Alright, let’s talk about one of my favorite games, Lion & Dragon: A Medieval Authentic RPG. It’s not just another retro-clone that reshuffles the same mechanics we’ve all seen a hundred times. Instead, it takes a bold stance on what “medieval fantasy” actually means and goes all-in on making the world feel genuinely historical.

Lion & Dragon was written by RPGPundit and published by DOM Publishing in 2017, bringing a fresh, historically grounded take on OSR fantasy.

Rather than just being another retro-clone that recaptures the feel of early D&D, Lion & Dragon is a game that asks, “What if your medieval fantasy was actually medieval?” It strips away the anachronisms and pulp-fantasy elements that have become staples of the genre and replaces them with a historically inspired world that feels as authentic as a game can reasonably get while still being fun.

Lion & Dragon makes it clear that it’s doing things differently. Social class isn’t just flavor text; it actually matters. A peasant talking back to a noble could have real consequences, and if you want to play a knight, you better understand that you’re part of a rigid feudal system. It’s a level of authenticity that most games brush aside in favor of high magic fantasy, but here, it’s front and center. And I love that! It forces players to engage with the world in a way that feels real.

Combat is gritty and brutal, which is right in line with the game’s philosophy. Fighters get multiple attacks against weaker enemies, which makes them feel powerful in the way that real warriors should, but healing is slow, and magic won’t save you like it does in modern games. That means every fight is a serious decision. You can’t just charge into battle expecting to walk away unscathed. It adds tension to the game and makes non-combat solutions feel just as viable—maybe even preferable.

If there’s one thing that might turn people off, it’s the magic system. No fireball-chucking wizards or convenient spell slots. Instead, you get something that feels more like historical mysticism—alchemy, summoning, astrology. Magic is a risky, complicated, and often a dangerous pursuit.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I think this is amazing! It’s a feature, not a bug. But if your players are used to games where they can sling cantrips at will and literally bend reality at later levels, convincing them to embrace this more “reality-based” magic system might be a heavy-lift.

For me, though, that’s exactly why Lion & Dragon is so compelling. It carves out a distinct identity and doesn’t apologize for it. If you want a game that actually feels medieval instead of just fantasy with medieval window dressing, this is it. It’s thoughtful, immersive, and rewarding for players who are willing to embrace its world.

It’s not the kind of OSR game you pick up for a quick one-shot, but it’s absolutely worth your time if you’re looking for something deep, different, and authentic.

Introduction & Default Setting Assumptions in Lion & Dragon

Right off the bat, Lion & Dragon makes its intentions clear: this is not your typical fantasy RPG. The introduction doesn’t waste time trying to be all things to all players. Instead, it draws a line in the sand and tells you exactly what kind of game it is—one that leans hard into historical authenticity rather than the usual mix of Tolkien, pulp fantasy, and modern sensibilities that most games default to. And honestly, I respect the hell out of that.

From the get-go, the game frames itself as a system meant to capture a more grounded, medieval experience. Social class isn’t just a background detail; it’s a fundamental part of who your character is and how they interact with the world. A peasant doesn’t just walk into a noble’s court and start giving orders. A knight has obligations beyond just fighting. The feudal system is real, and you ignore it at your own risk. Most games nod at medieval society, but Lion & Dragon makes it the core of the experience, which is a bold choice that really pays off if you’re willing to embrace it.

Then there’s religion. Unlike your typical fantasy pantheon where clerics pick from a buffet of gods, Lion & Dragon assumes a monotheistic faith akin to medieval Catholicism. The church is powerful, and its influence touches every part of life, including magic. This isn’t a setting where wizards and priests just co-exist without tension. Magic itself is rare and deeply tied to real-world historical practices—alchemy, astrology, and demonology. There are no spellbooks full of convenient, game-friendly fire-and-forget spells. If you want to wield supernatural power, it’s a process, often dangerous, and requires real effort. Magic isn’t a tool; it’s a force that needs to be reckoned with.

The “life is cheap” philosophy hits hard, too. This is a brutal world. Disease, war, and the harsh realities of medieval life mean that death is always around the corner. High-level characters aren’t just rare; they’re legends. This shifts the tone of the game away from the heroic power fantasy that a lot of games still flirt with and instead pushes players into a world where survival is an achievement in itself.

