Before he met his tragic end, Vørpé the Magic-User underwent just about every negative non-death setback a PC in my game could experience.
I use death and dismemberment rules similar to this and a mutation table similar to probably every other one you've seen. I also have a boutique list of curses and diseases—which for practical purposes are treated almost the same in the world of Nevelorn—and a rough outline of dooms (for chaotic characters) and damnations (for their lawful counterparts) for consequences of a cosmic scale.
Vørpé, starting life as a gene freak, began the game with two mutations:
Furnace gut. Your stomach radiates light as a candle. You only gain sustenance from wood, coal, oil, and alcohol.
Stench. A distinct, horrible smell follows you wherever you go. -2 to Charisma; hiding is difficult.
Over the course of his adventures, he only became more freaky. Tampering with an alchemical engine left him with
Horns. Come out of your forehead. Deal d3 damage if used as a weapon. Headgear must be specially made. Roll d6 or choose the appearance: 1. Ram 2. Bull 3. Unicorn 4. Devil 5. Antlers 6. Beetle
(he rolled Devil)
And when he drank the melted remains of a mutant frog, his lower extremities morphed into
Bird legs. Great for perching. Cannot wear boots.
An unfortunately well-aimed hobgoblin firebomb left one of those legs charred and worthless.
A failed save to avoid an acid trap and Vørpé nearly became a steaming corpse puddle. In his last moments he called out to whatever chaotic god or overfiend was listening to spare his life. The odds were slim, but due to his history of erratic behavior and physical alterations, he attracted the attention of the Faceless God Juiblex, demon lord of ooze and mutation. Vørpé suffered a vision of the Great Glistener's infinite roiling non-countenance and was marked for doom. He was to survive with a fifth mutation (Serpent neck. Long and slithery. Good for peeping around corners and creeping people out.), but when next he would be reduced to 0 hp he would erupt in a torrent of green slime, becoming one with Juiblex and taking whoever was nearby along with him.
Vørpé met an untimely end in an appropriately anticlimactic manner: standing within the blast radius of the first and only fireball he released from a newly discovered wand. A lesson to everyone that magic items are risky and should be experimented with in a safe environment before letting them off willy-nilly (the players' dutiful note-taker wrote that down). Fortunately the rest of the party was spared, as the only other creature in the blast radius was the undead monstrosity he intended to hit, and double fortunately the fire immediately incinerated the green slime which would otherwise have caused at least one new problem for the surviving party members.
Vørpé's passing was truly tragic, and his player was understandably bummed. But to his credit he took it in good spirits. A funeral was held and the party's new draft horse was named in his honor. Out of the game, the players and I refilled our drinks and toasted to the fallen PC.
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What makes death and dismemberment, mutations, and lingering afflictions so fun are that they make tangible a character's foibles. If magic items and precious treasure serve as records of a PC's triumphs, a missing leg and a tentacle arm serve as records of their misfortune. The obstacles imposed by a missing leg becomes a part of the story; even when one can't do something as well because however many sessions ago they took too much damage or failed a save, there's satisfaction in knowing your guy has been through more than most and has the scars to show for it. There's nothing wrong with death at 0 (trve kvlt), but you don't get these kinds of characters when there's no middle ground between linear advancement and total death. Higher level PCs have died in our campaign, but none are remembered like Vørpé.
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