Why The Crooked Moon Is the Best Halloween D&D Campaign You Haven’t Run Yet

Here’s where The Crooked Moon earns its stripes: it doesn’t just reskin fantasy with pumpkins and fog. It introduces Fateweaving, a mechanic that binds characters to the world through personal goals and folkloric consequences. It’s simple, elegant, and it gives players a reason to care when the villagers start chanting their name in a midnight ritual.

You also get 15 new subclasses, 13 playable species (including pumpkin-headed Harvestborn and rat-like Plagueborn), 85 monsters, 156 curses, and 40 spells that range from eerie to outright disturbing (and a partridge in a…no! wrong season!). There’s even a system for Dark Bargains, where players can trade power for consequences—like casting Legend Lore for free, but losing a friend’s memory of you every time you do. It’s not just flavor. It’s emotional leverage.

And yes, there are multi-phase boss fights with terrain shifts and minions, because Avantris knows how to stage a climax. These aren’t just stat blocks—they’re set pieces.

Atmosphere Is the Point

The art direction is lush, moody, and deeply referential. You’ll spot nods to Curse of Strahd, Ravenloft, and classic folk horror films, but it never feels derivative. The setting uses the Folk Horror Chain—a narrative structure built around isolation, twisted morality, and “The Happening”—to guide every chapter. It’s not just scary because of the monsters. It’s scary because the world itself is wrong.

And the immersion goes beyond the page. There’s a custom tarot deck, a soundtrack by The Blasting Company (yes, the same folks behind Over the Garden Wall), and enough handouts to make your players feel like they’re inside the story, not just rolling dice through it.

Why It Works for Halloween

Halloween D&D sessions are notoriously hard to balance. You want horror, but you don’t want to strip away the power fantasy. You want atmosphere, but you don’t want to slow the game to a crawl. The Crooked Moon solves that by giving players plenty of toys—magic items, feats, subclass perks—but making those toys feel fragile when the world turns against them.

It’s the kind of campaign where a paladin can smite a werewolf and still feel helpless when the town’s children start whispering his name in unison. Where a wizard can bend reality and still flinch when the moon grins back. It’s horror that respects the mechanics of D&D, not horror that fights them.

Final Verdict

The Crooked Moon isn’t just a Halloween one-shot—it’s a full campaign that can stretch leading up to the most wonderful of holidays, but it shines brightest when the veil is thin. You’re given the tools to build dread without sacrificing drama, and it knows that horror isn’t just about fear—it’s about consequence and how your players will deal with them (with possible hilarity).

If you’re tired of Ravenloft, if you want something that feels folkloric instead of Gothic, and if you want your players to walk away haunted in the best way, this is the campaign to run. Just don’t let them trust the train conductor. Or the moon. Or the soup.