Blog Update: A Bit of Information

Due to some goings-on in real life, I will be unable to update the blog regularly for about a month as far as I can tell right now.

The long version contains personal details, so that's not an option.

The short version is I will have to be moving soon, and very abruptly.

So while I won't be able to guarantee content, I figure I could at least do something that perhaps I should have done earlier; say what the blog is really about and for in an explicit way.

The Blog

I don't like the idea of typecasting myself. Too much pressure. And sometimes I get ideas that don't fit in this mold.

At my core, though, I prefer to make things terrifying, weird, maybe even a bit deranged. The more normal they start off, the better.

But if I only did that, I would find myself in a position where writer's block is only going to happen more often. Sure, I'm more "in my element", but the air of fear is not something that naturally allies itself with anything under the sun. You have to coax it out of its shell, muse with it, wrestle it, and then, finally, you might see if the idea was actually of genuine substance in the first place.

And what's worse is sometimes the idea is playing coy. You ditch it, and then later it comes back, taunting you with a better perspective. Then you do the dance all over again. Sometimes, the little bastard of a thought didn't have anything useful after that either! But occasionally it does, and it is worth it. So you foolhardily try every option again if you rationalize it well enough.

I could take a longer hiatus. Build the concepts up properly and really hit the ground running to where I mostly function as a present maintenancer. To me, this is only a good idea in theory - without the self-imposed deadlines, writing won't happen anyway. Well, not easily.

So I decided to, instead, writhe around flailing by the seat of my pants. I'm at home in this setting, really. (This is an exaggeration - I do have a well thought out list of what to write - it's just not as built as some might think it should be)

I like spooky things. I like instilling a bit of lunacy and unsettling presence to things. But sometimes that won't come without a great struggle. So in the mean time, I've decided to utilize the other ideas I have. They don't quite fit "spooky", but I like them enough to post them, and I do put in a lot of work on them.

A good friend of mine advised me to do things on a schedule. They also gave me guidance that I took to mean "change it up a bit by filling that schedule with alternating topics". I like the look of it so far. A bit orderly for my taste (I tend towards rabid raccoon vibes), but I think it's fitting, realistic, and serves the real purpose I found myself wanting to fulfill.

The Purpose

As far as what this blog really is, the idea is now that I want this to be a three-fold resource: First, I want to provide good setpieces (be they setting, backdrop, dX list, plot, or enemy) for GMs; Second, I want to advocate for GMs (and to a lesser, but still concrete extent, players); Third, I want to have this be a place that centers around the idea of genuine discussion of tabletop topics and gaming as a whole.

It's a bit of a smattering of everything, but I guess you could say I mostly want to tackle the role GMs serve in a game, and various things that have come up in my over-a-decade of playing tabletops, while also giving something for GMs to use.

I think tabletop games might be the best games on the planet, when you get down to it, because so many of them allow for and encourage freedom of expression and roleplay. When you get the right group, I don't know of anything that could compare.

So I really want to contribute in my own small way to this.

Anyway, that's all - I hope, dear reader, that you enjoy what I put out, and I hope it is useful for your games.

I'll be back as soon as I can.

d6 List: Random Loot for Random Enemies

(Note: What I write is largely setting agnostic, but not necessarily system agnostic. It is usually constructed from a DnD/Pathfinder/fantasy viewpoint. You may or may not find it applicable to systems you run)

Ever have a destination fully formed, but the journey wasn't supposed to be noteworthy, and you run into a rough series of questions?

Do I throw a random encounter?

If so, how many over the journey?

What happens if the dice are angry at them today? This was supposed to be a simple trek, what happens if one dies? 

Should I just not throw an encounter in a long journey?

If you do decide to throw an encounter, it's likely going to be a random encounter. And by random, I don't mean it's necessarily from a random table. I mean it's probably space-filler. It's probably fluff to sell the idea of danger lurking beyond the walls. PCs might be expected to kill them quickly, get some loot, and be on their way. This is perfectly fine. But especially if it is from a random list I find that most that introduce these "random enemies", be they bandit or brigand, either have very underwhelming loot, or it isn't listed at all. If I'm left to pull it from source material, a lot of the time it isn't thematically appropriate, and now I have to do a lot more work.

So, I wanted to provide something to complement this. All of the items here should at least be something to creatively color a random enemy while also giving a real use case that players might enjoy. In theory, these will be fun, not overpowered, not subject to cheese, and simple enough to throw on a wide variety of filler enemies to make these fights seem like they weren't just for the sake of fighting.

A d6 List of Random Loot

For your average encounter, presume that among the mundane, one of these items is present, found by rolling a d6 and correlating it to the entry. Feel free to add more. Regardless of game mechanics and creation rules, these are intended to be strange items that are valued at minimal amounts of gold. Probably no more than 200 gold per, if you're feeling generous. I'd probably make 50 g a good baseline. 

1. Cannibal's Molar

This molar is strung onto an ornate set of wooden beads. This item exudes a faint magic aura if detected and fills the holder/wearer with a nagging urge to eat meat. It need not be human meat, but in the absence of fleshy foods, fellow people/party members start to be seen as viable options. You know, in a desert island situation. Totally. Not right now. In the middle of the woods. Where no one can hear us.

The item provides a simple bonus to hit for any character that is raging (be it magically induced or as a class feature). If the character makes a bite attack, they do 1 more damage and have a 5% chance of causing 1 point of bleed damage that lasts until healed.

2. Thief's Coin Purse

This simple but magical purse is seemingly filled with coins by weight, jingling sound, and appearance, but this is an illusion. It seems like it would total 50 gold worth of items by this apparent weight. Useful for inattentive shopkeepers and trades with foes that aren't thorough enough. Opening it reveals that it is otherwise empty. The illusion only works when nothing is in it, but it can store about 50 gold coins worth otherwise. This illusion fools the senses, but not a merchant's scale.

3. Hunter's Satchel of Urines

This leather made pouch is magical. When one sticks a vial of water in it, it is subject to prestidigitation so that the smell and all other fundamental qualities of the contained water will perfectly mimic any animal's marking (it need not be urine specifically). You must provide the vial and water, but otherwise, you simply think of the creature, dip the vial in for three seconds, and voila. Rangers use this most commonly to hunt for deer, but this can be used for any animal. This does not attract beings that would otherwise not be attracted to scent, pheromones, or other qualities intrinsic to "markings".

4. Jar of Fireflies

This simple magical jar contains dozens of bright lights that are, evidently, fireflies. Seemingly not needing air to breathe, the jar can indefinitely act as a source of bright light out to 10 feet due to its contents. However, if the wielder of the jar thinks of a location and opens it, the fireflies burst out and lazily fly in the direction of the destination that was thought of. They won't do so unless the location is within 500 miles. For this to work, one must have seen the place on a map or in person before. If the "destination" is something more abstract, like the exit to a maze that you don't know the path to, there is no cohesion, and the fireflies go in random directions. They cannot be used to "explore" unknown areas like other sides of doors in a dungeon. They otherwise fly indefinitely, and can be immediately called back by will alone. They do not have perfect navigation, and thus may fly in the direction of impassable terrain, chasms, or streams.

