F is for FLOATING EYE, THE!

Good heavens!  F also is quite barren.  Firbolgs and Fomorians both come to mind, both from celtic mythology- the Fir Bolg were a race that inhabited Ireland before the Tuatha De Danann, and the Fomorians were a semi-divine race that inhabited Ireland in ancient times.  Fomorians were chaotic and wild gods, as opposed to the Tuatha De Danann, who were more related to human civilization.


However, those are not what I want to talk about.  No.  I want to talk about the FLOATING EYE!  From out of the darkness- from behind a corner- from the depths of the chasm floats a hideous balloon-like appendage!  WONDER at the marvel of this disembodied organ!  COWER in terror, as you seek to avoid its commanding, chilling gaze!  CHOKE DOWN the bile that rises as you gaze upon its ghastly, noodly nerve-appendages!  Will it wrap its tentacles around you, turning you into a thrall for all time?  A body, finally, for the FLOATING EYE to possess?  Or will it blast your mind into jelly with a gaze, dominating you and turning you against your allies?  When you awaken, shaking off the effects of its staring madness, will you find yourself surrounded by these hideous man-sized monstrosities?  Or will you be alone, drenched in the blood of the fallen??

The vaguely recognizable shape, the trailing tentacular tubes of veins and nerves, the unrelenting stare- can it see in all directions, or does it need to face you to see you?  Can it hear?  Do its free-hanging nerves somehow, impossibly, pick up vibrations and thought waves hanging in the very air?  What is it?  WHY is it?  Is it, perhaps, some missing appendage, some sorcerous giant's misbehaving protuberance, split from its master until it is apologized to?

Some are large- the size of a man!  Some are merely the size of a head, while others are the size of a human eye, flying in swarms, screeching with unknown, infernal organs!  Will they dance over you, like so many fleshopoid insects?  Or will they merely implant their veins into you, using your body as a host until they've sucked you dry of all life!

The HORROR!  The HORROR!

Encounter Brainstorming

So in addition to work-related matters, I've also recently been thinking about running a D&D "Encounters" type group once a week after work; just a few people with persistent characters who meet regularly to run through a single encounter.

Obviously if you're only doing one encounter after work, they've got to be a cut above the average.  So I've been brainstorming.  Yesterday I managed to come up with 12 or so good ideas, and I've added one today that just popped into my head while I was reading.

Here are some samples:


1) Separate groups of two weaker monsters advance on each other.  When they meet, they combine into a much more powerful monster.
* Skeletons stand at one end guarding a Necromancer.  He casts a spell- from the other end, small Fire Elementals begin to spawn and advance on the Skeletons.  If a Fire Elemental reaches a Skeleton, the Skeleton transforms into a Flaming Skeleton- much stronger, more HP, more damaging fire attacks.
* Players are forced to split their focus between the boss (necromancer) and the trash (skeletons and fire elementals) to avoid the creation of more powerful adds.


2) Players fight their way up a spire.  From the top, a behemoth launches ranged AOE attacks down at them.  On the way, they fight through hordes of a protecting army.  When they reach the top, they must deal with the behemoth- splitting their damage between his sections, choosing either to damage his health or to hinder his ability to deal damage.
* Players must choose between expending their powers to reach the boss quickly (taking less damage from him on their ascent), or climbing more slowly to reach the boss with more powers left- but potentially less health or healing.


3) Boss creature spawns in a chasm, with two ledges flanking it.  His front side is heavily armored and impervious to damage, but his back is weak.  It’s too far to run- players must split their party, and focus on dealing as much damage as possible when he faces away, and withstanding his attacks when he’s facing them.
* Players must divide evenly, so that each smaller group can both withstand attacks and deal sufficient damage to force the creature to turn around.

9) A large zombie queen spits out her tongue and entraps one of the players within her hollowed, oozing ribcage.  Acid damage ensues, until the player is broken out.  The ribcage regenerates after a short period of time, and the cycle continues.

11) A few smaller, neutral creatures run by the players regularly, fleeing in the direction of the players, swollen and almost bursting with some black, pitch-like substance.  When slain through normal means, they simply die.  However, when the monstrous creature fighting the party hits them with its fire breath, they explode in a blast of burning pitch.


