1d10 Halflings and their 1d4 Dogs

My goblin post was fun, and it gave me a hankering to do something similar with halflings. Why halflings? Well, mostly because I like that in AD&D, every halfling has 1d4 dogs:

I have long been fascinated with halflings' penchant for having lots of dogs. In AD&D, a halfling lair has 30-300 adult combatants, the same number of adult noncombatants, and 60% as many noncombatant children. Depending on how you interpret the above, a halfling village will have from 30 to 3,120 dogs (average either ~412 to ~1,072 dogs). That's a lot of dogs!

My sandbox for Dungeon Module B3: Palace of the Silver Princess describes Mere, a halfling village of some 300 halflings with a like number of dogs (the famous Dogs of Mere) who serve as scouts, trackers, sentries, pack animals, messengers, and mounts, and are integral to the village's role in the anti-Gulluvian resistance network. The halfling dogs are essential companions to the halfling lifestyle!

Typically, these dogs are only found in the halflings' lair (their shire or whatever), but I don't see why a pair of halflings wandering the wilderness couldn't also be accompanied by their six dogs. And since these dogs are so important to the halfling way of life, I see no reason not to give them a little loving detail as well.

Now, the Monster Manual says that all halfling dogs have the statistics of a "wild dog", suggesting lean, workmanlike mutts, but this seems a bit boring to me, so my halfling dogs are going to have a bit more variety.

Something I did differently this time was to roll to determine whether a halfling was an adult combatant, an adult noncombatant, or a child. Per the AD&D Monster Manual:

Now, this does say "in their lair", suggesting halfling children never leave the place, but I personally feel that there should be a chance of encountering a halfling child wandering the countryside with their dogs in tow. I also interpreted the Gygaxian "females" (the implication being that they are not warriors) to instead mean "noncombatant adults", because I'm woke.

For each halfling, I rolled d100. A result of 01 to 38 would be an adult warrior, 39 to 76 would be a noncombatant adult, and 77 to 100 would be a child. Include more children in your games! That's one of many things that Gygax was really thorough about doing, even if the implication of their inclusion in Gygaxian AD&D is rather grim. It's especially funny when the children are Evil.

I also rolled for the relative age of each adult halfling (01 to 65: Young adult, 66-85: Middle-aged, 86-95: Old, and 96-100: Venerable) and for "subrace" (according to this 75% are Hairfoot, 15% are Stout, and 10% are Tallfellow), although this doesn't add much except to make them more like Elves or more like Dwarves and to change up their preferred weaponry a bit.

I eased up a bit on randomizing mechanical elements like movement rate, but continued to randomize alignment, intelligence, and morale as those are meatier statistics that give the individual halflings more unique personalities.

Without further adieu, here are 1d10 halflings and their 1d4 dogs:

