the martial classes. Because you know what else? She's immune to non-magical bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage. And if you bring your weapon into that sphere, it just becomes a normal weapon.

In a lot of ways, this looks like a monster designed to be unkillable. And she almost is. Yes, the Arcane Cataclysm action takes a long rest to recharge, so you could wait her out, running away and hiding while you wait for the fields to dissipate. And honestly, that might be one of your best options. She can teleport once a day, so I think, tactically, if she senses that the zones are about to fade she might just peace out and go elsewhere, making it very tough (but not impossible) to figure out where she's gone.

But there are a couple other options.

The first is artifact weapons. Artifacts are the exception to antimagic zone's deactivation of magic items. Now, artifacts are extraordinarily rare, and usually come with some sort of drawback, but if you get your hands on one, this will be an invaluable option for getting some damage on her if she's in her zone.

The second is grappling. As I read it, Sul Khatesh is not immune to the initial damage of the Arcane Cataclysm, so she'll need to move into it. She doesn't have any real mobility tools other than her teleport, which means that for the most part, she's only got a 40 ft movement speed (well, and she can fly and hover, so... ooh boy.)

If she drops one of the spheres just next to her, she can move to its center immediately afterward, which means that you've got to drag her 40 feet out. The good news is that she has proficiency in neither athletics nor acrobatics, and is not immune to the grappled condition. She does have a +4 to Strength and a +5 to Dexterity, so even if your beefiest level 20 Barbarian is the one to grab hold of her, she could escape. As a DM, I'd have her use her action to do so given how valuable staying in the sphere is to her.

But I think what's really exciting here is that there'd be a significant, possibly multi-round effort to just drag her out. And all the while, she's got legendary actions with which she can strike the person grappling her with her magic staff that does 36 force damage on a hit (which most Barbarians can't simply shrug off) or whisper her Maddening Secrets to the Barbarian, who will have to make an impossible-without-bless-or-resistance-or-something Wisdom save or get stunned.

I'm tempted to run another one-shot and unleash a fully-rested party against her and just see if they can even do anything to her.

We Need Higher Level Published Adventures

 I was looking through my collection of D&D books. I have everything published officially for 5th Edition with the exception of Waterdeep: Dungeon of the Mad Mage. Now, it's ironic that that's the book I've just mentioned because it holds a unique place in 5E: it's the only published adventure book that goes into tier 4, and furthermore, goes to level 20.

First, let's break down tiers of play: In the simplest terms, they're just level ranges. Tier 1 goes from levels 1-4, Tier 2 goes from 5-10, Tier 3 goes 11-16, and Tier 4 goes from 17-20.

Lorewise, the broad assumptions the game makes about these tiers also applies to the notoriety of your player characters, with 1 representing local heroes, 2 representing heroes of the kingdom or nation, 3 being heroes of the entire world, and 4 being heroes of the multiverse. These categories are less hard and fast - they make an assumption that you're doing the standard style of D&D campaign in which you start off fighting bandits and end up fighting gods.

Mechanically, though, these levels tend to represent clear breakpoints: because even pure casters will only have access to 2nd level spells in tier 1, and Revivify, the lowest-level resurrection magic, is a 3rd level spell, by necessity a tier 1 adventure is going to be a bit scrappier. Upon hitting 5, the wizard can get fireball, the cleric can get revivify, and all the martial classes (except Rogues) can start attacking twice a turn.

Indeed, pure casters will get a new level of spell at the start of each tier that generally represents a big step up in power from what was previously allowed. Compare Fireball (a 3rd level spell that does damage to every creature in a sphere when it goes off) to Shatter (a 2nd level spell that does likewise,) and the jump from 3d8 (average damage 13.5) to 8d6 (average damage 28) is pretty ridiculously huge. At tier 3, pure casters get 6th level spells, which, while perhaps not quite as iconic, are distinct in that a half-caster like a Paladin will never be able to cast stuff at that level. Then, at tier 4, pure casters start to get 9th level spells, which become godlike in power, like True Resurrection, Invulnerability, and most of all, Wish.

In theory, D&D is supposed to scale up to keep the difficulty relatively smooth - you throw tougher monsters at your party as they get more powerful. The truth, though, is that this isn't really the case. In the earliest levels, largely due to the fact that player character health is very low, but also because there just aren't that many options for the players to take, success and failure can happen very swiftly. My roommate, for example, while running the campaign he does with his work friends, unexpectedly killed a player character with a swarm of bats (hardly the sort of thing you'd expect) and in the same combat, another character gave a healing potion to the group's bard - whose player chose, as what he thought the character would do in a panic on his next turn, to cast thunderwave, which wound up instantly killing the character who had just healed him.

Not only is this far less likely to happen at higher levels, but the consequences are potentially negligible. My the time your cleric is level 17, even disintegrating a player character need not mean the end for them (I remember being shocked to discover that True Resurrection can even revert someone from undeath.)

D&D is very popular these days, more than it has ever been. But how many people do you know who have run high-level campaigns? To an extent, simply making it that far can be a challenge, even when using milestone leveling. I have only briefly run one-shots at higher levels (level 18,) and so I can't speak from a great breadth of experience, but my sense is that you can't just throw big, hard-hitting enemies at them and expect it to be a challenge. I used Orcus as my big bad with maxed-out health on the more recent of these one-shots (summoning a dracolich and two death knights to aid him) and didn't kill a single player character, despite the fact that, by the game's encounter-building rules, this was supposed to be a very deadly fight.

Again, I'm not sure I have the experience necessary to evaluate exactly how to change things, though I have two theories: the first is that monsters' health does not keep pace with the party's ability to inflict damage. By this point in my regular campaign where the players are level 11, a 200-health dragon can barely withstand a single round of combat against my player characters, and yet the very beefiest monster in any of the books has only a bit more than three times that amount. I also think that their ability to inflict damage is not as massive as it seems they should be. Orcus, for example, has a terrifying reputation, but in terms of the actions he can perform, they're a bit underwhelming. His melee attacks will do 68 damage in a round if they both land, and the spells he can cast through the Wand of Orcus do either a fireball's worth of damage (as we established earlier, averages to 28) or 61.5 against a single target - which is honestly not a lot against a high-level PC.

Strategy is, of course, necessary to make these a bigger challenge. One thing I've been playing around with is the need to drain player resources over the course of an adventure (which makes one-shots tough.) The dungeon model is designed around the idea of denying players the chance to take long rests, and making short rests rare reprieves. The players in my current campaign are in the midst of a huge battle that has a few overtuned fights in the hopes that their final confrontation against the adult blue dragon who will serve as the boss actually manages to give them something of a challenge (he'll also be taking great advantage of his ability to fly to make it harder for them to get to him.)

But here's why I want more published adventures for high-level play: give me something to model.

Reading through Candlekeep Mysteries, I do think the quality varies from adventure to adventure (Kandlekeep Dekonstruktion has overtaken Shemshine's Bedtime Rhyme as my favorite, perhaps purely because of its absurd story,) I can definitely see how most of the adventures will work, some being more combat-oriented while others are a bit more of an investigation. So, it frustrates me that the highest-level adventure in the book is for level 16 - just shy of peeking into tier 4.

I'd love to see an example of a Wizards-approved tier 4 one-shot. How do you build something that's a challenge to people who are, by this point, planes-hopping god-slayers?

I suppose I will need to complete my collection and actually get Dungeon of the Mad Mage at some point, but I'd also like to see some more work done in that high-level space, to encourage groups to try to push onward and reach that epic tier of play.

Candlekeep Mysteries First Impressions

 I picked up my copy of Candlekeep Mysteries today (from my friendly local game store) and I've started reading through it.

So far, I've read through the first four adventures and am nearly done with the fifth, the delightfully creepy "Shemshine's Bedtime Rhyme." Unlike the previous anthology books, I think that the adventures contained within here are actually likely to be doable in a single session, and are all built to work as either a one-shot or as a brief interlude in an existing campaign (or in some cases, a great jumping-off point for a major chapter in a campaign.)

The book begins with a description of Candlekeep, the library-fortress on the Sword Coast, which also happens to be where my most-played character, an Eldritch Knight Fighter, developed his Sage background. (I'll have to discuss with my DM as to whether he technically counts as a member of the Avowed or if, by leaving the citadel, he has forfeited his right to come and go as he pleases.) There are some fun bits here, including stat blocks for the Sages and Master Sages who make up most of the Avowed (Candlekeep's monastic librarians) as well as a draconic ghost who guards the depths of the castle's vaults. (These would be cool stat blocks for any big fantasy library. I definitely think I'll borrow them for the Isemeri Library in Ravnica when my players inevitably have to explore that to find out about enemies they might have in House Dimir.)

Unlike the Yawning Portal's pretty classic dungeon crawls, the emphasis here is much more on, well, unraveling mysteries (as such, reading the adventures as a prospective DM really spoils the surprise, so reader beware - some of the adventures are something like "this place is abandoned, because this one type of monster moved in and did bad things to the people here," which sounds dull on paper but can be very atmospheric if you run the adventure with an eye toward keeping things obscured.)

