A Hirst Arts Christmas

I can't possibly complete with others who deliver a more compelling Merry Christmas message: the angel of death is a poor substitute for the christmas angel. 

Still, these images represent some amazing Hirst Arts dungeon porn.  Full disclosure, i`m not responsible for the following dungeon pieces, nor the accompanying embellishments.

You can find the embellishments here, at Scibor Miniatures, and the forum thread at the Hirst Arts site, both of which you will find quite inspiring, if only from a Hirst Arts construction standpoint.

Barrowmaze 2 Arrives

I arrived home late tonight -- a long day at the office, and then dinner with clients -- but this delivery really capped things off, in a good way: Barrowmaze 2, along with two Tomb-of-Horrors style illustration books, and the mega-map, arrived in the mail. 

Greg Gillespie did a terrific job with Barrowmaze.  The room descriptions are just long enough to be evocative without burdening the DM with endless walls of text.  In addition to the artwork in the illustration books, the Barrowmaze adventure book itself is crammed with illustrations.

My only quibble is the hard-cover book binding.  We in the OSR need to find a better way to package these old-school adventures, that allows the DM to keep the adventure books open and flat on the table, rather than using traditional book binding which results in the pages flipping unless you break the bookspine or place weighs on the page-edges to keep the book open.

Fantastic product.  I feel bad for those of you who missed out on this megadungeon crowdfunding project.

The Dwellers Under The Tombs

The final page of Jonas Kiles' journal:

"I wonder how Jacob Kiles discovered these subterranean ways?  He did not construct them.They were carved out of dim caverns and solid rock by the hands of forgotten men -- how long ago I dare not venture a conjecture. 

While hiding here, waiting for the time to be ripe, I have amused myself by exploring them.  I have found they are far more extensive than I had suspected.  The hills must be honeycombed with them, and they sink into the earth at an incredible depth, tier below tier, like the stories of a building, each tier connected with the one below by a single stairway.

Old Jacob Kiles must have used these tunnels, at least those of the upper tiers, for the storing of plunder and contraband.  He built the entrance tomb to mask his real activities, and of course cut the secret entrance, a stone door hung on a pivot.  He must have discovered the burrows by means of the hidden entrance at Smuggler's Point.  The concealed door he constructed there was a mess of rotting splinters and rusting metal when I found it.  As no one ever discovered it after him, it is not likely anyone will find the new door which I built with my own hands, to replace the old one.

I have wondered much as to the identity of the race which must have once inhabited these labyrinths.  I have found no bones or skulls, though I have discovered, in the upper tiers, curiously hardened copper implements.  On the next few tiers I have found stone implements, down to the tenth tier, where they disappeared.

Also, on the topmost tiers, I found portions of walls decorated with paintings, faded but evidencing great skill.  The picture paintings on lower tiers were cruder than those of the tiers above, until the last paintings were but meaningless daubs, such as an ape might make with a paintbrush.  One gets a fantastic impression of an imprisoned race, burrowing deeper and deeper into the black earth, century by century, and losing more of their human attributes as they sank to each new level.

The fifteenth tier is without rhyme or reason, the tunnels running aimlessly, without apparent plan -- so striking a contrast to the top-most tiers, a triumph of ancient architecture, that it is difficult to believe them to have been constructed by the same race.  Many centuries must have elapsed during the building of the tiers, and the builders must have become greatly degraded.

But the fifteenth tier is not the end of these mysterious burrows.  The doorway opening on the single stairway at the lowest tier was blocked by stones.  Prompted by curiosity, I cleared away the debris, in spite of the tax it was on my strength, and opened a hole, this very day, although I did not have time to explore what lay beneath.  Indeed I doubt I could do so, for my light showed me not the usual series of stone steps, but a steep smooth shaft leading down into the blackness.