5. Choker of Muted Poisons

This magical choker is made of elegant black silk and is worn on the neck by those fearing ingested poisons. When consuming a poison, undetectable or otherwise, the choker turns gradually grayer until it's pure white, commensurate with the strength and amount of poison. In changing of color, it also neutralizes the poison for 8 hours. Every 8 hours that the poison still attempts to harm the wearer, the color shifts again. This is a gradual shift as far as being perceived by the wearer, but in terms of quantity, you could ingest the weakest lethal poison five times (or enough that it would proc five times) before it turns pure white, meaning a sixth dose would be fatal. The strongest poisons will immediately turn the choker white, in such a fashion that casual observers would note the color change. Only magical poisons circumvent this. They still cause the choker to turn white, but otherwise are not halted in their ravages. Once a choker turns white, it is useless.

6. Trouble Stone

This is a pumice-like stone, except totally smooth to the touch, with a small pit on one side. When the holder rubs the pit for three seconds while under an emotion effect, they can reattempt their saving throw if there was one immediately. If successful, the effect is channeled into the stone. Only one effect can be pushed into the stone at any given time. To clear the effect from the stone, you must wash it in a silver bowl filled with water or wait one week.  Should someone rub the pit of the stone for three seconds while it still has the effect in it, it is immediately transferred to them with no save. It otherwise has the same effects as when it was shunted into the stone, and all variables like duration persist.

The Truth About Familiars

(Note: What I write is largely setting agnostic, but not necessarily system agnostic. It is usually constructed from a DnD/Pathfinder/fantasy viewpoint. You may or may not find it applicable to systems you run)

If you asked a commoner what a familiar was, the answers would range from lax presumptions of its status as a menial laborer to hushed whispers of a magical weapon. Soldiers view them as spiteful, eerie omens best not seen with your own eyes. Were you to ask the clergy, they would rattle off accusations towards the witches about their demonic "masters" (they will conveniently forgo mention of their branch of Witch Hunters who take on familiars to guide their hunts). In truth, none of these are the whole story, but neither are they patently false. 

Familiars

Familiars are so named because they are formed around a portion of the mage's mind. Specifically their subconscious. It taps into their thoughts yet voiced, dreams, and subliminal thinking and forms a large percentage of its personality around it. Like a fractured mirror of the mage, they are eerily similar, but still yet distinct. Be they witch, wizard, or other kind of thaumaturge, it is always this portion of the mage's mind and is forever placed within the familiar. This is still accessible through a mental link that forges as a result, but like the abilities that form, it takes time to adjust and deepen the bond.

Obtaining a familiar is, therefore, no small ask of a mage, which begs the question of why they would willingly sequester part of their mind and personality within another being. The simplest answer is that without a familiar most mages would never graduate past mastery of cantrips, rituals, and circle magic.

Familiars are magical fonts first, and teachers and guides second.  They are an external analog to the internal magical reservoirs that inheritor mages - those born with innate magical aptitude - possess, and are responsible for tutoring, deliberating with, and protecting a mage through their journey of magical growth. The majority of mages must seek out a familiar in order to advance their magical abilities. For education, but also so that they may cast at all (the amount of magic held within an average person that is not an inheritor mage is insufficient to cast even minor spells to completion).

Familiars are quite complex, and their rarity is sourced most in the steep cost of procuring one. In order to obtain one, a mage must first instigate a ritual of summoning. However, this ritual does not summon a familiar, but in fact summons a being known as an iriyani.

Iriyani

An iriyani is a specter. An undead. They exist on the Ethereal Plane and are souls that have lived so long that they have forgotten why they died, and why they have not been able to move on. There are two kinds of iriyani, those who originate from the Realm of the Fey, and those who originate from the Planes Below. Both were once beings of extremely powerful magical ability. It isn't clear what propels souls from these origins to become iriyani, but it is presumed that it must have something to deal with how these souls innately process, form, and maintain contracts and oaths. They have all but lost every last shred of normal behavior they would otherwise possess, and this has been overwritten by an intense desire to feel. Feel, in this case, as mortals do. Those who call upon the iriyani know that such a hungry desire will cost them heavily.

When a mage prepares to summon an iriyani, the incantation they recite in the ritual is the only differing factor. Scholars and other theurgical types that perform this ritual will call forth a "Fey Iriyani". Witches and other coven members will recite the incantation that beckons a "Fiendish Iriyani". 

Upon being summoned, an iriyani, regardless of association will lash out. Thus, it's important that a ring of binding glyph be carefully laid to ensure safety of the mage. The pangs of urgent need are plainly seen on the iriyani's "face" (they can and do take many forms, and mages at least know that they crave humanity's essence). It is at this point that the iriyani will calm, and demand parlay. A mage will humbly request aide in the form of a familiar, and the iriyani will demand a portion of the mage's fundamental behaviors.

What this means depends on the iriyani summoned. The scholar's iriyani will require one of their virtues. The witch's iriyani will demand one of their sins. Aside from this being a way to experience something other than the empty existence they hold, they have convinced themselves that this is a method that will help them pass on.

A wizard will decide which of their virtues to yield: chastity, charity, temperance, diligence, kindness, patience, or humility. For a witch: lust, greed, pride, wrath, sloth, gluttony, or envy. The decision is not trivial. On the surface, removing one of your virtues sounds suspect, and removing a sin would seem to make you a better person, but these are both incomplete thoughts needing more context. Once decided, a Fey Iriyani will bind you at your word of agreement. A Fiendish Iriyani will produce a contract to sign - a holdover from when they were among devilkin.

It is from this point that things get complex.

Crafting the Familiar

The iriyani will take your virtue or your sin in confounding ways. Mostly, this manifests as a stunted ability to display the trait that was yielded for quite a long time. The piece of humanity given then funnels into the iriyani, which is expected. They asked for it specifically, after all. But this does more than the iriyani would ever let on. 

At this point, the iriyani will fetch the body of an animal from the surrounding area, never anything too big. Then, they will thieve away your subconscious and force it into the creature. Thoughts are not had unless explicitly voiced in one's own mind, and no dreams are had for the first week of acclimation. Bizarre as it is, this is not immediately known to the mage. At this point, there is little that is remarkable about this creature. A turtle remains a turtle, just with the ability to hear your thoughts.

What makes the magic happen, so to speak, is found when the iriyani retreats briefly to the Ethereal Plane to find a suitable spirit. Iriyani, despite their pitiable existence, learn and learn well the plights of ghosts and spirits that dwell alongside them. They form friendships that are never satisfying to their end, largely culminating in a one-sided relationship subsisting on the desperate loneliness of the specter they come across. These ghastly beings run a range of abilities, but for the purpose the iriyani has in mind, they all function the same - to create an ethereal tether from familiar to mage and to create the magical font for use by the mage. Unbeknownst to the mage (but clearly understood by the iriyani) is that this process also creates a tether from familiar to the iriyani.

The iriyani will return; the familiar in tow with a capable, cooperative spirit held within. The process is essentially a heightened and calculated form of possession by two entities. The spirit elevates the creature to a being worthy of mention and forms an ethereal tether, while the fraction of mind allows it to talk (telepathically or otherwise), think, process, share senses, and teach. The tether works in both directions.

