The Hurricane Dungeon – The Upper Works (Level 2)

With the Level 1 key under my belt, writing the key for Level 2 was simply a matter of refining the format using the map I drew on our second night without power. Note that I did connect this map with the first map, via the stairway in the center-west portion of the map. I included only one other exit from the level to the east-southeast, hidden behind a secret door. 

There was also the nearby circular room with two levers and a floor circle, which I recall thinking of as some sort of elevator platform/shaft while drawing; but it, too, was concealed behind secret doors. Getting off this level would be a challenge, as providing those inter-level connections wasn't an objective at the time I was just doodling a map. I also wish I had drawn passages leading off the map, to expand the level horizontally. I mean, I still can with some Photoshop trickery, but I wish I'd thought to.

In designing Level 1 for this megadungeon, I added two stairs down to level 2, so I knew I had to add those connections to this map as well. My stocking rolls came up with two additional "Stair" results: one "Stair down 1 level" and one "Stair down 2 levels." The descending stair on the original map (near the "elevator" room) was proving difficult to sync up with the map for level 3, so I made that stair the one that went down two levels (to Level 4) and made both newly-rolled stairs a single-level drop to Level 3. The elevator platform ended up also descending one level to Level 3. 

After adding the new points of egress, keyed room numbers, a title, and shading, the map looked like this:

 My content stocking rolls (for a 40-room dungeon level) came up with the following results:

–Empty: 11 (27.5% / 35%)
–Monster: 10 (25% / 20%)
–Monster + Treasure: 13 (32.5% / 25%)
–Stairs: 2 (5% / 5%)
–Trick/Trap: 2 (5% / 5%)
–Treasure: 2 (5% / 5%)

The first % number is the percentage of the actual content rolls; the second % number is the typical expected percentage spread (per OSRIC guidelines).

Classic Monsters Revisited – The Tween (Fiend Folio)

While stocking the Hurricane Dungeon, one of the monster results came up as a tween from the AD&D Fiend Folio. That book is mostly a collection of monsters from the UK gaming magazine, White Dwarf, which covered a variety of RPGs in the early days before it became the house mag for Warhammer. Many of these creatures first appeared as submissions to the magazine's Fiend Factory column, by authors of varying levels of expertise and creativity.

Some are well-crafted and interesting, but most are simply variations on other monsters, with few distinguishing characteristics (other than appearance), or are just completely unnecessary. A handful of monsters were contributed by Gary Gygax, pulled from his previously-written adventures and added to what was essentially the second "monster manual" before the third monster manual became the official Monster Manual 2. Certain Fiend Folio monsters are passable-to-great; the rest are hit-or-miss (with lots of complete whiffs).

Having never used a tween before, I was eager to give it a fresh look. The tween's most interesting characteristic is a rudimentary form of 5e's Advantage/Disadvantage mechanic. (Perhaps even its "inspiration"?) The tween is essentially an ethereal "ghost" that attaches itself to a host, forming a shadowy doppelganger that provides a tremendous benefit to its host, but at a high cost to everyone else. The creature's presence is summed up with this wildly generous understatement: 

A character with a tween partner is therefore something of a mixed blessing to any companions.

That's because, while the tween's "partner" (it's host organism) gains the ability to make two dice rolls whenever a roll is required and take the better result, every other creature within fifty feet of the tween must do the same and take the worse result. This includes the tween host's allies. It's a "luck eater," basically, transferring the misfortune of others to the benefit of its host (and it, presumably). This looks awesome on the surface, but it has some enormous flaws.

 For one, by adding this to your campaign, you're doubling nearly every roll made at the table, on both the players' and the DM's side. The description of this ability reads:

(A)ny character or creature with a tween 'partner' has two die rolls instead of one, whenever a die roll is called for, and may select the more advantageous of these rolls. (This applies to 'to hit' rolls, saving throws and the like.)