Into what unthinkable pits it leads I do not care to even guess.  For some reason, the realization that the fifteenth tier descent is not a stepped shaft gives me a strange creepy feeling, and led me to fantastic conjectures regarding the ultimate fate of the race that once inhabited these hills.  I had supposed that the diggers, sinking lower and lower in the scale of life, had become extinct in the lower tiers, although I have found no remains to justify my theories.

Tonight I leave this infernal retreat forever.  Nor will I be sorry, for the eternal darkness and silence are beginning to shake even my iron nerves.  I am becoming imaginative: even as I write, I seem to hear stealthy sounds, as of things creeping up from below."

-- Robert E. Howard, "The Dwellers Under The Tombs"

More Megadungeon Inspiration

Hill Cantons has another inspirational post about real-life subterranea.  I find this information endlessly fascinating, and am linking to it here, for later reference.

Dungeon Module D2: Shrine of the Kuo-Toa

It's easy to find examples of "bad" Dungeons and Dragons artwork.  One has only to look at the D-series of modules to find it.  Of course, when I say bad, with quotations, I don't really mean bad.  Primitive, yes.  Amateurish?  Fine.  But it is also entirely appropriate, in keeping with the requirements for Dungeons and Dragons art, as separate from Fantasy Art.

Incidentally, some people, big fans of Elmore, Easley and Parkinson, uncritically consider fantasy art (particularly by those three artists) and DnD art to be the same thing.  I will return to why they are not in a separate post.

Having reached the end of module D1, Descent into the Depths of the Earth, and avoided or defeated the troglodytes, bugbears, trolls, dark elves, and assorted other adversaries that dwell in a large subterranean cavern, the party pushes on towards the fabled city of the Drow.  The party continues to encounter Drow patrols and merchant caravans, along with quintessential DnD monsters like the Rust Monster pictured above.

Several other new (for 1977) monsters appeared in Shrine of the Kuo-Toa.  The above Umber Hulk makes his first appearance here in this DnD module.

Above we discover a trio of Ropers, one being put to the torch while another Roper pulls a hapless party-member to his doom.  It's interesting to view these illustrations, and in so doing compare them to the artwork that will come in the mid-80's and beyond.  It's typical of these early illustrations that the party's survival is often in doubt.

Other than some standard subterranean corridors, we are provided with very few encounter areas in D2.  One such encounter area is a river crossing, populated by a single insane Kuo-Toa ferryman.  It is possible that this will be the first of several encounters with this Lovecraftian adversary, prior to reaching the Shrine.

It should be obvious that the above artwork is by Trampier, even without his signature appearing upside down at the top of the illustration.  It features Tramp's not-atypical conceit of framing the illustration from the persective of the monster, rather than that of the adventuring party.  It catches the action at the precise moment of decision and danger, for the madness of the insane Kuo-Toa will be revealed in the manner in which the party reacts to his hail.

Another secondary encounter area features deep gnome miners, foes of the Kuo-Toa, whose reaction and sympathetic gestures towards the party may affect the success of their visit to the Shrine.  The deep gnomes have been scouting the Shrine of the Kuo-Toa, and have had several military encounters with these fish-men.  The deep gnomes are potentially powerful allies, if the party reacts to them in a fashion appropriate to their motivations.

Finally, we reach the Shrine of the Kuo-Toa.  Like the central subterranean cavern adventure location in D1, there is no requirement that the Shrine be cleared of foes.  In fact, you could, potentially, bypass this encounter location without participating in a single combat.  That is because there is significant underworld traffic through this area, including the traffic of drow patrols and merchant caravans.  Although the Drow and the Kuo-Toa hate each other, they have come to an uneasy accommodation, with rare breaches of that truce.  Other underworld denizens travel to and past the Shrine, so it is not unusual to find over-worlders in the vicinity.

However, there are clues to be gathered at the Shrine, regarding the intentions of the dark elves, and opportunities for other intelligence-gathering and preparation for what lies beyond, not to mention ample treasure and combat for those who wish to partake in those activities.  A smart party will take advantage of their friendship with the deep gnomes, or use subterfuge and cleverness to gain information and treasure here.

