The Beer Seller & The Bierkellar

Written by Luke Gearing & Dan Boyle

Somewhere in your Smoke…

A Wall runs through the city. The Wall is older than the buildings around it. Many lean against it like drunks, breath foul, eager to explain. Dogs piss on it. People piss on it. Within the Wall, rooms have been built over unknown centuries.

On one side of the wall, a district of the poor. At the ground level, a sign reads “The Beer Seller”, swinging above the thick wooden door. Above it, facing out the opposite side, towards clean streets and cleaner people, is the “Bierkellar”, known for its well-heeled clientele.

Both serve as a front, run by the same gang of criminals. Adjoining these drinking-houses are the secure rooms used to store illicit goods. Each item has a name, and each name a place in the ledger. As the names change, so does money change hands - with a consideration for the rental of space, of course.

Below all this, an entrance to the Midden. 6s to pass through one way.

The Beer Seller.

Clients pay 5s on entry, and nothing for the weak brew sold within. The air is thick with smoke, tall chairless tables emerging in the gloom like some heretofore unknown species of mushroom that mimics wood.

Through the smoke moves an unlikely pair. The first, clean-shaven still, eyes small, recites silent prayers. Brother Hunckyl, he ferries instructions to the back rooms, where the hidden market operates. He delivers the money - carrying 1d100s at any time. With him, carrying a huge pitcher of ale, is his putterer. She has forgone her names and titles, insisting all call her Samantha. They still call her Lady Sam. Both carry Mint Shivs. Brother Hunckyl knows how to use his.

Both expertly step over Berthold the Beerhound, the slumbering behemoth of the breweries. The dog appears to sleep, pacified by the tobacco smoke and copious puddles of beer. There is little he misses.

One chair stands in the befogged aleroom, supporting the last survivor of a People’s Militia that would have brought justice in the name of country, not king. Noll, who has not left in over a year, sustained on the calories in his drinks alone. He sees much of what happens through his frown of disapproval, but would never reveal it to the Watch.

Dirty Stephen antagonises Big Mary. Both have been set to watch for trouble, but drink more than they watch. Both have swords, and wear ratty leather coats.

At the far end, behind the bar, works Ratman the Tapman. He knows of the criminal enterprise hidden within and cares nothing for it; as long as he can work the handles and bring golden streams of frothing, numbing stuff forth he is happy. His moniker is a diminution of his given name, Ratthew.

1d10 Patrons

1. Small Paul, Fisherman. Claims he can speak to fish.
2. Stephen, Initiate. Recently joined the Horseman’s Word, a secret society. Desperate to talk about it.
3. A mixed group of architects and labourers, bemoaning their shared working conditions. A pair of republican agents watch on, waiting to insert themselves.
4. Berry Fries, Pornography Baron. His dogsbody, Horsemichael, attempts to sell soiled stock.
5. Ratthew’s Mum, Gail. Aghast if anyone calls him anything but his real name.
6. A heated meeting of the Scaffolders Guild.
7. A penal legionnaire, blackly drunk. He has forgotten his name but not his number - #9512
8. Your shit cousin.
9. Pegleg Steve, selling the peglegs he makes. They vary from fine to Fine.
10. A band of Swyvers with a thousand fathom stares.

1d6 Events

1. Storm the Castle District Championship Games. “Count” Morton will play all comers.
2. Meat Raffle.
3. Morris Dancer Turf War.
4. Trivia Night. Tonight’s theme is “Diseases of the Sheep.”
5. Half of the establishment has been rented out for a 10th birthday party. There’s cake; enough for you too.
6. Berthold has an undercover Watchman cornered.

The Bierkellar.

Above, tall windows cut into the Wall permit what light penetrates the pervasive clouds of the Smoke. A proliferation of candles subsidise these poor returns. Illiberally spread tables host fine meals and delicate glasses of sparkling cider. No beer, ale nor stout flows in this airy room.