The phrase, "...whenever a die roll is called for" is a bit ambiguous as to the type. (Is it all die rolls?) We can assume, based on the two examples provided, that the design intends for this to apply only to rolls made with a d20 (as is the case with Advantage in 5e), and not to rolls for things like hit points, weapon damage, etc.

But what about percentile rolls for success, such as for thief skills? The tween's description suggests that it is manipulating the environment around its host to make this "luck" happen (guiding the host's weapon, for example), so shouldn't it also apply to finding a trap or picking a lock? 

In any case, the result is a lot of extra rolling for the host and his fellow party members. And that's not even taking into account that the DM will have to roll twice for every single NPC and monster within 50' and run all those numbers as well. The game will inevitably slow to a dice-rolling, number-crunching crawl.

A second flaw with this design is that the tween's presence would be an intolerable situation for most players (I would think). I mean, if I were a player in this group, my character would have to deal with the situation in the short term until we left the dungeon and got back to base, but that tween-inflicted character won't be making a return trip (not with my guy, at least). 

I can't imagine any party of players accepting "bad luck" on every roll (according to statistical breakdowns of 5e Disadvantage, this equates to –5 or so on average). There's just no way. That's an enormous penalty in AD&D and a recipe for interpersonal conflict between characters (and perhaps even players). It will get someone killed eventually. I can see a character being forced out of a group over this situation, which sucks. It's one thing if the characters create that conflict themselves; it's quite another when a random roll forces it on them.

Worse still, the tween can't be countered by normal spell means, like Remove Curse. The description says that once a tween selects its host, it "...will remain permanently with him until he or the tween dies." That's pretty definitive, so it doesn't sound like the party can convince the creature to bugger off. The only way to be rid of the tween's luck effect is to enter the Ethereal Plane and kill it. But it's a Neutral creature ostensibly trying to help its host, which may pose a moral dilemma for Good characters (this is kind of cool). A lenient reading of one line gives DMs a bit of an out if they want to grasp it: 

The tween has the ability to see a few seconds into the future and is able to increase its host's luck.

Those two clauses suggest that perhaps this ability can be turned on and off by the tween, instead of being always-on. That would change the calculus dramatically, giving the player an incredible ability, but requiring them to use it situationally (mainly by separating himself from the party by 50' or more during combat... a tricky proposition). Still, a lone thief with such a tween would be a powerhouse. 

I don't believe that is the intent, though. I think this is just a dick-move monster, as designed. This is not an uncommon situation with the Fiend Folio.

I've kept the tween encounter in the Hurricane Dungeon to stay true to the dice rolls, and I'm curious to see what happens if one of my players ever "acquires" it. In the level 2 writeup, I adjusted the tween's effect to be a straight –4 / –20% penalty to others, so as to reduce the number of rolls the DM has to make. The host rolls twice for their bonus, and player allies can opt to either take the straight penalty or make two rolls at disadvantage instead.

For my home game, I may even alter the tween's effect even further to make it on/off (at will, triggered at the beginning of the round), and say that every time a player used the advantage ability, a single random creature — friend or foe — within 50' would suffer the disadvantage roll (instead of every other creature). 

That way, it's a bit more balanced and usable, and the number of extra rolls is kept to a minimum. I like magic items with caveats that make them somewhat dangerous to use, and this is like that. Fellow players may be able to more easily swallow the choice to accept a personal risk of penalty in order to give a comrade a big extra bonus in a critical moment (and potentially inflict the penalty on an enemy). It then becomes a tactical decision, rather than the "mixed blessing" of an arbitrary, likely-lethal, party-busting curse.

The Hurricane Dungeon – The Upper Works (Level 1)

The first level of the megadungeon is, in fact, the first hurricane map I drew on the night of September 29. The storm rolled in around 3–4 in the morning, but when I'd gone to bed a few hours earlier, my area wasn't really expected to get much beyond some heavy rains and high winds. The hurricane took a big swing to the northwest and passed right over us on its way to some Biblical-level destruction less than 100 miles north. That area is still badly messed up 11 months later.