Dungeon Module D1: Descent Into the Depths of the Earth

This post really needs to be subtitled "A Megadungeon Template."  I say that because the Drow module series is the best example I can find of a TSR-published adventure that provides the sort of megadungeon I would want to run.  

The D-series of modules are comprised of D1, D2 (Shrine of the Kuo-toa) and D3 (Vault of the Drow). That series of modules provides a variety of location-based adventures, while simultaneously giving the Dungeon Master a wealth of un-developed locations for future use.

Each hex of the above map represents one mile, and only the dark grey sliver, extending from the top-left to the bottom-right of the map, is developed in the D-series.  The rest of the map, including the sunless sea in the top-right corner, is left for the Dungeon Master to develop.

The D-series starts where the G-series (Against the Giants) left off.  Having defeated the Hill, Frost and Fire Giants, the players discover that all three giant races are being manipulated by the Drow, a race of evil subterranean elves. 

The characters come into possession of a map, and using a rope-bridge and crane, the party crosses a river of lava in search of the lost city of the dark elves.  As they make their descent towards the dark elf stronghold they encounter giant slugs and other enormous subterranean creatures.

There are three major encounter areas in D1, Descent Into the Depths of the Earth.  The first is a Drow checkpoint, staffed by two separate Drow patrols.

The second encounter is a Mind Flayer outpost, representing an incursion into the realm of the Drow.

Finally, the party reaches a massive underground cavern, populated by Bugbears, Troglodytes, and Trolls, along with Drow, Purple Worms, a Lich, Gargoyles, and sundry other potential adversaries and allies.

Other than the first Drow outpost, there is no absolute requirement that the characters must participate in any of the encounters in this module.  Nor must they defeat the Drow or any of the other denizens.  In fact, there is an opportunity to win the trust of the dark elves by eliminating the Mind Flayer outpost.  The players will likely encounter at least one drow caravan while plumbing the depths, and those encounters also provide opportunities for role-playing and negotiation.

Even the Lich, who occupies a side cavern within the major encounter site of this module, can be easily avoided:  don't enter his lair to begin with.

I really like the form of adventure that the D-series represents.  While it provides a destination-based adventure path, there is no particular requirement that the players pursue a specific goal as they seek that destination, nor does the module presume that every denizen encountered must be defeated.  In addition, the module offers side passages that the DM can flesh out, to create a completely novel adventure.  And then there is that tantalizing sunless sea, lurking up in the top-right corner of the map.

I like that there is a boundedness to the D-series of modules, while offering significant agency to the DM and the players.  That, to me, is the hallmark of a good adventure product.

Endless Night: A Megadungeon Hook

Imagine a fantasy world in which two events happen simultaneously. One, a total solar eclipse that never ceases. Two, an earthquake and rend in the earth near the city centre, providing access and passage to the endless stair. What is the cause? What do both events portend? Will you brave the endless stair to discover the answers to these questions?

The Death Frost Doom Map That Never Was

Still getting my head around a different kind of megadungeon design for the endless stair; something that appeals to my naturalistic adventure design aesthetic.

This is a map of St. Paul's catacombs in Rabat, Malta. That catacomb map would have made for an inspirational reference for Death Frost Doom, a James Raggi adventure full of menace and horror but lacking in evocative cartography.

I continue to be attracted to maps and images like this one of St. Paul's catacombs. As an adventure designer, there is an honesty in using real world subterranea for the basis of one's own maps, if only for the designer's own moral fortification.

The user of the adventure may not appreciate that the environment does, and therefore can, exist. But from the creator's point of view, there is a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing that the environment makes sense.

What's most challenging for me is attempting to visualize these catacombs. There are a handful of images on the internet, but I think it would take actual exploration of an environment like St. Paul's catacombs to truly appreciate the depicted map. The next challenge would be to communicate what you have seen to the end-user of the adventure in a way that is not burdensome.