All of this happens quickly. And all of it seems worth it, in the end. A piece of your humanity is a small price for the ability to bend reality to your whims.

But there's always a catch.

Consequences

After the familiar is crafted, you are given a strict command. Always obey your familiar. If you don't, you lose it.

It makes sense - they are supposed to be educators that understand how to foster growth of your magical ability. They are tasked with setting you on your path of knowledge. They are to direct you to greater power.

A lot of mages reason that the familiars are actually cosmically linked to some source of knowledge that the iriyani must have the ability to tap into. Well, it isn't too far off. In reality, the iriyani is the source that is being tapped. And what is "tapped" in this case is twofold. Remember, the iriyani were once powerfully magical, and though they forgot who they are, they have a magical reflex. They know what to do, even though they don't know why. So "tapping" the iriyani means access to an innate awareness of how to become a better mage. Conversely, the goals and methods they have for teaching are largely predetermined - based upon which piece of humanity you forsook.

The piece of humanity yielded acts as a seed, growing in time with the mage's progress. The iriyani grows in power day by day, and they leech off more emotion from this essence as if it were some strange tea, steeped in the water of their soul; stronger with each second.

But as far as what this looks like? 

A scholar yielding their kindness, for instance, will hamstring their own politeness for the foreseeable future, and leave them prone to jealousy in ways unnatural to them. Their familiar, on the other hand, is immune to the emotional handicap, and is taking orders from the iriyani. The iriyani, by the way, which will become an embodiment of kindness.

On the flip side, a witch yielding her pride will lose confidence, gain self-doubt, and will be less evil than they once were, technically, but will be following the lead of a being fueled by pure arrogance.

In either case, the mage is afflicted by being less of what they gave up, only to study under the tutelage of an entity that will shape them and guide them in the shadow of this ideal. But even were a mage to learn about all of this, it would seem at first glance like wizards and the like have it easy. Give up kindness and learn to be kinder by the day. 

Again, there's always a catch.

Let's not forget that the iriyani is a being desperate to pass on, and until then, they are desperate to feel. The piece of humanity they are given is like feeding an addiction, and addicts never have enough. What is billed as kindness is, in fact, just a pleasant mask to sell all of the ideas, goals, and aspirations you are given.

You will be coaxed to kill the wicked king. After all, his atrocities have brought many to an early grave. It's hard work, but sometimes the kindest act you can perform is one on behalf of others, no matter the cost, your familiar will tell you. Murder will be rationalized. Stealing, theft, worse. And why? Because as if some cruel spectator, the iriyani is hoping to gain entertainment from your "deeds". And with every milestone you reach, the stronger a feeling their empty souls feel. Mages catch on by this point and realize that their familiar has an agenda.

But by now it's too late. The mage has gotten a taste for power, and should they decline, the iriyani will end the agreement, and the mage will be without familiar and piece of humanity alike. Thus begins the real journey of a mage: how to keep the familiar while also not falling prey to temptations that would surely end poorly for them.

Witches tend to have it a bit easier in this case, as many willingly sign up for this. But there are those that realize the pact is more than they ever bargained for, and they, too, experience the same tightrope walk.

In either case, succumbing to the allure of power is the desired end, and many a mage fails to resist.

Losing a Familiar

If your familiar dies, you lose your magical abilities. But the iriyani will happily make another. It will cost another piece of your humanity, though. This is dangerous, because now there are twice as many facets by which they can mask an action as palatably as possible. You are not otherwise negatively affected by losing your familiar, though. Nothing happens to the portion of your subconscious - the ethereal tether ensures that it is shunted back to you in this exact event.

Other Abilities

Being able to cast and learn magic is fine and all, but there are a number of abilities that can develop as the bond deepens.

At the beginning, a familiar can detect surface thoughts as well as subconscious thoughts (the mage ceases having them within their own mind, and instead they are first heard by their familiar). This works in reverse as well, but requires some focus. After about half a year together, the mage has learned how to think in their own mind, away from detection by the familiar, but can still be analyzed if the familiar actively attempts to.

Soon after, slight focus can allow the familiar and the mage to sense what they other feels within about thirty feet of each other. The other is aware of this occurring, but cannot stop it. With dedication, the mage can learn to enter a trance and can extend this range indefinitely, but this predictably leaves them vulnerable. In this trance-state, the familiar is effectively hosting the whole consciousness of the mage, and the mage could then speak through their familiar to allies.

Familiars host their mage's dreams, but is never asleep or unconscious while they are occurring. They are able to analyze and manipulate them, and can even talk to the mage in them.

Familiars are quite hardy, and can only be fundamentally hurt by things that can harm ghosts - so magic, ghost touch weaponry, and anything of that sort.

Interestingly, there comes a point where a familiar's mind (your subconscious) has been subjected to the tug of war between your preferences and the iriyani's commands for so long that they begin occasionally acting on their own. Partially, this is shaped by the spirit that is within them. This is called a personality split, and when this happens, the familiar is given free range to act on their own behalf. It's nigh undetectable at first. But soon the mage will notice that the caliber of requests has been easy to manage. The familiar will sense the awareness and confirm it.

But that doesn't mean the familiar is on the mage's side from then on out. The spirit within them still has a say, and is largely able to wedge itself in the decision making process when this split occurs. In some cases, the familiar's desires are even worse. But this is where it becomes difficult to navigate - any request could, theoretically be from the iriyani, and must necessarily be done. 

From this point on, little changes. The cycle continues. The two will dance in lockstep until the mage perishes, and though burgeoning casters are warned of the steep prices in veiled metaphors (it would be anathema to the iriyani to state it upfront), mages by the dozen fall prey all the time. Most lament it, but some - the truly noteworthy - harness it, and turn it into their greatest tool.

The work of a mage is not easy, nor is it ever complete. 

Afterword and How to Use This

Hey, it's a late post for a few reasons. Last week we got hit hard by a winter storm. This is code for I got distracted by having some snow to play in, but also my partner was off, so we spent time together on her days off.

I initially had a different idea that was a bit more straightforward, but it was too generic and low-effort. This feels right enough to hit the sweet spot of "a bit creepy, but also pretty reasonable", but I'll admit it's a tad bit convoluted at parts. I think mostly it was because this was really difficult to get out of my head for whatever reason (I didn't even say all I had to say). But I do like it a lot, overall. It turns the iriyani into a type of "patron", which works exceedingly well for the witch, and is not negatively impacting for the wizard. I think it also has a lot of fleshing out that allows familiars to play a peculiar role at the table.

Let's say you wanna use it.

In my mind, I mostly see it going like so: Let's say the wizard is starting with a familiar. They'll need to know all of the parts of the ritual, but they should absolutely not know that the iriyani is malicious/self-centered. They should be encouraged to discuss with their familiar, and the GM should issue commands that are purely in the spirit of guiding the wizard's progress. Occasionally, they should slip in "ideas" that are really just fodder for chaos. They should probably realize the iriyani is the one calling the shots no earlier than level 5, if it can be helped.