I woke up on my office couch around 4 AM because I could hear the roof creaking (never a good sign). You could feel the shifting air pressure. I got up and looked outside, but noped back inside when I realized how intense things had gotten. I'm originally from South Florida and went through many hurricanes as a kid, so I knew this was a big storm. I got in bed in my shorts and t-shirt, with my heavy boots in easy reach, and just lay there listening to the winds howling and the sheets of rain lashing the house.

I'd heard some trees going down at some distance away, and we lost our power around 5, but at 6 AM I heard the first tree(s) come down in my yard. A neighbor's mimosa fell across my backyard, taking a second tree (and part of his fence) with it. That was it! I got out of bed and started a vigil. I live in an older section of my city (my house was built in 1929) and have several hundred-year oaks within crushing distance (not to mention a few dozen smaller, but still-dangerous trees). 

So far, just the two trees had come down near me, but as I stood at my back door and watched, another 12 trees in my yard came down between 6 and 8 AM. My house sits on a moderate hill slope, and after the the torrential rains soaked the ground, the hurricane winds came up the slope, "against the grain" of the tree roots, and just toppled them, one after the other. Luckily, none of the oaks fell, but my neighborhood was now officially a disaster zone. My girlfriend slept through the whole thing. A crazy time and hard to believe it has already (only?) been a year.

The hand-drawn map came about while reading the DMG by candlelight that first night. I got tired of reading but felt some creative energy, so I just started doodling on a graphing pad. I began by rolling on the random dungeon design tables, but got bored with that so I started over drawing on my own, letting the rooms and corridors flow out of the pencil without any real design concept. I love creating maps and it usually doesn't take me long to start sorting out a good, logical floorplan. I ended up with this map:

Since this was only a drawing exercise I wasn't worrying about connections or routes between levels. As drawn, there is a staircase from "a" level above in the upper-left-center of the map that serves as the level "entrance." A second staircase to the left of that descends to "another" level below. There's also some teleporting halls with 4 entry/exit points, though there is an error, with only three letters (A–C) represented instead of four (A–D).

As I began developing this map into a connected dungeon complex, I realized I would need to create additional routes between the levels. I did not want to mark up the original hand-drawn maps (call me sentimental), so I used Photoshop to add some details to the digital image. Some of these details are copied from fragments of the existing map and repurposed elsewhere. Other details were hand-drawn on paper, scanned in, and converted into .pngs which I dropped into the map image.

I also created fonts for numbers and upper- and lower-case letters from my own handwriting, with the same pens I used to draw the map. After dropping in the room key numbers and a level title, fixing the issue with the mislabeled teleporting hall, placing a new grid, and adding shading to the solid walls of the dungeon, I ended up with this map:

Next, I settled on a methodology for stocking the dungeon, relying mostly on the AD&D/OSRIC tables to flesh out the level contents. My first set of rolls (over a total of 42 dungeon locations) came up with the following results:

–Empty: 19 (45% / 35%)
–Monster: 8 (19% / 20%)
–Monster + Treasure: 10 (24% / 25%)
–Stairs: 2 (5% / 5%)
–Trick/Trap: 0 (0% / 5%)
–Treasure: 3 (7% / 5%)

The first % number is the percentage of the actual content rolls; the second % number is the typical expected percentage spread (per OSRIC guidelines).

The Hurricane Dungeon – Surface Ruins (Level 0)

This post begins a series that will examine the process of turning my Hurricane Maps into a proper megadungeon, using the guidelines provided in the stocking tables found in the AD&D Dungeon Masters Guide and recreated in OSRIC. The methodology I'm using to create the dungeon levels sticks pretty close to these two sources, with a few modifications based on personal preference and a desire to expand the source of monsters across the three original books (favoring OSRIC stats over AD&D stats where the monster exists in both sources).