And finally, there’s the idea that civilization is survival. This is probably my favorite aspect of the setting. Most games lean into the idea that adventurers are outsiders, roaming the world and diving into dungeons wherever they please. Lion & Dragon flips that script. The wilderness isn’t just empty space filled with monsters—it’s a threat in and of itself. Civilization is what keeps the horrors at bay. Stray too far from the protection of lords, laws, and the church, and you’re on your own in a world that has no mercy for fools.

This introduction and the default setting assumptions are what make Lion & Dragon stand out. It’s not just another OSR game with a slightly different coat of paint. It’s a game with a real perspective, a clear vision of what it wants to be, and the mechanics to back it up. If you want to run a campaign that actually feels medieval, this is one of the best tools out there.

Character Creation

Character creation in Lion & Dragon is an experience in itself. Right from the jump, rolling 3d6 in order locks in that OSR philosophy—embracing the randomness of fate and making the best of what you get. No point-buy, no picking and choosing to min-max your way into an optimized build. You roll the dice, and that’s the hand you’re dealt.

That approach alone sets the tone for the game, reinforcing the idea that characters in this world aren’t always destined for greatness. Some are just struggling to survive, and that makes every hard-won victory feel even more meaningful.

What really stands out in Lion & Dragon is how much weight is put on social class. In most RPGs, you pick a class, grab some equipment, and head out on your merry way. Here, social standing isn’t just window dressing—it fundamentally shapes your character’s experience. Rolling for social class doesn’t just determine how much gold you start with; it affects what you’re allowed to own, how people treat you, and what kinds of opportunities are open to you.

A noble-born character has privileges but also obligations. A peasant might have the freedom to move unnoticed but will never be able to openly carry a sword without raising suspicion. This is the kind of thing that makes the setting feel alive, where who you are matters just as much as what you can do.

Then there’s the background skills and prior history events, and let me tell you, this is where things get really fun. You roll on a table and suddenly your character isn’t just a collection of stats—they have a past.

Maybe they were a “Lost Heir,” setting them up for a quest to reclaim their birthright. Maybe they were “Sent to the Tower” and now carry the weight of a past crime, real or otherwise. These elements are absolute gold for storytelling and roleplaying. They give the GM plenty of material to work with, and they force players to engage with the world in a way that feels organic. No two characters feel the same because their backgrounds bring something unique to the table.

The class selection also deserves some love because it’s so deeply tied to the setting. You’re not just picking a generic Fighter or Wizard. Fighters in Lion & Dragon exist within a feudal structure, and their skills reflect that reality. Thieves aren’t just sneaky rogues; they have to navigate the rigid social order to ply their trade.

And the Magister? That’s where things get really interesting. Instead of memorizing spells, Magisters engage in historical forms of magic—alchemy, astrology, summoning. They’re scholars of the occult, not just magical artillery. This alone makes them feel different from your standard OSR magic-user, and it reinforces the game’s commitment to historical authenticity.

There are also cultural classes, like the Scots Man and Cymri, which add another layer of depth. These aren’t just alternate names for Fighters or Rangers; they reflect distinct regional identities within the setting.

A Scots Man is tough as nails and thrives in brutal conditions, while a Cymri has a connection to old magic and folk traditions. These details make the world feel richer because the characters aren’t just adventurers—they come from specific backgrounds that influence how they interact with the setting.

Lion & Dragon takes character creation beyond just rolling stats and picking a class. Every choice, every roll adds depth, history, and connection to the game world. It’s not about making the most powerful character—it’s about crafting someone who belongs in this setting.

If you’re the kind of player or GM who loves watching characters grow organically, shaped by the world around them rather than just the player’s ambitions, then this system is a breath of fresh air. It sets up a game where roleplaying is as important as mechanics, and that’s exactly what makes Lion & Dragon stand out in the OSR scene.

Skills & Mechanics

The skills and mechanics in Lion & Dragon are exactly what I want from an OSR game—simple, flexible, and built for rulings over rules. There’s no bloated skill list, no unnecessary mechanics weighing things down, just a straightforward d20 roll with ability modifiers and the occasional skill bonus. The GM sets the difficulty, usually 10 for basic tasks, 15 for tougher ones, and 20 for the kind of challenges that should feel like a real struggle. That’s it. And honestly, that’s all you need.

This approach keeps the game fast and fluid. Instead of getting bogged down in whether someone has the right skill proficiency or debating the nuances of a complex skill system, the GM can just make a call based on the situation. It fits perfectly with the OSR philosophy of letting common sense and the game world dictate outcomes rather than relying on feats and abilities.