The Endless Stair: Dungeon Inspiration

I've been busy working on a 3-page dungeon design for The Endless Stair, an idea I had for a mega-dungeon, and have been searching for inspiration from the plethora of cave maps available on the internet.


My disenchantment with the traditional graph-paper-constrained dungeon maps continues to grow, as I pore over the myriad underground systems mapped by cavers.


The deeper I fall down this rabbit hole, the more tempted I am to dispense with graph-paper altogether, in favour of a scale legend and dimension map-notes.

TFT: The Land Beyond The Mountains

All this talk of sandboxes has me thinking of Metagaming's still-born foray into the mega-campaign sandbox marketplace, a product that was designed for use with its The Fantasy Trip role-playing game.

Entitled The Land Beyond The Mountains, and published in 1982, shortly before the demise of Metagaming, that mega-campaign sandbox setting is comprised of two published adventure supplements, The Warrior-Lords of Darok and The Forest-Lords Of Dihad. Two additional adventure supplements were announced, for the provinces of Muipoco and Soukor, but never saw the light of day.

In this sandbox setting, all four provinces (Darok, Muipoco, Dihad and Soukor) are bounded by impassable hills, mountains and wastelands to the west, north and east. To the south is the sea. Each of the provinces are at odds with each other, and the overall setting is post-apocalyptic, with scattered ruins, mysteries, monsters and artifacts left behind by a vanished and technologically and magically advanced culture.

The adventure supplements for Darok and Dihad are slim: 32 pages each. An interesting innovation of this series is a fold-out 11x17 hex-map of the featured province, attached to the supplement cover. Other than the roads, rivers, settlements, mountains and sea hexes, the map is open for the gamemaster to add her own hex-crawl elements.

The first three pages of each supplement are identical. They briefly cover the history and legends of the overall mega-campaign region, and explain some of the shorthand and symbols employed throughout the supplements. The bulk of each supplement is filled with significant personalities, treatises on the culture of that province, along with sample towns, encounters and scenarios, and supported by several random tables.


The Land Beyond The Mountains is billed as a perfect vehicle for sandbox play: "Here lie rich deposits of gems and ore, and the buried relics of a forgotten golden age. Here are wizards and warriors aplenty, scheming to seize new territories for their liege lords or striving to keep the major trade roads safe and free for all. On these pages you will meet spies and scholars, raiders and traders, and many wondrous and dangerous beasts. In short, a myriad of opportunities for players to make and lose their fortunes, or attain positions of great political influence within a fast-changing, often unpredictable environment."

Even considering the thin-ness of the adventure supplements, I don't think the above statement is entirely over-reaching. After all, the benefit of supplement slimness is that it gives the gamemaster greater latitude and opportunities for sandbox play, beyond the adventure-as-written.

The Endless Stair And Player Choice

Keep On The Borderlands is one of the better TSR modules. Not because it has well-developed NPCs (it doesn't). Nor because of its' exceptional artwork (serviceable, but not mind-blowing). Not even because of it has a sophisticated plot (at best, the DM may tease something out about the Temple of Chaos organizing the scattered humanoids into a raiding force).

What is great about Keep On The Borderlands is that it allows players to select the level of challenge they are willing to face.

Among the rumors provided in Keep On The Borderlands is that the deeper you go within the Caves of Chaos box canyon, the more dangerous the denizens. A cave mouth closer to the canyon entrance is less dangerous, while those at the end of the box canyon are likely filled with fearsome opponents, and fabulous treasures. The players can play-it-safe, and explore the nearer cave-mouths, or take a chance at the deeper ones. The DM can adjudicate the results of that player choice, free of any hint of bias, since it is the players themselves that pick the easier or harder road.