By the time I finished rolling up contents and writing keys for levels 1–3, I had built enough background connections into the material to warrant adding a surface ruin, to not only serve as an entrance area into the dungeon, but also provide a few clues as to what lies beneath. As a result, I'm starting this series with what is technically the fourth level I rolled out and keyed: The surface (level 0) of the dungeon.

Most of the interior dungeon levels have 35–45 chambers or obvious locations, so I was calculating the surface level as having half that many, or 20 potential areas. The surface ruins will have already been picked over, meaning little of obvious value should remain except natural lairs and a few secrets.

Since I intended the exterior space to have a larger map scale, I first placed the dimensions of the dungeon-scale (10' sq.) graph paper sheet in the (approximate) center of the larger-scale (20' sq.) graph paper sheet, then sketched out the map in pencil. Thus, each dungeon level map fits inside the boundary of the outer palace walls.

After a few corrections and retakes, I drew over the finished sketch with a Sharpie ultra fine-point and added more detail with an even finer-point Pilot Precise V5.

I finished off the map in Photoshop, adding shading and a key (this step was performed after making the content rolls and figuring out their locations). I considered drawing separate (10' scale) maps for the outer ruins and palace interior, but decided against it. I like the flexibility of uncertainty that makes it easier to add stuff later. Any interior encounter areas will be easy enough to sketch out on the battlemat, ad hoc.

I made all the content stocking rolls using the methodology I established. My results for the 20 estimated surface locations were:

–Empty: 9 (45% / 35%)
–Monster: 3 (15% / 20%)
–Monster + Treasure: 5 (25% / 25%)
–Stairs: 1 (5% / 5%)
–Trick/Trap: 1 (5% / 5%)
–Treasure: 1 (5% / 5%)

The first % number is the percentage of the actual content rolls; the second % number is the typical expected percentage spread (per OSRIC). They came out fairly close to the statistical percentages, leaving me with 11 locations to key (since I won't bother identifying or keying this level's empty spaces).

D&D Timeline

I started playing D&D sometime during 1981, but I've never been sure exactly when. I knew it was on or near my friend Kenny's birthday, because his mom gave him the Holmes Basic set (with B2) as a present.

I'm pretty sure it was the day of, because I was there when he opened it and we were both blown away to finally have our paws on the game we'd been hearing about. We spent that entire weekend sitting on his bedroom floor, diving into the rules and playing B2 like a violent version of Monopoly.

I lost contact with Kenny over the years but reconnected with him on social media. We don't live near each other and have unfortunately failed to catch up online. A few days ago, I happened to see that it was his birthday in my notifications and the light bulb went off. I now have an approximate date (mid-August) and perhaps even an exact date (August 18) for the start of my long journey into this hobby. Great memories!

The Sinister Secret of Zenopus' Tower –The Adventure

I recently formatted all my notes into a PDF format suitable for use at your table. This is 100% a fan-made conversion of existing work with bits of my own creation sprinkled throughout. I make no copyright claims to any of the source material. I worked it all up for my home campaign, but the originals remain popular adventures to this day. If someone wants to use my work as inspiration for their own versions, feel free.

A special shout-out to Zach Howard at Zenopus Archives. His enthusiasm for the Sample Dungeon in Holmes Basic, and his own homebrew expansion of it, inspired me to develop this adventure location for my players and include it in this adaptation. Be sure to visit his site to see the Forgotten Smugglers' Cave in its original glory.

>>The Sinister Secret of Zenopus' Tower for Labyrinth Lord

>>The Sinister Secret of Zenopus' Tower for OSRIC/AD&D

>>The Adventure Maps

>>Things to Do in Town Handout 

_____ 

Thus far in my campaign, the players have mostly cleared the manor house and explored much of the estate grounds. They fought pirates in the manor basement and discovered the fate of the missing alchemist. After a tragic expedition into the naga's lair below the bluff, they delved for a bit on the dungeon level (via the garden entrance).

