Chris Strahm (aka One Man and His Dice)

2400 by Jason Tocci How much game do you actually need to run a great RPG session? 2400 by Jason Tocci attempts to answer that question with a handful of pages and a pocketful of d6s. The result is a strikingly lean sci-fi system that prizes speed, creativity, and referee judgement over mechanical complexity.

How much game do you really need to run a great RPG session? I take a look at 2400, Jason Tocci’s ultra-lean sci-fi microgame. Elegant, hackable, and daringly minimal. But does it give you enough to actually play? My latest review on One Man and His Dice.

How Long Is a Swordfight? Part II Step beyond D&D and the stopwatch tells a different story. Some games measure combat in single heartbeats; others let time stretch to fit the fiction. From one-second precision to elastic narrative exchanges, the length of a round reveals what each system truly believes violence is, and what it is not.

How long is a swordfight? Turns out, the answer says everything about what a game believes combat is. From one-second precision to elastic narrative time, I explore how different RPGs measure violence, and why the clock shapes the chaos at your table. Which tempo do you play in?

A minute is long enough for a flurry of shots, a shield rush, a desperate scramble for position. It feels like a clash. Six seconds feels like a beat. Suppose it depends on what kind of chaos you want the table to imagine.

Half the party turned to stone. The elixirs? Also stone. But here’s the real question: when a medusa petrifies you… what happens to your mind? Sleep? Stasis? Or a locked-in marble nightmare? Let’s talk existential horror at the table.

How Long Is a Swordfight? How long is a swordfight? In Dungeons & Dragons, the answer reveals more than a rule. From the sweeping, minute-long chaos of early editions to the clipped precision of modern six-second turns, the combat round charts a quiet shift in philosophy away from mythic abstraction and toward measured mechanics.

How long is a D&D combat round? 6 seconds? 10? A full minute? Turns out, that tiny rule reveals a huge shift in how the game understands violence, hit points, and chaos at the table. I make the case for bringing back the minute. Thoughts?

Old McDonald Had a Data Farm. AI – AI – Oh… Apparently, using AI art makes me the Antichrist of Illustration. Meanwhile, the same critics are happily reading, sharing, and dissecting my work for free. Funny how moral outrage only kicks in when someone else’s workflow offends your aesthetic sensibilities. Here’s why I’m done apologising.

Apparently I’ve committed the mortal sin of using AI art on my own blog. Here’s a blunt response to the outrage, the hypocrisy, and the fear of change. If you enjoy the writing but hate the tools, we need to talk. Or not. Your call.

Four Dollars and a Folding Table Snow pressed against the windows while a hundred players leaned over folding tables, dice clattering like distant musket fire. For a few dollars, you could spend a weekend where imagination filled a hall, designers answered questions in person, and a young hobby discovered it could command a room.

Four dollars. Folding tables. A hundred players.

When roleplaying games began filling halls instead of basements, something changed forever. This week I look back at the moment the hobby realised it could scale…

Born Before the Dungeon This post explores the significance of character background in old-school tabletop gaming. It contrasts the blank-slate model, where characters emerge without history, with a socially grounded approach that incorporates lineage, class, and personal history. This latter method deepens the narrative, enriching gameplay by embedding social realities and implications into character generation.

What if your character existed before the dungeon? Wealth, lineage, siblings, expectation – what happens when birth shapes the blade you carry? A deep dive into class, background, and why old-school play was never as blank-slate as we remember.

The Rules That Tell Us Who We Are Allowed to Be Tabletop role-playing games are often described as exercises in imagination. We gather around tables – physical or virtual – and agree to pretend, collectively, that other worlds exist and that we can move through them. We speak in the language of freedom: you can be anyone, you can do anything, your only limit is your imagination. However, the rules are always there.

Rules don’t just resolve actions, they encode values. This post looks back at early RPG design to ask a harder question: who do the rules say we’re allowed to be? A reflection on imagination, mechanics, and how the hobby learned to grow up.

The Ecology of Imagination Tabletop roleplaying is a collective imaginative process rooted in personal experiences and cultural backgrounds. Imagination is cumulative, shaped by diverse influences rather than being a binary ability. Exposure to varied narratives enriches creativity, allowing players to create complex worlds. A rich fantasy emerges from blending myths and stories, fostering collaboration and deeper engagement.

Imagination isn’t something you switch on at the table. It’s something you cultivate over time. Fantasy games thrive on collision, contradiction, and borrowed myths, and fiction still matters in how we play.

Morale: The Rule That Makes Monsters Human? Morale is barely two paragraphs in the rulebook, yet it can transform an entire campaign. Once you start rolling it honestly, monsters stop being hit point totals and start acting like frightened, desperate beings. Combat becomes drama, survival becomes choice, and the dungeon finally feels alive.

Morale is the rule most of us skimmed for years, and it might be one of the most important ones in the game. Roll it honestly and monsters stop being numbers and start making decisions. Combat turns into drama.
Read more...