Players can attempt pretty much anything, and if it makes sense that their background or training would help, they get a bonus. If not, they roll straight and hope for the best.

What I really appreciate here is that it reinforces the idea that character backgrounds matter. The game doesn’t tell you exactly what you can or can’t do with a list of predefined skills; instead, it encourages players to think creatively and use their character’s experiences to justify their actions.

A former blacksmith might get a bonus to appraising weapons, a trained forester might have an edge in tracking, and a noble might instinctively understand court etiquette. It’s a system that rewards roleplaying without locking players into a rigid structure.

Another thing I love is how it handles group actions. Instead of everyone rolling separately, the character with the best relevant bonus makes the roll, and the others provide small bonuses if they can contribute. It keeps things moving and avoids the common RPG problem of “roll until someone succeeds.” There’s no artificial skill economy where characters have to min-max their proficiencies just to be useful.

The system assumes that some people are naturally better at things and lets that play out in a way that feels organic.

If you’re coming from a game with a heavier skill system, this might seem too loose at first, but in play, it just works. The best OSR games are about keeping things simple so the focus stays on the adventure, and Lion & Dragon nails that.

It gives you just enough structure to handle challenges without ever getting in the way of the story. For me, that’s exactly what I want from a skill system—light, intuitive, and completely in service to the world and the roleplaying experience.

Magic System in Lion & Dragon

The magic system in Lion & Dragon is one of the most refreshing takes on OSR spellcasting I’ve ever seen. It doesn’t just tweak existing mechanics or put a new spin on Vancian magic—it throws the whole concept out the window and replaces it with something that actually feels like it belongs in a medieval world. Instead of fireball-flinging wizards and priests who can heal on command, magic here is rare, dangerous, and deeply tied to historical mysticism. And I love that.

Magisters don’t just memorize spells and call it a day. They engage in summoning rituals, astrology, and alchemy—real-world magical traditions pulled straight from medieval grimoires. The process of summoning, for example, isn’t just “roll dice and a demon appears.” It involves preparation, study, and an understanding of demonology. If you mess up, the consequences aren’t just a wasted spell slot—things can go catastrophically wrong. That risk makes magic feel powerful again. It’s not just another tool in an adventurer’s kit; it’s a force to be reckoned with, one that requires knowledge and caution.

Then you’ve got Clerics, who don’t cast spells at all in the traditional sense. Instead, they perform miracles granted by divine favor. And here’s the thing—those miracles can be taken away just as easily as they were given. If a Cleric strays too far from their faith or loses the favor of their god, they can’t just “prepare spells” the next morning and go on like nothing happened. That alone makes religion feel meaningful in a way that most RPGs don’t. Faith isn’t just a background detail—it actively shapes what a character can do. A Cleric in Lion & Dragon isn’t just another adventurer with a different spell list; they’re a true servant of the divine, and their power depends on their relationship with their god.

This whole approach to magic changes the way spellcasting feels at the table. It’s no longer a game of resource management where you’re just counting slots and figuring out the optimal time to use Fireball. Instead, magic is something that takes time, effort, and sometimes real risk. It makes spellcasting feel more like an event rather than just another combat action, and that fits perfectly with the game’s medieval themes.

That being said, I can see how this could be a tough sell for some players. If they’re used to being able to toss cantrips all day and unleash arcane devastation at will, this is going to feel like a big shift. There’s no power fantasy here—no easy path to becoming an all-powerful mage. Magic in Lion & Dragon is slow, methodical, and often unpredictable. And that’s exactly why I love it. It reinforces the idea that magic is something rare and special, not something every adventuring party expects to have on tap.

At the end of the day, this is the kind of magic system that makes the game’s world feel alive. It’s rooted in real historical beliefs, and it makes players treat magic with the respect and caution it deserves. If you’re looking for a traditional OSR spellcasting system, this isn’t it. But if you want a magic system that feels like it belongs in an actual medieval world, Lion & Dragon delivers something unique and deeply immersive.

Equipment, Economy & Encumbrance in Lion & Dragon

The way Lion & Dragon handles equipment, economy, and encumbrance is another perfect example of how this game refuses to play by standard OSR conventions and instead commits fully to its medieval authenticity.

This isn’t a game where adventurers stroll into a shop and buy a longsword just because they have the coin. Money matters, but so does your social standing. A peasant carrying a sword is going to raise eyebrows at best and get arrested or executed at worst. Nobles have access to better gear, but that privilege comes with obligations.