Occasionally, you might need to do a bit of work to motivate the players to investigate. Chris Perkin's Book of the Raven points the players to a creepy place, where they might discover more or less what happened there, and they can stumble into a very dangerous place indeed, but what defines "success" in that adventure is sort of up to the DM - it's mostly a lore dump and a pretty good prologue for a Ravenloft campaign.

Organizationally, they've played a bit with formatting in what I assume is an attempt to make it easier for a person to run things out of the book - non-Monster Manual stat blocks are put in the adventure chapters themselves rather than an appendix at the back of the book. The downside is that it's harder to just rush to those chapters and see what the cool new monsters are. The emphasis here, though, really is more on the exploration and mystery, putting the Exploration Pillar front and center in a way that I guess other adventures haven't.

There are 17 adventures here that provide stuff up to level 16 (which is the highest level of tier 3.) I'm a little disappointed there's nothing here for tier 4, as I'm really curious to see how the pros structure an adventure for people that powerful (I still need to get Dungeon of the Mad Mage.) You could just make a campaign out of the book, but these are probably better designed to do individually.

For now, the one I'm almost finished reading, Shemshime's Bedtime Rhyme, is my favorite - filled with atmosphere, though definitely an adventure that you should do after getting a clear list of soft and hard limits on creepiness factors.

Tarrasque vs. Clay Golem

 The Tarrasque grabbed me when I first picked up the Monster Manual. It's the highest-CR creature in the game (aside from Tiamat, found in Rise of Tiamat) at CR 30. The Tarrasque has more health than any other monster in 5th edition, and has an AC of 25, which I believe is the highest AC of any monster in the edition (though there are others that share that.)

That being said, the Tarrasque is actually fairly simple, mechanically. Most of what it does is just a bunch of melee attacks, and some defensive features that seriously limit the kind of magic you can throw at it. (Spell attacks and "line" spells like a Lightning Bolt just glance off its armor, and have a 1-in-6 chance of getting reflected back at you.) But its threat is just a bunch of, notably non-magical, melee attacks with its bite, horns, claws, and tail.

Its only source of non-physical (well, non-BPS) damage is the acid in its stomach, which anyone swallowed by the Tarrasque is subject to.

It's enough to make it genuinely difficult for level 20 adventurers to stand toe-to-toe with it. Your best bet is to try to attack from range and use magic to hinder it in various ways. (Dex saves are a serious weakness for it, as it's got a whole +0.)

Or, you could just throw a Clay Golem at it.

A Clay Golem is a lowly CR 9 Construct. But it happens to have just the right immunities to defeat a Tarrasque single-handed, as it will, in a pure toe-to-toe match, take precisely zero damage from the Tarrasque.

Like all Golems, a Clay Golem (arguably the most "classic" Golem from Jewish folklore) is immune to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage from weapons that are not magical or made of adamantine (hey, does this mean my Fighter's Adamantine Plate isn't magical, so in theory he could get it enchanted to be +3 plate...?) A Tarrasque's horns alone deal 32 damage on average, but they ain't made of adamantine (unless the DM wills it so) and as such do nada to the golem.

Clay Golems, then, are also immune to acid damage, which they absorb and get healed by, similar to how Flesh Golems are healed by lightning and iron golems are healed by fire.

Therefore, all the damage that the Tarrasque does is stuff that can't touch the Clay Golem.

Meanwhile, the Tarrasque has a similar immunity (minus the adamantine option,) but a Golem's attacks are, in fact, magical.

As such, I think the most likely scenario is that the Golem is immediately swallowed with the Tarrasque's bite attack, which actually protects it from any other serious threats, and the golem now gets to attack twice per round, hitting only if it rolls a 17 or higher on the attack, very slowly whittling the Tarrasque down by 2d10+5 damage at a time. But the Golem wins every time.

A Caveat:

While creatures that have immunity to physical damage can do quite well in combat against foes that don't have magic weapons, it's not a blanket immunity. For example, a Golem will still take falling damage because the ground isn't making an "attack." I'd probably rule the Tarrasque can't just step on the Golem because I'd count that as a sort of unlisted "Stomp" attack, but I'd probably allow the Tarrasque to grapple and then fling the Golem hundreds of feet in the air (note: the Tarrasque is Gargantuan, which is usually just 4x4 on a grid, or 20x20 feet, but its description says it's 70 feet long, so I'd actually make that a 14x14 square on a grid map - we're talking really freaking big.)

Still, the Tarrasque isn't a genius, and might swallow a Clay Golem it's fighting before thinking through the hazards of doing so.

I also think that you could have some crazed archmage in ages past who decided that the best thing to spend their life on would be creating a massive legion of clay golems in case the Tarrasque ever threatens the world. You could even make it look like the Terra Cotta Army of Qin Shi Huang...

Oh, crap. Did the first Emperor of China know something we don't?

The Feywild and the Fey

 Because I'm secretly a goth, I tend to focus a lot on the Shadowfell as the planar area I'd like to explore most in D&D. Blame it on the fact that the Scourge are my favorite Warcraft villains and that I was seven years old when The Nightmare Before Christmas came out, plus the fact that I watched through the entirety of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and its spin-off Angel my freshman year of college, and that my mom ran our neighborhood's community Halloween party - I love the spooky stuff (despite being a total lightweight when it comes to horror movies.)

But the Feywild has a ton to offer too.

In 5th Edition, we haven't got a ton of planar sourcebooks. We'll be getting a big chunk of the Shadowfell in Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft (though Ravenloft's Demiplane of Dread works differently than the broader Shadowfell, partially because it pre-dates the Shadowfell itself.)

There have been other books published about the Feywild in 3rd and 4th editions, but I'm going to mostly be working from what we know in 5th Edition and then looking at other possibilities for inspiration.

In the DMG, there's only three paragraphs describing the Feywild itself, with a few others to talk about the Seelie and Unseelie Courts and things like Fey Crossings and effects the realm can have on outsiders.

The Feywild is described as being a parallel plane to the Prime Material - if you cross into the Feywild, you'll find a similar geography, but with differences - a mountain might be replaced with a massive glowing crystal, and a rather ordinary forest will become a misty tangle of vines and enormous flowers.

Overall, I'd say the Feywild is kind of like reality-plus - colors are brighter and emotions are stronger. Furthermore, the sun hovers above the horizon in a perpetual golden hour, which then sort of alters the experience of time.

The powers of the Feywild are divided between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts. The Seelie is ruled by an archfey known as Queen Titania and her Summer Court (you might know her from a little play called A Midsummer Night's Dream) while the Unseelie are ruled by the Queen of Air and Darkness and her Gloaming Court.

The Seelie are associated with light and could more easily be seen as "the good guys" in contrast with the Unseelie's association with darkness. It seems that in most interactions, they tend toward those associations, but these moral associations are not explicit, and they're really just two rival factions more than a cosmic struggle between good and evil.

The real-world myth basis of the two courts might be an import of the Norse/Germanic concept of "Light Elves" and "Dark Elves," with elves from that mythos corresponding roughly with the Celtic fairies (for those keeping score, that means that Norse Dark Elves might have inspired three things we think of as separate in D&D - dark elves, dwarves, and unseelie fey.)

The Seelie and Unseelie seem to be composed of classic fairies, while creatures like Hags, Fomorians (which are adapted from Celtic myth) and other "ugly" creatures belong to neither court.

One of the things that remains a bit ambiguous to me is what, precisely, counts as a fairy - in other words, what would you classic archfey look like?

Elves in D&D originally took form from the spilled blood of Corallon, but I feel it's implied that that blood was initially spilled in the Feywild, and so Elves have the "fey ancestry" trait that links them to the Feywild. Eladrin are even meant to be elves who still inhabit the Feywild primarily, and arguably serve as the sort of "main" race there despite being humanoid.

I do wonder, should the Gothic Lineages remain relatively unchanged from their UA, if we're going to see more playable races with two creature types. We already have some playable Fey races (in MTG-based settings, though) and it strikes me that Eladrin at the very least should count as Fey rather than Humanoid (ironic, given that I think they were originally introduced to be the Chaotic Good counterparts to Lawful Good angels, and were found more in places like Arborea and other Chaotic Good Outer Planes, and were thus Celestials.)

Anyway, Pixies and Sprites represent what I think most modern readers would think of when they think of fairies, but the fairies of Celtic myth and Irish folklore are quite different. For one, rather than being six inches tall, they're more like 2-4 feet tall. This actually makes the UA playable fairy race appropriately "small" size.

Fairies, also known as the Fair Folk, are infamous because their codes of conduct are utterly foreign to us. In a lot of ways, that's kind of what defines them - it's not that they have no morals or ethics, but rather that we're not equipped to understand them, and they will act in ways that feel utterly insane.

Among recent novels (also adapted fairly well as a TV miniseries) I highly, highly recommend Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrel by Susanna Clarke if you want a sense of what to expect when dealing with fairies. In the novel, set within an alternate universe in which there was a period of historically recorded magical practice and a period in which "Northern England" was a separate kingdom under the rule of an immortal magician-king, Mr. Norrel is the world's only "Practical" Magician in the early 1800s Regency period. (Practical Magician being as opposed to Theoretical Magician, the latter of which means someone who studies the history and nature of magic but is incapable of producing any magical effects.)