Most recently, they found a boat pilot willing to take them into one of the sea caves. There, they battled a giant octopus, fought some more pirates, freed Lemunda the Lovely from captivity, and found a tunnel entrance into the bluff. They also noted a flooded tunnel to the east, accessible via a shallow shelf at low tide. At first, they thought to go north, further into the sea cave level where they assumed pirates would be waiting. Instead, they decided to take the opportunity of low tide to venture east.

They soon entered a side cavern divided in halves by a rushing river of fresh water that emptied into the sea cave nearby. The cave was protected by a giant crab, hidden beneath the sand, which got the drop on the party but failed to hit with its pincers. Upon defeating the crab, the party found a long stairway leading up to the dungeon level, where they entered a room with a sundial, a strange bronze mask, and a riddle. Figuring out the riddle, they caused the mask to speak and offer an answer to a single question. They asked about the "Philosopher's Stone" they found in the alchemist's secret cellar chamber in the manor, but the mask made no reference to the party's stone, speaking only of what the "legends" say about such an item.

Leaving this room, they next came into a crypt chamber with a dirt floor and smashed-open coffins. Within, a pair of ghouls dressed in finery feasted on the bloody entrails of one of the thaumaturgist's unfortunate goons. Horrified, the party attacked, but within moments two of their party had succumbed to the undead's paralyzing touch. Things looked grim for a moment, but after a flurry of well-placed blows, both ghouls lay dead.

Searching the various coffins and burial niches turned up a small fortune in gems, jewelry, and old coins. In one of the niches, the party found a tunnel that had been clawed to the surface, the exit of which the party had already discovered previously while exploring the garden cemetery. Dragging their paralyzed comrades out of the hole, the group returned to town, but from their discussions it sounds like they want to keep exploring the dungeon level and will return via the cemetery (they have more questions for the mask).

NEW PROJECT: The Hurricane Dungeon

My corner of the world got smacked by Hurricane Helene last September. While we were not hit as badly as some neighboring areas, the storm still did a tremendous amount of damage here. We lost power for nine days and internet service for nearly two weeks. Everywhere was trashed by high winds, fallen trees flattened many houses. It felt post-apocalyptic, but everyone stayed cool and we rode everything out as a community. I live in a decent-sized city experiencing rapid growth with lots of outsiders moving in,  but we didn't descend into Mad Max-style pillaging or fortified compound-building. That was reassuring, given my appetite for post-apoc/dystopian sci-fi. While walking through the debris-filled streets to scrounge up some food, I wondered how long that cooperation would last if we all weren't certain things would improve (and could see progress of it every day).

It put me in a D&D frame of mind. It's a given that the first editions of Dungeons & Dragons represented a post-apocalyptic fantasy world. Not Earth, but like Earth; enough that the same sorts of cultures, technologies, and gods had developed along nearly identical lines. The vague setting implied in the rules, and also suggested in Gary's tales of his own campaign, involved disparate feudal states clawing their civilizations back from the ruins of previous, more advanced societies. The players took on the roles of explorers setting out into the wild to recover incredible riches, lost knowledge, and forbidden arcane secrets from the ruins. All while the forces of darkness press ever inward on their fragile and isolated kingdoms. Great stuff, ripe for adventure! 

Fortunately, I'd just purchased a physical copy of the three AD&D hardcovers to replace the ones I stupidly sold back when I thought I was done with D&D forever. So, since I had no electricity and little to do at night but read by candlelight, I dove back into the 1e DMG for the first time in 30-ish years. I'd been reading a lot of online discussion about using the random tables to stock dungeons, and I was intrigued by descriptions of how the early dungeons were designed and played. I saw this as a great relearning experience.