Witches aiming for a good party are, in my opinion, the most ripe for a compelling inclusion of this. They're likely to have malicious tendencies from the coven they hail from (or from whatever misguided path they took to get there sans coven), but have likely come to realize quite soon that their malefactor is not all it's cracked up to be. Seems compelling to see them try to find ways to turn orders from the next best thing to a devil into something good, lest they lose their magic.

The iriyani (through the familiar) should always operate with a distinct vagueness. Vagueness not in request or suggestion, but vagueness in outcome. They should sell the requests, demands, and other actions as reasonable for as long as possible. There needs to be a genuinely good argument for what they suggest. And so, until the jig is up, they'll never request brazen tasks that clearly show their hand. They want to corrupt the mage as part of their essence, and the less upfront they can be about it, the more payoff there will be when the mage finally pieces together that their familiar has been against them all along.

But perhaps the best part of this in my mind is what it does for the NPCs. Familiars in my experience are under utilized and mostly just set pieces to say "THIS IS A MAGICAL PERSON". I think it's interesting to know that everyone who is a mage gave up an ultimate piece of themselves, and now is often acting in deceitful ways. If not to ensure the iriyani's goals are met, then to ensure that they aren't.

I will also say this is probably best used for settings where magic is not too, too common. It can work with commonplace magic, but it gets a little awkward when thousands of mages all have this scenario. An alternative might be to keep everything the same by the book, and to have a few of the NPCs or players have this as an option for calling a familiar. Perhaps enticing as an option by it not costing any gold?

I probably missed some parts, but it's late for me, and this is already dragging on.

I hope you enjoyed reading. If you end up using this, just consider sending people my way!

GM Handbook: The Role of a GM, or "That's not my job"

(Note: What I write is largely setting agnostic, but not necessarily system agnostic. It is usually constructed from a DnD/Pathfinder/fantasy viewpoint. You may or may not find it applicable to systems you run)

Buckle up, this is a long one.

People advocate for players a lot. There are dozens of articles and blogs devoted to it, numerous boards for players to seek support and advice, and several groups that are player-centric in their discussions. But one thing I see a little too often for my liking is a common thread with some vast overstatements: how responsible the GM is for any given player's fun and any problems that arise. As a long-running GM myself, this position is riddled with issues. So I decided to do a bit of GM advocacy.

What Does A GM Really Do?

Let's start with something unambiguous - the GM, no matter what acronym is used, runs the story and is the one responsible for processing actions and formulating responses and results to/for actions. Think of them like a gaming console. The campaign is the disc you insert. The GM is the actual hardware. Players get to play the game using certain controls, and what occurs is supposed to be reasonable and in line with what the player chose to do.

This seems simple enough on the surface, but you'd be surprised how many don't make it this far without presuming that the GM is out to get them. This goes for some of you GMs too. You're not out to kill the party anymore than your PlayStation is out to kill you. You're simply there to tell the players that the person who does want to kill them is attempting to do so. And how.

But, surely most people understand this simple fact, right? So the article must be very short and redundant, right?

I wish.

There is an apparent culture where people have completely redefined what a GM does and is for. In my perspective, it might even be the current majority opinion.

So let's nail down what a GM actually does first.

GMs are supposed to provide:

• Rules fluency
• Consistent application of rules
• Meta and social boundaries for players in the campaign
• Permissible behaviors in and out of game
• Plot
• Reasonable choice in game
• Characters
• Dialogue
• Places
• Events
• Everything that a player does not have control over
• Everything a player interacts with

I'm imagining a lot of readers out there might be confused, because this seems apparent. I don't think people question these parts much. In fact, I might even agree that only fringe opinions would take issue with these being in the list of what a GM actually does.

So where is the disagreement? From what I've seen, a growing amount of people have very warped ideas of what else should be on this list. Conveniently, they all fit on the list of what a GM is, in fact, actually not responsible for.

The role of a GM should not require:

• Conflict resolution
• Managing distractions/player attention/time
• Keeping the players focused on goals
• Lorekeeping
• Permitting unreasonable actions

Now I'm thinking some of you are going to disagree. Possibly heavily. I've seen the arguments before. They're mostly not good arguments. I'm not even sure where the mentality stems from. I'm going to break these down bit by bit.

Conflict Resolution

Why people view the GM as an authority of anything beyond the facts of the world in front of them is beyond me, but I'm guessing it has something to do with the fact that GMs are also expected to be the one and only ones who can kick people from games. Which is silly, because everyone should have a voice to that end.

Let's nip this in the bud. I'm not saying GMs should stand idly by as problems occur. I'm not saying they shouldn't oppose things on the ground of them being inappropriate. I'm saying that generally, when players push this responsibility solely to the GM, they are being disingenuous and unreasonable. I'm saying that GMs are not your babysitters, and they're not HR. I'm saying players have a responsibility too.

In fact, I would say players at the table are every bit as responsible for the content that is generated as the GM. I know this will be unpopular in some circles, but it's true. In fact, players admit this all the time without realizing it. We even have a term for it; player agency.

Generally speaking, when we talk about player agency, we're talking about how players get the chance to enact whatever they want their character to do. This is a bit simplified, but the idea is clear. Players are given agency to interact relatively freely in the world.

If you believe in player agency as a necessary part of the game, then you can't consistently argue for GM intervention on matters by default.

Let's examine an easy to imagine scenario as an example.

Alice and Bob have gotten into an argument at the table. Alice is playing an elf ranger, and Bob is playing a halfling rogue. Bob, after the argument, tries to steal from Alice. Bob succeeds in stealing, and Alice is mad. Alice demands the GM do something about Bob.

Here's the thing. If the GM did something about Bob because of his actions, the GM would be removing player agency. Bob would now be penalized for meta reasons, and if the GM walked back the decision to steal, that would be removing his agency.

So you can't have it both ways.

"That's different. Bob clearly instigated a pvp scenario. Bob is the jerk."

I agree! Bob is the jerk here. Well, unless pvp is okay. You do know some groups allow that and still get on fine, right? Context matters, is my point. But assuming pvp is disallowed, then yes, Bob is a jerk. The GM should probably have a stern talk with Bob. But not because Alice has been affected, but because an agreed to rule was broken. 

Now, if the GM never made pvp's status clear, but still decided to have a talk with Bob on Alice's behalf, this is fine! I'm not saying a GM should never step in. I'm saying it should be a choice, not an expected duty of being a GM.

So what should a GM do, then? Just let Alice get stolen from? Doesn't that remove her agency?

It does remove her agency. But the word "let" is the issue here. Because it's a big clue to how someone is framing the discussion. The GM only "lets" things happen insofar as concluding if they are reasonable, and could happen. You can't jump 50 feet in the air, because that's not feasible without magic. No one cries foul about that limiting player agency because we all collectively agree, explicitly or not, to play the same game. And in this case, that game is one defined by reasonable suspensions of disbelief. And unless a 50 foot jump is established as realistically possible in the setting for the characters present, it's just not going to fly, because everyone agrees - that's absurd.

So therein lies the real truth and the real solution. The GM isn't the one responsible for walking back the decision alone, nor are they the only ones responsible for world consistency. The whole table is. 