Mr. Norrel, in order to promote his capabilities and convince the government to allow him to use his powers to fight Napoleon, uses magic to raise the young wife of an up-and-coming military officer from the dead after she died very suddenly. To do so, he calls upon a fairy - the Gentleman with the Thistle-Down Hair. This deal winds up causing many problems and is a driving force behind much of the drama of the story.

The fairy, as payment, takes the poor woman to his castle in the Land of Fairie every night and forces her to participate in an unending costume ball. Additionally, following his invitation to Earth, he takes it upon himself to make a servant of the house into the next King of England, despite the man's total lack of desire for anything like that.

What I think is key to the Gentleman with the Thistle-Down Hair's character is that for all the torment he inflicts and all the chaos he wreaks, none of it is done with malice. If anything, he thinks he's doing everyone a favor (particularly Stephen Black, the African-British servant in whom he wants to invest sovereignty over England.)

A common trait amongst the Fey, then, could be unbreakable convictions - once they get an idea into their head, they will refuse to part with it regardless of reason or practicality. On one hand, this could be very dangerous for conventional reasons - if you insult a fairy you meet, they might assume you hate them and figure that you'll be deadly enemies. But it's even more fraught than that, because if you, say, tell them that you're enjoying a party they're throwing, they might then assume you'll never want to leave, and will do everything they can to prevent you from escaping lest they be thought they're a poor host.

And this kind of tunnel-vision can lead to absurd behavior. They might even try to kill you, believing that the insult of not keeping you entertained enough to stick around is a worse injury against you than death.

As such, someone who understands how to navigate the Feywild would be someone who discovers the extreme subtleties of courtly protocol to ensure that no one is insulted but also that no one is over-complimented either.

I think you could describe the Fey in general as taking their emotions and convictions too far - we see that manifest in the Eladrin, where their mood physically changes their appearance and alters their magic.

But there are also a number of Fey who are more or less embodiments of emotion. Meenlocks are born out of fear, for instance, while Redcaps are rage made manifest. In fact, you could argue that a lot of Fey work similar to the Sorrowsworn found in the Shadowfell, though while the Sorrowsworn seem to all be depressive emotions or expressions of depressive states, the Fey are manic.

Aesthetically, the Feywild gives you some options.

Most traditionally, I think you can go for classic fairy-tale archetypes. Thus, your Fey courts are mostly Eladrin, Pixies, Sprites, and maybe your odd Satyr, with the overgrown woodlands filled with ugly hags and their servants, like yeth hounds and the aforementioned meenlocks, redcaps, and such.

But I think there's an opportunity to go a whole lot weirder.

The Feywild is meant to feel alien and strange compared with the fantasy world that D&D is typically set in. Given that most D&D worlds already have things like dragons and liches and orcs and goblins and such, I think sticking to the standard stuff is a bit unimaginative. In a lot of ways, a fantasy world is already one in which you've taken the fairy-tale stuff and made it part of the mundane world. So you need to heighten things a bit more if you're going to go into that world's "weird fairy world."

One point of inspiration I think of is the Court of the Childlike Empress in the Neverending Story, where you have a lot of weird, unexplained creatures, like some with giant heads and I think one that has three faces. I wouldn't worry too much about giving these things stat-blocks, but throwing in unique creatures and monsters that are just part of the set-dressing is going to help with the weirdness factor you want to cultivate in the Feywild.

I think Lewis Carrol's Alice books are also great sources for inspiration for the Feywild. While Carrol was largely making weird math jokes and contemporary jokes about politics, the absurdity of the world combined with its fairy-tale aesthetic have the disorienting dream-logic I think the Feywild operates on. For example, you likely remember the Mad Hatter's Tea Party. In the book, the Hatter and his companions are there because they were "killing time," and that colloquialism was interpreted as a threat against time itself, which, anthropomorphically took revenge upon them by keeping them stuck at 4:00 in the afternoon, aka Tea Time, which is why their tea-party never ends.

I guess another way to think of the Feywild is that it's a place where the utterly absurd is deadly serious.

I don't know if the UA with Feywild races is a guaranteed portent of a Feywild book coming out, but I think it could be very interesting to see D&D explore that space. Personally, I think we've had plenty of stuff in the Prime Material Plane, and I'm more than ready to start getting weird and planar.

The Use of Tasha's Various New "Summon" Spells

 Tasha's Cauldron of Everything has far fewer new spells than Xanathar's, its predecessor, had. But the highlight of its spell list are the many "Summon X" spells. These profoundly streamline conjuration as a battle strategy and are very powerful to boot. Each follows a formula as well:

Each spell conjures a single creature to fight for you, requiring concentration and a special spell component that costs 100 x the spell's base level gold, but which is not consumed or anything. When you summon the creature, you choose between variations on the theme - for instance, Summon Fiend can call forth a Devil, a Demon, or a Yugoloth - and these variations give the summoned creature some different traits and features, including sometimes different attacks.

The summoned creatures have a multiattack feature that allows them to make a number of attacks equal to the level at which the spell was cast, divided by two (rounded down.) Thus, this caps out at four attacks if you cast one of these at 8th level, or 2 if cast at 4th level. There are other elements, namely AC, health, and the damage of the attacks, that scale with every spell level you cast the spell at, but this makes it generally most efficient to cast these spells with an even-numbered spell slot.

The damage of these attacks compares pretty well with a martial player character's output, so these spells are nothing to sneeze at, as long as you A: have a bonus action to spare and B: can maintain concentration. (EDIT: actually, you don't need the bonus action to direct your summoned creature here, which opens them up to even more playstyles.)

But which to choose from? There is a spell for nearly every creature type (no humanoids, oozes, or plants) and they can serve different purposes.

First off, this decision might be made for you, or at least narrowed down, depending on your class. Clerics and Paladins only get access to Summon Celestial, for instance. Wizards get the broadest selection, only losing out on Celestials and Beasts, but Warlocks have a broad selection as well.

Also, of note, the two Sorcerer subclasses from Tasha's Cauldron of Everything each gain access to a thematically appropriate summoning spell that other Sorcerers don't get, namely Summon Aberration for Aberrant Mind sorcerers and Summon Construct for Clockwork Soul ones. Fathomless Warlocks can pick up Conjure Elemental, but only to summon the Water variety (oddly, Genie Warlocks don't get it, despite having an elemental for a patron.)

I'd also note that half-casters might find these spells a little underwhelming at the levels they can cast them (though still not terrible). Paladins and Rangers in particular will have the dual problems of never having particularly high-level spell slots on top of not necessarily having a great spell attack modifier, which is the basis for these summoned creatures' attacks. Artificers will not have to worry about the latter problem, but they'll also be limiting in upcasting the spells (Naturally, Summon Construct is the one Artificers have access to, which is a 4th level spell, and the player will likely only cast it at that level anyway.) Still, all that being said, if a Paladin casts Conjure Celestial (baseline spell level: 5th) they'll have a creature dishing out two attacks every round for an hour that can do two attacks that deal an average of 14 radiant damage each every round (for a total of 28), it's nothing to sneeze at. (The math is 2d6 + 2 + the spell's level).

But let's look at what these spirits do, and how they can be used best.

Summon Aberration:

The Beholderkin Variant here is straight damage on a flying turret. The Slaadi variation is a bit beefier with health regeneration and an attack that shuts down health regeneration for the target. Meanwhile, the Star Spawn has an aura that can inflict psychic damage to anything in melee range with it, effectively giving it some AoE damage. Beholderkin and Star Spawn deal psychic damage, which is often irresistible, but also useless against mindless constructs.

So I'd say that the Aberrant Spirit can serve as pure damage or to deal with specific mechanics like a vampire or troll's health regeneration. The Slaadi's ordinary slashing damage will run into issues when you start facing monsters that are immune to ordinary physical damage, but can otherwise be very useful. Do not, though, try to use this on a Golem, or you're going to be very disappointed.

Summon Beast:

The Bestial Spirit's attacks are the same regardless of whether it's a beast of the air, water, or land. Environment is key here, though the Beast of Air does get Flyby, which means they can do hit-and-run attacks. Damage here is a tad lower than it is for many other spells (it's also the lowest-level spell, at 2nd level, though these are all very clearly designed for up-casting.) Given that the damage is ordinary piercing damage, you're going to have trouble in higher levels with monsters that have resistance or immunity to non-magic weapons (unless you're a Shepherd Druid or similar.)

In terms of utility, though, the Bestial Spirit has very little to offer, simply working well in many environments. I'd guess your default choice will be the Beast of Air given its 60 ft. flight speed and Flyby, so you can send it in 30 feet to attack and then have it return out of harm's reach.