1. Corin Thistlethorn (LE): 3 hp. A male Hairfoot child (AC 9). Thin and sharp-featured, with dark brown curls and keen grey eyes. His clothes are surprisingly tidy for a child. Although young, he is more intelligent than the average halfling (Int 14). He quietly observes conversations before joining in, and adults sometimes find his questions uncomfortably perceptive. He is selfish and manipulative and enjoys bending rules, knowing secrets, keeping score of favors, and figuring out how to gain advantages over his peers. He is tight-lipped around strangers, evaluating them carefully before deciding whether they are allies or people to avoid (neutral). Treasure: A carefully organized collection of bird feathers, insects, and unusual stones, a slate tablet and chalk used for keeping lists, small wooden tokens representing debts and favors owed by other children, and a pocketknife (no value). Corin has 2 dogs:
1. Bracken: A tan rabbit hound. Curious about everything, he has a habit of bringing interesting trinkets to Corin. Terrified by storms.
2. Soot: A black terrier with mismatched eyes. He distrusts strangers and watches them with the same suspicious scrutiny as his master.
2. Della Copperpot (LN): 3 hp. A middle-aged female Stout. Sturdy and broad-hipped, with weathered tan skin and dark auburn hair streaked with gray. Thick eyebrows and deep-set brown eyes. Simple, durable clothing with no armor (AC 9). Wields a hammer and short bow (+3 to hit). She will defend herself and the village if need be, but is more prone to flight than the average halfling, preferring to retreat and regroup rather than stand her ground (Morale 8). Believes strongly in duty, tradition, and minding one's business. Direct. Dislikes unnecessary chatter. Judges by actions rather than first impressions (neutral). Treasure: A leather roll of woodworking tools (3 sp), a carved wooden mallet (1 sp), a tin box containing spare bowstrings, wax, and fletching supplies (2 sp), and a belt pouch containing 2 silver pieces. Della has 4 dogs:
1. Copper: Black and white farm dog with a crooked tail. Very excitable and has to be leashed at all times.
2. Flintlock: A gray sheepdog. Normally calm and dependable, but becomes anxious and seeks company when storms approach.
3. Nettles: A brown terrier who barks constantly, announcing every visitor, squirrel, passing wagon, and fallen leaf.
4. Pansy: A white spaniel, always covered in mud. Loves swimming to wash it off, then rolls in the muddy banks once she's finished.
3. Hilda Ironkettle (LE): 2 hp. A young adult female Stout. Compact and broad-shouldered, with dark chestnut hair worn in braids. Square-jawed with a small scar beneath her chin. Studded leather and shield (AC 5), morning star, and short bow (+3 to hit). Believes in order, discipline, and looking after her own interests. Not as quick as most halflings (Int 10), but extraordinarily difficult to intimidate or discourage (Morale 16). Greets strangers with a firm handshake and direct questions, quickly determining whether she can use them to her advantage (friendly). Treasure: A whetstone and weapon maintenance kit (3 sp), a sturdy iron lock and key (3 sp), a brass whistle (1 sp), a pair of rabbit fur gloves (2 sp), and a belt pouch containing 3 silver pieces. Hilda has 1 dog:
1. Flint: A large and muscular black and tan mastiff with a deep growl. Shadows Hilda constantly and is big enough for her to ride.
4. Marigold Brambletoe (LG): 5 hp. A young adult female Hairfoot. Lean and athletic with tan skin. She wears practical country clothing and keeps her curly brown hair tied back with a strip of green cloth. Shield (AC 8), hand axe, and short bow (+3 to hit). A shepherd and rabbit hunter who will defend herself and the village if needed, but prefers avoiding danger (Morale 10). Polite but cautious. She prefers to observe a stranger's actions before judging their character (neutral). Treasure: A leather pouch containing 30 silver sling bullets (3 sp), a rabbit fur-lined waterskin strap decorated with smooth and shiny river stones (2 sp), a carved wooden whistle (1 sp), a 20' length of hempen rope (2 sp), and a belt pouch containing 3 silver pieces. Marigold has 4 dogs:
1. Cricket: A fearless brown terrier missing an ear. Will charge barking at animals several times his size. 
2. Digger: A stubborn tan farm dog who refuses to relinquish a bone and often buries them to save for later, quickly forgetting where he put them.
3. Fern: A black and white sheepdog with an adept understanding of whistles and hand signals.
4. Willow: An excessively friendly white spaniel who is quick to show her belly to strangers.
5. Milo Greenbottle (LG): 1 hp. A young adult male Hairfoot. Broad-shouldered and sunburned. Dark brown hair cropped short. Leather armor (AC 7) and hand axe. A part-time woodsman and trapper who will defend himself and the village if needed. He readily offers directions, local gossip, or a meal to adventurers (friendly). Treasure: A well-maintained sharpening stone in a leather pouch (3 sp), a set of three iron rabbit snares (4 sp), a carved wooden militia badge (2 sp), and a small belt pouch containing 4 silver pieces. Milo has 2 dogs:
1. Patch: A clever black and white sheepdog. Loves wagon rides. Fiercely protective of Milo.
2. Thistle: A tan rabbit hound that eagerly follows scents but is easily distracted by squirrels. Howls at the full moon.
6. Myrtle Goodbarrel (LG): 5 hp. An old adult female Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Short and round-faced, with a mass of white curls bursting from her bonnet. Kindly but unfocused blue eyes. Laugh lines and rough hands. She has a habit of forgetting what she was saying halfway through a conversation, forgetting names, and repeating stories. and is confused by complicated explanation of unfamiliar ideas (Int 5). She has a warm heart and generous spirit and is eager to help and quick to trust those who behave kindly (helpful). Treasure: A hand-knitted wool shawl with simple floral patterns (3 sp), a wll-used silver cooking spoon (2 sp), a basket containing several jars of berry preserves (3 sp), and a cloth purse containing 3 silver pieces. Myrtle has 1 dog:
1. Buttercup: A brown lap dog that greets nearly everyone as though they were a long-lost friend. Blind and always underfoot.
7. Neddo Burrows (N): 2 hp. A male Hairfoot child (AC 9). Small and wiry with unruly chestnut hair and a scatter of freckles. Grass stains on clothing. Curious and adventurous around friends, he becomes shy, suspicious, and rude in the presence of strangers (unfriendly). He may hide behind a fence or in bushes, refuse to answer questions, or insist on being left alone. Treasure: A homemade wooden toy boat, a toy sling, and a collection of interesting stones and bird feathers (no value). Neddo has 1 dog:
1. Snap: A scruffy black terrier pup that barks constantly at strangers and chases anything that moves. More noisy than useful. Digs holes constantly - a source of frustration for Neddo's parents.
8. Odo Tealeaf (N): 5 hp. A middle-aged male Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Stocky and weathered, with a broad nose, rosy cheeks, and a thick mop of curly black hair graying at the temples. Wears a comfortable faded green vest, loose linen shirt, and sturdy trousers with patches. Gathers herbs, mushrooms, and berries to sell in nearby settlements. He enjoys meeting new people and is usually willing to share gossip, directions, or advice (friendly). Treasure: A wicker basket containing bundles of dried herbs (3 sp), a well-made knife with a curved iron blade (3 sp), a small jar of blackberry preserves (2 sp), and a leather pouch containing 4 silver pieces. Odo has 4 dogs:
1. Old Bran: A gray farm dog with arthritis. Moves slowly on cold mornings and walks with a limp.
2. Poppy: A brown and white spaniel that investigates every unfamiliar scent, object, and visitor. No concept of personal space.
3. Rascal: A black terrier that begs constantly and is prone to stealing food.
4. Tumble: A tan rabbit hound unable to distinguish cats from dogs.
9. Rosie Hayfoot (LG): 3 hp. A middle-aged female Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Plump and cheerful, with graying auburn curls in a loose braid. Wears a patched dress beneath a sturdy apron with pockets for sewing supplies, dog treats, and other odds and ends. Known for raising dogs, mending clothing, and helping travelers in need of food or directions. She gladly shares local information and offers any hospitality she can (helpful). Treasure: A basket of fine sewing supplies (3 sp), a hand-carved wooden dog comb decorated with simple floral patterns (2 sp), a small tin box containing dried medicinal herbs (2 sp), and a leather purse containing 3 silver pieces. Rosie has 4 dogs:
1. Button: A gray lap dog which fetches dropped items and warns Rosie of visitors. Seems to understand far more speech than most dogs.
2. Cloud: A white farm dog which spends most of its day napping in the sun, requiring considerable encouragement to move.
3. Hazel: A brown spaniel that accompanies Rosie on walks and fetches sticks from ponds. Happily tolerates having her ears pulled, and often follows along with halfling youngsters.
4. Tinker: A sharp black and tan terrier that keeps vermin out of Rosie's pantry and woodshed. Chases squirrels obsessively.
10. Tobin Underbough (LG): 4 hp. A highly intelligent (Int 13) young adult male Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Slim, with sandy-brown curls, hazel eyes, and a thoughtful expression. Dressed in a neat brown waistcoat with pockets for notebooks and pencils. Ink- and soil-stained hands. Enjoys reading almanacs, keeping careful records of planting dates, and breeding dogs. Politely cautious towards adventurers until proven trustworthy (neutral). Cowardly (Morale 5). Treasure: A well-used leather-bound planting journal filled with notes on crop rotations and weather observations (4 sp), a carved wooden whistle (2 sp), a brass-rimmed magnifying lens (3 sp), and a wool coin purse contain 2 silver pieces. Tobin has 3 dogs:
1. Brindle: A black and tan spaniel who always has a stick in his mouth. Greets guests with the stick, eager for them to throw it.
2. Moss: A tan mixed-breed farm dog, quiet and watchful. Sleeps belly-up.
3. Pip: A brown and white terrier trained to keep rats and mice away from granaries. Missing the tip of one ear from an encounter with a particularly fearsome barn rat. Distrusts strangers, barking furiously until Tobin assures him they're welcome.

Developing the Sandbox: Outdoor Encounter Tables

This post is part of my series on developing the sandbox. You can read other posts in the series here. The series will, when necessary, go into detail on the development of my sandbox for Dungeon Module B1: In Search of the Unknown, but will also discuss sandbox development more generally. You can read play reports from my B1 campaign here.

First, a preamble. The types of encounters I'm referring to in this post are those procedurally generated encounters which occur when the party is traveling overland. These are often colloquially referred to broadly as "random encounters" - which is not specific enough for my purposes - or as "wilderness encounters" - which suggests the party is navigating an untamed, dangerous outdoor environment, and which is too specific for my purposes. Here I will use the term "outdoor encounters" because they are neither city/town encounters - which I describe in my previous post on developing the town - nor are they necessarily wilderness encounters. These encounters can occur anywhere outdoors, and may take place in either wilderness or inhabited areas.

You can create outdoor encounter tables for your sandbox at various points throughout the development process. In many traditional "old school" campaigns, the dungeon which is the initial locus of play is situated very near to the "home base", so it is unlikely that the characters will have many outdoor encounters when traveling to and from that destination.

Indeed, it is even suggested in the AD&D DMG that the local municipality actually maintains a road leading to the dungeon. In that case, your initial outdoor encounter table probably needs little more than bands of fellow/rival adventurers, patrols from the nearby settlement, or groups of bandits and brigands which might prey upon such travelers.

However, Dungeon Module B1 relies upon the premise that the dungeon, Quasqueton, is remote, its location lost to history and local knowledge. Few if any know of its whereabouts, which serves as justification as to why it hasn't yet been plundered. It wouldn't make sense for it to be right next to town, and certainly not for a road to lead right to it. The player characters have the fortune of coming into possession of a map pinpointing the dungeon's location, but that doesn't mean the trek should be easy.

This meshes well with my own preference for remote dungeons and low level wilderness exploration. In older editions of D&D, the wilderness is a wildly variable and dangerous place, unsuited for prolonged expeditions by low level characters or those traveling without formidable armies. That doesn't mean low level characters can't adventure there. In fact, I think they should! They just have to be careful. They might encounter an orc warband, see a giant prowling on a far away mountainside, or spot a dragon flying overhead.