Overseeing all, armoured behind a moustache of prodigious size and complexity, is Gastro. Beneath his crisp white shirt crawl tattoos, copied from the chest of a dying soldier to better add legitimacy to a previous fraud. After each meal, the monied guests peruse the laundered jewels and recast precious metals held in glass cases behind Gastro. He knows several have bought back items stolen from their fingers not less than a month prior.

Podriag and Jackie watch the patrons carefully, clearly not members of the same social class. Neither disguise the sword at their hip. They are paid enough to be quiet and unobtrusive otherwise.

Thick, soundproofed doors - fit for a crypt - hide the kitchen. Linden terrorises her cooks, oppresses her waiters, threatens her suppliers and delights her customers. Perfection is the minimum. She is unaware of the criminal nature of the operation, but would not care beyond increased access to rare spices, smuggled against Crown orders.

1d10 Patrons

1. The Warden of an adjoining district. He is ratarsed. His bodyguards are not.
2. Edith Chanter-Yawlsley, Grand Architect of the Cathedral. Here avoiding the latest disaster.
3. Dean Untbrogue of Handbridge University. Touching nothing. Swyvers pg. 36.
4. Mark Odinsson, Abbot of St. Cower. Loud and obnoxious.
5. A pair of Dentists, off-duty. They are discovering they have nothing in common but their work.
6. Heghburt Trubgh, spending his monthly retainer in a single night. Daddy always has more.
7. Frederick Oxide, Cheesemonger. Immaculate in all regards. He has exsanguinated men before.
8. Rodney, on a date with Ericka Glennfoster. She is an heiress to the Glennfoster fortune, and the Bierkellar is more expensive than Rodney can afford. He makes small, desperate sounds when she is distracted.
9. Arthur Blunt, Officer in the Penal Legion. An avid volunteer, his eyes burning when he speaks of the war.
10. Your shit cousin, again.

1d6 Events

1. Grand Local Lodge of Beat the Poor, Final Match. The decks are shuffled, and the players are ready to begin.
2. Demiannual Cider Tasting Night. On the menu: Gaxholm Gooseberry Cider, Swanberry Pear Cider, Auld Rosy, Reeking Abbott, Doeslow Chancery Cider.
3. Benefit Luncheon of the Military Wives & Widows Society of [District].
4. The Montague-Dedrick Engagement Dinner. It is not going well for the Montagues or the Dedricks.
5. Sir Rodney Templebey, signing copies of his work My Time With Duckmouth. You’d be the first to buy a copy, let alone have it signed.
6. A historic meeting between two otherwise insignificant noble houses. They shared, over drinks, their love of legal tender no longer in common utterance. Both admitted their ever-growing collection of rusted discs, shined shillings, and continental coinage. They posited they were not the only ones. They were not wrong. And so they sought a guild charter - the rest is history.

The Hole

Beneath the airy ’Kellar and dingy Seller is a hole in the earth and masonry and timber. This Hole leads to the Midden, a yet un-extinguished river moving sluggishly below. Along the waters drift corpses, horrors and wealth. Above this, perched on the thin lip of stable stone, is a shop. Thomas Bludgeon, the centre of the entire operation, tends to the stockpile of arms and armour illegal on the surface. These he sells to the Swyvers who plumb the Midden. He also buys what they find, whether pilfered from houses and transported through the tunnels or originating in the forgotten deeps of the cities that came before, and the cities before them.

Acting as a fence, he buys all goods at 20% value. Jewellery is bought at 30% value, whilst weapons he buys at 40%, if they are of Decent quality or higher.

Thomas Bludgeon refuses to sell a weapon he could not use to kill a prospective customer. All of his goods are at least Decent; many are Mint. He begrudgingly sells armour too, although there are no guarantees of quality on these goods.

He is always accompanied by his boys, each by a different mother. They are Elbert and Imran. Both wear shining maille hauberks, polished nightly. Elbert carries a net, Imran a billhook.