Summon Celestial:

By stark contrast, the Celestial is a big deal in terms of utility, though it's also one of the top options for damage as well. As a 5th level spell, only the highest tier of Paladins can cast this, but Clerics can get them near the end of tier 2. There are only two options here. The Avenger is built primarily around ranged, radiant damage, which it excels at, dealing a greatsword's worth at a longbow's range. Naturally, both kinds can fly (clearly meant to be angels) so this is another "fire and forget" damage-turret that can mess up foes from afar. The Defender gets increased AC and deals less damage (though still radiant) but it can grant temporary hit points to your allies on every single hit as long as they're close.

Both versions have a 1-per-day heal, as well. The Defender can almost stand in as the group's tank should you need it, or at least aid the tank and melee in various ways. Plus, the Radiant damage is going to be good against nearly anything. However, this is the one spell that is only limited to Clerics and Paladins, and is the only one available to them. So I guess be glad that your only choice is a good one (arguably the best overall.)

Summon Construct:

Available to Artificers and Wizards (and Clockwork Soul sorcerers,) the Construct Spirit comes in Metal, Stone, and Clay varieties (clearly evoking various golems, though they also suggest Modrons, and I'd say you can flavor them as clockwork robots too, because why not?) Like the Bestial spirit, the attacks are the same across all versions, and unfortunately only do Bludgeoning damage, so you have the same issue with highly magical creatures. (If you can convince your DM to let your Metal Construct be specifically silver, though, you might be able to harm devils and lycanthropes.)

Constructs get a higher AC than most of these, and more health, and all three versions have effects that complement a tanking role for the construct. Metal ones deal fire damage to creatures that hit them. Clay ones can make an attack against a (random) creature when they take damage, and Stone ones have a minor slowing effect (reduced movement speed and no reactions) to creatures that start their turn near them and fail a saving throw, so all three are built to be sent into the thick of a swarm of enemies to maximize their utility, and the higher health and AC will aid in this role.

Summon Elemental:

Elemental spirits come in four varieties, based on the four alchemical elements. Like Beasts and Constructs, they only have one type of attack, which deals Bludgeoning damage - except for the Fire elemental, which does, well, fire damage. They have different resistances and immunities based on their element type, and different movement speeds (naturally, air can fly, water can swim, and earth can burrow.)

The bludgeoning damage type for the non-fire elemental might be a liability (but then, fire might also be a liability when fighting red dragons or devils.) However, between Amorphous Shape (all but earth) and that burrowing speed (earth only,) there's not a lot foes can do to keep these guys away from them, which could be situationally useful.

Summon Fey:

The Fey Spirit actually has a pretty high damage potential, and its three variants are very similar. The real selling point to these folks is that they have a 40-ft run speed and can teleport 30 feet as a bonus action, giving them effectively 70 feet of movement speed, so they will close distance fast. Each variant has a different special effect when they do their Fey Step, with Fuming Fey getting advantage on an attack roll, Mirthful Fey charming a nearby creature (on a failed wisdom save) and Tricksy Fey creating a 5-ft cube of darkness for a turn.

Appropriately enough, Fey Spirits give you a lot of good options to outmaneuver enemies - that 5-ft cube of darkness might not seem like much, but dropped on a medium-or-smaller foe, that means you get to avoid opportunity attacks.

Also, their damage, a mix of piercing and force damage, is up there with the highest in this category of spell. While the piercing will run into frustrating resistances and immunities, the force damage will almost always go through (even if it's the smaller portion of the damage.)

Summon Fiend:

At 6th level, Summon Fiend is the highest-level of these spells, though I'd consider casting any of them at up to 8th level for some massive damage (even 9th, though as I said before, even-numbered spell slots are the most efficient.) Fiendish Spirits scale a bit better with spell level in terms of HP and get a slightly higher AC than others (still behind Constructs and Defender Celestials.) Fiendish Spirits are also magic-resistant, which can help with their longevity, and of course as a 6th level spell, they're getting at minimum 3 attacks per round.

Fiendish Spirits come in Devil, Demon, and Yugoloth flavors, all of which have different base health, as well as attacks and other traits. So buckle up.

Devils are the ultimate flying turrets, with a flight speed of 60 feet, devil's sight, and a ranged attack that does a bunch of fire damage at 150 ft.

Demons do only slightly less necrotic damage with their bite, have a climb speed of 40 feet, and explode when killed, doing a burst of fire damage to creatures nearby.

Yugoloths have the highest health of the fiendish spirits, also do necrotic damage (though less than the others), and can teleport 30 feet after each attack, hit or miss.

Clearly, fiends are all about that damage, and they do it well. Necrotic and Fire damage work great unless they don't work very well at all, so know your foes. But reaching them will not be much of a problem for your lower-planar denizens.

Summon Shadowspawn:

These Monstrosities hail from the Shadowfell, and are themed around fear. Each have a 1-per-day AoE Fear effect (with a Wisdom save) and have an attack that does hefty cold damage. The three varieties are Fury, Despair, and Fear. Fury gets advantage on attacking frightened creatures, while Despair significantly reduces the movement speed of creatures in melee range with it (by 20 feet, so good luck escaping!) while Fear can hide as a bonus action while in dim light or darkness.

Given that a lot of big monsters are immune to fear, you're going to want to think about this one - Fury's advantage on attacks is great, but only if you can actually scare the enemies. I think the most broadly useful one of these will be Despair, as any creature that's not you is automatically affected by its aura, and so you can use it to prevent foes from escaping or, conversely, to halt foes that are chasing you.

Summon Undead:

Interestingly, this is the only one of these spells that's not conjuration - naturally, it's necromancy. Undead spirits come in three varieties: Ghostly, Skeletal, and Putrid. There's a slight variation in health between them and Ghosts can fly with a 40-ft speed. Ghosts have incorporeal movement, and Putrid spirits have an aura that can poison nearby creatures that fail on Constitution saves. Each variant has different attacks, too. Also, all of these are immune to both poison and necrotic damage, which can potentially be very useful.

Skeletal Spirits are another ranged turret, doing a bit less than other ranged options, though the damage is necrotic, which should be great against non-undead foes.

Ghostly ones have a melee attack that deals necrotic damage as well, and can also frighten the target on a failed wisdom save (there's no 24 hour immunity here either.)

Putrid ones deal slashing damage in melee, but if the target is poisoned (say, by the spirit's aura) they have to succeed on another Con save or wind up paralyzed instead until the end of its next turn.

I'd say that as a "turret" the skeleton isn't going to keep pace with a Fiendish devil spirit, though of course this spell will be available earlier (it's 3rd level.) The Putrid option will be great against foes without a ton of Con or immunity to the poisoned condition, as paralyzing a foe means automatic crits.

As a note, most of the damage scaling of these creatures is based on the spell level - they have damage dice, a modifier based on their stats, and then add the spell level. An Avenger Celestial, for instance, does 2d6 + 2 + the spell level, versus Beholderkin Aberration dealing 1d8 + 3 + the spell's level, which on average, cast at, say, 6th level, means we're talking 15 radiant versus 13.5 psychic damage, which isn't really that huge of a difference (even when multiplied by three attacks.)

In most situations, I think you choice can be based more on flavor than anything else. I do seriously think that the physical damage inflicted by many of the creatures is a major downside in high-level (and even mid-level) play, but any of these can potentially be a huge boost of additional damage.

Consider, for example, a Warlock with Hex and Agonizing Blast, at level 10 and with maxed Charisma, will be doing 14 damage on average per blast, for 28 damage per turn. If they summon, say, a Shadowspawn to fight alongside them, that thing will be doing on average 14.5 damage per hit (with the same hit chance,) slightly outpacing the warlock themselves (note, of course, that the Warlock can't keep Hex up while concentrating on Summon Shadowspawn, but it sure seems a better use of it, doesn't it?)

Actually, a note on Warlocks:

Warlocks are pure casters, but while they automatically upcast anything 4th level or lower to 5th level by the time they're level 9, they only get the one Mystic Arcanum per day (well, one for each spell level above 5th). Warlocks have access to many of these spells, but their high-level casting is very limited. Summon Fiend is a 6th level spell (and is obviously available to Warlocks) but it is my understanding that when you pick your Mystic Arcana spells, you can actually choose lower-level spells upcast at the level of the Arcanum. So, if I'm correct, your Great Old One Warlock could take an 8th-level Summon Aberration at level 15, and cast it once per day at that level only. That would give you your 4-attack Star Spawn or what-have-you to wreck your foes, though it means not taking any of the other... 6 8th level spells the class can choose from.

(I'm really curious to see how Warlocks evolve if and when 6th Edition comes out.)

The Shadowfell and Ravenloft

 As a 5th Edition baby, I remember watching Stranger Things and, when they mentioned the "Vale of Shadow" as the equivalent to the Upside-Down, thinking "that's odd! Shouldn't that be the Shadowfell? Weird that a series that is willing to be pretty explicit in its D&D references would have some odd off-brand thing." Then, of course, I looked into the history and found out that the Shadowfell, as a thing, has only been around since 4th Edition. It was apparently a fusion of the Plane of Shadow and part of the Ethereal Plane.

I actually love the concept of the Shadowfell, especially as a sort of balance to the Feywild. The Feywild is bright and colorful and full of energy, but not necessarily good, and the Shadowfell is bleak and dark and subdued but not inherently evil. I sometimes like to say the Feywild is Manic while the Shadowfell is Depressive.