These encounters not only inject some variety and unpredictability into your game, but present the players with dangerous situations they will have to carefully navigate, reminding them that the world is not carefully curated to accommodate their characters - that they are small fish in a big pond and will need to act accordingly until they acquire some power and have more agency.

In the first session of my last AD&D campaign, the party had seven random encounters before finally arriving at the first dungeon. Many of them were potentially deadly, but a combination of mitigating factors like distance and reaction rolls plus the players' own savvy and my wise and benevolent restraint allowed them to reach their destination unscathed. Spotting a lone hill giant wandering in the distance filled them with fear. A dozen or so sessions later, they encountered another such wandering giant and laid a trap for it, slaying it with ease. The characters' growth in power over that span of time was self evident.

In my sandbox for B1, Quasqueton is located about a day and half's travel from town over settled farmland, across a river, through the forest, and atop a high, wooded black crag. It's not a super deadly trek, but it provides a decent chance that a 1st level party on their initial expedition may get wrecked by a band of hobgoblins or worse. That may not be to your or your players' taste, but I find the possibility tantalizing.

Since reaching the obvious first adventure site for the campaign would require some overland travel (both through inhabited lands and the wilderness), creating my outdoor encounter tables would need to be a priority. How would I go about it?

There are more ways to write outdoor encounter tables than I could possibly summarize here. Here are some of my favorite blog posts on the subject. If you want more, Google "D&D encounter tables blog" and go on a voyage of your own making. It's not my job to educate you.

The primary conflict when deciding how to structure my outdoor encounter tables was whether to draw my encounters from a preexisting, generic, all-encompassing table (such as those found in the AD&D DMG) or to populate my tables only with those creatures that would reasonably be found outdoors in my sandbox, based on the settlements, strongholds, and monster lairs which dotted the landscape.

For example, the cultivated farmlands and wild grasslands surrounding Timbershore would be populated mostly by farmers, patrols, merchants, and the like. Brigands would prowl the lands surrounding Fayette's Hold. The forest would be home to ogres, owlbears, giant eagles flying overhead, and the occasional chance encounter with the leprechaun, Jinglepuff.

While this makes plenty of sense, it's also rather dull. It's not super exciting if the only people found in brigand territory are brigands. It forces me to think about what sorts of mundane animals are found in which environments, and to think of which factions have overlapping territory or which might venture into one another's spheres of influence. Most importantly, it eliminates any possibility of being surprised myself.

Using a more generic outdoor encounter table is certainly good for producing results which surprise even the DM: "Huh, I didn't expect there to be a green dragon living in the woods. That's exciting. What does it portend for my campaign?" But it also produces incongruous results: "Uh, so why is there a sphinx hanging out a couple of miles away from the brigands' castle?"

The solution I eventually came up with was to use two encounter tables - a generic one which I used almost like a spark table (in this case, the outdoor encounter tables from the AD&D DMG) to then populate my own curated encounter tables for the region. Basically, I would roll first on the AD&D encounter tables, try to come up with some rationale for the result, add it to my curated encounter table if it made sense, and discard it if it did not.

This was easy enough with many of the most common encounters - merchants in the grasslands were probably traveling to town, pilgrim encounters were with devotees of the Evil cleric Blanchefleur, brigands were from Fayette's Hold, orcs were from Quasqueton, and the like. 

But I also ended up with some unexpected results, like the sphinx just outside of Fayette's Hold (which I discarded, but now think I could have actually used - it would be cool if the brigands had made an alliance with a Chaotic Evil hieracosphinx), or some truly strange things hanging out around Quasqueton (one of which turned my preconceived notions about one of the region's important NPCs on its head, which I won't spoil here).

My sandbox wound up needing seven encounter tables: inhabited/patrolled forest (the hexes bordering Timbershore, Ebongrove, and Fayette's Hold), uninhabited forest, inhabited/patrolled forested hills (Zerelda's Camp), uninhabited forested hills (Quasqueton), inhabited/patrolled barren hills (Fayette's Hold), inhabited/patrolled grasslands (which was all of the grassland on the map), and rivers and lakes.

For each table, I generated four results. If the result was a creature which could be encountered only during the day or night, I generated another "mirror" result for the opposite time of day. To keep things interesting, I rerolled duplicates, so "brigands" was only ever one of the entries on the table. At most, the table for any given terrain type would have eight entries, so I would have to generate a maximum of 56 encounters. I ended up with 39.

Since this is a lot of encounters, I tried to keep them light, but I also wanted to have most of the work done for me ahead of time so that I wouldn't have to roll much at the table. If the encounter is with people or creatures who can speak, what is their leader's name? How do they react to the party, why, and what do they do or say? If their reaction is indifferent, how can I make that into an encounter which is still engaging? What treasure are they carrying? Where are they from? Where are they going? What are they doing? If the encounter includes spellcasters, what spells do they have prepared?

Some encounters are easier than others. Animals and unintelligent monsters are easy. Mounted patrols with mixed arms and multiple character-type NPCs among their number are more challenging. But it's worth it to put in the time to prepare them properly.

Throughout the process, I tried to keep in mind a few things: logic, but also fun, and variety. There's no proper orc lair in the region, so it didn't make much sense to have a band of 100 orcs wandering the forest. However, a group of a dozen or so orcs venturing into the region from just off the map would suit my purposes. There would be no bands of roaming giants, but a single wanderer passing through the region seemed within the realm of possibility.

While I do enjoy the idea of the wilderness being an unpredictable and dangerous place with huge groups of monsters prowling about, I also had a mind for balance - again, because it makes more sense to me. It seems appropriate that the party would be more likely to encounter a handful of brigands rather than a giant army of them. 

Thus, I loosely "balanced" these encounters based on a d100 roll: a result of 01 to 65 would be an encounter for 1st to 3rd level characters (1d3), a result of 66 to 85 would be for 4th to 7th level characters (1d4+3), 86 to 95 would be for 7th to 12th level characters (1d6+6), and 96 to 100 would be for characters 9th to 20th level (1d12+8). Most encounters will be with small groups, but there is the chance of running into a large force which must be evaded or negotiated with. 

This roll was made only after I had determined the general type of creature encountered, so if I rolled up a dragon and could make sense of it (easy to do, since dragons fly all over the place, whether they live there or not), then there would be a dragon, balance be damned. The roll only determined whether it was a singular dragon or a gang of teenagers.

As we play out this campaign, I replace those encounters I've already rolled as makes sense. For example, the hobgoblins encountered in the forest during our first session were merely frightened away, not defeated, so they are still out there. The giant tick which was slain is gone from the encounter table until I roll up another giant tick to replace it. There are certainly more giant ticks in the woods, so I could simply reuse this encounter, but again, two of my priorities when creating these tables are fun and variety, and encountering a giant tick 25% of the time in the forest is neither.

Hopefully, as the campaign continues, the party will have more outdoor encounters, and I'll be able to showcase some of the work I've put into them in my forthcoming play reports.

Adventurers Are a Threat to the Established Order

An excerpt from the AD&D DMG, under MONSTER POPULATIONS AND PLACEMENT, page 91:

I found this paragraph interesting for a few reasons. 