The Warehouse

A long narrow space, curving with the slow warp of the Wall around it. The single door, always locked, controls access. Gastro, Brother Hunckyl and Thomas Bludgeon have the only keys. Locked in, amongst the goods, is Tania. Her aged frame and crooked limbs give her the countenance of an insect crawling across the immense ledger that has become her entire life. She works without light, pores so familiar with each page that even her gentle marks stand out as if written in fire across a night sky.

Currently, the warehouse holds the following goods:

• An ancient stuffed moose, the fur rich with dust. The interior is rich with the hidden wealth of the gang: 22L 18s 7d.
• 6 sets of Watchmen’s uniforms, complete with badges. Worth 1L each to criminals. Use the Bribe chances to see if the stolen badges pass inspection with other Watchmen.
• A herd of 34 prize sheep. They make a lot of noise, and shit constantly. Each sheep is worth 10s.
• A stack of rugs, first stolen from overseas and then stolen from their captors. There are 20 in total, and each is worth 1L.
• Three barrels of paprika, each barrel stamped with the royal seal. The contents are worth 5L 15s each, but sold with the royal seal will only fetch 1L.
• The Turnip Unperishable. An unrotting root vegetable, stolen from its shrine. It is the size and weight of a four-year-old. A pair of roots grow outwards, like arms, open for an embrace. Worth 3L 19s 7d to the strange.
• An elderly gentleman’s calligraphy set. Embossed and set in a rich ebony wood. Worth 15s to the average man, worth 3L if you can find the original owner.
• A 7’ tall egg of stone, carved all about with the ancient tongue of the druids. One able to translate the runes would learn how to call down the lightning.
  • Call Lightning. ♦♥
    The caster speaks to the sky, and invites a piece of it down to rake the earth with her talons. A warning to the Sea, or invaders from shores distant and unseen.
    17-20: Lightning strikes in an area the size of a street d6 times. This causes devastation to structures, although people and animals have only a 10% chance of being struck unless up high, wearing metal etc. Those struck have a 1% chance of survival.
    21: The caster guides each bolt lightning exactly. Like limbs, each can curl around corners, through doors or windows.
    ♦: The strikes are guaranteed to cause a conflagration, sure to burn down a district if not stopped.
    ♥: A storm erupts around the lightning. A flash-flood occurs as the lightning pummels the earth.

Contacts Table for Swyvers

Written by Luke Gearing & Daniel Boyle.

You know… (Regular Swyvers roll 1d4 times at character creation.)