In particular, I like the concept that the Feywild and the Shadowfell are parallel worlds to the Prime Material Plane - perhaps even thinking of them as "Secondary Material Planes." This distinguishes them from the Outer Planes or even the Elemental Planes, in that they're still physical, real places, but just a little less so than the "real world." But also, I'm a huge fan of the concept of a world that is structurally similar to our familiar world, but is distinct.

The first Zelda game I ever played (though I didn't really play through the whole thing until college, well after I'd played several others) was A Link to the Past. This game, the third ever Zelda game for the Super Nintendo, has you first play through the "Light World" before journeying to the "Dark World," a reflection of the Light World that was more sinister. Where in the Light World there had been a sun-baked desert with ruins, in the Dark World is a great swamp. In the Light World, Kakariko Village is a pleasant enough place (except that they think Link is a criminal) while the Dark World equivalent is a haunted ruin filled with thieves.

The Shadowfell, to my mind, ought to work a lot like this: the familiar turned strange and sinister (though, again, not everything there is automatically evil - and in fact, you could have a whole lot of Tim Burton-esque inhabitants who seem creepy but are actually quite nice.)

Still, I don't think that WotC has been 100% consistent on what the Shadowfell is like, exactly. In the DMG, it's described as being similar to the material plane, but darker, as I've described above.

However, in 4th Edition's Shadowfell: Gloomwrought and Beyond, the primary Campaign Setting book for the Shadowfell, the implication seems to be more that it's kind of its own whole world, with locations like Gloomwrought, which is a city that has no real equivalent to places in the Material Plane but is sort of central to any visitor to the Shadowfell. (Gloomwrought as a location is actually pretty awesome - ruined towers and walls periodically collapse, but then others rise up on their own periodically.)

The Shadowfell hasn't starred in any published 5th Edition adventures - unless you count Ravenloft.

Ravenloft was first introduced in the original Castle Ravenloft adventure back in the 80s, though Strahd and his castle were not, I believe, meant to be anywhere but your standard campaign setting. It was in the 90s that Ravenloft was made its own campaign setting, and places like Barovia and other domains of dread were separated out. As it stood then, the Demiplane of Dread existed within the Ethereal Plane.

The Ethereal Plane is a good sort of catch-all for locations that don't fit nicely into the rest of D&D's cosmology. Eberron, for instance, was created at a time when WotC was less interested in keeping its world interconnected. That's why Eberron comes with its own planes for elementals and celestials and fiends and such. To squeeze it back into the shared D&D setting, though, one suggestion is that the entire Eberron setting, including its various planes, is actually a bubble within the Ethereal Plane (I think I'd just give it its own weird "Crystal Sphere" in the Prime Material, though.)

Anyway, either in 4th or 5th Edition, the Ravenloft setting has migrated to the Shadowfell. Given that the Shadowfell is meant to be the domain of spooky undead monsters and such, Ravenloft being part of it makes a ton of sense. That being said, the overall concept of Ravenloft and the Shadowfell do have some huge differences - the Shadowfell (at least how I like it) is a mirror to the Prime Material. The domains of dread, however, are extracted from the Material Plane. My understanding is that there is no place known as Barovia on any existing Prime Material Plane world, because the Mists of Ravenloft took it away, presumably kind of mystically closing up the wound on Strahd's original homeworld.

However, there's another potential interpretation that could be interesting: perhaps the Domains of Dread are actually nightmarish facsimiles of existing places. Maybe when the Dark Powers steal away a Darklord, they actually create a false echo of their realm - or take it from the Greater Shadowfell, even - and plop that Darklord and the poor souls who came with them there.

What I think would be so cool about this is that you could then have your players travel to the real Barovia, which could be a thriving kingdom that has been free of Strahd's tyranny for thousands upon thousands of years. Maybe the true Castle Ravenloft was long ago taken over by some benign ruler - or even serves as the seat of some democratically-elected republic!

Adventures there could involve the darkness of the Shadowfell, and the Barovia that we all know from Curse of Strahd and the earlier Ravenloft adventures, creeping into the true Barovia. Maybe the Mists of Ravenloft are particularly common in areas that correspond to the Domains of Dread.

I'm very curious to see if Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft addresses any of these cosmic questions about the nature of the Demiplane of Dread. I suspect they'll keep it vague, to allow DMs to make up their own minds about these things. But I think it would be a particularly interesting idea to suggest that Strahd doesn't even have the realm he thinks he has - only a dark echo of it, just as he's only a dark echo of the human being he once was.

New Unearthed Arcana: Folk of the Feywild

 Well, if Ravenloft is going to give us some Shadowfell adventuring possibilities (I wonder if they're going to do any fleshing out of the "Greater Shadowfell" like Gloomwrought and other areas from 4th Edition or if they're going to do Ravenloft and call it a day) it stands to reason we might give the Feywild some love.

While the Feywild is drawn from very real-world mythologies - particularly the Otherworld of Celtic Mythology from which the concept of Fairies most directly comes (though many cultures have similar ideas) - at least in 5th Edition, there's barely any fleshing out of the realm apart from the existence of Fey creatures in the Monster Manual and Volo's Guide to Monsters (we do also have the Eladrin in Mordenkainen's).

But I'm getting ahead of myself - this doesn't guarantee a Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft-style campaign setting book is coming for the Feywild, but... it could!

Today's new UA introduces four new* playable races that are all Feywild-themed. They are the Fairy, Owlfolk, Rabbitfolk, and *"Hobgoblin of the Feywild." We'll tackle that one last despite its alphabetical position.

Like the Gothic Lineages, some elements of these races are left entirely up to the player. Ability score increases are up to you, and you can choose either a +2 and a +1 or three different +1s. This reflects the rules going forward in 5th Edition that retroactively change existing playable races to make them more flexible. Likewise, Languages can be chosen appropriately to the character, so if your Fairy grew up in the Material Plane, perhaps they don't know Sylvan. Let's go through them:

Fairy:

Fairies are the classic Feywild inhabitants. Larger than Pixies or Sprites, Fairies are nevertheless similar to these Fey relatives. They are small in size, but true to the hyper-manic nature of the Feywild, have the standard 30 ft movement speed (like Goblins, who are linked to the Feywild in this UA - we'll get to that.)

Fairies have the Fey creature type, which, you know, duh. For the most part this shouldn't affect anything, but it does provide immunity to your Hold Persons and similar spells.

Fairies also get a flight speed equal to their walking speed, and unlike Aarakocra, this does not worry about what kind of armor you're wearing, so a heavy-armored Oath of the Ancients Fairy Paladin can zip around the battlefield no problem. You might have wings as a fairy, but this flight doesn't require them.

Fairies have some innate spellcasting, too. They can cast Druidcraft, and they can cast Faerie Fire for free once, and then spend any spell slots they have to cast it again, and get to choose between Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma as their spellcasting stat for this.

Finally, you can go through 1-inch holes without squeezing, which is some Alice in Wonderland stuff. Very cool.

Owlfolk:

Owlfolk are humanoid and can choose if they're small or medium (the latter being the choice if you wish to use heavy weapons). You have 30 ft. of movement speed and 90, rather than 60 feet of darkvision.

The headlining ability here is Magic Sight. You can cast Detect Magic as a ritual, or you can cast it normally if you spend a spell slot, so Owlfolk are going to be good for spotting any kind of magical stuff.

Nimble Flying grants you a flight speed equal to your walking speed, like Fairies, but in addition, if you fall off of something, you can make a DC 10 Dexterity saving throw to stop falling and fly in place until your next turn. So if you're a Dex-based class, you basically never have to worry about falling.

Finally, because of your soft, fluffy owl feathers, you have proficiency in Stealth.

Man, an Owlkin Rogue or Monk would be a very nice combination - great for scouting ahead.

Rabbitfolk:

Rabbitfolk are humanoids and also choose whether to be small or large when you create your character. You have the standard 30 ft. movement speed.

Rabbitfolk get to add their proficiency bonus to initiative rolls, as part of their... Hare-Trigger trait. They also get proficiency in Perception.

Lucy Footwork allows you to use your reaction to add a d4 to a failed Dexterity saving throw, potentially making it a success.

Finally, Rabbit Hop lets you add a d12 of movement if you move at least 5 feet and your speed hasn't been reduced to zero, as you hop away. Unlike normal jumping, this hop doesn't cost movement speed, so you can effectively move an extra d12 feet each turn.

Hobgoblin:

Hey, hold on a minute! Don't we already have Hobgoblins? Since Volo's Guide to Monsters (and, you know, the Monster Manual,) Hobgoblins have been a race of goblinoids who are the sort of smarter, more intelligent and human-like goblins with a martial culture. These hobgoblins, though, are very different, as beings of the Feywild. Let's take a look:

Hobgoblins are Medium Humanoids (no change there) with 60 ft. darkvision and 30 ft. of movement.

You also get Fey Ancestry, which gives advantage on saving throws against charm effects.