First, in AD&D the assumption is that the player characters are "the most aggressive" characters (or character-types) in the area of play. This is not to imply that they are the only adventurers active in the area. After all, character-types appear on both the dungeon and wilderness random encounter tables:

Rather, I think the purpose of this assumption is to afford the player characters the maximum amount of agency. They are not "special" in that they are the only adventurers running around doing stuff, but they are the adventurers most uniquely motivated to enact serious change in the region. It's fun to encounter, compete with, and even fight rival adventuring parties, so their activity in the area is still a must, but the proverbial ball is still very much in the player characters' court.

The second point of interest is that there are, of course, character-types in the area of play who are both higher-level and more capable than the player characters. This is evidenced by the fact that there are strongholds in the wilderness ruled by character-types of, at minimum, 9th-level:

However, "the game assumes that these characters have other things to do with their time, that they do not generally care to take the risks connected with adventuring, and they will happily allow the player characters to stand the hazards". This meshes very nicely with a previous post of mine, in which I argued that high-level NPCs will not or cannot solve the problems of their domain because they are either Evil, incompetent, indifferent, or powerless, thus leaving such problems to the player characters to deal with (this I wrote before ever reading this section of the AD&D DMG).

This is consistent with other advice in the DMG, where Gygax states repeatedly and in no uncertain terms that high-level NPCs should be difficult to deal with and that player characters who make a habit of relying on such NPCs for aid will simply provoke the NPCs' ire over time. 

While 1 to 2% of individuals in a settlement will be leveled character-types (and presumably a portion will be high-level), if the player characters wish to recruit help in their adventuring activities, they'll need to instead call on the 10% of those individuals who are henchmen looking for work - and even those are the pitiable wretches of the adventuring profession who are instead looking to benefit from the food, lodging, equipment, shares of treasure, and protection which their employers are expected to offer them.

On the other hand, this isn't very consistent with the aforementioned dungeon and wilderness encounter tables, which insist that high-level characters are not only present in lower levels of the dungeon:

...but are also the only such characters encountered in uninhabited/wilderness areas:

This suggests that high-level character-type NPCs do in fact "care to take the risks connected with adventuring", albeit not "generally". The assumption still stands that the player characters are "the most aggressive types in the area", however. The high-level NPCs must simply be adventuring as a bit of a lark. Perhaps they're on a vacation of sorts, trying to remember what it's like to feel young, alive, and hopeful? Who can relate?

While there is some overlap in level with those NPCs who would typically rule a stronghold, there's no indication that these high-level NPCs belong to such a place (if they did, surely they would be accompanied by a larger force). My inclination is to treat these NPCs as adventurers who do not yet have holdings of their own. Unlike the current iteration of D&D, strongholds in AD&D do not simply materialize out of thin air once the character has attained a certain level. The AD&D world is also filled with high-level NPC bandit leaders and the like who do not necessarily possess holdings, so we can presume that it is not uncommon for high-level NPCs to be without them.

(As an interesting aside, character-type NPC adventurers are not randomly encountered in inhabited areas, only in wilderness areas. Presumably this is because those in inhabited areas are holed up in settlements or in their strongholds, though it is strange that they may not be encountered on the road between places. I will chalk this up to an oversight rather than intent to imply something about the setting.

Also interesting is that in dungeons, only character-type NPCs of 1st- through 4th-level and 6th- through 13th-level - and perhaps higher - may be encountered, while in the wilderness only such NPCs of 7th- through 10th-level may be encountered. Where are all the 5th-level characters? And why do NPCs higher than 10th-level abandon wilderness adventures to return to dungeon environs? To avoid getting ahead of myself, and because ultimately it is probably not meaningful, I'll forego examining this further, but I invite others to put forth a contrived explanation.)

While there are high-level character-type NPCs out adventuring, the assumption is that most are not interested in doing so. Instead, "they will happily allow the player characters to stand the hazards" of adventuring. The player characters are after all "aggressive" (read more accurately, probably, as "overactive"), so why not let them expend their energy in a mutually productive way? Adventuring is referred to here as "dirty work" and, if the player characters are successful, the NPCs are assumed to benefit. Player character adventurers sound a lot like simple-minded pawns to be exploited by those wise enough to be content with wielding their power in relative safety, but that's not the whole story. 

The third point of interest in this excerpt is that it suggests that NPCs view the presence of adventurers as a threat to the "established order". If the player characters are indeed the most aggressive/overactive adventurers in the region, this makes sense. They have to deal with the aforementioned Gygaxian expensive and irritating NPCs, nobles and powerful officials who will embroil them in social conflict at the slightest insult in the city streets, tax them relentlessly and indenture them to servitude if they fail to pay, and subject them to them to hefty tolls if they wish merely to use the road to travel to the nearest dungeon to make their fortune. Gygax has ensured that the established order kind of sucks - what player character wouldn't chafe against it?

Not only does the NPC reap the benefits of successful adventures by utilizing the player characters as pawns, but the NPC also removes the player characters to some more remote frontier area where they pose less of a threat. Here Gygax makes a direct comparison between adventurers and Wild West "gunfighter-lawmen" like wild Bill Hickok and Wyatt Earp - transient individualist vigilante-types who might bring order (at the end of the barrel of a gun) to frontier places temporarily, only to later be replaced by a more permanent, less dangerous lawman approved by the establishment. The gunfighter-lawman would then move on to the next frontier and do it all over again. Sound about right? D&D is not medieval! It's a Western. 

But adventurers need not always threaten the established order. Eventually, they might build a stronghold, "which will help to maintain the stability of the area" (emphasis mine). The adventurer thus becomes part of the establishment.

That is probably an oversimplification, as just because one has a stronghold, that does not necessarily mean that the player character is beholden to the existing establishment. The land-holding AD&D fighter is not generally vassal to another, higher-ranking lord - the fighter does not necessarily pay taxes and is not necessarily called upon to provide fighting men to anyone else, although this is a possibility. 

The landed player character does, however, have a self-interested motivation to clear the area around their stronghold, patrol it regularly, and provide for the safety of their tax-paying subjects. This does not preclude the possibility of warring with or otherwise menacing their neighbors, but perhaps maintaining "stability" (i.e., the absence of monsters) is valued enough by the establishment such that it more or less looks the other way when it comes to other threats posed by these types.

The takeaways here are thus: while player characters are not the only adventurers active in a given area, they are assumed to be the "most active", perhaps to afford the players the level of agency required for an engaging game. They are not (at least not at the start of play) the most powerful characters, either. More powerful character-types adventure as well, but not generally. Instead, powerful character-types elect to use the player characters as pawns. This serves dual purposes - it spares the NPC the labor and danger of adventuring while allowing them to reap the passive benefits, and also removes threats to their power to more remote and dangerous locations. 

The player characters are viewed as threats by the powers-that-be. While the player characters' adventures may allow them to accumulate more power (and thus more threat potential), the assumption is that they will ultimately settle down in their strongholds and contribute to the greater good of the region my stabilizing the frontier areas where they once made their fortune, thus bringing themselves into the fold of the established order.

Much like the Gygaxian maxim that NPCs should be expensive and irritating to deal with, this notion should color every interaction the player characters have with the local rulers. Adventurers are useful, but also ambitious, unpredictable, and dangerous. They are outsiders to circles of power...until they're not. 

The only way in from the cold for them is not merely to serve as pawns, in which state they will always be viewed as threats, but to prove their ultimate usefulness by allowing the march of civilization to take another step forward by the conquest and holding of dominion over the wilderness. While that may not be every player character's ultimate goal, they will remain outsiders unless it is achieved.