1. A Racing Horse Stable Owner.
2. A Butcher.
3. A Oarswoman.
4. A Ratcatcher.
5. A Rat.
6. A Talking Dog.
7. A Librarian.
8. A Watchman.
9. A Watchman, Honest.
10. A Pickpocket.
11. A Beggar.
12. A Priest.
13. A King of the Orphans.
14. A Poet (Terrible).
15. A Gardener.
16. A Soldier.
17. A Wise Woman.
18. A Tinker.
19. A Sausage Merchant.
20. A Wildman.
21. A Musician.
22. A “Musician”.
23. A Servant to lesser nobility.
24. A Noble who’s “going to get it all back this time.”
25. A Lamplighter.
26. A Used Horse Salesman.
27. Big Dave’s lackey.
28. A Shire Reeve.
29. A Long Lost Uncle.
30. A Barber Surgeon.
31. A Lawyer.
32. A Historian.
33. A Fortune Teller.
34. A Professional Reader.
35. A Professional Riter.
36. A Royal Whipping Boy, Retired.
37. A River Boat Captain.
38. A Bridge Warden.
39. An Abattoir Worker.
40. A Smart Person.
41. A Tanner.
42. The guy who boils horses into glue.
43. Pete.
44. A Innkeep.
45. A Barman.
46. A Mason.
47. A Carpenter.
48. A Pigeon Fancier.
49. A Pugilist.
50. A Veteran.
51. A Sea-Washed Man.
52. A Foundling.
53. A Continental … (Roll again.)
54. A Poacher.
55. A Falconer.
56. A Nightsoil Harvestman.
57. A Piss Merchant.
58. A Brewer.
59. A Porter, bad back.
60. A Porter, pint of.
61. A Gang Liutenant.
62. A Scarless Dog Trainer.
63. A Maitre de Chat.
64. A Winklepicker.
65. A Beachcomber.
66. A Pie Flogger.
67. A Warden’s Executioner.
68. A Seamstress.
69. A Woman of Great Respect and Fortitude.
70. Your Mum.
71. A Corpse Cart Driver.
72. A Plague Survivor.
73. A Thief, failed.
74. A Guy with terrible luck, just awful, like really.
75. A Carter.
76. A Guy who knows a guy - roll again.
77. A Cryer.
78. The Third fastest driver in the city.
79. The Second fastest driver in the city.
80. The slowest man alive.
81. A Blacksmith.
82. A Farrier.
83. A Stable boy.
84. A Stable man.
85. Old Tom
86. Real Old Tom.
87. Dead Tom.
88. A Deserter.
89. Somone in the Clink.
90. Yourself, truly.
91. Your spouse.
92. Your shitty little cousin.
93. A Clingy swyver.
94. A Locksmith.
95. A Perfumier.
96. A Republican Activist.
97. A Mummer.
98. A Ragpicker.
99. A Cobbler.
100. okay so there was this one night right, you know the type, getting a bit messy with the crew anyway there was this geezer who kept paying for the drinks but not saying much and you called him a right good lad the night carries on and things get a bit lairy but you save this blokes skin and basically it turns out he’s only the bloody crown prince and he says to you “i owe you a favour mate”, you can keep that one in your back pocket, later on right he nicks this horse and rides it about and you drag him off it before it careens into a whole block of coppers and he says to you again “i owe you a favour mate” anyway thats how I met the crown prince and thats why he owes you at least two favours maybe more you were drinking quite a lot that night so it gets a bit fuzzy around the middle bit

Writing Wages

In January, I quit my job to work at Tuesday Knight Games full-time. Wages of Sin (crowdfunding soon!) is my first book written whilst doing games full time. The core of the book is 100 Bounties, each a complete scenario. A major point of inspiration was 76 Patrons, which is still one of my personal favourite RPG books. The manuscript clocks in at around 80,000 words. I learnt a lot writing it, which I’ll summarise down below.

Rather than just trying to write 100 bounties, I worked through set of defined stages. They all began in a spreadsheet with the most high-level details: target, client and a one-liner pitch for any complications or setting notes. To help with this, I also created a big list of crimes. Whenever I was uncertain, I could scan the list for inspiration. Having a number of similar resources is essential when creating a large number of similar items. For the &Treasure project, I had a number of lists to pull from. At this phase of the project, I only allowed myself to work on the spreadsheet. By immersing myself in the process, I avoided context-switching, helping find a flow state to generate quality ideas at a good pace.

Once the spreadsheet was complete, I created ‘sketches’ of each bounty, working in batches of ten. This consisted of gathering the existing details and building on them, producing an outline with all the important details worked out. All of this writing happened longhand in a notebook, dedicated to Wages of Sin. For me, the utility of having a single place to put everything was huge, and is something I’ve started doing for everything going forwards. This phase was about generating more concrete ideas and finding the interesting elements within the one-liners in the spreadsheet. By splitting the tasks and focusing only on ideation-in-detail, I didn’t need to worry about presentation or legibility at this point. More on this later. Working longhand, I find myself much less distracted and able to produce better ideas - taking advantage of the flexibility by using lists, diagrams, or simply clustering text by topic. For stationary nerds: I used Mitsubishi 9850s and Hi-Unis in HB for most of the project, working in a Muji A5 30 page notebook.

The project book.

A bounty ‘sketch’.