The Reaction Roll: Bringing the Game to Life The Reaction Roll is the OSR’s most elegant engine of chaos: a simple 2d6 table that turns every encounter into a question rather than an assumption. Will they parley, hesitate, demand tribute, or attack outright? It restores uncertainty, personality, and possibility to every creature in the dungeon.

The humble Reaction Roll might be one of the single most elegant OSR rule ever written, turning every encounter into possibility instead of assumption.

The Tomb of the Serpent Kings: The Dungeon That Kills Your Assumptions The Tomb of the Serpent Kings, a modern OSR teaching dungeon by Skerples, challenges players by dismantling their assumptions about gaming. It emphasizes that death is part of the learning process, promoting caution and curiosity. The dungeon’s design teaches players to navigate danger honestly, fostering skill development over entitlement.

The Tomb of the Serpent Kings remains one of the OSR’s sharpest teaching dungeons: deadly, intentional, and packed with design lessons. A modern classic for learning how old-school play really works.
Read my blog post.

The Gelatinous Cube: The Dungeon’s Janitor The Gelatinous Cube is one of D&D’s strangest triumphs, a monster that makes perfect ecological sense in a dungeon. Silent, patient, and relentlessly efficient, it is less a creature and more a cleaning mechanism. In its transparent embrace, we see the OSR’s love for logic hidden inside absurdity.

Silent, square, and hungry, the Gelatinous Cube is the dungeon’s perfect janitor. A creature so absurd it loops back into brilliance.
Read 'The Gelatinous Cube: The Dungeon’s Janitor'

The Mimic: A Lesson in Trust Issues The Mimic is more than a monster. With one chomp, it teaches players that trust is a luxury and curiosity is a risk. It’s the creature that turns every chest, door, and chair into a potential betrayal. This is the OSR at its most playful and cruel.

The Mimic is a warning label for the entire dungeon. A bite-sized masterpiece of paranoia and design.
Read 'The Mimic: A Lesson in Trust Issues'

The Stirge: A Love Letter to the Least of Horrors The stirge is small, simple, and often dismissed. Yet it remains one of the purest expressions of old-school danger. No drama, no grandeur, just a blood-hungry nightmare that turns low-level play into a desperate struggle. This is a tribute to the tiny terror that taught us never to let our guard down.

Small but vicious, the stirge is one of D&D’s purest horrors. A low-level terror that teaches players fear the moment it latches on. Here’s my tribute to the tiniest nightmare in the dungeon.
Read 'The Stirge: A Love Letter to the Least of Horrors'

The Valley of Sleeping Gods The Valley of Sleeping Gods is a secretive and ethereal realm that I have sought after, embodying a metaphysical locale brimming with mystery and philosophical exploration. It challenges conventional views on divinity and faith, emphasizing the unsettling nature of true adventure, where players confront profound questions rather than seek material rewards.

Beneath a blood-red sky lies the Valley of the Sleeping Gods, a vast ring of idols and madness where mountains dream and divinity decays. Step into the myth.
Read “The Valley of the Sleeping Gods”

The Swine-Things of the Borderlands The Swine-Things are unsettling creatures that I introduced in my campaign, merging human and animal traits to evoke primal fear. Their origins link to Hodgson's cosmic horror, symbolizing the chaos beneath civilization. They embody existential dread, altering players' perceptions of wilderness and revealing that horror lies in the unknown lurking beneath the surface.

From the mist-choked ruins of the Borderlands come the Swine-Things. Part beast, part nightmare, and wholly unforgettable. Inspired by Hodgson and reimagined for the OSR.
Read “The Swine-Things of the Borderlands”

Tomb of Horrors: The Adventure That Killed a Generation Tomb of Horrors is a rite of passage – one that teaches players the most valuable lesson in all of RPGs: everything can kill you. It’s also a product of its time, encapsulating both the creativity and cruelty of the early D&D ethos. It’s deadly, it’s iconic, and it’s unforgettable.

Tomb of Horrors is a deadly, unforgettable rite of passage. A masterpiece of D&D design that killed characters and shaped generations. Read ‘Tomb of Horrors: The Adventure That Killed a Generation’

AD&D 2nd Edition: The Edition That Never Stood a Chance AD&D 2nd Edition arrived with lofty goals and a polished look, but its timing was unfortunate. Caught between the rising tide of narrative-driven games and the fading traditions of first-wave D&D, it never truly found its identity. But in that limbo, it left behind some of the most intriguing ideas in RPG design.

AD&D 2nd Edition never quite found its footing, caught between old-school design and the narrative revolution. But in its missteps, it carved out a space for some truly unique ideas.
Read “AD&D 2nd Edition: The Edition That Never Stood a Chance”

MÖRK BORG and the Gospel of Doom Metal Design MÖRK BORG is a scream set to layout. A doom-metal sermon disguised as an RPG, it tears down the walls between art, apocalypse, and play. Beneath the noise and nihilism lies a design ethos so sharp …

onemanandhisdice.wordpress.com/2025/10/21/m...