Non-Descript Danger: Vagueness and Similarity in AD&D City and Town Encounters

Since I wrote about indentured magic-users and clerics being encountered among the city guard/watch, I've been poring over the rest of AD&D's city/town encounters. Yes, yes, that's the part of the book with the infamous harlot table:

It is very funny (and gross) that Gygax felt the need to create a d100 table with 12 different types of harlot, but so much has been said about this already that it feels a bit unnecessary to belabor it any more.

What's that highlighted bit about, though? And at the bottom, too, Gygax reiterates that encounters with these NPCs will resemble encounters with other NPCs. Why does it matter whether the party encounters an expensive doxy or a haughty courtesan and whether they're able to identify them as such? Why does it matter that an expensive doxy will resemble a gentlewoman and a haughty courtesan a noblewoman?

Simply put: an essential element of AD&D city and town encounters is, apparently, "disguising" them "using vagueness and similarity". Gygax devotes a standalone line to this element in the introduction to the section:

Why is this Gygax's advice? After all, when you encounter a monster in the wilderness, you know whether it's a dragon or a goblin. You might not call it a goblin, but even if you don't, once the player characters encounter a goblin once, they can probably recognize it the second time as the same type of creature they encountered before. But characters in a city or town can encounter expensive doxies and haughty courtesans dozens of times and may still not be able to tell which is which and whether one or the other is actually a gentlewoman or noblewoman.

This makes enough sense when one considers the real world experience of exploring an urban environment. Some people, like business professionals, law enforcement officers, and healthcare providers may wear uniforms of a sort and be easily recognizable, but many others will not. Who is a politician? Who is a criminal? Who is a carpenter, a plumber, or an electrician? Who owns a store? Who is a rich person dressing down? Who is a werewolf?

So it feels somewhat lifelike for the players characters in a D&D party to never be entirely sure who they're encountering. But what is the gameplay purpose of making these encounters vague and similar? Prevailing wisdom nowadays maintains that players should be provided with information that allows them to make choices which have a perceivable impact (and which the players may or may not be able to anticipate ahead of choosing their course of action). Is it bad advice to tell the DM to disguise their encounters and make them all look the same?

Maybe, although I'm not entirely convinced. This can certainly be attributed to Gygax's penchant for being adversarial towards players - he wants to trick them because they think they know everything and he's going to show them that they don't. "You thought this was an expensive doxy? Well actually she is a gentlewoman. Now you've offended her, and she's calling for the guards!"

Whether or not that was Gygax's intention, I'm somewhat fond of this "vagueness and similarity" approach to urban encounters because it feels rife with potential shenanigans - the kinds of mix-ups and misfortunes that characterize urban adventures in the inspirational literature of Appendix N, such as Fritz Leiber's Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser series.

I'll give a few examples.

Both assassins and thieves are likely, as befits their profession, to seem like ordinary people. They might not want anything to do with the party, but it's easy to see what you might do with these encounters if you want to make them more interesting - the player characters are their targets.

Anyone on the street could be one of these two types, and even if the party correctly identifies them as thieves by catching them in the act, there's no telling whether they're in fact assassins until one of them leaps out of the shadows and stabs a player character in the back.

Indeed, thieves and their accomplices are all over the place in AD&D cities. And being thieves, they don't exactly advertise it. Remember the harlot table? Well, every "cheap trollop", "typical streetwalker", "wanton wench", etc. has a 20% chance to be or to work with a thief. Indeed, even the beggars may be thieves in disguise:

(While Gygax is quite specific as to the percentage chance that a beggar knows something useful, he does not tell us exactly how likely they are to be thieves.)

In the same vein we have the bandit encounter:

During daylight hours, bandits appear as "a nondescript group" which watches the party to (perhaps) attack them later, presumably after night falls. Contrast that with ruffians, who are perhaps intended to be more easily identifiable due to their "shabby appearance and mean disposition":

Even then, ruffians conceal their weapons. Just because someone looks shabby and mean doesn't mean that they're hiding weapons on their person. The players will never know until weapons are drawn. Then, once again, they might be in for an additional surprise when, 35 to 60% of the time, one of those shabby and mean fellows sneaks up behind them and stabs them in the back for massive damage.

Then again, you might be able to identify the ruffians by the humanoids in their midst:

Considering Gygax's advice about disguising encounters, perhaps the presence of these humanoids isn't meant to be immediately apparent. Maybe the goblins, hobgoblins, kobolds, and orcs wear fake beards?

Assassins, bandits, brigands, ruffians, and thieves might similarly hide among groups of tipsy revelers:

This encounter is maybe the most representative of the "vagueness and similarity" approach to AD&D city and town encounters, as not only may the drunks be revelers or bums, but the identity of the revelers can be almost any other person otherwise included in the broader encounter table (there is a real missed opportunity to include dopplegangers, lycanthropes, and other weird creatures among the revelers, in my opinion - imagine picking a fight with some drunks outside a bar and one of them turns out to be a werewolf). 

One omission from the revelers table is the goodwife, who I presume is too upstanding to engage in such debauchery. What do they do instead? Well, they wander around as indistinguishable FEMALES, gossip, and accuse people of crimes:

(Hey, this seems like a great way for the player characters to wind up indentured to the city watch!)

The goodwife isn't the only one who might call the watch down on the players:

The fact that laborers are "rough customers in a brawl" seems to imply that brawls with them are to be expected. Note again of course that both laborers and tradesmen are specifically described as "non-descript"!

On the topic of those individuals with considerable influence, let's look at rich people. First, merchants:

There's something funny about every merchant wandering the streets expecting to be robbed by any rough individuals (i.e., adventurers) they come across.

Now, nobles:

A noble will probably be insulted if they are mistaken for a common merchant or a harlot. If you offend one, you better hope they're not a mid-to-high-level fighter or cleric!

Let's round things out with the rest of our non-descript encounters with people who are easily mistaken for other people. Pilgrims, for example:

And both paladins and rangers:

On the subject, of character-type individuals, I sure hope that cleric you ran into has good intentions:

Of course, there's more than just people wandering AD&D cities. There are also dopplegangers - which by their nature can appear as non-descript as they choose - and lycanthropes - which don't always appear in their monstrous form, and all three of which have some chance of seeking to prey upon the party, wererats being most nefarious of all (here Gygax calls attention to Fritz Leiber's work specifically):

AD&D cities and towns are confusing and dangerous places full of non-descript people and monsters who either intend the party harm or are more than willing to cause it if spoken to wrongly. Because of the "vagueness and similarity" approach to these encounters, characters must not only keep their weapons sharp, but also their social acumen - one might save them from the likes of cutthroats, evil clerics, dopplegangers, ruffians, thieves, and lycanthropes, while the other will help them navigate a faux pas caused by the mistaken identity of a goodwife or noble.

And that's not all! AD&D cities and towns are also full of demons, devils, and the undead. In the AD&D world, it seems, "conservative guy who is afraid of cities" may in fact be right! But perhaps that's a subject for another time.

Gangs of Teenage Dragons Roam the Wilderness: The Implied Lifecycle of Dragons in AD&D

Let's pretend it's still 2024. It may now be the Year of the Snake, but in my heart it's still the Year of the Dragon!

Here's something from OD&D:

And here's a similar excerpt from AD&D:

In OD&D, groups of multiple dragons encountered in the wilderness are always a family group (a mated pair with or without very young dragon children). In AD&D, mated pairs with young are encountered only in their lairs (mated pairs without young can still be encountered outside their lairs). If three or more dragons are encountered outside their lair, all dragons in the group will be sub-adults.