Finally, it was time to write the bounties. At each stage of the process, they had become clearer and more complex. By doing each stage as a discrete unit of work, each piece was given more time to mature and evolve. Thinking on this, and seeing it happen across the whole project has made me consider the role of patience in writing. Ideas and their expression both need time to grow. Doing this deliberately and slowing yourself down reaps benefits in the quality of both. All this to stay, whilst typing up the text from my notes, things changed and developed. This happened freely and spontaneously as part of the natural writing flow, rather than requiring me to stop and context-switch to ideation mid-writing. The two tasks are deeply linked but are independent, and treating them as such allows better engagement with each part. For writing, this allows you to focus on the best possible expression of the already existing ideas - and any elaboration occurs easily and organically. Further, writing with the knowledge that you will revise the text allows for better writing. The work of revision is once again, an entirely different relationship to the text. Trying to edit your work as you write it will slow you down immensely, as well as producing weaker writing overall.

As mentioned before, the bounties were written in batches of ten, alternating with the idea-sketches. This meant the different phases were in communication with one another. After completing each batch, improvements and refinements for future batches were identified. For example, earlier idea-sketches didn’t include names for all NPCs, which slowed writing down. By batching this work, this flaw was spotted early and corrected going forwards.

The same bounty from before, in Vim.

For computer perverts: the initial writing was done in Vim, using my .vimrc which is a cludged-together mess. Beyond being some turbonerd shit, writing in an offline editor means you can turn off the internet whilst writing - removing a major distraction. Turning off the internet is another reason to do all your research beforehand!

Once all Bounties were complete, I read through all of them with a mind to revision. The process of revision is essential in producing quality process. The best approach for me is to consider it a form of play: “Does this sound better worded like this? Or like this? What if I delete these words?”. There are many approaches to this, but ultimately you are trying to make the words sound better. Taking the time to do this yourself, catching all the low-hanging fruit and giving it an initial tune-up, means your editors can focus on the improvements you will not be able to see in your own work. With this done, I combined all the individual bounties into a single document and uploaded it to Google Docs. As much as I love Vim, Google Doc comments and suggestions remain untouched for collaboration.

The approach (headlines -> sketch -> write) detailed above works for less structured writing too. Wages of Sin features a prison, written using the same process: an initial pitch was developed further using longhand notes into a sketch of each element, which was then typed up once iterated across several times. Rather than batching bounties, the prison was developed a component at a time: a section on prisoners, a section on guards, a section on defences. The batching technique wasn’t used here, as I felt it more useful to have the entire concrete idea mapped out before writing anything.

Much of this will seem fundamental. It is. Yet I have seen countless people jump into a Google Doc to start their project, writing their introduction before anything else. Then they will stop, think, delete a line or two, re-word it. Go back, change an idea. Approaching things a little more deliberately reaps huge benefits.

Travel Too!

When travelling, shit goes wrong.

Each day (or watch or whatever) of travel, make your encounter roll as normal. In addition, check for a travel mishap:

Roll 1d12, and look up the x-in-12 value on the chart below. Note that Roads are a modifier to the x-in-12 value, to a minimum of 1.
If the roll is equal-to or below that value, then roll on the Mishap Tables. In the case of mixed groups, select between them randomly.

Weather Dependent

Any inclement weather conditions intensify or cause an issue - roads flood, heat exhaustion kicks in, fog leads you astray. If weather is mild and clear, ignore this result.

Terrain Dependent

The problem you’d expect from this sort of terrain occurs - bogged down in the swamp, tangled in the forest undergrowth, buried beneath a collapsed dune. If the terrain is gentle and unchallenging, ignore this result.

Foot

Twisted Ankle

A random character twists their ankle. They may attempt to avoid this with a Save vs Paralysis. On a fail, they instead break their ankle.

Sprained ankles reduce movement rates to a quarter usual rates; a broken ankle a tenth.

Blisters

A random character is afflicted with blisters. They may either travel at 1/2 speed for the rest of the journey or push through. Those pushing through are unable to recover HP and are at risk of infection from the burst blisters.

Sting, Bite, Reaction

A random character suffers with biting/stinging insects, a reaction to a poisoned plant or similar. They may attempt to avoid this by making a Save vs Poison. On a fail, the issue is intensified.