MÖRK BORG and the Gospel of Doom Metal Design MÖRK BORG is a scream set to layout. A doom-metal sermon disguised as an RPG, it tears down the walls between art, apocalypse, and play. Beneath the noise and nihilism lies a design ethos so sharp it cuts through decades of tradition: beauty in decay, freedom in chaos.

MÖRK BORG is a doom-metal hymn to chaos and creativity. Beneath its screaming yellow pages lies a design philosophy as raw as it is brilliant. Read “MÖRK BORG and the Gospel of Doom Metal Design”

The Secret Brilliance of The Black Hack The Black Hack looks deceptively simple – a few pages of minimalist rules that strip D&D to its bones. Beneath its scrappy DIY surface lies one of the smartest pieces of game design in the OSR: a system that remembers what made the old games great, and what made them human.

Don’t let The Black Hack’s simplicity fool you. Beneath its scrappy charm beats one of the cleverest OSR hearts in modern gaming – fast, human, and beautifully brutal. Read “The Secret Brilliance of The Black Hack”

Catching My Breath (and Catching Up!) After a few weeks away (thanks to work, illness, and life being life), I looked up and realised OSR October was already half over. Here’s my complete list of prompts and responses for the month – from overlooked rules to misunderstood magic – with promises to expand each in the coming weeks. Consider this a quick resurrection roll and a reminder that the dice are still rolling at One Man and His Dice.

Back after a few chaotic weeks (work, illness, life!) and surprised to find we’re halfway through #OSROctober2025. I’ve posted my full list of prompts – from The Black Hack to Vancian Magic – with essays coming soon! #OSROctober2025 #OSRtober2025

Only lawful orders must be obeyed. Officers: your oath is to the Constitution, not a man. Enlisted: unlawful orders — like targeting civilians — must be refused. Always.

#MilitaryOath #DutyNotObedience #DefendTheConstitution #UCMJ

‘The Game That Changed the World’: A Conversation with Harold Johnson In this wide-ranging conversation, TSR veteran Harold Johnson pulls back the curtain on the birth of Dragonlance, the roots of the A-series Slavers modules, and the improbable path that took him from theatre and biology into shaping the game that changed the world. Along the way, we touch on TSR castles built from paper, conventions past and present, and the enduring secret that makes Dungeons & Dragons thrive: the creativity of the players themselves.

From TSR castles made of paper to the creation of Dragonlance itself, Harold Johnson has stories you won’t want to miss. I sat down with one of the unsung architects of D&D’s golden age to talk Slavers, Dragon Days, and the secret of why the game still works 50 years on.

When Empires Fall Before Dungeons & Dragons, before Chainmail, before the TSR juggernaut, there was War of the Empires. A ditto-printed postal wargame run by a “Master Computor,” complete with newsletters, medals, and cosmic aristocracies. Gary Gygax himself once role-played as Sub Commander Gygax, bearing the “Curse of Yig” in a galactic struggle. The game died, revived, and died again, but its DNA can be traced through the entire evolution of the hobby. This is the forgotten prehistory of sci-fi gaming.

Before Mordenkainen, before Greyhawk, Gary Gygax was Sub Commander Gygax, sallying forth with the “Curse of Yig” in a galactic postal wargame called War of the Empires.
Read how this obscure 1966 ditto-printed experiment foreshadowed RPG culture as we know it today.

Imagination as the True Currency of Play Imagination is the true currency of fantasy gaming. Dice and rules are scaffolding, but it’s fiction – the myths, stories, and half-baked pulp tales we absorb and remix – that fuels the OSR and NuSR. The broader your influences, the richer your game becomes.

What really fuels the OSR/NuSR? Not the rules. Not the dice. It’s imagination, composted from pulp, myth, metal, and even the trashiest zines. The broader your influences, the richer your game.

A Critical Retrospective on OD&D Supplement IV: Gods, Demigods, and Heroes Gods, Demigods, and Heroes is one of the strangest supplements TSR ever published. Less a rulebook than a statted-out mythology handbook, it dares to reduce Zeus, Odin, and even Conan to hit points and armour class. It’s gloriously audacious, wildly inconsistent, and ultimately more interesting as a cultural artifact than as a play aid. Yet within its messy pages lies the spirit of 1970s D&D. It’s reckless, playful, and unafraid to cross boundaries.

Ever wondered what happens when you give Zeus hit points? Or when Elric of Melniboné gets written up like a goblin with better hair? My latest retrospective dives into Gods, Demigods, and Heroes (1976) – the strangest, most audacious of the OD&D supplements.

Damage, Expertise, and the OSR/NuSR Divide The eternal debate over weapon damage is more than a question of dice. Should every weapon strike for the same? Or should swords, spears, and morning stars feel distinct, bound by reach, heft, and mastery? This piece explores how old-school rulings on expertise, dual-wielding, and weapon length still echo in today’s OSR and NuSR design debates, where the balance between simplicity and realism shapes not only combat, but the very soul of the game.

Steel, shadow, and dice – what makes a weapon truly matter at the table? My latest post dives into the old-school debate over damage, mastery, and dual-wielding, and why it still sparks fire in today’s OSR/NuSR circles.