It is well-understood by all experienced D&D players, that the deeper within a dungeon you delve, the more dangerous the traps and monsters. Yet one of the design principles, regularly applied to dungeon creation, is that the stairs to the next-deeper level are difficult to discover. Call that what you like: I call it railroading.

Rather than hiding stairs to the deeper levels, i'm of a mind to have one staircase -- The Endless Stair -- that traverses the entire depth of the dungeon. Not a staircase that goes directly down mind you, but one that meanders, splits, crosses chasms, follows underground rivers, backtracks on itself, and reveals varying architectural styles at different points in its' descent.

As the stairs decend, there are dungeon levels hiving off in different directions, sometimes blocked by hastily-completed walls, or locked and barred doors, offering danger, mystery and treasure. There may be collapsed stair sections along the way, requiring magical or mechanic means of bypass, and portcullises on the staircase preventing immediate entry to lower levels for those lacking creativity, but there will be no question where those stairs are.

The only question ... for the players ... is whether they are feeling lucky today, and want to take a chance exploring lower dungeon levels in exchange for potentially higher rewards.

Dungeon Entrance To Die For

Among the fantasy tropes used to begin a megadungeon campaign is the abandoned monastery.

Legends tell of an abandoned monastery that was founded by an ancient order of warrior monks, who were tasked with the responsibility of containing some evil presence found beneath the site of the monastery. Over time, the monks either became complacent and abandoned their posts, or were corrupted by the evil they were charged to contain.

Now -- years, decades, or centuries later -- the evil beneath the abandoned monastery has grown to proportions significant enough to come to the attention of the players or their benefactors.

The players travel to the site to determine the threat posed by said evil presence and, if necessary, eliminate it.

The above illustration would be a neat hand-out, to present to the players as an illustration of what they see as the approach the abandoned monastery. But why use a black and white illustration, when you can hand them a photo of the actual freaking chapel!

This is the Saint-Michel d’Aiguilhe Chapel in Le Puy-en-Velay, France and was built some time around 962 A.D.

The entrance can be reached by climbing up 268 foot-high steps, carved on the exterior of the basalt extrusion that forms the mountain beneath the chapel.

Imagine having to climb that mountain every time you intended to begin your dungeon delve.

I would love to get the floorplans for this Chapel, and use it for an entrance to a megadungeon, with the dungeon proper following some endless staircase driving deep into the basalt extrusion and far beyond.

You could make the "endless staircase" the centerpiece of the dungeon architecture, with various levels hiving off, spoke-like, around a central staircase, complete with bottomless pit at its centre.

Megadungeons In Four Dimensions

"Dwarves may opt only for the fighting class, and they may never progress beyond 6th level (Myrmidon). Their advantages are: 1) they have a high level of magic resistance, and they thus add four levels when rolling saving throws (a 6th level dwarf equals a 10th level human); 2) they are the only characters able to fully employ the +3 Magic War Hammer (explained in Volume II); 3) they note slanting passages, traps, shifting walls AND NEW CONSTRUCTION (emphasis mine) in underground settings ..."

- 1974 Dungeons & Dragons, Volume I, Men & Magic, page 7

I've been giving a great deal of thought, lately, to the design of a megadungeon. One of the purported features of a megadungeon is that it is a "living" dungeon: it is constantly changing, both in its inhabitants and construction. Adventurers come and go, and as they do, killed monsters are replaced by new ones, and conflict between the denizens continues. In addition, new areas are opened up, either through new construction, magic, or perhaps primal forces at work, warping the environment.

In OD&D, Dwarves have a unique and powerful ability: to detect new construction in underground settings. How far -- through time; the fourth dimension -- does that ability extend? Can dwarves estimate the relative age of the dungeon construction, and techniques employed? One of the beauties of unanswered questions like this, is that most of us felt free to come up with our own answers (god forbid we send that question to Sage Advice).