A mild case gives a -2 penalty to all d20 rolls. A major case gives a -4 penalty.

Fall

A random character falls, taking 1d6 damage. On a 6, the fall is serious, and a random limb is broken. For each HD the character has,roll an additional 1d6 of damage. A Save vs Paralysis can be made to reduce this to a sprain, and avoid the damage. On a failure, multiple limbs are broken.

Damage from Falls cannot kill, but can fuck you up.

Equipment Loss

A small item from a random character pack is missing, having fallen during the journey. Items on the exterior of packs are most likely, and are unlikely to be bigger than a ration.

Exhaustion

Exhaustion creeps over the entire group earlier than expected. A kingdom of cramps and swollen feet. The next day must be spent resting, or characters being to take damage equal to HD per day of continued travel.

Horse

Spooked

A random horse is spooked. Roll Morale: on a success, the horse merely bolts, the rider clinging on. On failure, the rider is first thrown - resolve as a Fall, but doubling the initial damage dealt.

All other horses must make a Morale roll. For each that fails, conduct the above procedure.

Broken Leg

A random horses leg breaks. It begins to scream.

The rider must make a Save vs Breath to get free from the falling beast. Those failing take 1d6 damage. On a 5+, their leg is broken too by the falling, thrashing horse.

All other horses must make a Morale roll. For each that fails, treat them as Spooked.

Lameness

A random horse becomes lame. Roll 1d6 - on a 1 or 2, the lameness requires extended rest (2d6 days) and specialist attention. On a 3+, a day of rest will suffice. This is obvious to any with experience riding.

A lame horse can be forced to continue, but takes 2 damage each day and has a 70% chance of collapse if ridden above a walk.

Poisoned

A random horse has eaten something that has poisoned it. The beast should Save vs Poison. On success, 1d6 days of rest are needed as the horse messily purges from both ends. On a failure, the horse sickens and dies over the 1d6 days. It is equally messy.

Stubborn

A random horse has become stubborn, refusing to continue along the current route. A detour must be found if the horse cannot be convinced or tricked.

Sores

A loose saddle or such has caused sores to develop on a random horse. These have only a 2-in-6 chance of being discovered each day. If left for 4 days, they become infected, requiring rest and medicine (or luck) to treat. The horse makes a Save vs Poison - on a failure, the infection sets and the horse begins to die. Medicine gives a re-roll on a failed save.

Drawn Vehicle

Whenever these occur, roll 1d6. On a 4+, the mishap occurs whilst in motion.

If any horses are injured, horses ridden as mounts must roll Morale. Those failing become Spooked.

Axle or Wheel Broken

The axle of the drawn vehicle breaks. All aboard the vehicle must make a Save vs Paralysis - those failing subject to the Fall procedure.

Any horses in the team must make a Save vs Paralysis, in order from the front. For each horse in the team that has failed, a disadvantage is applied. Each horse failing takes 1d6 damage for each horse in the team. Any horse taking more than 5 damage breaks a leg.

If not in motion, the vehicle still collapses. It is useless without a replacement axle or wheel.

Frame Broken

The frame of the vehicle breaks. All contents are spilled out, and any roof collapses onto the passengers. Anything delicate is ruined. Repairs are simple, taking a few hours.

Suspension Broken

The suspension of the vehicle breaks. It can still be used, but is deeply uncomfortable for passengers. Those remaining aboard take a -2 to all d20 rolls for the rest of that day. Any delicate cargo is smashed, and any increase in speed risks the content being knocked loose of the vehicle.

Such damage needs specialist training to repair. An ad-hoc fix might involve strapping down cargo or heightening the walls of the vehicles body.

Tackle Broken

The tackle between the vehicle and the horses breaks. For each horse in the team, there is a 20% chance they break free. Check from the front. Those breaking free run forwards - if the route is clear, they bolt and must be recovered. If the route is not clear, both horses fall into a tangle, taking 2d6 damage and dealing the same amount to any adjacent horses.

