The Endless OSR Pit Table: What’s in the Room?

I’m this thread, let’s create the largest table we can! If you want to add a sub table to your entry, even better. Multiple entries encouraged.

What’s in the room?

  1. 1d4 weirdly colored (and extremely unhappy) rats and a very happy goblin
  2. A bright rock
  3. A small house, empty
  4. A small house, with 1d4 very small people living in it
  1. A writing desk, in the middle of the room, surrounded by hundreds of balled up and tossed papers. The papers are. Mix of terrible elven poetry and amateur maps.
  1. A grandfather clock. Tall and menacing. Smells like old wood. It is late by d10 minutes. If you repair the clock by setting the right time, it will open a small portal to a pocket dimension. In it there are as many coins as the number of minutes the clock was late by.
  1. A small fountain. Drinking from it does:
    1-6. Nothing. It’s just water. Roll on the table below to see how it tastes.
    7. It’s highly concentrated nutrient syrup. You don’t have to eat for 1 week, but you gain 2d10 lbs divided evenly over 7 days.
    8. It’s essence of lizard. You become cold-blooded for 1 week. Your body temperature is the same as the room you are in, and if it is chilly and you have no external heat source warming you, you suffer a -1 on rolls. If it is very warm (direct noon sunlight, standing next to a lava pit), you instead gain a +1 on rolls.
    9. It’s laced with a soporific drug. You become unable to speak words longer than two syllables for 1d4 days. Incidentally, your thoughts becomes so sluggish that you become immune to mind-reading or ESP for the duration.
    10. It’s leaking from some kind of mutated monster in the next room. You gain a random mutation, and a kaleidoscope of multicolored light comes out of your mouth for 1d4 days. If you keep your mouth open extremely wide, you can use your lambent throat as a disco-styled bullseye lantern.

1-6a. How does the water taste?

  1. Stale and musty.
  2. Like rust. Or is it blood?
  3. Strangely sweet.
  4. Refreshing and clear, maybe a little effervescent.
  1. An infinitely deep hole
  2. A stack of wooden mannequins
  3. A seemingly dead tree, it requires blood to regrow its leaves, and maybe eventually grow an Apple of Discord
  4. Inside-out gelatinous cube (very confused)

Apple of Discord

Hail Eris! Hail Discordia! I can’t believe I haven’t included one of these in a game yet.

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  1. One wall of the room is a perfect mirror reflection, but only one party member is present in the reflection. It appears normal and can easily be shattered. If the person whom is present in the reflection attempts to touch the mirror, the mirror instantly shatters in dramatic fashion. If the mirror is shattered at any point, the person that was present in the reflection suddenly has their dominant hand flipped (EG: if the person was a right handed, they are now left handed) and they will mistakenly refer to the direction to their right as “left” and vise versa for 1d6 days.

13 (?). A series of tables, cabinets, and shelves lined with dusty jars and strange cured meats. Mortars and pestles contain a mysterious grey matter which, upon consumption, adds 1d4+1 Intelligence points for the next hour, while removing this same amount from your HP total.

  1. A dying, but never dead, immortal splayed on the ground. In the center of the room, a pillar supporting the dungeon has been built through his chest, connecting the floor and ceiling. He has been on the brink of death for thousands of years, and will plead with the PCs to release him. The destruction or damaging of the pillar will cause the dungeon to collapse.

(I say don’t bother with numbering, just go for it)

A spell-forge: magical reagents, monster parts, broken items, anything can be fed to the blue flames. Occasionally, it will rattle out a small marble, trapped within is a single magical word. Two words can be strung together to form a spell.

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6a: The Pocket Dimension.

An elderly watchmaker was abandoned this pocket dimension of his own creation by his bastard nephew, the Vicelord Quarthall, almost four years ago. He has been so consumed by his work as not to have noticed, and it is difficult to convince him that his nephew is as villainous as he acts. The watchmaker may offer a trinket to a PC who reminds him of his nephew, determined by a d4 roll.

  1. An hourglass filled with water instead of sand. A small fish named Roxie swims happily inside of it. Overturning the hourglass and allowing Roxie to suffocate causes time to freeze for 1d2 turns for everyone except the user and the watchmaker.
  2. A pocketwatch broken beyond repair. Somehow, the gears are so bungled that merely winding the watch emits a screeching, grinding drone which can be heard by anyone within 1,000 feet.
  3. A set of watchmaker’s tools. Used as lockpicks, but on a critical failure, the lock is accidentally converted into a makeshift timer, complete with audible ticks, and will open itself in 2d4 minutes if left alone.
  4. A grandfather clock almost as large as the one which allowed access to this pocket dimension. Nearly impossible to move, but allows 1d6 return trips to the watchmaker’s dimension. Every use, the minute hand ticks down by one towards midnight.

I’ll compile it all into a pdf once we hit 100 and beyond, so don’t worry about numbers unless you make subtables and want to make that easier for me.

  1. Nothing. This room is empty. Seriously there’s nothing here…not even dust.
  1. The remnants of a large feast left partially eaten. It seems to be mostly meats…poorly cooked.

A bloated corpse, with maggots crawling out of it.


Bamboo-and-paper partitions split the room into 1d3+1 cramped subdivisions. Roll on this table for each individual cubicle; any occupants will pretend to ignore the other ‘rooms’, occasionally trying to enlarge their space by moving the partitions when they think no-one will notice.


The smell of dust and varnish


An incredibly large pie. Still steaming. Unrecognisable fruit filling. Crusty.

  1. A metal cryo-coffin with White-blue tubes running in and out of the sides. A gentle hum emanates from within. It contains:
    a. A young red-haired man. A bit dim, but can drink anyone under a table
    b. A bounty-hunter from long-ago, hunting an immortal being
    c. An ice elemental, has cryo-madness. Absorbed the mind of the former inhabitant

  2. A room with six sand-stone pillars covered in runes. If deciphered, tells the story of:
    a. The last gladiatorial tournament of an empire destroyed by a comet. Has hints of the legendary combat move: Death Touch
    b. An ancient gardens far to the west that were said to contain several rare species of fruit
    c. Scrawled graffiti, tales of a local drunkard’s sexual exploits

  3. A room of 3d6 graves, three contain undead trapped under feet of gravel and dirt. Within one’s head contains a pink uncut gem worth 10gp

  1. Hole in the wall, a switch next to it. The hole is a crystal pipe – as wide as a regular human head. The pipe branches to three different pipes. This pipeline is intended to transmit reports and items between the laboratory and the archives, as well as two other rooms. One of the pipes is clogged with treasure. It is controlled with a heavy three-position switch. It is like a joint grinding its grainy socket.

  2. Brass stacking doll: 3 doll layers. Placing an item in the smallest one (palm-sized), and closing the lid, destroys the original item but clones it to two other vessels. Clones have 1-in-6 chance of being destroyed when opening the doll.


A scale model of a tiny war between poorly made scrimshaw models on a dirty old table. There are loose papers full of numbers here. After a moment, you realize the figures occasionally twitch and move as if trying to not be noticed by you.