Hirst Arts: Three Dimensional Dungeons

I've been spending much of my time, lately, casting Hirst Arts blocks.

Hirst Arts is an web-based company that offers a line of rubber molds. Those molds produce plaster-of-paris blocks that can be used to build castles, dungeons, buildings and table-top gaming terrain elements.

From the 20 Hirst Arts molds that I currently possess, I am creating a set of three-dimensional dungeon tiles, complete with walls and dungeon dressing, to add some visual interest to our dungeon-delving sessions. Thus far, I have produced nine different kinds of dungeon floor tiles.

Each dungeon tile shown below is 3" x 3", comprising a 10' x 10' section, so that the tiles can fit together to make hallways and rooms. The walls will sit on the inside edges of the tiles, providing sufficient room in the middle of the tiles to have two 28mm miniatures walking abreast down a hallway.
The above picture shows my favorite set of tiles so far. Those dungeon tiles have a decorative edge running along the borders of the tiles. The edging appears to be made of runic script. I will use those tiles when the players find a section of dungeon that is more skillfully hewn from the surrounding rock, and the path of the runes will carry them to specific encounter or dungeon elements.
Most of the dungeon tiles will be comprised of these chipped stone numbers.

The benefit of this tile configuration (with the one-inch blocks in the center and smaller blocks around the edges) is that you can put the tiles together and the half- or quarter-blocks on the edges create full blocks when placed side-by-side. Those tiles can be used both for room and hallway tiles.

For a time, I agonized over the configuration of my dungeon tiles. Based on the design, the floor scale is 1" = 3 ft. 4 in. Compare that to 28mm figures, which translate to a vertical scale of 1" = 5 ft. Ultimately, the convenience of laying out connectible dungeon tiles (with the walls internal to each tile) won out over my need to keep the horizontal and vertical scales congruent.
This 10' section of dungeon tile is for cobblestone floors. It has an irregular edge so that the seams between floor tiles are less obtrusive.

I envision using this style of dungeon tile for hallways such as the entrance to the Tomb Of Horrors. In the ToH, a path of differently-colored stones winds its way down a 20' wide hallway.
Here is a dungeon tile with a herringbone pattern. The tiles lock together. This particular set will take some time to produce, since there is only 1 of the 1" blocks on the Hirst Arts mold, so I need to cast that mold 9 times to create one 10' x 10' section.
The same is true of the above tile. This decorative tile will be a good choice for royal chambers, temples and other lavish rooms.
The above dungeon tile has a neat octogonal pattern, however, the seams between the blocks is too pronounced. I'm still trying to find a way to fill those seams so that they don't distract from the tile pattern.

Don't ask me to tile your home. As you can see, I didn't do a very good job of laying down these smaller blocks to create floor sections that have tiles set at a 45 degree angle to the direction of the hall or room.

The first of these two tiles is of chipped stone, the second in smooth tiles.
This last dungeon tile is made up of cracked, smooth blocks. I prefer these less than the chipped stone blocks, since it's more difficult to give the final, painted version of these tiles visual interest.

My next task is to start working on the walls and dungeon dressing. Fortunately, I have well over 120 different elements to choose from, based on the Hirst Arts molds I already have access to. I will post some pictures of some of those other block elements so you can see the breadth of elements available in creating a three-dimensional dungeon environment.

Hirst Arts: Three Dimensional Dungeons

I've been spending much of my time, lately, casting Hirst Arts blocks.

Hirst Arts is an web-based company that offers a line of rubber molds. Those molds produce plaster-of-paris blocks that can be used to build castles, dungeons, buildings and table-top gaming terrain elements.

From the 20 Hirst Arts molds that I currently possess, I am creating a set of three-dimensional dungeon tiles, complete with walls and dungeon dressing, to add some visual interest to our dungeon-delving sessions. Thus far, I have produced nine different kinds of dungeon floor tiles.