My frame of reference for the game was minimal when I began playing Basic D&D in 1981. I'd seen some tantalizing advertisements for it in a few military modeling magazines, but there were no gameplay discussions or other players to teach me. It was just me and my buddy teaching ourselves how to play the game, and swapping DM/player roles to run entire parties through a few of the published adventures (B2, L1, X1, X2). 

When I started playing AD&D with a group of players in 1983, my DM's older brother and his friends had started with OD&D/Judges Guild/Arduin in the mid-late 70s. My DM learned to play at their tables and they passed down to him whatever Ur-knowledge of the game they possessed. I know some of those guys were early in the scene, and went to conventions and knew/had talked to many of the original players and TSR guys, including Gary, so I'm fairly confident they got the game's intent right. The mish-mash of house-rules and variant options they handed off to my DM and which we used, however, makes me certain that I never played "book-accurate" AD&D. The game I'm relearning now is very different from what we played back then.

Darconea's negative 7th level... very dangerous!

In any case, my DM had a mega-dungeon called Darconea, which was created and ruled over by an insane magic-user called The Wizard of Darconea (or WOD as we came to refer to him). It was a 20-level dungeon, with 10 "positive" layers up into Mount Darconea, and 10 "negative" layers below it. The maps were from the Dungeon Geomorph sets, hand-scrawled to modify the layout where needed. The dungeon rooms were keyed on single notecards and filed in multiple card boxes by dungeon level. Each room had something in it (monster, treasure, puzzle, trap, etc.), populated by the random DMG tables. When we cleared a room, he moved the card to the "Used" box and eventually created a new card to restock the room. 

Monsters were drawn from the Monster Manual but also from Chaosium's glorious All the World's Monsters books. Chamber walls, ceilings, and floors were painted with bright colors (rolled from the table in Appendix K), and there was a dungeon mini-game in which WOD awarded prizes to parties who could match colors in a single foray. The more matches, the better the prize. 

The dungeon was maintained by a crew of magical creatures called the Gnomes of Yipuuri (from All the World's Monsters - Vol III), who would appear post-combat, popping out of a hatch and lobbing canisters of scrubbing bubble monsters (also from ATWM) into the room to clean all the viscera and damage. You had to high-tail it out of the area or get scrubbed to death. There was an adventurer's town down on the negative 4th level with a magic item shoppe, and the negative 10th was said to contain a portal to Hell.

Who knows how many real-life hours we spent down in that dungeon, but it was a place we returned to time and again, all well-spent. It was a remarkable place that felt alive and active, dangerous but exhilarating, and oh-so tempting to keep pressing on. "Just a little further," we would cajole each other. So many fun memories and epic battle stories came out of it... stories we still laugh about 40 years later.

At the time, I was aware of all the dungeon tables in the DMG, but never once made actual use of them. As I read them now with fresh eyes (by candlelight, no less), I felt inspired to try my hand at creating a randomly-generated dungeon. Since I can rarely get to sleep before 1 AM, I had nothing else to do in the dark so I got a pencil and graph paper and started rolling some dice. After a few unsatisfactory attempts with the layout tables, I just started sketching free-hand, creating a series of nine maps—one per night—over the power outage period. I was pleased with how they turned out and now wanted to use the random stocking tables to populate the levels.

Once the power came back on, I got busy cleaning up debris and getting things back in order. Then the holidays came and went, and the maps and my intention to do something with them slid to the back burner. I kept thinking about them though, and I've finally decided to do work them up into a proper 9-level dungeon. 

My goal is to hew as closely as possible to the dungeon stocking tables, but not be a slave to them. The tables were only ever meant as guidelines to spur creativity. Gary wanted DMs to use the results as a springboard to riff their own stuff. The challenge I'm setting for myself is to roll on the tables, accept the results as rolled, and then try to fit all the incongruous pieces into some sort of "dungeon logic" that not only feels fantastical and thematic, but also "realistic" (by D&D standards). I want the end product to make sense as an adventuring locale. Forced limitations like these tend to stimulate my creativity in entirely different ways than when I'm just conceptualizing a dungeon theme and populating it accordingly. It's why I enjoy participating in projects like the annual Adventure Site Contest or Dungeon 23.