The GM isn't the one affected by Bob's actions, Alice is. And if Alice is, then the whole party, indirectly, is affected. The GM should only weigh in enough to disallow certain actions based on historical evidence. If Bob had a chronic history of stealing from the party, then there is no reason to scrutinize this one instance, and the GM should remind them of this. If Bob never has, and never showed any signs of doing this, then there is, and the GM should make this point.

The GM really should only make a call on if it is reasonable to walk any given action back based on prior information, but the players - the ones actually playing the game and who are impacted by this sort of action and decision - should be the ones to hammer out what should happen, generally speaking. And not in a jury-handing-a-sentence-down manner, but in a "Bob, that made no sense and seemed to bring an out-of-game matter in-game. We're all wanting to walk this back unless you can justify why on earth you would do that" way.

Side note: The GM should probably weigh in on if something seems too punitive or disproportionate as well. Just because Bob was a jerk, doesn't mean that Bob will always be a jerk, and maybe Bob will soon realize it was wrong of him to do that to Alice. We are, in theory, here to have fun and play a game.

So, see? This is a player-player matter, not a player-GM matter. The entire party, with GM support, should see to these matters, not put it squarely on the GM's shoulders. And this should go for any and every matter, generally speaking. Finding one person to scapegoat into having the difficult talk is unfair, and if multiple people have a problem, it should be noted by each person.

In other words, not solely the GM's responsibility.

Side note: So, yes, obviously if a GM were to engage in one of the taboos we all know not to do, that is bad. But again, we're talking about player-player conflicts. The GM is not responsible for those, but should be involved in the overall process, with very limited ability to direct that sort of thing.

Makes sense? Good.

Managing Distractions/Player Attention/Time

I think it's insane that players will be the ones to have side conversations, show things or browse lengthily on their phone, space out when it isn't their turn, and have the gall to act like the GM is the one who is failing because they aren't "more engaging". Worse still, there are some who insist that sessions that "drag" or combat that "takes too long" is robbing the session of time, and that this somehow is purely the fault of the GM. Ludicrous. 

I don't know if this is just a stubborn naïveté, or what, but in case you somehow missed the memo, if you bring a distraction to the table, that's not the GM's fault, it's yours. And they shouldn't be tasked with monitoring you to make sure you're not deliberately interrupting the game. I'm not saying that technology is even necessarily bad. Adept users can utilize it to easily aid their gameplay so they can be reminded of their abilities on the fly. Spells too - great resources in theory.

But if you end up browsing reddit and texting, only to see the GM slightly deflated because you didn't have your turn prepped, that's entirely on you.

People detract from this by saying things like "Battle takes forever, what am I supposed to do?"

Or, "The GM was doing a different player's questline and I wasn't there."

Or, "I was just having a tiny little chat on downtime, chill out."

In order: 

• Pay attention, or find a different system/group. 
• Pay attention; this is an absurd statement to make. 
• And finally, no, you were being distracting, PAY ATTENTION.

As mentioned, the GM puts in hours of work into each session. As a player, you are there, ostensibly, to play the game. That's what you agreed to. So is and so did everyone else. Every minute you take up by distracting the table is a minute that everyone loses for that session.

Side note: I'm sympathetic to those with attention disorders. This doesn't apply as a criticism to you, but if you do struggle with this, there should still be measures taken to ensure that you are accommodated appropriately as to help your inputs go smoothly.

It's self-centered to act like paying attention to important character developments are somehow a chore just because they don't involve you. Do you stop watching your favorite TV show when it focuses on another character? Do you skip around until you only see the perspective of the character you want to watch? No, you watch the whole thing. This isn't different.

Side note: I also hear people talk about how this violates metaknowledge because "their character wouldn't know this". Well, I'm just going to shut that down right here by strongly recommending reading Angry GM's ingenious article: Dear GMs: Metagaming is YOUR Fault Despite the title, it really goes over how metagaming as a concept affects everyone, and how we all need to re-up our understanding of what the concept even really means at the table. The short version is: acting like you can't know something because your character wouldn't know it is a fallacious approach to playing the game. You're at the table, so you're going to occasionally hear or know things that your character shouldn't. Instead of avoiding it altogether, you should pick more reasonable ways to work with the information you end up with.

And if battle is taking too long, it's either the GM's fault, the players', or both. In my years of GMing, I'm rarely the reason it is taking so long unless I foolishly attempt a horde battle, despite knowing how much of a slog it's going to be (I swear every time it will be different... never is). So when it's the players, it's almost universally because they didn't have a plan and a backup plan. One for the ideal, one for if plans happen to change. Know what would help that? Paying attention even when it isn't your turn.

It's hard enough to be engaging. It's an uphill battle when players are willingly distracting themselves the second their turn is done, and until their next turn is coming up.

I think this position, most people can probably see my point on. But I want to really drive in that I reject equating 'keeping attention' with 'being engaging'. The players agreed to play a game at a set time for a set duration. If they come doing anything other than that, they are the ones hindering engagement, not the GM, and I'm really tired seeing people pass the buck, insisting that the GM is the one at fault for "not being engaging enough". It's nearly insulting, when considering how much work a GM puts in for each session.

Anyway.

Keeping Players Focused on Goals

I have had campaigns where players, disgruntled, insinuated that I was at fault because I was not corralling other players more efficiently and keeping them on task. This is a really strange notion that, admittedly, I see less than other points, but I see more than I used to.

Forget player agency, I'm the GM, and you're telling me how to do my job when it's your teammates that aren't pulling their weight? This is not the GM's job to curtail.

As a GM, my entire goal is to take what the players want to do in the world I have put forth and reason out what happens in response. So, no, I'm not going to "keep them focused". If a player wants people to pursue certain tasks, then they should make this known. 

Now, let's say the GM is laying hooks that the party isn't taking. This is a bit more intricate, because now the GM is attempting to initiate something, and the players are demonstrating either a lack of interest, a lack of perception, or a lack of care. The first two are important.

If it is from a lack of interest, then lay different hooks. Ask the party what they are interested in. This is, though, something that a well-done session zero, in all respects, should filter out. But occasionally it happens in good faith.

If it is from a lack of perception, it's not verboten to say "Hey, I've been laying a few plot hooks that you guys seem to be passing up on. Have you been doing so on purpose or did I make them a little too veiled?" In the end, this is like the other option - have a talk and hash out what you can do better. This much is the GM's responsibility, because the contractual agreement you form is that you're hosting players who want to play your world. They're only agreeing to play your world if the events presented to them are congruent with what was advertised.

However, if it is a lack of care, because the players want to do something else, be it because of some bizarre attempt at getting under the GMs skin (this, unbelievably, happens more than you would think) or because they just don't want to take "obvious hooks" then this gets to a point where now, the players are intentionally disrupting the game. No longer is the GM responsible, the players are, and they should absolutely be reminded of what they agreed to by joining the game.

I'd like to believe the differences apparent here are agreeable.

Lorekeeping

"Hey, GM, what's the name of the place we're going again?"

"Hey, GM, remind me what happened in that personal story event two months of sessions ago?"

"Hey, GM, what's the king's name again?"

I'll say it. If you do this instead of taking notes, you're a problem player.