Each dungeon tile shown below is 3" x 3", comprising a 10' x 10' section, so that the tiles can fit together to make hallways and rooms. The walls will sit on the inside edges of the tiles, providing sufficient room in the middle of the tiles to have two 28mm miniatures walking abreast down a hallway.
The above picture shows my favorite set of tiles so far. Those dungeon tiles have a decorative edge running along the borders of the tiles. The edging appears to be made of runic script. I will use those tiles when the players find a section of dungeon that is more skillfully hewn from the surrounding rock, and the path of the runes will carry them to specific encounter or dungeon elements.
Most of the dungeon tiles will be comprised of these chipped stone numbers.

The benefit of this tile configuration (with the one-inch blocks in the center and smaller blocks around the edges) is that you can put the tiles together and the half- or quarter-blocks on the edges create full blocks when placed side-by-side. Those tiles can be used both for room and hallway tiles.

For a time, I agonized over the configuration of my dungeon tiles. Based on the design, the floor scale is 1" = 3 ft. 4 in. Compare that to 28mm figures, which translate to a vertical scale of 1" = 5 ft. Ultimately, the convenience of laying out connectible dungeon tiles (with the walls internal to each tile) won out over my need to keep the horizontal and vertical scales congruent.
This 10' section of dungeon tile is for cobblestone floors. It has an irregular edge so that the seams between floor tiles are less obtrusive.

I envision using this style of dungeon tile for hallways such as the entrance to the Tomb Of Horrors. In the ToH, a path of differently-colored stones winds its way down a 20' wide hallway.
Here is a dungeon tile with a herringbone pattern. The tiles lock together. This particular set will take some time to produce, since there is only 1 of the 1" blocks on the Hirst Arts mold, so I need to cast that mold 9 times to create one 10' x 10' section.
The same is true of the above tile. This decorative tile will be a good choice for royal chambers, temples and other lavish rooms.
The above dungeon tile has a neat octogonal pattern, however, the seams between the blocks is too pronounced. I'm still trying to find a way to fill those seams so that they don't distract from the tile pattern.

Don't ask me to tile your home. As you can see, I didn't do a very good job of laying down these smaller blocks to create floor sections that have tiles set at a 45 degree angle to the direction of the hall or room.

The first of these two tiles is of chipped stone, the second in smooth tiles.
This last dungeon tile is made up of cracked, smooth blocks. I prefer these less than the chipped stone blocks, since it's more difficult to give the final, painted version of these tiles visual interest.

My next task is to start working on the walls and dungeon dressing. Fortunately, I have well over 120 different elements to choose from, based on the Hirst Arts molds I already have access to. I will post some pictures of some of those other block elements so you can see the breadth of elements available in creating a three-dimensional dungeon environment.

Dungeon Design Elements: The Portcullis

Those of you that are familiar with Hirst Arts will be aware that one of their Gothic Molds includes an iron gate, that can used as a portcullis feature in your dungeons.

Bruce Hirst, the owner of Hirst Arts, has this to say about the inclusion of the iron gate on one of his molds: "I placed the iron gate on this mold because I thought it needed one badly. Most crypts, graveyards or cathedrals have gated off areas to keep people out of the holy places or to protect relics."

Portcullises and bricked-up passages are two dungeon elements that get nowhere near as much play as they deserve. In those few instances where portcullises are used in a dungeon, they are typically employed as a trap, with a portcullis dropping behind the party after they open a false door at the end of a long hallway.

Few people think to use a portcullis in lieu of a door. In some ways, I think a portcullis is actually superior to a door. It impedes transit in the same way as a door, but entices characters with a glimpse of what is beyond, while frustrating attempts to search or navigate the area. And because there are harsh rules for bending bars and lifting gates, it is more difficult to bypass a portcullis.

Under the AD&D rules, successive attempts to open a door are permitted. Failure simply increases the danger of wandering monsters, and alerts those beyond the door to your presence. A bend bars/lift gates roll, by comparison, can be made only once: failure precludes further tries. This heightens the tension around the table when a bend bars/lift gates roll must be made. The worst that can happen with a failed open-door attempt is that the monsters beyond the door cannot be surprised. With a failed bend bars/lift gates attempt, you may never gain ingress to that area; an area important enough to have a portcullis guarding it.