The economy actually feels like a real feudal system rather than the typical “gold standard” economy where everyone—regardless of background—can just accumulate wealth and gear up however they please.

Coinage is based on actual medieval currencies, which is a small but impactful touch. Instead of defaulting to gold pieces as the universal measure of wealth, Lion & Dragon breaks it down into pennies, shillings, and pounds. That means a character’s wealth isn’t just some abstract number—it actually ties into how money functioned in the period. It’s a subtle shift, but it reinforces the setting’s realism.

Prices reflect real-world costs as well, so plate armor isn’t something every fighter can afford, and basic living expenses can drain a character’s purse if they’re not careful. Suddenly, wealth isn’t just a pile of loot to be spent at the next vendor—it’s something to be carefully managed, and that’s a fantastic change of pace.

Encumbrance is another area where the game takes a practical approach. Instead of relying on a rigid system that reduces everything to pure weight, it considers bulk and practicality. It’s less about tracking every pound and more about common sense—how much can you realistically carry before it slows you down?

This keeps bookkeeping to a minimum while still making inventory management meaningful. You can’t just haul around a ridiculous arsenal of weapons and expect to move freely, but at the same time, the system doesn’t bog you down with excessive number-crunching.

Overall, the game’s approach to equipment and economy does exactly what it sets out to do—it makes wealth, possessions, and status matter in a way that most RPGs don’t. Instead of treating gear as just another mechanic, it turns it into a roleplaying opportunity.

A character’s equipment says something about who they are and where they come from, and their ability to acquire and use certain items is directly tied to their social standing. That level of integration between mechanics and worldbuilding is rare, and it’s what makes Lion & Dragon such a standout in the OSR space.

Combat & Health in Lion & Dragon

Combat in Lion & Dragon feels exactly like it should in a game that prioritizes historical authenticity—gritty, brutal, and never something to take lightly. It sticks to the core OSR framework, but the added realism changes how you approach fights. You can’t just rush in, expecting to take a few hits and heal up later. Every encounter is a potential death sentence if you’re not careful, and that makes combat feel like a meaningful decision rather than a default solution to every problem.

Morale rules play a huge role, which I love because it means combat isn’t always about slaughtering everything on the battlefield. Enemies will break and flee when things turn against them, just as they would in real life. That small detail alone makes encounters more dynamic—suddenly, your goal isn’t just to kill everything, but to force enemies into retreat or surrender. Reaction rolls add another layer, making it clear that not every encounter has to end in bloodshed. This game doesn’t assume that every bandit or brigand is a mindless combatant; they have self-preservation instincts, and that changes how fights play out.

Then there’s healing, and let me tell you, Lion & Dragon does not mess around when it comes to making injuries feel significant. There’s no quick fix, no stockpile of healing potions, and no easy way to bounce back from a bad fight. If you get hurt, you’re going to be dealing with that injury for a while unless a Cleric intervenes with a miracle. And even then, miracles aren’t something you can just rely on like a standard healing spell. This means players have to think twice before jumping into combat, and they have to plan ahead for how they’re going to handle the aftermath of a fight. Do you have enough resources to recover? Do you even need to fight, or is there a smarter way to handle the situation?

The emphasis on punishing combat and slow healing creates a level of tension that’s missing from a lot of modern RPGs. It forces players to think tactically, avoid unnecessary fights, and appreciate the weight of every wound they take. When combat does happen, it feels impactful because the consequences are real. You’re not just hacking through enemies like a video game character who can rest and reset—you’re a person in a world where every battle is a risk.

For me, that’s what makes Lion & Dragon stand out. It doesn’t just copy old-school combat mechanics and call it a day. It builds on them in ways that make the world feel more dangerous and alive. Combat isn’t just a numbers game; it’s a real, visceral experience where every decision matters. If you’re looking for a game where fights are about more than just rolling dice, this is it.

Treasure, Monsters & Adventures in Lion & Dragon

The way Lion & Dragon handles treasure, monsters, and adventure design is just another example of how this game refuses to follow the usual fantasy RPG playbook. Treasure isn’t just about gold and magic weapons—it’s about things that would actually hold value in a medieval world. A chest of coins is great, sure, but a land deed? That’s real power. A religious relic? That could grant you influence with the church or even access to divine miracles.