What's mildly interesting about this is that a mated pair of dragons can only ever have two young at most (all dragons in AD&D appear in groups of 1 to 4 except the gold dragons, which appear in groups of 1 to 3). Thus, it's impossible for a group of 3 to 4 sub-adult dragons to all be of the same clutch. They will all be the same type of dragon, but at most only two of them can be siblings.

Furthermore, dragon children encountered with a mated pair are only ever very young dragons. For clarity, here is the breakdown of dragon age categories in AD&D:

So let's say you roll up a random encounter with a dragon/dragons. If you roll up one dragon, it can be of any age category (you roll d8 to determine which, as described above). If you roll up two dragons, they will be a mated pair, and each can be either an adult dragon, old dragon, very old dragon, or ancient dragon. If you roll up three or more dragons in their lair, they will be a mated pair with one or two eggs or very young dragons. If you roll up three or more dragons outside their lair, they will all be sub-adults.

This suggests something of a lifecycle for dragons, which I'll detail below.

Very young dragons can be encountered alone in the wilderness or in the lair with their parents. They typically live with their parents. If you encounter one on its own in the wilderness, it has either snuck out of the lair (and perhaps its parents are looking for it!), or it's an orphan - its parents were killed and it was driven from its home. Sad! 

Young dragons are only encountered alone. They are kicked out of the lair at 6 years of age to make it on their own. Sad! Dragons are not particularly great parents. Since you can't encounter more than one of them at this age, siblings do not stick together (this is presumably when rivalries between sibling dragons develop - maybe this is why they're kicked out, or maybe this is simply when dragons begin to experience angst and wish to go it on their own).

Sub-adult dragons are only encountered alone or, in the wilderness, with groups of two to three peers. At this age (late teens to early 20s), lonely dragons of different parentage come together to form roving wilderness gangs. Since solo sub-adults can be encountered in their lair, presumably those encountered alone either have a lair somewhere (and thus no need to be part of a gang), or are just on the cusp of sub-adulthood and have not yet found a gang to join. Because all such dragons will be of the same type, these dragons must be drawn together by a shared identity but not necessarily a maternal bond (since siblings part ways at the young stage).

Young adult dragons are only encountered alone. Perhaps this is when dragons tire of the company of their peers or begin to form rivalries with them, as they did with their siblings. Those who don't already have a lair will now seek to claim one.

Adult, old, very old, and ancient dragons can be encountered alone or together, without young in the wilderness and with or without young in their lairs. This is the age at which dragons look to "settle down", find a mate, and start laying eggs. They only do so with dragons of the same type, so ignore that part in my last post where I suggested that the black and green dragon encountering one another might be engaged in a mating ritual. Or don't! Perhaps two dragons of different types will get busy with one another but wouldn't stoop so low as to have children together (or are incapable of doing so for biological reasons). It can be whatever flavor of weird you want.

Anyway, this seems like it could be a cool way to flavor your encounters with dragons. Is the very young dragon sneaking out to explore? Are its parents looking for it? Are they dead? Is the young dragon angsty and bitter? Is the sub-adult a weird loner, a confident bachelor, or a stooge in some other dragon's gang? Does the young adult dragon have a friend-turned-rival? Is the adult, old, very old, or ancient dragon looking for love or happily in a relationship?

I just like the idea of a gang of teenaged dragons swooping down out of the sky. Maybe you do too!

One Hundred Thousand Dragon Encounters

No, I'm not actually going to describe one hundred thousand encounters with a dragon. How would I even do that? If you want an exhaustively detailed post, see my previous post on d100 Woefully Encysted Creatures (I spent so much time on it and am not eager to do that amount of work again).

What I am going to do is describe how, when generating a random encounter with any given monster in the wilderness, a number of variables can result in a truly astounding number of meaningfully different encounters with that one monster type (and sometimes two or more monster types - more on that later). 

Here I'm using a dragon as my example, because the game is Dungeons & Dragons, and dragons are cool. These same variables used in combination with whatever menagerie of creatures you utilize in your preferred system can in turn produce millions of different encounters.

The purpose of this post is to detail the factors which the DM considers when formulating an encounter to present to the players - those determined by dicing, which the DM may determine ahead of time or discover in the moment, and over which the players have little if any control. This is the stuff which makes random encounters the stuff of tabletop magic.

The variables I'll be examining are: weather, terrain, time of day, % in lair, surprise, distance, reaction, and "combined encounters".

Weather

I'm starting with this because I typically roll for weather conditions at the start of an adventuring day, so it's the first factor to be determined. You might roll do see if the weather changes throughout the day, which is certainly realistic, but I can hardly remember to consistently check it once per day, let alone multiple times, so I prefer to keep it simple.

With regards to weather, the three factors I take into account are temperature, wind, and precipitation. There may be other ancillary factors like fog or cloud cover, but I feel that the aforementioned three are sufficient (they are also the three factors addressed in the 5e DMG - I will be jumping around from one edition to another in this post, and the actual mechanics don't matter much, but I feel 5e's weather stuff is very easy to comprehend, so that's what I'm using).

Temperature is not super important at the encounter level. The temperature is either normal or colder/warmer than usual for the season. This will affect overland travel, but it won't impose much on the encounter besides whether the player characters are exhausted when the encounter occurs (in 5e, characters must make a saving throw every hour they travel in such conditions or start accruing penalties). Maybe it's too hot to wear armor. Maybe the characters are slightly clumsier than usual because they're wearing thick winter clothing.

Wind is either a non-issue, light, or strong. Strong wind imposes disadvantage on ranged weapon attack rolls and Perception checks that rely on hearing, extinguishes open flames, disperses fog, and makes flying by nonmagical means impossible (flying creatures must land at the end of their turn or fall to the ground). In a desert environment it can whip up a sandstorm. Light wind doesn't do anything, which raises the question: Why is it even called out as its own thing?

I change this slightly in my own games. Light wind imposes disadvantage on ranged weapon attack rolls and disperses gasses, smoke, vapor, etc. after 1 minute. Strong wind does the same to ranged attacks but also causes long range attacks to automatically fail, and disperses gasses and such almost immediately, in addition to imposing disadvantage on attempts to hear and preventing nonmagical flight (unless the creature is strong enough to resist the wind, which is a house rule I use).

Precipitation can either be light or heavy, but once again light precipitation doesn't actually do anything in 5e. In my games, light precipitation imposes disadvantage on sight-based Perception checks. Heavy precipitation does the same, but also affects hearing-based checks and extinguishes open flames. I might also make the area all muddy depending on the terrain. Precipitation can be rain or snow depending on the temperature.

Here are all the ways weather can impact an encounter with a dragon: 

• Characters might be exhausted.
• Characters might not be wearing armor.
• Character might be slowed down by winter clothing.
• Characters might have a hard time seeing or hearing the dragon, meaning they are more likely to be caught unawares (or more likely to be able to hide from/avoid the dragon).
• Characters might not be able to use ranged weapons effectively.
• Characters' light sources may be extinguished (if it's night time - more on that later).
• Characters (and the dragon) might not be able to fly.
• Characters might not be able to use gas/vapor-based spells like fog cloud, stinking cloud, or cloudkill (and the dragon might not be able to use its breath weapon effectively depending on its type).
• Characters (and the dragon) might have to deal with sand or grit being blown about.
• Characters (and the dragon) might have to deal with mud or snow (difficult terrain).