I'm not talking about the people who blip here and there or generally don't find a need for note taking to remember these things. I'm talking about the people who habitually do not take notes, do not try to take notes, and still look at the GM as if they are their repository for events that have transpired.

I run it this way: If you don't remember, roll INT. Think that isn't fair? Take some notes.

"My character would remember it! You're being mean."

You'd remember it too. If you took notes.

And I'm not being mean. I'm just tired of people acting upset because of something they could have prevented by engaging in a reasonable manner with the game. Of all the duties a GM has, they really do not need to be interrupting the narrative because a player or three never remembers who they're talking to, why they are important, or what transpired the last time they engaged with them.

This is staunchly in the players' set of responsibilities, not the GM's. Though I'll admit, the GM can greatly help post-session by providing certain notes that might encourage others to keep better notes.

Permitting Unreasonable Actions

Ok, ending as contentiously as we started, probably.

This probably runs the risk of being the most unpopular opinion among what I'm putting forth here, but I stand by it adamantly. Sometimes, players do stupid things, and player agency be damned.

A lot of the talking points were briefly touched on in some form in Conflict Resolution. The main crux here is: "Sometimes, the players do something insanely out of character, or insanely out of setting. In these cases, the GM should not allow them."

I'm consistent. Player agency is important. But world consistency trumps this. So does character consistency. I know there are a great many horror stories, though, about GMs taking this concept way, way too far, so let me be pretty precise.

A player, generally, knows their character best. A GM, though, remembers what they have done. It's a hard sell to discount the latter point. If someone has been playing a lawful good person reasonably convincingly and suddenly approaches someone and decides to kill them without cause, this is a giant issue. The GM absolutely should halt the game and ask what's going on.

As mentioned way at the beginning. The GM is essentially a processor, taking information and computing realistic results. If you turn heel out of nowhere with no prompting, "Does not compute" is a fair response, and it doesn't make you a bad GM for resisting this.

But that's an extreme example. So, what about something smaller?

Let's say players hear that the next session involves a heist. So they go in with minimal planning. Nothing wrong so far.

What if they plan a little? Some of them are above average intellect. Makes sense.

What if they plan a lot? Well, it's a heist. Those could go really bad, really quickly.

How about a lot of planning? Say, two sessions worth. Complete with Scooby Doo-meets-Parent Trap levels of kookiness? Well, that's a lot... but they can go south really quickly, and it could be fun.

What if the heist's location, had the players actually engaged at all with it, had an alternative that could have completely nullified the insane amounts of planning? Well... how were they supposed to know?

By playing the game reasonably.

This is the sort of thing I'm talking about. Actions that derail the game for extended periods of time, actions that make little sense when you think about it contextually. Actions that probably would not have been done if you were actually there. Methods that would almost certainly not work, and would be a waste of time to try.

The GM being expected to allow these under the argument of player agency is disingenuous, because even if the players are having a fun time, the GM often isn't. And not just because they're sitting on the knowledge that there is a simpler option that takes less time and moves the plot along faster, but also because in so, so many cases, these plans are completely, and utterly, fruitless.

I cannot tell you how many times I have seen an insane amount of planning go to almost complete waste. And the players realize this and don't like it much after the fact either. I've seen a lot of "Can I do..." followed by something that doesn't even make sense when they explain it. You can see them realize that it doesn't make sense, and they still end up asking for permission.

GMs. If you're reading this - it's very important that you enable players to have freedom in the game. But you are not, in any way, shape, or form, required nor (if you ask me) encouraged to enable things that are patently ridiculous. I mean again, this is the kind of stuff session zero is supposed to filter out. But sometimes this happens out of honest mistakes and overestimations. And that's fine. I don't hate my players for doing this.

But I don't just sit there and accept it.

"You know, you're doing a lot of planning. You'd definitely be aware that you've yet to stake out the location and case the joint to see what's up. You sure you want to continue planning without necessary information?"

That usually does the trick.

"Can I [use a cantrip in a way that makes it equivalent to a level 2 spell]?"

"I'm sorry, it sounded like you were trying to make a cantrip as effective as something you can't even cast yet, maybe I misunderstood."

It's a bit snippy, but it conveys the point. Hopefully this will explain that I'm not anti-player, just anti-absurdity.

Afterword

Ok, I don't think this is as contentious as I initially thought it would be after writing it out, but perplexingly, while writing this, I still recall many, many times where people actually genuinely argued against the positions I presented. Not against me specifically, but against others who suggested this.

GMs are oddly getting a bit of an antagonistic reputation among the communities at large, based purely on the discourse I see cropping up most. It's extremely bizarre. There are, by numbers alone, vastly more problematic players than there are GMs. I mean, think about it. Most tables average about 1:4 GM to Player ratio. There are more players. By virtue, there will probably be more people that, as players, do something that is worthy of a horror story.

And ironically, I think the only reason so many people have something bad to say about GMs is not because they are bad GMs, but because they aren't even GMs.

This is a bit of a no true Scotsman argument, but seriously, if you're running a game in a way that completely exiles player agency, then you're not a GM. You're a despot who should've written a novel. There is a lot of room for debate for how GMs can and should conduct themselves, and these are all extremely fair points to analyze.

But what I absolutely can't stand anymore are all the people who conclude that GMs must also do a bunch of other things that have nothing to do with the primary functions of the role of GM.

In fact, I'm actually advocating for more player authority at the table. Easing the burden placed on GMs, while focusing on elevating the socially accepted methods players have for control over their experience in the game.

There is another point, though, and that's over where some of this belief may be coming from, or at least reinforced. Paid GMs, be they from Adventurer's League or anything else are often tasked with maintaining cohesion, fluidity, and enjoyment at the table, going vastly against what I've argued are oversteps in what should be placed on the GM alone. To be fair, though, they're also paid. Or, rather, the players are paying, and they have been sold the idea of seamless, consistent, and engaging gameplay.

I think because of the commodification of the hobby, we're finding a lot of people making promises on behalf of GMs, and now they're baring the weight of this, because in order to GM for these places, you have to agree to do all of these things that, really, shouldn't be a thing to worry about in the first place. In a perfect world, people would be mature enough to just play the game. In a less perfect world, they'd have someone tasked with overseeing these exact issues - someone separate from the GM altogether.

Regardless, players are shelling out money more and more now, and with that comes unreasonable standards. And I say unreasonable not because a GM cannot reasonably perform these duties, but because they shouldn't have to. Again, these are all aspects that, largely, the players influence and the players often cause or are affected by. I find it disingenuous to put this all on one person who is just trying to deliver the adventure everyone is there to play, when they're also juggling rules, mechanics, tactics, and the entire narrative all at once.

If you disagree, in spite of my tone in the article (it's mostly just a cheeky tone for readability), I'd love input and discussion on this. I don't hold any delusions that everything I said is flawless, but the core of what I've said is something I don't believe would easily change.

But anyway, if you got this far, I hope it gave you vindication or something to think about.

GMs have it hard. Be kind to your GMs.

Hope you enjoyed!

