CAUSALITY: Ecology, Gonzo, and Randomness in Dungeon Design

Basic Concepts

If you've been in the D&D circuit long enough, you've probably heard of "Dungeon Ecology." For the uninitiated, Dungeon Ecology is a reference to the element of dungeon design that takes into consideration that you have living (usually) creatures living in closed environments. You've got two polar opposites on this spectrum: total plausibility and utter chaos bereft of any semblance of verisimilitude.

It's easy to picture the latter:

You travel down the derelict halls of the ancient catacombs, the measured clanging of your iron footfalls echoing down the path. Taking a turn at the end, you see three elves in pink spandex. Immediately, they begin hurling water balloons at you while a Bugbear plays solitaire.

Nuts, yeah? This is clearly a medievalesque crypt. Where'd they get the spandex? The balloons? Let's try another.

You enter the room. The odor of feces, piss, and straw fills your nostrils as you spot a few goblin infants resting with their mothers. Sneaking past, you find a storeroom where rotting food is kept, including choice cuts of what appears to be human.

These are the utmost extremes, of course, but the idea is that the DM of the latter game is taking the utmost care to design their dungeon with considerations as to what goblin life in a dungeon would look like. The PCs aren't just entering a simulation where goblins seem to simply exist inside a dungeon, they're entering a habitat with its own ecology.  For the former, if there is a rhyme or reason to why things are the way they are, you're gonna have to make a hell of a leap to get there.

If you were to take the former approach and apply a "no fucks given" design perspective, you have a funhouse. You can have absolutely anything from one room to the next. If you take the former but have reasons behind the insanity, you have Gonzo. To a player who doesn't investigate, these both may appear to be the same. If no attempt is made at discovering the method to the madness, it seems completely random.

If you have players that enjoy verisimilitude and getting into the mind of their character, ecology is the name of the game. But ecology is a reference to biological necessities. For a broad approach, CAUSALITY includes ecology AND plausibility in general.

CAUSALITY is what separates gonzo from a funhouse, and a narratively consistent dungeon delve from a beer and pretzels murder spree. Causality enhances every game where exploration is a component. Most importantly, Causality allows players to make meaningful inferences, which is a core part of exploration and social encounters.

In an environment where EVERYTHING is truly random, where there is no logical consistency from one room to the next, players are ill equipped to make the necessary inferences to come up with creative solutions.

The shambling horde of undead bash relentlessly against the door you barred between you. You're trapped in the Mad Alchemist's subterranean study, and each pounding the door takes causes the wood to crack more and more. What do you do?

The Mad Alchemist, as you've seen, is human. He's not a spellcaster. He spends hours in this cold room studying, working out formulas. What would he need? A chimney, of course. A chimney would offer a means by which the player characters can climb out of the lair before being overwhelmed by dozens of flesh-eating undead.

Now, you wouldn't have put a chimney in that room without causality in mind, UNLESS you're planning set-piece encounters with specific solutions (basically story.. puzzles?). If that's the case, I'm asking you politely, but firmly to leave. 

Fine, you can stay.

The players would not know it's there unless you told them it was there, but they could still make a guess even if you didn't if your dungeon is built with ecology in mind.

Let's go back to the goblin infants situation. That part of the dungeon exists because of ecology. The players now have a new dimension in which they can interact with their enemy. Let's assume there's no Paladin in the party. Let's say they kill the mothers and kidnap the children. The entire reason they're in the goblin cave is to retrieve something valuable that was stolen. Now that they have leverage, they can demand that the goblins give them what they came for in exchange for the safety of the young goblins. The goblins may be evil, but they have an innate compulsion to look after their young. The parties agree to the exchange, they meet by their horses with 100 paces between them and the goblin horde. A representative brings the item, the PCs release the children, and they speed off on their horses before anything can go amiss. This is the kind of plan that can be carried out in a dungeon with proper ecology.

What about Gonzo?

Sometimes, the standard fare gets old. You want something fresh, something exciting. You want to incorporate elements that are traditionally not part of a bog standard setting. That's when you start getting nutty. Where do you draw the line between bizarre and utter nonsense? Causality, my dude.

An example: in my 5e campaign setting, there was a Lich that the players often encountered. The Lich had magical abilities that aren't remotely possible in the book as written (and I suggest you do that, by the way). He was from the future, constantly messing with the timelines to prevent an apocalyptic event that seemed to be unavoidable no matter how hard he tried to avert it. Along with time manipulation, he had the ability to open gates to other planes and dimensions.

At one point, while traveling through the Underdark, the party encountered neon lit signs outside a door, with a red carpet in the entry. The ground nearby was littered with pieces of machinery, and the remains of what they later discovered were Modrons. They entered the place, finding an underground carnival complete with dunking tanks, popcorn venders, and those strength challenges where you whack that thing with a hammer. All of it was being manned by Slaad, and Modrons were being tortured as part of the fun. What they players didn't know is that the lair had dense concentrations of illusion spells that provided the aesthetics. What can I say? The Lich is a bit of a showman.

From that point on, they ended up caught between the Lich and his constant struggle with Inevitables that sought to imprison him for his crimes against the natural order.

It was neat, it was crazy, and it all had an internal logic by which everything fell into place. The players loved it. And not just because I gave the Lich the voice of Michael Keaton's Beetlejuice.

Lately, I've been running Cha'alt by Venger Satanis. Cha'alt is a great example of Gonzo that has an internal logic, even if it's absolutely batshit crazy.

The entire book reads like a fever dream of Eldritch horrors, 90s products, pop culture cameos, murderous anthropomorphic fruit, orgies, drug use, and a feminist dystopia. At first glance, it seems like a funhouse world... until you read the history behind each of the absurd features. At second glance, it seems as though the world has been so utterly corrupted by the blood of the elder gods that chaos reigns supreme. At third glance, I'm developing conspiracy theories that may be giving Venger too much credit. Maybe I'll share them someday.

Point is, players love to be surprised, but they love to put the pieces together. Some people play to kill orcs, some play to explore the unknown, some play to "do the voice," and some play to solve problems in creative ways. All of these players gain something from you considering causality in your dungeon design. It's work, for sure, but it pays in dividends at the end of the experience.

So.. you know.