13) A priest has set up a pylon in a graveyard.  Hordes of undead attack, but the pylon periodically heals anyone nearby, helping the players face the far-greater-than-usual numbers of their foes.  There are two further options for specific mechanics, probably exclusive to each other:
A) The pylon can be damaged or healed.  If it falls below 50% health, it stops healing.  If it falls to 0, it is destroyed.  The undead will try to destroy the pylon, and the players must work to keep it functional (and battle their enemies) until the hordes are exhausted.
B) The pylon requires a ritual prayer to be repeated regularly.  The priest performs this prayer, but the undead can target the priest.  If the priest falls, then the players must take up the prayer, spending actions to keep the pylon active.

E is a Horrible Letter

There's like jack shit in E, guys.  It's really sad.  But there's still one cool E-monster...


So E is for Elf!

But not just any elf, and certainly not tolkein-elves.  We're talking German elves here.  You know, you're riding through the forest and your kid is like "aah, the elf-king!" and you're like "what the hell kid, there's no such thing" but he's like "OH GOD THE ELF-KING!" and you get really freaked out and feel prickles on the back of your neck and you ride like hell is at your heels but when you get to the church your KID IS DEAD!

That's because the Elf-king is real, he hates you, and he hates kids.  He steals their souls and locks them away in his dark underground tree-cavern, performing slave soul-child labor, crafting changelings.  If the Elf-king feels extremely benevolent towards you, because, say, you saved a daughter of his one time before she seduced you to bear another half-elven fey child, he MIGHT leave a changeling doll of twigs in the bed when he steals your kid away.  And the sad thing is, everyone else can see it's just a bundle of sticks with some rags wrapped around it, but you're totally convinced it's your kid.

If I run a traditional campaign anytime soon, all the elves are going to be like this.  There's maybe a few courts in the underworld, and they're constantly fighting brutally, and they constantly assault the surface world.  Why?  That's not the point!  They're still gonna do it anyway!  So they ride on top of giant toads and have ratling guards on their flanks, and cast glamers on anyone who sees them.  They have deals with will-o-the-wisps to lure people into swamps, where they'll sink into the murk, down where they're easier for the elves to reach.  Thing about being prisoner to an elf is that you can suffer all sorts of mistreatment, but you're in the world of the fey, and the natural laws aren't quite as strong as the domineering will of the elves; suffer all you want, but you won't have any release until they're done with you.

And if you're unlucky, they'll let you live.

D is for Doppelganger

So Doppelgangers, right?  At first glance, I was tempted to dismiss them.  A gray, featureless humanoid who can polymorph to look like anyone?  That's just like "The Thing" or "Invasion of the Body Snatchers," except with less flair.

And then I realized: Wait- Doppelgangers are just like "The Thing" or "Invasion of the Body Snatchers!"

"The Thing" was cool because there was this disgusting Thing that either looked like something completely recognizable (a dog, a human, a wolf, etc) or some hideous, foetal amalgamation of all sorts of creatures.  But ultimately the real horror of the story is that anyone could be The Thing- it was psychological horror at its best.

"The Invasion of the Body Snatchers" was cool because there were these emotionless alien "pod people" who would subsume you while you slept and create a duplicate, nearly indistinguishable from the original except for the utter lack of emotion.  The terror there was more of a zombie terror- something familiar turned into something slightly unfamiliar- but it was accomplished through the same means.

The trouble with Doppelgangers is that, to a certain extent, they're a known entity- "The Necromancer you just slew begins to melt and shift; after a few minutes, all that's left is a featureless grey body."  "Ooh, a doppelganger!"  That's not very exciting.  Also, what made the psychological horror movies above thrilling is that anyone could be the enemy!  In a game of Dungeons and Dragons, you know who your friends are- the people at the table- and you know who the enemies are- the DM, and almost anyone played by him.

Once these problems are identified, however, they become pretty easy to solve.

