Stop and Smell the Rad-Roses! adding a sense of wonder to your wasteland

A radioactive myconid from my sketchbook

It’s easy to lose a sense of wonder in the irradiated grind of a post-apocalyptic RPG. Wonder is what we feel seeing the Grand Canyon or a cool mushroom: it’s a deep reminder that the world is more beautiful and strange than we can fully grasp. It balances the bullet-counting ruin-crawls and keeps the players hungry for more.

Science often inspires wonder. Science-based world building adds weirdness and awe without breaking immersion.  Websites that highlight new discoveries or cutting-edge technologies can send your mind off in wild directions that will amaze and intrigue your players, keeping them curious about what is below the next bunker.

Another sketchy myconid. Watch the bumbershoot!

An article on using slime molds to discover Roman roads (link below) got me thinking about myconids, who I had always dismissed as kind of silly.  What if myconids moved through space and time in a unique way? I like the thought of players pursuing a myconid scout only to see it vanish through a fungal threshold outlined on a solid wall.  What if I never said “myconid scout”, describing instead a misshapen figure in a conical hat that randomly showed up, helped or hurt them, and then disappeared before they could interact?

Then they would have a mystery on their hands, and mysteries are hooks. Hooks keep players hungry and they'll keep coming back to the table.

Disappearing mushroom folk raise the question: where do they go?  In other articles, I learned that mushrooms have the same pigment-melanin-that adds color to human skin.  Some scientists surmise that mushrooms us their melanin to convert radiation into growth energy. Do myconids thrive in radioactive necropoli, feeding on radiation and the dead? Can they grow large at will like Duergar?  Do they clean up hot zones or do they just multiply and scheme? Are the glowing remains of urban centers, the hottest of hot zones, ground zero for a new myconid supremacy? Some quick web research has transformed myconids from hippy root-huggers to an inscrutable emergent species slowly but inevitably filing the human niche.  Following a Myconid back to its home base will be a terrible, memorable adventure.

Role-playing games run on bloodlust and wonder; if your players don’t stop to smell the rad-roses, they’re missing out on half the fun.  How do you infuse your wasteland with wonder and keep your players coming back for more?  Comment below!

• article on slime molds used to plot Roman roads
• article on fairy rings
• link to Les Claypool's soundtrack to "Mushroom Men"

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