There are three categories of temperature (normal, cold, and hot), three different types of wind (none, light, and strong), and three different types of precipitation (none, light, and heavy). If we account for weather alone, there are 27 different scenarios in which a dragon might be encountered.

Terrain

Next, I'll account for terrain. The characters will start the day in one type of terrain but may pass through other types as the day proceeds, so we won't know in what terrain the encounter occurs until an encounter is rolled. 

I'll be considering seven broad categories: plains, forest, hills, mountains, desert, wetlands, and water. There are other factors to consider: "plains" can be cultivated farmland, grassland, scrub, steppe, etc., forest can be light or heavy, jungle or taiga, hills and mountains can be forested or gentle or steep, desert can be rocky or sandy, wetlands can be forested or not, and water can be fresh or salt or shallow or deep. 

These factors can all matter at the encounter level, but I will keep it to those broad seven types, mostly because they are the seven identified in Welsh Piper's Hex-Based Campaign Design, which is something of a formative text for me.

Terrain will of course dictate the type of monster encountered in most games, but since I'm assuming the monster in this case is a dragon, we won't discuss that. In most versions of D&D, the type of dragon encountered is also determined by terrain type (black dragons in swamp, green dragons in forest, blue dragons in desert, etc.), but here I am imagining a dragon more generally - the type isn't important.

Terrain is mostly important for determining encounter distance (which I'll cover shortly), but it's worth considering its other implications. In wild tall grass, but probably not in cultivated farmland, the player characters or dragon may be able to hide. In a forest, there will be roots to stumble over and trees to climb or take cover behind. In hills and mountains, one side or the other may have a height advantage. In the desert, a dragon might burrow in the sand or kick up gusts of grit with its wings. A swamp may impose difficult terrain on the player characters and allow the dragon to swim or hide in the muck. An encounter on the water will have the players characters doing battle on a dinky rowboat or a massive warship. 

We add our seven types of terrain to the existing 27 possible combinations due to weather conditions and end up with 189 scenarios in which a dragon might be encountered.

Time of Day

You can measure time in the wilderness in many ways, but I usually break it down into six four-hour watches. These are described in the AD&D DMG:

Note that the first three watches are during daylight hours, and the second three are during nighttime hours.

Usually (in my experience), the first two watches are when the party is traveling overland, the second two are when the party is making camp but still awake and alert to danger, and the final two are when the party is sleeping (with someone on watch). The main limitation is that the party can only move overland for a limited time (usually eight hours) and must rest for some period of time (usually eight hours). They might travel during the first two watches and then explore a dungeon during the second two, for example, or break up the time in any number of other ways.

The important factors here are whether the party is traveling, camping, or resting, and whether it is light or dark. For simplicity - and because in my experience the players don't switch up their routine very often - let's call it three variables: traveling, camping, or resting.

During the traveling turn, it is probably light and the characters likely have most of their resources (spells and whatever else) available, so this would likely be the easiest encounter. 

During the camping turn, resources may be depleted from a day of travel, so it will be slightly harder. The party is also sedentary during this time, so they cannot flee from an encounter unless they are okay with losing their camp and any equipment or treasure there. It may be light or dark, in which case the dragon will likely get much closer before being spotted (if it is spotted at all). 

During the resting turn it is dark, and some characters will be sleeping while others are keeping watch. The dragon only needs to get the drop on those keeping watch in order to surprise everyone, who will then need to be awakened (and who won't be wearing armor). The party is sedentary, and resources are depleted and haven't yet been recovered. This is likely the most difficult encounter.

We will add these three possibilities to our existing combinations. We now have 567 possible scenarios.

% in Lair

Since the % in lair statistic was eliminated after AD&D 1e, you might not be using this in your game...but you should! The only thing cooler than stumbling into a dragon is stumbling into its lair. You're probably stocking your play area with monster lairs ahead of time, and in that light it might not make a lot of sense for the dragon's lair to not be on the map, but who cares? Now you and your players get the thrill of discovering this secret dragon lair together!

Now, technically I think this is only supposed to be used when the characters are actively traveling. It doesn't really make a ton of sense for the party to spend two watches camping in one spot and then suddenly a dragon shows up and it turns out that the party is somehow camping in its lair. The AD&D Monster Manual has this to say:

That last sentence suggests that it might not be uncommon for the party to be in a monster's lair without realizing it. However, I'm going to suggest a different interpretation, one which makes sense when you consider the hex as a unit of measure in the wilderness.

In my games, a hex of any size only ever contains one location. That's simply because Hexographer only allows you to place one icon per hex, and I always use Hexographer for my regional maps. It's also just easier to parse that way. Whether the party is traveling, camping, or resting, they're only ever inside of one hex. I might keep track roughly of where exactly they are inside of that hex, but they're always either in that hex or in another one.

If the party is camping or resting and I roll a random encounter with a dragon and determine that the dragon is "in" its lair, that doesn't necessarily mean the party is literally camping in its lair - rather, the lair is located somewhere within the hex. They could be in it without realizing, or they might be camped on top of it, or it might be just over the hill or a mile away. The lair is somewhere in the area.

In AD&D, dragons in their lair have a percentage chance of being asleep, which drastically changes the encounter, but that doesn't apply to the broader point I'm trying to make about monsters generally (remember, the dragon is just an example). The dragon (and monsters generally) may behave differently in or near its lair. A dragon in its lair may not be able to fly about freely. It may be less likely to retreat or to pursue the party if they flee (it may simply want to drive them out of its territory).

In most games, this isn't likely to affect the encounter that much, although in 5e the dragon would have lair actions which would have a direct and significant impact. It also has post-encounter implications in that the player characters may be able to then locate the lair (if they're not already in it) and loot its hoard.

I do think that this is a variable worth considering, so we'll say that this adds two possibilities (is the dragon encountered "in" its lair or not). We're up to 1,134 possible scenarios.

Surprise

There are four ways this can go: nobody is surprised, the party is surprised, the dragon is surprised, or both are surprised. This can be more complicated if you use something like AD&D:

Here it is not just a matter of who is surprised but how surprised they are. I don't want to get into all that. For simplicity, let's stick to just the four aforementioned categories.

This is pretty self-explanatory: either the party has an advantage, a disadvantage, or neither. In the latter case, it's still important to distinguish between whether neither or both sides are surprised, because this will affect encounter distance (I've alluded to it several times - rest assured it is coming right up).

It's also worth noting that this can differ slightly depending on how you interpret surprise. In "old school" D&D this is a roll that happens at the start of an encounter, suggesting that the encounter is happening no matter what, and surprise represents only a fleeting advantage. In modern editions surprise is gained when one side goes unnoticed by the other and launches an attack (usually this is a Perception check/Passive Perception vs a Stealth check). 

Thus you could take a step back and also interpret this more broadly as indicating which side (if any) notices the other. Does the party surprise the dragon and get a free round to act, with the dragon acting in turn once the round is over (assuming it survives), or does the party notice the dragon before it notices them, giving them a chance to slip away unseen and avoid the encounter altogether, or perhaps get themselves into a more advantageous position from which to launch an attack? One interpretation affords the players more agency than the other.

I prefer the latter interpretation, but your mileage may vary. In any case, we can say that there are four possible outcomes here. We add these to the existing combinations and end up with 4,536 possible scenarios.