My interest in the Dwarvish ability to detect new construction is related to my megadungeon musing, since my dungeon design assumes a multi-staired and passaged nexus point, from which the dungeon flows in many different directions. One of the possible clues to the connections between areas is similarities in construction, which should help the players guess who the original designers were, and for what were those areas used. The related difficulty of using this feature, in my megadungeon, is in making it meaningful, recording it in some way on my own map, and providing related visual or descriptive clues to the players.


I have not yet arrived at a satisfactory solution to my mapping problem. Perhaps different wall colors on my map, or modifying the fill behind the walls to signify different construction? However, I am leaning towards using different Hirst Arts floor and wall tiles to signify different construction areas to the players.

Medieval Castles As Adventure Locations

I've been searching around, trying to find a suitable nexus floor plan for a mega dungeon entrance, without much success. However, in the course of my wanderings, I came across a website with a plethora of imaginary castles, many designed in the Harn-esque fashion of Castles of Harn. Sadly, the author of the website passed away in 2006. Someone has maintained the site, presumably in tribute to his creativity and imagination. I did a google search for "castle floor plan", and came across several other castles, including some really huge modern homes.

I like to use real castle and catacomb maps upon which to base my own dungeons and adventure environs. Doing so gives me some assurance that the environments are structurally sound and believable. Now, the castles from the above site are not real, but they are designed in such a way as they could be.

What I also like is when the layout appears to have been added to over time, giving the map a labyrinthine feel. This tends to give me an opportunity to have several areas that are more difficult to access. If the map has secret passages, staircases and the like, so much the better.

The Name Of The Rose: Three Dimensional Labyrinths

The Name Of The Rose is one of my favorite films. Besides starring Sean Connery and Christian Slater, two fine, accomplished actors, it is set in the 14th century, at a medieval abbey gripped with fear due to a handsome monk's recent and unholy murder. More murders follow. Connery and Slater's characters arrive at the abbey shortly after the first murder, and attempt to solve the crimes. The abbey is the site of a massive library, off-limits to visitors: its contents hold the key to revealing the motive behind the mysterious deaths.
If you have never seen this movie, or have not seen it in some time, you are strongly encouraged to do so. As inspiration for a murder-mystery adventure for fantasy role-playing, this movie has few peers. There is little in the way of combat, but if you like atmosphere, fantastic sets and elaborate puzzles, this is sure to appeal to you.

One of the set-pieces of this film: a labyrinthine library, filled with octagonal rooms and rising and decending staircases. The two principles become separated and lost within the library, and use their wits to locate each other, retrace their steps and eventually find egress. It's commonly held that dungeon labyrinths are a bore, when it comes to rpg adventuring. I'm sympathetic to that view. Imagine your typical dungeon labyrinth, but now in three dimensions. Doesn't seem that appealing, does it? But, instead of being a labyrinth, what if that many-staired and chambered space was rather a nexus-point, a convergence of stairs and passages, going up, down and across, and giving the players a plethora of adventuring alternatives?
That has been on my mind the last couple of days, as I search for a way to design and develop a dungeon environment which provides maximum latitude to the players to strike out and pursue their own dungeon-delving interests. One of the constraints on the full enjoyment of a campaign by role players is the suspicion that they are being railroaded. What could be more freeing, for both the DM and the players, than that the mega-dungeon have a nexus-point, leading to a myriad potential adventures, with easy access to the surface and the dungeon-locales which most interest the players?

Hubris, Terror and Despair In Dungeons and Dragons

There are several terrific moments, throughout the Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy, where the protagonists and antagonists are confronted by their own hubris, terror or despair. Barbossa's death in the first movie. Jack Sparrow's death in the second. In the third, the final confrontation with Lord Becket. In that scene, Becket's hubris finally betrays him, and, in his moment of realization, he somnolently descends the stairs from the ship's bridge, Don Giovanni-style, into hell, both literal and figurative.