Bonus Content

Some general tweaks I’ve been fucking with:

• Heal 1HP per HD when resting the night. Keeps it proportional.
• Players set 3 watches during the night. Once check, then roll for which watch the encounter occurs during. Ask people what they do on watch randomly sometimes. Nice roleplaying opportunity, and keeps them on their toes.
• Each character tests for surprise individually. Makes surprise feel like less of a “fuck you” moment, especially combined with split initiative

Reputation Tables

Instead of a ± to Reaction rolls or whatever, track individual events the characters take. To do this, we first make a Reputation Table. At its most basic, it’s an empty d100 table.

Whenever the PCs do something people might talk about, write it down on your Reputation Table - representing both fame and infamy. Particularly noteworthy stuff should go in there multiple times.

Then, in future, whenever the reputation of the PCs is important (e.g. Reaction Rolls) you can roll against this Reputation Table - either acting to justify results or modify them as you see fit.

When adding results to your Reputation Table, roll the appropriate dice - overwriting any existing entries “beneath” the new one.

The easiest way to implement this is a universal d100 table, used across the gameworld. Alternatively, you could:

• Have a d20 table of reputation per kingdom.
  • Kingdoms with trade relationships, shared linguistics/heritage/whatever share the first 10 entries of their Reputation Tables.
• Have a d8 table for each social class, guild, family, gang, whatever in a single city, adding events to multiple tables at a time depending on their specific nature.
• Have a local d20 table, with individual (random) entries “permeate” outwards to surrounding locales each month as gossip spreads - perhaps with a chance of mutation.

Nesting and linking multiple tables is more work but can give some powerful results.

Bigger tables highlight the size of a place and the relative unimportance of the PCs (to begin with, anyway) whilst smaller tables might highlight the limited geographical area or population being considered - or a more uniform opinion held within a group.

Of course, you can also use this as a method for advancement instead of XP or Boasts.

You Don’t Need Hooks, You Have Been Lied To

I’ve seen a lot of critics and readers talk about the strength, quality, quantity and absence of hooks in adventure modules - often held up as an important indicator of quality.

This metric is bullshit.

What is the use case of a hook? It’s a reason to engage with the content of the module/adventure/whateverthefuck.

First and foremost - if the content itself isn’t interesting enough to drive players to want to interact with it, maybe that is a more important problem to solve rather than having someone point at it and say “gee I sure wish someone would interact with this!”. Of course, your players might still not interact. This is the beauty of agency - the ability to not do things, and possibly face the consequences of that. Of course, these consequences should probably be hinted at or signposted, allowing for actual, informed decision making to be made.

Next up, specificity. The author of the module doesn’t know you, your players, their characters or your game - how on earth are they meant to write something to cajole your playgroup into engaging with the module? If, instead, they wrote something generic, then they wrote something boring - and ultimately, worse than whatever the GM would come up with having possession of all the information above. Of course, this isn’t questioning the logic of wanting to so heavily influence what your players do, but let’s not get into all that again.

Finally, the value proposition - you bought the book, and you want to make sure it gets used. Just talk to your friends and say “hey I would like to use this module, do you all think it looks fun?” - ditto for a one-shot. If you’ve got pre-gens, give them a motivation - otherwise, just ask players to make characters with a reason to be there.

The takeaway is to read the fucking module you are going to run and find the reasons to go there that make sense for your players and your world. If they’re skint, highlight the valuables. If they love old books, drop some rumours about the wizard on level 3. Or, of course, just drop it in to your sandbox and wait for them to find it themselves, possibly providing some rumours as lead-ins.

Rumours are generally the best way to seed information about modules, dungeons, whatever, into your game world - but you’ll need to think about what the people of your world will talk about in relation to each specific place. My elves might talk about the Elixir of Forgetting in the Deathswamp - yours might only care about the hobbit-chef who lives there. (He is a guy who cooks hobbits, to be clear.) This brings us back to the idea of specificity and its challenges.

Alternatively, pretend I wrote “A wizard teleports them there.” at the front of every adventure.