Bestiary: Sphinxes

(Note: This is largely setting agnostic, but not necessarily system agnostic. It is constructed from a DnD/Pathfinder/fantasy viewpoint. You may or may not find it applicable to systems you run)

Words have power because magical energy suffuses the air you breathe. To cast a spell, you learn the "true name" of it and utter it aloud - this is why people speak while conjuring (and in order to conjure) magic. This true name can be an incantation between one and infinity syllables long. We call particularly long incantations (or those with many, many parts) "rituals". Those who can craft new interactions of magic through novel phrasings are truly powerful. So enters the Riddles of the Sphinx.

"What, I say, traverses up a chimney down, but may never
traverse down a chimney up?"

Riddles

A sphinx's riddles are actually incantations. When they speak a riddle, they have, unbeknownst to you, begun a complex form of ritual magic where you are an unwilling participant. In this "ritual", their portion of incantation is found in the strange riddles they pose. Your answer, spoken on magical breath, is the key, either to the next riddle, or to your demise.

When entering the lair of a sphinx (which can span dozens of miles), you risk being accosted and demanded to answer three such riddles, which have a specific response that must be given. Interpretation of applicability of a given response is not decided by the sphinx, but rather the ritual itself. 

Success is the equivalent of disarming a bomb. You said the right word or phrase - you defused the explosive. But then you have to do it two more times. Success thrice in a row grants you access to mighty power that is uniquely determined by the sphinx in question and not something they can control (this can range from a long-term bless effect, to a restricted form of limited wish).

Failure - even once - is detonating the bomb at point-blank range. With the nature of how the ritual works, it is more dangerous the more you get correct before you are wrong. This ranges from the sphinx bestowing a curse to power word: kill (or equivalent ranges of spells - it depends on the sphinx and the set of riddles they choose to use). In essence, you are navigating a death spell with each riddle, and only by safely succeeding do you get the "treasure". For most people, it's their lives. For adventurers, it ranges from information to the magical gift bestowed (or, you know, both).

Failure to engage angers the sphinx, which begs an important question of why a mighty beast would accost you and demand you play their insidious game under threat of death.

Origins

A sphinx is known for a few attributes: They are a chimera of several beasts; they speak all known languages of man; they are vindictive and unrelenting hunters; and, in particular, they pester people with riddles. In truth, this is actually a compulsion they are physically incapable of resisting, sourced in their origins.

Elven magocracy has been responsible for a lot of follies and pitfalls owed to their hubris, and this is no different. The High Mage Thaldnarina reportedly discovered the true name of a dangerously powerful spell that even the elves agreed would be inappropriate to keep around. Thaldnarina resisted, but eventually feigned cooperation, turning to alternative measures to protect her discovery. The High Mage took three beasts: one of power, one of agility, and one of intellect (a lion, eagle, and a slave mage, in this case) and used thereafter forbidden transmutative magic to bond their souls together like a macabre stitched together poppet. Then, she did it twice more.

Side note: This all occurred before Thaldnarina was found to be associating with covens and hags, which explained the numerology not common among elven magical practice.

In the end, the three creatures were dominated and soul bound to Thaldnarina with each given a third of the true name of the spell, removing it from her memories. Their death would immediately shunt their portion back to her. In the event of her untimely death, the sphinxes would immediately become aware and learn the identity of who was responsible, compelled to seek them out and kill them (with considerable magic - thanks be to the slave mages used in the creation).

The sphinxes acted as guard dogs of her tower - demanding answers to three riddles each that Thaldnarina commanded they ask. It was a form of cant to ensure only those meant to access the tower were in the company of those in possession of the true name of the spell. As described, these riddles also functioned as a keen way to punish trespassers, given their extreme power.

The Sphinx's Curse

But alas, elves with their arrogance and longevity are often precluded in their ability to properly plan for the future. When she died of natural causes, no one was responsible. To the sphinxes, their magical imperative interpreted this to mean that everyone was responsible, and it wreaked havoc on their minds with each day that they did not bring justice to her death (imagine a tunneling scream that hinders your sleep and instills aggression).

This manifested as the sphinxes intentionally hunting down any person they saw and assailing them with their riddles under threat of death (the people seen warped in the sphinxes' mind to be a "visitor" that must prove right of access to a tower they no longer guarded). Riddles, of course, from a long list selected by Thaldnarina precisely because of their obscure matter that only she and a handful of select others would reliably know. Eventually, the damaging effects of the bond were acclimated, and all that remained was an intense hatred of people, an encyclopedic knowledge of esoteric facts, and a compulsion to demand answers to riddles.

To further complicate the gapped logic Thaldnarina used, she never took measures to sterilize the creatures - and as it turned out, they were, indeed, viable for reproduction. Thus, a great crisis brewed. As the sphinxes honed their aggression, wit, and survival, they reared chicks of their own, creating generations of threats that still plague people today.

Discovering Magic

With every successful birth, a sphinx's curse is eased. The portion of the spell's true name that they know is divided further from parent to child, and their offspring bare the brunt of the existential suffering Thaldnarina thrust upon them. Interestingly, parent and offspring are not soul bonded the way that the original three were to the High Mage. Thus, when a sphinx is killed, that portion of the true name is lost forever, left to be rediscovered.

Sphinxes, though, are highly protective of their knowledge. They cultivate and memorize all parts of the prior known fragments that they are able to through oral histories. In fact, they naturally organize themselves into hierarchies based on their generation (how many fragments they innately have) and how many fragments they have since gathered. In their cultivation, they have also studied magic enough to learn why, exactly, Thaldnarina utilized riddles.

In so discovering that the riddles are actually a form of derived ritual, they also learned new riddles. The mechanism specifically is that all riddles a sphinx will ever use are homophones throughout the riddle with the actual true name of powerful spells. Interestingly, any riddle can work with any other riddle (they are modular in this way) - but it changes the presentation of the set of spells with each progression. Bestowing curses from Thaldnarina's original set of riddles graduated to killing with but a word. In other combinations, it may graduate from bestowing curses to petrification. Or something else entirely separate from curse magic altogether.

In this way, a sphinx prepares not spells as a wizard might, but rather entire riddles. They know the answer to it, but again, they're not the one that decides it. It's like a jigsaw puzzle. Only one piece should ever fit appropriately, and the person constructing the puzzle is not the one who decides which piece it will be.

Sphinxes are well aware of how to present riddles that grant positive effects upon failure, but their vindictive history restricts this from the realm of feasibility. To them, it is a reward one must earn, and they are still lightly propelled by their very essence to seek violence to those not participating as they deem appropriate. 

Sphinxes are the embodiment of a magical lock in search of a key. Only, every "key" does something bad unless it's the one meant for them. Sphinxes are enemies, territorial in nature. They seek to destroy people that enter their domain without permission. However, they do have a vice - new riddles. Not knowledge, riddles that they could use. 