When including portcullises in a dungeon, it's important to provide some mechanisms to unlock or otherwise bypass them. Dungeon Module B1, In Search of the Unknown, contains just such a mechanism, found in a storeroom filled with implements. As the DM rhymes off the items in the storeroom, she will eventually announce the existence of four hacksaws. I'll bet your party didn't think to bring those into the dungeon, particularly if they aren't listed in the miscellaneous items for sale.

Other options for bypassing portcullises include levers, found elsewhere in the dungeon, that lock or unlock certain portcullises, depending on their position. The important thing here is to allow the resourceful player to bypass the portcullis, either with a pre-determined dungeon element or through the employment of some clever stratagem (think of Pirates of the Caribbean's Jack Sparrow, using leverage to dislodge the door to his prison cell, for example).

If portcullises suggest something worth protecting, walled-off or bricked-up areas suggest something that characters need to be protected from. Ghouls, vengeful ghosts and other undead immediately come to mind. Bricked-up areas can be even more player-maddening that those defended by portcullises. Clearly, those who built the wall were fearful, embarrassed or ultra-protective of whatever lay beyond. With a portcullis, the builders imagined that they would want to eventually access the blocked area. With a wall? That sends a pretty clear signal that the builders have little intention of ever returning to the area so blocked. Are the characters willing to break out the mattocks and shovels, dig through the wall, and brave the potential horrors beyond? A delicious conundrum, don't you think?

Dungeon Design Elements: The Portcullis

Those of you that are familiar with Hirst Arts will be aware that one of their Gothic Molds includes an iron gate, that can used as a portcullis feature in your dungeons.

Bruce Hirst, the owner of Hirst Arts, has this to say about the inclusion of the iron gate on one of his molds: "I placed the iron gate on this mold because I thought it needed one badly. Most crypts, graveyards or cathedrals have gated off areas to keep people out of the holy places or to protect relics."

Portcullises and bricked-up passages are two dungeon elements that get nowhere near as much play as they deserve. In those few instances where portcullises are used in a dungeon, they are typically employed as a trap, with a portcullis dropping behind the party after they open a false door at the end of a long hallway.

Few people think to use a portcullis in lieu of a door. In some ways, I think a portcullis is actually superior to a door. It impedes transit in the same way as a door, but entices characters with a glimpse of what is beyond, while frustrating attempts to search or navigate the area. And because there are harsh rules for bending bars and lifting gates, it is more difficult to bypass a portcullis.

Under the AD&D rules, successive attempts to open a door are permitted. Failure simply increases the danger of wandering monsters, and alerts those beyond the door to your presence. A bend bars/lift gates roll, by comparison, can be made only once: failure precludes further tries. This heightens the tension around the table when a bend bars/lift gates roll must be made. The worst that can happen with a failed open-door attempt is that the monsters beyond the door cannot be surprised. With a failed bend bars/lift gates attempt, you may never gain ingress to that area; an area important enough to have a portcullis guarding it.

When including portcullises in a dungeon, it's important to provide some mechanisms to unlock or otherwise bypass them. Dungeon Module B1, In Search of the Unknown, contains just such a mechanism, found in a storeroom filled with implements. As the DM rhymes off the items in the storeroom, she will eventually announce the existence of four hacksaws. I'll bet your party didn't think to bring those into the dungeon, particularly if they aren't listed in the miscellaneous items for sale.

Other options for bypassing portcullises include levers, found elsewhere in the dungeon, that lock or unlock certain portcullises, depending on their position. The important thing here is to allow the resourceful player to bypass the portcullis, either with a pre-determined dungeon element or through the employment of some clever stratagem (think of Pirates of the Caribbean's Jack Sparrow, using leverage to dislodge the door to his prison cell, for example).

If portcullises suggest something worth protecting, walled-off or bricked-up areas suggest something that characters need to be protected from. Ghouls, vengeful ghosts and other undead immediately come to mind. Bricked-up areas can be even more player-maddening that those defended by portcullises. Clearly, those who built the wall were fearful, embarrassed or ultra-protective of whatever lay beyond. With a portcullis, the builders imagined that they would want to eventually access the blocked area. With a wall? That sends a pretty clear signal that the builders have little intention of ever returning to the area so blocked. Are the characters willing to break out the mattocks and shovels, dig through the wall, and brave the potential horrors beyond? A delicious conundrum, don't you think?