As of this writing, I have the first 5 levels completely rolled out, plus an exterior area above the dungeon which I added recently. I've written finished keys for the exterior and first 3 levels as well. I've really enjoyed this exercise so far and can't wait to see what the rolls come up with next. Level 4 gets batshit crazy.  I plan to post each of the nine levels (10 counting the exterior) to discuss how the tables rolled out and then drove my creative decisions. I'll also provide share links to download the maps and keys.

Methodology

For my purposes, I'm using the OSRIC tables to determine room contents because I like OSRIC's statistical spread a little more than the DMG's (for example, 60% of AD&D rooms are "Empty," whereas only 35% of OSRIC rooms have nothing in them). I want to use only official AD&D monsters, but from all three monster books, so I created a d12 table to determine which tables I would roll on for each creature: 1–6 = DMG (i.e., Monster Manual); 7–9 = Fiend Folio; 10–12 = Monster Manual II. For determining treasures, I roll 50/50 between OSRIC and DMG (often decided by which book I have open at the moment). OSRIC's tables are great for rolling up traps, tricks, and jewelry items, but I lean on the DMG for gem types and base values. 

As for whether treasures are hidden and/or "guarded" (i.e., trapped), I tweaked the guidance here. Both systems identify these features as optional, but the DMG explicitly makes it an either/or proposition with a single d20 roll: on 1–8, it's "guarded;" on 9–12, it's "hidden." Thus, AD&D treasure would not be both guarded and hidden using just the tables.

OSRIC provides for a 50% chance, but then instructs the DM to consult two tables to determine a treasure's guarding device (trap) AND its method of concealment. This "and" could be interpreted as an "or" in light of the optional nature of both tables. It's also possible to infer that OSRIC means a 50% chance on each table, which would allow for a treasure to be both hidden and trapped as well.

In either case, these features are only meant to be used "if desired" by the DM. I wanted to surrender that decision to a die roll so I simply determined that there was a 50% chance that a treasure was guarded and a 50% chance that it was hidden. This gives me four results: not guarded or hidden; guarded only; hidden only; or both guarded and hidden. It has resulted in a large number of traps which has me wondering about the original nature of dungeon traps versus treasure traps. The random tables only provide a 5% chance for a dungeon location to contain a trick or trap (independent of any treasure), indicating that they are meant to be rare and could even be non-existent on a dungeon level. I may dial the chances for traps or concealment down to 30% each to reduce the total number. (I don't want my players to get overly paranoid about everything being trapped... or do I?)

Same kind of situation with regard to magical treasures. Using OSRIC's spreads, there is a 35% chance for a room to contain a treasure. Of these, only about 6–7% will be magic items. Overwhelmingly, treasure will be items with gold piece value (i.e., experience points). That makes sense and is desirable, but I like doling out magic items, too—especially consumables like potions, scrolls, and wands. My initial rolls turned up very few items, and no magic weapons, even as the monster stocking tables were beginning to produce monsters requiring magic weapons to hit. Level 3 had no magic items on it at all. It felt paltry and disappointing, so I made an executive decision to add magic treasures to each level: two item rolls per dungeon level (so, four extra items on level 2, six on level 3, etc.) Many of these items will be potions and scrolls, statistically, but I will likely cap this number going deeper, as a few of the extra items I've rolled thus far are pretty choice (especially for low levels).

I let the die results stand in most cases, only re-rolling a few results that made no sense (like a string of piercer results in a finished dungeon room), or that were too similar to another roll (like when I rolled 3 different tween rooms on the same level...I'm sorry, that's too many tweens). Some of those results have been wildly swingy (for example, the +4 Leather Armor on level 2), but I'm okay with that. Let's see what happens if the players manage to find it.