Fey Gift allows you to use the Help action as a bonus action a number of times equal to your proficiency bonus. Once you hit level 3, any time you take the help action:

Hospitality: you and the target get 1d6+PB temporary hit points.

Passage: you and the target get a 10-ft boost to your walking speed until the end of your next turn.

Spite: The first time you or your target hit a creature with an attack roll, that creature has disadvantage on the next attack roll it makes in the next minute.

Finally, Fortune from the Many: when you fail an attack roll, saving throw, or ability check, you can add a number equal to the number of allies you can see within 30 ft to the roll, potentially making it a success (maximum of +5). You can use this PB times per Long Rest.

Comparing this with the older Hobgoblin, Fortune from the Many is just a buffed version of Saving Face, but the other traits are wholly new.

Flavor-wise, what little we get of the Hobgoblin is a lot more whimsical than their kind of aggressive-samurai feel in the Monster Manual, including the detail that their noses change color when they experience strong emotions.

It's very early to say, but I'd keep an eye out for future releases later this year that might have more of a Feywild vibe to them.

Adventures in the Upper Planes

In the mythos of D&D, good and evil become tangible differences when one emerges from the physical world into the Outer Planes. The Outer Planes are fundamentally pretty weird, as they're a place that looks physical and material, but is truly made up of philosophical belief and position - and yet it is real. The souls of the dead eventually journey to these Outer Planes to spend their afterlife, and so they must be as real as the people who live in the Prime Material Plane, despite their odd nature.

D&D thrives on adventure, and adventure generally needs danger. As such, journeys into the Lower Planes - those seven on the Great Wheel that are fundamentally evil - are obvious locations for adventure. The Nine Hells are filled with Devils who want nothing more than to entrap your soul and torment you (or turn you into one of them to serve as an underling.) The Abyss is chock full of demons who would love nothing more than to eviscerate you and wear your skin like a t-shirt. Acheron's an endless battlefield, Gehenna is a treacherous landscape of volcanos. Hades is a bleak wasteland where trapped souls become mindless grubs. Carceri is a deep, dark prison. And Pandemonium drives you insane with incessant winds and dust.

The stakes aren't hard to imagine. It's a dangerous place, and you'll want to do what you've gone there to accomplish and get out of there as soon as you can.

But there's symmetry in the Great Wheel cosmology, and that means that there are Upper Planes as well, which are fundamentally good. Yet, they're right there, begging to be used as adventure settings. So, then, how do you create a sense of adventure?

The first concept is the notion that the adventurers aren't worthy. 

Why are you going to the Upper Planes? My guess would be that you need someone or something from there. Let's say that there's some powerful magical artifact - you need the Chalice of Dawn, from which pure sunlight can be poured endlessly, in order to destroy some vampire who has ascended to demigod status and has, let's say, covered your world in endless night. So you find out that this thing exists, but it's kept in the palace of Doros, the God of the Sun, high up on Mount Celestia. Doros has many angels (and let's say some giant robots because hey, it is a lawful plane) who are sworn to guard the Chalice and ensure it's not taken, for fear that it will be corrupted or destroyed by those will ill intent.

Now you've got a challenge in which your party is doing good by taking it to destroy the Vampire God, but where the people you're fighting are also doing good by fulfilling their sacred oaths.

How violent this conflict becomes is up to the DM and the players - one could assume that Celestials are much more willing to hear out the party's pleas, but are also capable of defending themselves if needs be. But perhaps Doros has some reason not to want them to get the Chalice that could be for a greater good, or perhaps because he doesn't think the party stands much of a chance even with the Chalice and would hate for it to be corrupted by the evil Vampire God. There's still a possibility for conflict between good sides.

There are also odd mechanics to the Outer Planes. In the Outer Planes, if enough people of a certain alignment gather and behave that way in a region of the plane, that piece of the plane will actually shift and be absorbed by the plane that adheres to that alignment. For example, there's a whole layer of Arcadia that became too Lawful Neutral and not enough Lawful Good that it got absorbed by Mechanus.

The souls of mortals who go on to the Outer Planes are selected rather precisely to match the plane to which they're being sent, but mortals who travel via the Astral Sea or the Plane Shift spell might not. While the fundamental goodness of the Upper Planes suggests that they likely get along decently, there is a distinction between them. The Upper Planes run the gamut just as the Lower Planes do between Lawful and Chaotic. While there's no real equivalent of the Blood War between the Nine Hells and the Abyss among Mount Celestia and Arborea, there is still the same difference in alignment between them.

One could imagine that a group of industrious, say, Gnomish souls camp out in Elysium, but their somewhat lawful nature threatens to draw part of that realm into Bytopia. So some entity of Elysium might employ the party to kick them out or at least change their behavior to preserve things.

(Note that this aspect of the Outer Planes does seem to have exceptions. The Githzerai are a lawful neutral culture that exists within Limbo, the chaotic neutral plane, and they don't seem to have sucked part of it to Mechanus or Arcadia, which seem to more closely resemble their attitudes.)

Of course, another adventure concept is fairly easy: the test. In Critical Role's first campaign, for example, the party had to travel to the realms of various gods in order to get the power needed to defeat the big bad. The gods were not willing to invest that power in anyone who wasn't worthy, and so some of the party members had to perform feats to show they could be trusted to use that power well.

This creates conflict without any real antagonism, and can give the players challenges despite being "among friends" as it were.

I have been ignoring, to this point, the "Factols" of the Planescape setting. While these are all based in the city of Sigil, itself an odd neutral ground for beings from all the Outer Planes, these factions have their own bases of operation on other planes, and while you might be fine with those Chaotic Good/Chaotic Neutral folks in Ysgard, you might have a more specific beef with one of the Factols that has set up there.

Of course, the last possibility I'll talk about is if your player characters are just evil. They might be going there to steal some source of power not for the greater good, but for their own greed. Or they might wish to inflict harm on beings of good because they're jerks. Here, the conflict writes itself.

But most games run with good or neutral PCs, so this is probably going to be a bit rare.

Flavoring The Undead Warlock

 Sword Coast Adventurer's Guide is an odd book - it came out in 2015, not long after the launch of 5th Edition, and is technically a campaign setting book for the Sword Coast - the region of Faerun, itself a continent on Toril, the primary world of the Forgotten Realms setting, that is the most storied and classic of D&D settings (while Greyhawk, being the creation of Gary Gygax himself, could argue for primacy as the "main" D&D setting, through at least 2nd, 3rd, and 5th Edition the Forgotten Realms has been the "standard" setting for the game.) But compared with other campaign setting books, it's weird. It came with several subclasses, some of which were reprinted in Xanathar's Guide to Everything, but others that you might not even remember existing: have you ever seen someone play a Battle Rager Barbarian? A Purple Dragon Knight Fighter? A Way of the Long Death Monk? These are all officially-published 5th Edition subclasses.

Among the oddities of SCAG, there is the Undying Warlock. The general interpretation for this subclass is that your patron is some form of undead, like a Lich. However, the book weirdly does all in its power to avoid explicitly saying your patron is undead. Instead, the Undying is a being who has avoided death in some powerful, magical way. So you could technically have any immortal being - your patron could be some sentient treant suffused with druidic magic that keeps it from ever dying.

This intentional vagueness has always been a little frustrating. It also doesn't help that the Undying Warlock's subclass features are, well, not particularly great. For example, you effectively have a permanent sanctuary spell against undead, which could be great if you're dealing with a bunch of undead, but could be useless in other situations.

The Undead Warlock Patron coming in Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft will, I think, supplant the Undying in many ways, and I think that's fine. In this case, the patron is explicitly an undead being - a lich, a vampire, a ghost, a death knight - any powerful undead.

By making this explicitly a patron who is necromantically inclined, the flavor of the subclass can be more explicit. Obviously, we don't have the official rules for the subclass just yet, but we did have an Unearthed Arcana article a few months ago. The Undead Warlock can alter much of their damage to become necrotic, and when they do so, they can often deal additional damage that way (one thing I am almost certain will be nerfed is that, as written right now, an Undead Warlock who uses this boost can deal 2d10 necrotic damage with each hit of an Eldritch Blast, which means a tier 4 Warlock could do 8d10 damage with a cantrip without even critting or accounting for agonizing blast.)

Given that the mechanics are in flux, let's talk flavor.

Naturally, Liches, Vampires, and the like are popular D&D monsters. One of the common themes for these sorts of creatures is their ability to come back after being destroyed. A Lich respawns after a couple days near wherever their phylactery is hidden. A vampire turns to mist when it is killed and can potentially escape to its resting place to regenerate. A death knight comes back as long as its soul hasn't been redeemed. And ghosts remain as long as their unfinished business remains unfulfilled.

Undead are usually evil, which means any warlock who has made a pact with an undead patron has bargained with a dangerous entity. There are exceptions, though: the Undying Court in Eberron is made up of undead who are animated by positive energy - this is reflected in their resilience to radiant damage and their vulnerability to necrotic - and are all good-aligned, acting as undead caretakers of their society.