Encounter Distance

Distance is determined by a variety of factors, including surprise, terrain, light levels, or even sound (since one side might hear the other before spotting them). Good thing we've addressed all of those factors already! 

I use a table of my own creation which is a combination of AD&D 2e's tables and the tables from 5e's Wilderness Kit. Here is my table:

Usually I will roll for both sight and sound and use the larger of the two to determine when the encounter "starts". As you can see, encounter distance can be as little as 3 feet or as many as 600 feet, depending on the circumstances, with many, many possibilities in between.

To once again keep things simple, I'll take a lesson from ShadowDark and say there are three range categories: close (melee range/short range for missiles and spells), near (melee range if you charge/medium range for missiles and spells), and far (move for two or more rounds to get into melee/long range for missiles and spells). In 5e terms this would be roughly 30 feet, 60 feet, or more than 60 feet, for example. 

The important thing is that at close range, both sides are more or less engaged/threatened immediately, at near range, either side can choose to engage or try to keep distance, and at far range most creatures will probably not be able to meaningfully engage without closing considerable ground, while those who wish to avoid the encounter can do so fairly easily.

The difference between a dragon flying over 30 feet above the characters' heads versus 400 feet away while they're in the mountains should be obvious. A close dragon is much more dangerous than a far dragon, and the latter affords the players considerably more agency when determining if the dragon is something they want to mess with or run and hide from.

Adding our three possible encounter distance categories to the existing combinations, we now have 13,608 possible scenarios.

Reaction

The encounter is happening. We know what the weather and terrain is like, the time of day, whether the dragon is in its lair, who is or isn't surprised, and how far the two sides are from one another. But perhaps more important than any of these factors is how the dragon will react to the party.

How exactly you use the reaction roll will vary wildly depending on which edition you favor. Generally speaking, the dragon will have either a neutral, negative, or positive reaction. There may be additional degrees of each type of reaction. Here is AD&D's reaction table as an example:

I use a reaction roll which generates five possible outcomes: hostile (the monster usually attacks), unfriendly (the monster threatens, extorts, or otherwise seeks to inconvenience or impede the party), indifferent (the monster either ignores the party, is unsure how to react to them, or interacts with them in a neutral way with no particular ulterior motive), friendly (the monster wants something from the party or is willing to negotiate/trade), and helpful (the monster assumes the best of the party and is amenable to aiding them).

The reaction roll is modified by the monster's alignment, so a Chaotic Evil dragon would never be helpful, and a Lawful Good dragon would never be hostile. Let's assume for this example that the dragon in question can react in any of the five ways (i.e., it is not Chaotic Evil or Lawful Good - this could be a brass, copper, green, or blue dragon, for example). 

How exactly you interpret the reaction roll will depend on the dragon type. Good dragons won't attack on sight simply because they love to kill, and Evil dragons won't aid strangers out of pure altruism.

This may be the most important element of the encounter because it tells us what threat or opportunity the encounter poses for the party. A hostile encounter is likely to be a fight which will cost the party resources and maybe their lives. An unfriendly encounter is a tense negotiation which can be navigated by social tact or else cost the party in treasure or inconvenience. An indifferent encounter might be as simple as set dressing (the party watches a dragon fly overhead in the distance - a reminder that a dragon can swoop down on them at any moment in the wilderness) or an opportunity to exchange information with an intelligent monster. A friendly encounter could lead to an unexpected quest or be an opportunity to convince the dragon to do a favor. A helpful encounter could be a massive boon to the party's current endeavor.

Adding our five reaction roll outcomes to our existing combinations, we now have 68,040 possible scenarios.

"Combined Encounters"

I'm not sure what to call this one, and it's the element of this procedure which is least likely to be standard practice for the majority of DMs, but I thought it worth mentioning.

Basically, when I roll a positive result on an encounter check, I immediately roll again to check for another encounter. If I keep getting positive results, I keep rolling. However many encounters I roll, I combine into a single encounter in which all of the monsters are interacting somehow. This is pretty rare in terrain like plains, where the encounter chance is only 10%, but is more common in terrain like wetlands, where the encounter chance is as high as 40% (here I use the AD&D 2e table):

Since we are already using a dragon as our example, let's go with an exceedingly unlikely scenario and say that the party encounters two dragons at once. These are not two separate dragons that happen to stumble upon the party at the same time, nor are they two dragons that are affiliated with one another. They are two distinct dragons who have already encountered one another, and the party is encountering them both at one moment. 

Let's say the party is in an area of forested wetlands and encounters a black dragon and a green dragon which are in turn encountering one another. I would probably make "opposed" reaction rolls to see how these two dragons feel about one another, then use that information to color the encounter. Are they engaged in combat? Posturing for territory? Exchanging information or treasure? Conspiring against some nearby settlement or mutual foe? Is one paying tribute to the other? Is there some bizarre mating ritual happening? 

Then, how does each react to the party? Does one try to recruit the party to help it slay the other? Does it threaten to kill them once the other is dead? Are the dragons offended by the party's intrusion? Do they all have tea together? I have been led to believe that adventurers sometimes have tea with dragons.

Although you could theoretically combine an infinite number of encounters into one, let's instead say there are two possibilities: either the encounter is with just the dragon, or the dragon is encountered interacting with some other creature.

Adding these two possibilities, we end up with 136,080 possible encounter scenarios.

Conclusion

If you are thinking that this is all a bit much to prepare at the table in the moment, that's because it is. But much can be prepared ahead of time. My strategy is to prepare however many encounters I will need for a given biome away from the table. Each encounter will include what monster is encountered, whether its encountered in its lair, what its reaction will be, and then details like its name, what it wants, any treasure it has, stats, etc. 

I have no way of knowing ahead of time what the weather will be, what time of day it will be, whether the monster and/or party will be surprised, how far away they'll be, or if other monsters will be present. However, if the monster's identity and motivations are known to me, it is much easier to determine how it will behave in an unusual situation. Strange results may pose problems (why is the dragon out and about in this terrible storm?), but these are "good" problems of which more memorable encounters can be made.

There are yet more factors that I haven't considered in this post. What about the number of dragons that appear? An encounter with one is much different than an encounter with four. The assumption at the heart of this post was that the theoretical encounter was with a single dragon, so I did not take that into account. It's somewhat besides the point and I didn't want to get into it at that level. While yes, an encounter with one dragon versus four is very different, how different is it when extended to monsters generally (i.e., How different is an encounter with 7 giant eagles versus 8 giant eagles? Is it worth distinguishing between them?)

What about whether or not the dragon is flying? In AD&D, flying creatures have a 75% chance of being airborne when encountered. That certainly makes the encounter different, but it also doesn't apply more broadly to monsters in general. You could say the same about the age category of the dragon.

What about party composition? Spells prepared? Magic items? Do they have an army of hirelings and henchmen? Are they mounted? Aboard a ship? Are they Good or Evil? What is the temperament of the players? All of these are additional factors which are not easily categorized and accounted for. 

Hopefully, I've demonstrated that a robust system for generating random encounters and their situational circumstances can result in a wide array of potential scenarios. An encounter with a dragon is never just an encounter with a dragon - it is an encounter with natural elements like weather, terrain, and daylight. It is an encounter with luck in the form of surprise and distance. It is an encounter with the motivations of a creature that has every bit of agency as the characters. It is an encounter with the world the characters inhabit and the dynamics between the creatures they share it with. 

And let's not forget - every encounter with the player characters is an encounter with the sum total of the adventures they've been on and the choices they've made.