Should a sphinx assail you, the safest option you have to not only leave with your life but to possibly engender some friendship would be a trade. Specifically, a trade where you teach the sphinx a riddle they have not heard before. To do so, you must wait until the sphinx states their riddle in whole (interrupting can have calamitous effects), hold up empty fist to mouth with the back of your hand against your lips and wait until the glow of the sphinx's eyes diminish. No one knows why, but this a universal sign among all sphinxes that states "I wish to barter". You'll know if they accept by virtue of if they bare claws, or if they simply respond, "Your life is kept with which you speak, 'tis me now asking 'what doth thou seek'?" (They needn't rhyme - they just know that people think it's creepy, so they do it a lot)

It is important that this riddle can be anything that fits the basic parameters of a riddle. The sphinx will work out any changes that must be made to bring it to fruition as a proper inclusion in their arsenal of riddles. Adventurers walk a tightrope of sorts in this way, as the more they traverse through a sphinx's range, the more likely it will be that one day they will not have a novel addition for them. On this day, fair weather allies will turn, and the sphinx will attack.

How To Use This

Any campaign that could deal with including a malicious oracularly minded foe would probably benefit from this. I tried to make them seem less "Egyptian-coded" as well (uphill battle, really). I'll say these should probably be capable of harassing even mid-level adventurers, and might, if someone walks into their trap ill-prepared, manage to kill even the strongest of players if they come with the right riddles prepared.

Some ideas I might include, were I to use this, would probably be as follows (ranging from cliché to possibly more inventive): 

• A sphinx beseeches the party unwittingly in her domain - it poses the riddles three with a promise of fortune if successful... and death if they fail or decline
• A sphinx has recently settled in the way of a merchant's path, and now trade has ceased until it can be dealt with
• A rogue soldier in service of their malicious magical benefactor has sought collection of the Fragments of True Name of the ages old spell and has left a line of slain sphinxes in their wake
• The original three sphinxes have been targeted by the original coven Thaldnarina was a part of, presumably for malicious ends
• Rumors state that sphinxes, long since dispersed, have began coalescing their knowledge to cast the spell, whatever it is - the party must kill the sphinxes to isolate the fragments and cease the spell.

Things I would also note are that, if it wasn't clear, sphinxes are aggressive. Very, very aggressive. But they always lead with their riddle. If the riddle is spoken in whole, but no answer is given, there is not an ill-effect magically speaking, but they have a short amount of time before the spell fizzles (it's never wasted until it is set off).

What I would also recommend - don't turn down riddles provided by players in trade for safe harbor. Even the obvious ones. But have a talk with your players if there is a recurrent sphinx about what will pass muster for acceptable. I'd probably make a spreadsheet of all given riddles to keep everyone honest on which ones have been used before. It should go without saying that any riddles they use go on the list, and they should refrain from using one more than once.

Of note: "Riddlemancy" is an inherent quality of the sphinxes and only otherwise practiced by certain covens of hags. It requires knowledge that even some of the more masterful spellcasters simply cannot comprehend (Thaldnarina was, truly, a legendary mage). Think of it as somewhere between innate sorcery and learned spellcraft. Thus, the players probably should never obtain this. Merely speaking the riddle as a person will not produce magical effects.

As for what answers you would accept? I'll discuss that down below. If you're interested in including them, I'd highly recommend it.

As always, if you enjoyed this and end up using it, go wild! Just please give credit when able and send people this way.

Afterword and Answering Riddles

TL;DR: I recommend having a list of acceptable answers, and holding firm to consequences otherwise. Also, maybe don't worry so much about the players coming to the answer on their own. You can always make the answer a quest for them to undertake.

I like sphinxes in tabletops. What I don't like is that their riddles are usually very... obvious? With how human culture is, most people that care enough to pay attention to things like the myth of Oedipus know the classics. Also, when they are novel riddles, they can be unwittingly open-ended. Sometimes, holding the players to this can be contentious.

To address this, I designed the sphinx as a concept to encounter with a few points that are very important before we talk about answers. 

First, I was thinking if a sphinx is going to be used as an enemy encounter, then their riddles needed to have more of an ingrained reason beyond "they just like riddles, but you'll die if you don't play the arbitrary guessing game". My view is that if the riddles are more baked into something they have to do, it will be more reasonable for a player to play along (if they dare).

Second, I wanted there to be a reason they keep asking the same riddles historically speaking. Their origins of a finite pool of riddles makes it easier for me to accept, anyway. In a game though, I'd never use the same one twice, even if you're ruling that the effect will be the same if they prepared a different array.

Third, I wanted sphinxes to be more aggressive than they have been in many TTRPGs and more commonplace (though, they should still be uncommon in most areas; unheard of in others, beyond myth). Having them be more passive, but lethal, never sat right with me. Any experienced GM likely has necessary information behind multiple access points so that they don't get chokepointed on the players being unable to proceed, so why would players bother with it being optional? Sage-like passivity can make the riddles seem more like an unnecessary hoop to jump through. Making it part of an aggressive tendency that is imposed upon the player hopefully makes it more perilous, more engaging, and more agreeable to actually partake in. To note, this is also more in line with the original myth.

Fourth, I wanted there to be a reasonable way to avoid the aggression without it being handwaving on part of the GM. A trade that will never cement you as allies can be a helpful sidestep when one is not prepared, but it also means it is fueled primarily by the player's creativity. If they run out of riddles (and you should always accept every riddle they uniquely give that hasn't been outright disclosed for any specific sphinx), then they are the only ones to blame for going through the territory again. This is never used to trade for information, though, that's important.

So then, this comes to an important question: What answers are appropriate?

The short answer is: I wouldn't accept an answer just because it is technically correct. I'd only accept it if it is an answer I have conceivably thought of.

The longer version is: I would try to run the riddle by people not in the campaign, and pool answers. I'd find any that felt in the spirit of the riddle and include them in the pool of possible answers. I'd also try to make it as specific an answer as possible, but that's not an easy task. I might even change the reward into "tiers" if I was so willing, commensurate with what felt like the "best" answer. Then, if they do not provide any listed answer, I would have them reap the consequences.

And here's why without going too painfully into detail.

The fact of being incorrect even though it was a sensible response is not nearly as important as the fact that you are then punished for it. Thus, I think the bigger thing to alter is what you're willing to punish a "right but technically wrong" answer with. You're the GM, you make this all up. If you don't want to instantly handwave that any response that can reasonably convince you is good enough, then don't. But that doesn't mean you have to kill them for it. 

Maybe they are cursed for a week to have a malodorous stench. Maybe they take combat penalties for three encounters. Maybe they are struck to half health. Maybe their soul is severed from their connection to their god(dess) for a time until they can find an alter to pray and remove the spiritual barrier, losing any divinely inspired benefits including casting. These actions do not need to necessarily endanger the player in a way that would mean their character is dead or ruined.

And it's important that it's understood that a "riddle barrier" is far from the only manifestation of the role a sphinx can play. Like a lot of things, something that is viewed as a chokepoint can actually be turned into a separate mini adventure. Perhaps there is a notoriously difficult riddle that all fail. Perhaps the answer is something the players can hunt down and discover the answer to. Sure, the moment at which you deliver the answer might not be as climactic, but it won't have been boring to obtain the answer in the first place. And with how deadly sphinxes in this are, it's maybe an adventure well worth taking.

But ultimately, this comes down to the players and GM. What game are you trying to run? If you want it to be an easier, more laidback approach to riddles and the like, no one is stopping you.

If you got this far, thank you! 

I hope you all enjoyed!