Given that the subclass is coming with Ravenloft (and thus will probably not be AL-legal unless it gets a reprint in another "Everything" book) the most obvious connection here would be to use a domain's darklord as your patron. Not all darklords are undead, but many are - if you look at classic Universal monsters, the likes of Dracula, the Mummy, and Frakenstein all count (even if by D&D mechanics, a flesh golem like Frakenstein is technically a construct. Oh, and before you go "um, actually, Frankenstein is the creator, not the monster," I'll nerd you one better by reminding you that in the book, the creature takes Victor Frankenstein's name, so the Boris Karloff character is, indeed, named Frankenstein.)

Strahd von Zarovich, or other figures like Azalin the Lich, are the rulers/prisoners of their own domains of dread. They are all powerful - imbued with a deep connection to the realm itself - and could certainly make for good warlock patrons. I see two routes for this:

One is that the darklord of the domain you find yourself in is your patron. You could play Curse of Strahd as a warlock of Strahd himself. This is going to introduce some really interesting dynamics: first off, you could play as his secret agent within the party (though this might make it hard to resolve the story.) Alternatively, you might be a rebel against Strahd, one who did gain power from him but now acts against him. Given the transactional nature of a Warlock's pact, it's possible that you made a deal for power and considered that a closed deal - but now you're essentially swept into this conflict with someone you dealt with in the past. If you go this route, you should definitely figure out with your DM if your end of the pact has already been fulfilled, or if it's an ongoing obligation that would allow the darklord to turn your powers off. While mechanically it'll be a lot easier if the deal is done and irrevocable, you can sacrifice some of your own player power for a potentially very rewarding challenge in which you need to deal with the fact that the antagonist can take your power away (perhaps creating a new side quest in which you can rip that power fully from them and make it your own.)

Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft will be breaking with some of the 2nd Edition lore - the Core, a continent-like landmass that connected the various Domains of Dread will be shattered, which means that travel between domains will at best be a metaphysical jaunt through the Mists, rather than a physical one. Still, I see no reason why the rivalries and scheming between Darklords can't continue (especially in your game,) and thus your character might actually be serving a being like Strahd while you and your party fight off the undead zombie hordes of Falkovnia (which will be what's going on there in 5th Edition.) Warlocks often have a "deal with one evil to defeat another" vibe going with them, and so it could be fun to play as the agent of one against another. Vecna hasn't been in Ravenloft since 2nd Edition, but I sort of love the idea of serving the Whispered One.

And of course, relationships with Warlock patrons can run the gamut of trusted servant or bitter enemy. While some mechanics are a little worrying if you're not on good terms with your patron (like the level 20 feature that allows you to plea with your patron for ten minutes to get your spell slots refunded) the folks at WotC have generally ruled that once a pact is made, the power the Warlock gets is permanent, and that they likely already fulfilled their end of the bargain to get that power. Personally I find it more dramatic when the Warlock still has work to do to pay the patron back, but if you go this "settled" route, you can have a lot of fun playing against a patron who will really regret making that deal with you.

Given the prevalence of undead foes across D&D, this is a subclass I think can very, very easily work in any setting. As I said before, the Obzedat Ghost Council in Ravnica could be a great option for a council-style patron (with perhaps different relationships with each of its members).

Mechanically, assuming things don't change that much from the Unearthed Arcana version (though I really think they'll nerf Form of Dread/Grave Touched combination as that would essentially turn every Eldritch Blast into a crit, and every crit into a double-crit) the Undead Warlock might actually have some difficulty fighting undead, given the focus on necrotic damage, which many corporeal undead are resistant to and to which ghostly undead are typically immune. Still, this is often an optional thing.

One of the interesting aspects of the Undead as a patron is that they used to be mortals. Now, granted, in D&D oftentimes beings like fiends and celestials actually did begin as mortal souls, becoming fiendish or celestial after they died and went on to the Outer Planes, and in fact a lot of the gods at least in the Forgotten Realms were powerful adventurers who ascended to godhood once they amassed enough power. Still, the undead are probably more closely connected to their mortal lives, which gives you an opportunity to potentially give them a lot more of a human personality.

Granted, there's a tendency for undeath to kind of dull the good parts of a personality. Vampires are typically portrayed as having lost all the moral inhibitions of their mortal lives (often in a kind of seductively sensual way, but also in the whole "I'm ok with tearing out other peoples' throats to feed" way) while Liches in the Monster Manual are described as having become obsessive husks of the dynamic minds they were as mortal wizards. Still, I think there's plenty of wiggle room in that (and room for interpretation) that you could have a fun and/or funny relationship with your undead patron in a way that might be harder to do with, say, a Great Old One. (I wrote a character backstory for a warlock who carries his patron's phylactery around because she can no longer manifest corporeally thanks to the wards placed on said phylactery by her literal saint of a brother, and she acts as a bored, mischievous troublemaker/imaginary friend rather than some kind of dark corruptor.)

Unlike Celestials, Fiends, Archfeys, and Genies, Undead patrons likely originate on the Material Plane (outside of those found in Ravenloft) and thus could more often be a real presence in the campaign.

Additionally, given this patron's formerly living status, you could easily have a patron of this sort be an ancestor of your character's. Perhaps a noble family's secret to their power and prestige is that their great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother is a powerful lich whose lair extends deep below the family manor.

So, ultimately, I think this subclass is filling a niche whose only reason for not existing yet in 5th Edition was the existence of the rather lackluster Undying. The possibilities for such a patron are vast. It's less thematically limited to the Gothic setting of Ravenloft than the College of Spirits Bard (though as I say in the post on those folks, you can easily reimagine them for a different vibe) and so I hope that if 5th Edition gets another setting-agnostic rules expansion like Tasha's Cauldron of Everything that we'll see these reprinted (for those of us who play Adventurer's League.)

Flavoring The College of Spirits Bard

 One of the upcoming subclasses in Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft is the College of Spirits Bard. Yes, Bards got a new subclass in another setting book - the Eloquence Bard in Mythic Odysseys of Theros - that was reprinted in Tasha's Cauldron of Everything so that it would be setting-agnostic and AL-legal, but the flavor of this subclass plays beautifully into the Gothic Horror theme of Ravenloft.

The typical Bard is usually portrayed as someone who casts their magic and inspires their allies using music - Bards get to use musical instruments as spell foci and they have abilities like Song of Rest that imply their arts are purely musical in nature. But the truth is that Bards are ultimately weavers of stories and lore more than anything else. I like to think that a Bard is basically an emotion-mage. They can induce a useful mood for their companions while also messing with the emotions and perceptions of those around them - Bards tend not to use big destructive spells like Fireball, but have pretty broad access to mental-manipulation magic. Indeed, their beneficial spells can be thought of as just another form of mind-manipulation, only in this case it enhances the subject's capabilities rather than hindering.

"Spiritualism" was a major craze in the 19th Century. While belief in ghosts and unseen spirits and demons has been part of human culture since, well, humans have had a culture, the Spiritualist movement of the 1800s was, in large part, a reaction to the age of reason and the enlightenment. The enlightenment saw a huge transformation in the way that society was run - people started asking questions like "hey, why is that king allowed to rule over us when all he did to be king was be born into a certain family?" The enlightenment brought massive cultural change, and also powered technological change, which in turn also brought massive cultural change. Naturally, there were some who felt that all this change was leaving some things behind - the Romantics (who, among others, included Mary Shelley, who wrote Frankenstein - which one could argue is the most important work in all of speculative fiction) sought to bring emotion back into what had become a cold and ultra-rational style in fiction.

Of course, with the wave of rationalism and science becoming a major part of the common person's daily life, the stage was set for pseudoscience - fantastical (sometimes intentionally misleading) beliefs garbed in the trappings of science. Rather than odd mystics and witches, people who presented themselves as doctors or professors would suggest that they had a scientific method for interacting with a supernatural world.

Spiritualists would often provide entertainment at parties or on stage, performing séances to contact the spirits of the dead. To what degree people were "in on the joke" or not depended I think on the individual - I'm sure for some fans of spiritualism it was more like going to a magic show than some religious rite. (I'm assuming most people who go and see magicians these days understand that it's all clever sleight of hand and not actually supernatural power.) But the people who would give these performances would certainly be the model for a College of Spirits Bard.

While this archetype could certainly be a model for your Spirits Bard, there are, of course, other models as well. At the heart of the imagery of this subclass is its reading - using a divinatory device to get various "stories" that then provide buffs to allies or problems for foes. One of the main suggestions for how to do this is to use a deck of cards. Tarot cards are associated with fortune-telling, and you could easily play a Spirits Bard as someone who draws cards from a deck to determine the spirits they call upon.

The Tarot deck is not too dissimilar to a standard deck of playing cards, with four suits that have numbered cards, with the top numbers represented by things like "queens" and "kings," though there are four "face cards" for Tarot as opposed to the standard deck's three. The big addition, though, are the many Joker-like "Major Arcana" cards (as opposed to Minor Arcana.) Things like "The Tower" or "Death" or "The Hierophant" exist outside of the four suits. In a lot of works of fiction, these Major Arcana are the only cards we see dealt in a Tarot reading, perhaps because of their iconic looks. But I believe that most fortune-telling practices also incorporate the "Minor Arcana," assigning meaning to cards like the Five of Cubs or the Eight of Wands.