I admit I can be as low-brow, crass and ribald as the next D&D player, but when I comes to "adult" themes for Dungeons and Dragons, concepts like hubris, terror and despair are the ones I find most interesting to explore. Those are the ones that truly get emotions running high at the gaming table, and the ones that are talked about for days and months following.

Being unable to save a dying character or watching them get dragged down into hell. Having the chickens come home to roost on an earlier decision of the party. The 'long defeat' in Lord of the Rings. Disasters wrought as a result of the inaction of the party. I find those to be far more interesting than themes revolving around the libidinous or avaricious.

The problem is how to arrive at the confluence of circumstances necessary to achieve that, without railroading the players? Several months ago, while DMing a D&D session, the party was overwhelmed by some Yuan-ti. One of the characters was poisoned, and none of the others reached him before he succumbed. Not just the player, but the whole party went into a funk. Several sessions later, players were still talking about it, chiding themselves for not having prepared sufficiently, or having failed to act sooner: there were (at least not to my knowledge) no suggestions that I had constructed the death. To my credit, the players were previously warned about the poison, and several characters had made earlier saving throws.

I think hubris, terror and despair are the sorts of themes that players enjoy exploring as well. Particularly if they are coupled with themes of heroism and redemption. One of the features that I intend on adding to any megadungeon I create is a "Well Of Souls", a pit into the very depths of hell, teeming with horrors to cause even the bravest to faint, a location where the party must go, and -- at great personal risk to themselves -- recover a lost party-member.

Megadungeon - That's So 2009!

I don't know about the rest of you, but the recent publication of Michael Curtis' Stonehell has resurrected my fascination with the megadungeon.

The Stonehell megadungeon was seemingly inspired by ruminations, almost a year ago, regarding the feasibility and advisability of attempting a commercial megadungeon. While some pounded their chests and rent their garments, lamenting the impossibility of the task, others (like Curtis, Joe Bloch and Chevski) took action, one producing Stonehell, the second creating Castle of the Mad Archmage, and the third setting up megadungeon.net. In addition, Chevski's recent efforts to create a Dwimmermount setting banner suggest the possibility of another megadungeon in the offing.

Mind you, other than the efforts of those three bloggers, what other old-schoolers have undertaken the task of creating and sharing their own megadungeons? It seems like most of us in the blogosphere have moved on to new affronts and fascinations, such as the red-box, d6 weapon damage, science fantasy and sword-and-planet. I include myself here. I hope that's not the case, that there is still room for enthusiasm regarding the creation and use of megadungeons amongst D&D players.

When polling old-schoolers, one of the oft-referenced, "definitive megadungeons" is The Mines of Khunmar. Created by Stefan Poag in 1980, and published in 2004, The Mines of Khunmar is subtitled "An Adventure Outline" rather than megadungeon. That 58-page, free download comprises 12 pages of cover and background materials, and 8 Dungeon levels and sub-levels, spread over 46 separate map-pages. The Mines of Khunmar is well worth checking out, to see why many old-schoolers suggest it is a good example of megadungeonery.

Considering that The Mines of Khunmar is some 46 map-pages, you might think that it is a far more substantial, adventuresome offering than, say, Curtis' 20 map-page Stonehell. Yes, Khunmar is adventuresome, but Curtis' Stonehell environment is far more dense and compact, so more rooms and encounters are packed into each level of Stonehell.

The Mines of Khunmar contains a cornucopia of underground dungeon tropes that are expected of a megadungeon adventure: underground rivers, lakes and pools, chutes, gently-sloped passages to lower dungeon levels, vaulted caverns, abandoned temples, undead-filled tombs, throne-rooms, warring monster tribes, labyrinths, deadly tricks and traps, magical gates, rivers of lava, abandoned gold mines, dragons, demons, bottomless chasms, and monsters a-plenty. It also lacks any over-arching story: there is no BBEG to defeat, no epic battle to wage in the last room of the last level; there is no plot-line to follow, and no hooks or sign-posts that need to be satisfied.