The whole concept of wealth in this game isn’t just about how much you can carry; it’s about what that wealth means. That’s a huge shift from the usual OSR loot-and-sell economy, and I love it. Players have to think beyond just hoarding gold. What they find on their adventures could change their character’s entire standing in society, and that makes treasure feel far more meaningful.

Then there are the monsters, and this is where Lion & Dragon really sets itself apart. No generic bestiary of cannon fodder creatures. Instead, you’re facing threats pulled straight from medieval folklore—revenants, fae, demons.

These are things that people in the actual Middle Ages feared, and that fear carries over into the game. Monsters aren’t just combat encounters; they’re legends, nightmares, forces of chaos or divine wrath. A fae creature isn’t just a “woodland spirit”—it’s an unknowable, often dangerous being with motives beyond mortal comprehension. A revenant isn’t just an undead enemy to be chopped down—it’s a cursed soul that brings doom wherever it walks.

This approach makes the world feel more alive and more dangerous. There’s no expectation that every creature is meant to be fought and defeated. Some of them aren’t even meant to be understood. That forces players to engage with the setting in a different way.

Maybe you can’t kill that demon outright, but you can bargain with it—at your own risk.

Maybe the fae haunting the village isn’t something you fight, but something you appease, or trick, or avoid entirely.

It makes encounters feel unpredictable, which is exactly how it should be in a world based on medieval belief. And because of that, adventures in Lion & Dragon take on a very different tone.

It’s not just about dungeon crawls or monster hunts—it’s about navigating a world where supernatural forces exist, but they don’t play by your rules. Quests might revolve around uncovering lost relics, securing noble titles, or dealing with a local saint’s venerated remains being stolen. The stakes aren’t just about survival or wealth; they’re about reputation, influence, and power in a feudal society where those things matter more than brute force.

All of this makes Lion & Dragon feel like a completely different beast from most OSR games. It’s not about building up a stockpile of magic items or grinding through hordes of monsters. It’s about existing in a world that feels real, where the supernatural is rare, strange, and terrifying, and where treasure is more than just numbers on a character sheet. It forces players to engage with the setting in a way that feels fresh, immersive, and genuinely medieval. If you’re looking for an OSR game that does something truly different, this is it.

Final Thoughts on Lion & Dragon

Lion & Dragon isn’t just another OSR game—it’s something that completely redefines what “medieval fantasy” actually means at the table.

Instead of leaning into the comfortable conventions we’ve all gotten used to—fireball-slinging wizards, gold-hoarding adventurers, and freewheeling dungeon crawls—it forces you to step into a world that feels like actual medieval history with all its rigid social structures, religious influence, and a supernatural presence that’s strange, dangerous, and never fully understood. It’s immersive, it’s challenging, and it demands that players engage with the world in a way that most OSR games simply don’t.

That being said, this isn’t going to be for everyone. If your group thrives on the high-magic, free-form adventure style of traditional D&D, Lion & Dragon might feel restrictive. There are no easy ways to heal up after a fight, no magic items just lying around for the taking, and no assumption that adventurers are anything but a rare breed navigating a world where status, power, and influence matter just as much—if not more—than steel and spellcraft. This is a game that asks players to respect the setting, to play within the constraints of a real feudal society, and to think carefully before they act.

But, if you’re like me, and that sounds like your kind of thing, then this game is absolutely worth buying! It offers one of the most unique takes on the OSR genre I’ve ever seen.

It doesn’t just recreate the mechanics of early RPGs—it completely rethinks the way fantasy should feel, drawing on history, folklore, and medieval belief systems to create something that’s as immersive as it is unforgiving.

It’s perfect for GMs who love running historically inspired settings and for players who want a fantasy world that doesn’t just pay lip service to medieval ideas but fully embraces them.

At the end of the day, Lion & Dragon isn’t just another system—it’s an experience. If you’re looking for something that actually feels like stepping into a medieval world, it delivers in spades! I highly recommend it for OSR enthusiasts who want something fresh, immersive, and completely unlike anything else in the space.

But I want to know what you think! Drop a comment below and let me know what you think of Lion & Dragon. Do you own it? Have you played it? What did YOU think? Let me know!

And hey, if you want to pick up a copy of Lion & Dragon, good news! You can purchase Lion & Dragon at DriveThruRPG here!

Until next time, don your mail, speak your prayers, and tread carefully beneath the gaze of heaven, for the world of Lion & Dragon is cold, the shadows are long, so may the dice roll ever in your favor…

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