The fortune-teller character is a trope often associated with the Romani people. Traveling carnivals are often associated with the itinerant Romani people, and whether genuine Romani or merely appropriating cultural signifiers, a lot of fortune tellers trade on the exoticism of being from a different culture to appear more credible, or at least add to the mystery and atmosphere.

The Vistani in the Ravenloft setting are modeled on the Romani people. This... has come with a bunch of problematic stereotypes (sadly, the Romani have historically been treated pretty terribly throughout Western history) and I have big hopes that Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft will work to address some of the harmful tropes it inherited and carried on from earlier genre works.

As Curse of Strahd begin, one of the first things the players do is get a card reading from Madam Eva, the leader of Barovia's Vistani people. This is a crucial part of the adventure, as the readings she makes literally determine where certain items and characters are found in the adventure. Much of the adventure's middle act is the discovery and collection of the items hinted at by Madam Eva, so this reading is crucially important.

Madam Eva uses a Tarokka deck, which is very clearly meant to be an in-universe equivalent to the Tarot deck, though it has different cards. As such, though, I think a College of Spirits Bard, especially in a Ravenloft campaign, could use a Tarokka deck as their spellcasting focus. WotC even sells actual Tarokka decks. There's also an artifact in Tasha's Cauldron of Everything that is a very powerful Tarokka deck that houses spirits trapped within it.

Now, the carnival fortune-teller or the 19th century spiritualist are two archetypes you can definitely play into with this subclass. Both would, I think, fit nicely in the Ravenloft campaign setting, which is where this subclass will primarily be promoted. Much like the Undead Warlock, it adds a Gothic spookiness to the players themselves.

Still, just as Bards can play against type as any kind of powerful story-weaving character (I can imagine playing one as some kind of tribal story-weaver for a stone age civilization, for instance) I think you could definitely flavor this in other ways as well.

I've always been kind of fascinated by the broad categories of animism and shamanism. To profoundly boil these ideas down (and I could totally have the definitions off, to disclaim) animism is a type of spiritual worldview in which everything - from living creatures to natural objects like hills, rivers, and stones - contains a spirit that we can communicate with. Shamanism is related, but its focus is on invisible spirits that permeate reality, sometimes requiring a shaman to contact the spirit world.

I could absolutely see a College of Spirits Bard lean into these belief structures, perhaps more the latter. Remember that not all priests are Clerics and not all Clerics are priests (though the latter case is more common,) and you could play a College of Spirits Bard as a religious shaman who interprets the will of the spirits through your practices, aiding your community by serving as a connection to the spirit world, trading the Western trappings of the 19th Century Spiritualist for a more diverse set of real-world cultural inspirations.

Lineage, Ancestry, and the Future of Race in D&D

 In Tasha's Cauldron of Everything, new rules related to player character race were introduced. In an effort to reckon with the history of racial stereotypes in the fantasy genre, and in D&D in particular, WotC has been revisiting some of the old tropes of the game in an effort to approach things in a more modern and inclusive manner.

While human beings in the real world are physiologically very homogenous, without any major advantages or disadvantages that come on a racial-genetic level (as opposed to a cultural-historic level, such as longstanding racial biases in culture and society) the fantasy races of a D&D world are somewhat more distinct. Even if the core races of humans, halflings, dwarves, and elves mostly look like one another except for a pointy ear here or a propensity for beards there, part of the fantastical world in which we adventure does involve physiological differences that are far more pronounced than they are in the real world. Again, even in the core races you have things like an elf's better vision in the dark or a dwarf's resilience against poison, but then when we introduce beings like dragonborn, tieflings, and further out people like warforged, there's a need to address that in game mechanics.

Let's also not forget that a part of the puzzle-box of character-building is playing around with those racial abilities, or playing around the lack thereof (for instance, my Human Warlock was a bit more eager to take Devil's Sight than my Half Elf one, given the lack of darkvision as a man of less diverse ancestry.)

But there are some elements that have been, on one hand, problematic from a social point of view, but also limiting in terms of gameplay. The first and most obvious thing to address is ability score bonuses, and even more, penalties.

As originally published in Volo's Guide to Monsters, Orcs ("pureblooded," rather than the PHB's Half-Orc) had a penalty to Intelligence. Orcs, after all, have historically played the part of the massive, savage horde that invades, murdering and pillaging as they go. But if we are also referring to orcs as a humanoid people, it's a bit disturbing to describe them as inherently stupid. Furthermore, it also makes them less interesting even if they do serve primarily as invading foes. To take an example from a different game, the Orcs in Warcraft I and II were purely bad guys (it wasn't until WCIII that they began to suggest that they were a more nuanced culture that was being misled, and that there was potential for heroism amongst them.) But even though they were just bad guys, the worst of them was Gul'dan, a warlock who was a brilliant genius and subtle manipulator behind the scenes. Indeed, the Orcs in Warcraft, even prior to their revision as people normally capable of honor but misled by demonic manipulation, were filled with intelligent shamans and warlocks alongside the more traditional berserkers. And it made them more interesting as bad guys.

So, the first thing to happen with these changes was the removal of racial ability score penalties. Orcs didn't have to be stupid and Kobolds didn't have to be weaklings.

But the bigger change came a bit later, namely, the freeing up of ability score bonuses. This had two effects, both socially and gameplay-wise, that I think were both fantastic. The rule, as changed, is that any ability score increases could be reassigned to the abilities you want. For example, a Dragonborn get a +2 to Strength and a +1 to Charisma. Under the new rules, if you want to play, say, a Wizard, you could change the +2 to Intelligence and the +1 to Constitution. Most races (sometimes when combined with a subrace) bring with them a +2 and a +1, but there are some exceptions. A Triton, for example, gets +1s to Strength, Con, and Charisma. But if you wanted to play an Arcane Trickster Rogue, for example, you might choose to take bonuses to Dexterity and Intelligence instead of Strength and Charisma.

I'm a huge fan of this change because I think that it's best when every player character can start with at least a +3 to their most important stat, and this way playing, say, a Dwarf Wizard is not going to see you handicapped and not maxing out your Intelligence until level 12 while you sit around with a mostly-useless boost to strength.

The further change, though, has been a broad separation of traits that are physiological versus those that are cultural. As an example, Dwarves have something called Dwarven Weapon Training, which gives them proficiency in various dwarf-themed weapons like warhammers and battleaxes. While this can be really cool in niche cases (thanks to the expanded Monk rules, your Dwarf Monk could fight with a Warhammer) it's also clearly meant to represent something you picked up growing up within a traditional dwarven society. So what happens if you want to play a character who was orphaned and raised by a family of elves? The elves' culture doesn't revolve around these particular techniques, and it's possible you didn't even learn the dwarvish language.

The new rules allow you to account for that by swapping out various proficiencies that come with your race. You might be a stout, bearded little monk, but the language you spoke at home was that of the elves, and so that's what you're comfortable with.

But let's now talk about Lineages.

The three Gothic Lineages that are coming in Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft are quite different from other playable races - to the extent that they're not even called races.

I'd argue that there is precedence for this, though: the Simic Hybrid in Ravnica is a "race" that represents those who participated in the Simic Combine guild's Guardian Project. This project, meant to create super-soldiers, basically took (mostly) humans, elves, and vedalken (all common humanoid races in Ravnica) and mutated them, adding things like extra arms with big crab claws, manta-ray-like fins, or other weird animal parts that became part of their bodies.

Like the Gothic Lineages, Simic Hybrids are not born this way, but rather become them (to be fair, some of the Gothic Lineages you can be born that way). The status of a Simic Hybrid is actually almost entirely physiological - you don't even have to be a member of the Simic guild.

Given that these changes are coming several years after the release of 5th Edition, there's a sort of retroactive patch job that needs to be used to alter the rules to work this way. These Lineages, though, are coming out after this philosophical development.

As such, the rules as presented separate out the stuff that's very much for a player to decide. Your Reborn character could have been any existing D&D race, from Halfling to Githyanki. And indeed, you might even be a construct of members of many different races. Because the Reborn lineage takes over all the physiological differences, it becomes a big umbrella to many kinds of people raised from the dead. Meanwhile, as you craft your character backstory, you can assign things like languages known and ability score bonuses based on who that person was before they died, creating that cultural tie to the past.

Racial physiological bonuses are generally not game-breaking, so I think this winds up being well-balanced. Essentially, I think there's no downside to this, and only an upside.

So, what about the future?

Well, I don't think we're going to excise races entirely in the next major update - whether that's a 6th Edition or a 5.5. But I do think we're likely to see a clearer distinction between race and culture. Now, ultimately, I think this might also require Humans to be rebuilt slightly. Granted, I don't know of anyone who doesn't got the variant human route, as that level 1 feat is pretty great. But the flexibility of their ability score bonuses has been a pretty big deal to making them appealing. Now that that's universal, I'm curious to see how humans work in future editions. It's possible they'll remain appealing just because, well, it's the easiest race to "hook" onto. In a lot of ways, I see these changes as just allowing other races to catch up to human flexibility.