I think the key to solving the first issue is to introduce the fact that there are Doppelgangers at work very slowly.  The NPC the players should first unmask as a Doppelganger should be someone they've worked with for quite some time, and the players should be left to wonder how long they worked with an ally, and how long with an enemy.  Quickly, it should become clear that there's a conscious effort, on the part of a large (perhaps infinite?) group of Doppelgangers, to take over a region.  The threat is not just a single doppelganger working mischief- the threat should be an army of Doppelgangers, and you can't ever really know who's who.

Next comes the really mischevious part- ensure that one or two characters spends some time off on their own.  Take every player aside and roleplay a small interaction separate from the group.  And make it clear to one of the players that their character has been captured, and that when they return to the group, they are a Doppelganger, infiltrating the group but whose motives run directly counter to the real players.



Doppelgangers.  Featureless, pallid grey humanoids with four fingers to a hand, their central finger contoured like two fused together.  Everything about them is an amorphous, foetal suggestion of real features.  Given five minutes alone, they can morph their body to look like anyone they've spent five minutes with.  Where do they come from?  Who knows?  Some say they're fungal plant-creatures from deep within the bowels of the earth, slowly nursing an ancient hatred of surface dwellers.  Some say they're formless aliens descended from some region unknown.  Some even whisper that Doppelgangers are just a natural psycho-magical mutation of some normal humanoid; exposed to cosmic or arcane forces, and changed to a shadow of their former self, forever unable to recapture their original appearance.  What are their motives?  Do they disguise themselves among us for study?  For entertainment?  Or do they enjoy the sport of the deception, establishing trust with a target before moving in for the kill, allowing one of their own to move in place for further deception?

C is for Catoblepas

C turns out to be a somewhat scanty letter, as far as classic monsters go.  The Catoblepas and Cockatrice both come to mind, interestingly both known for turning their enemies to stone.

Unfortunately, turning your enemies to stone is, in the realm of beasts, solely relegated to the Basilisk, who is way cooler and way crankier.  If you want to go in the human direction, the Medusa (or maybe just "Medusa") is the clear victor.

Nevertheless, the Catoblepas has a number of other features that make it interesting.

First of all, it's got the body of an ox, and the head of a swine.  It will turn you to stone with its gaze, but fortunately it's always looking at the ground.  This is for two reasons: one, it's head is so heavy, it has trouble lifting it.  Two, it's neck is thin, long and loose, like an empty intestine.

The great black beast roams the plains and feeds exclusively on poisonous vegetation, which gives it a deadly poisonous breath.  Is there anything about this beast that can't kill you?  Unlikely.

What put the Catoblepas on the books?  The Catoblepas is an herbivore, probably a herd animal.  It can kill with a gaze, but it has a tough time gazing.  Its breath is poison, but why would you never need to get close?

Imagine early morning on a rolling plain.  The sky is gray, the air is cool, and mist hangs low on the ground.  As you gather your belongings and kick out the last of your campfire, you hear a snuffling nearby, but dismiss it- all manner of creatures call these plains their home.  You move slowly on your way, hoping the fog will clear soon.  The snuffling continues, and you see shapes looming in the fog- but the shapes are wrong.  Elongated, thin, bulky, bulbous- looking around you quickly come to the realization that you're surrounded.  In the middle of the herd, it's only a matter of time; the beasts could stampede, terrified by your presence; pressing closer, the oxygen could be sucked straight out of your lungs; following their lead, you keep your eyes down, but it's only a matter of time before you lock eyes with one.

Predators are obviously dangerous.  Without caution, prey animals can easily compete.

B is for...

Banderhobb
Basilisk
Bear
Beholder
Black Pudding
Blink Dog
Brownie
Bugbear
...


Banshee.  Down a street, in a dark alley, over the hill, from deep in the forests, from across a still, black lake, you hear a woman sobbing, wailing uncontrollably.  Her sorrow cuts her to the bone, and chills you to your core.  You don't want to hear her, you don't want to see her; she's not behaving appropriately.

But your callousness is your downfall, and it's too late for you.  The banshee cries uncontrollably over a death, but whose?  Is she crying for her last victim?  Does she cry for you?  Or does she cry for someone else entirely, and you're just collateral damage, your life force leeched from your body by the empty black of her grief?

Some say the Banshee was a poor woman, mourning the death of a child, a lover, a friend.  Alone in the world, her grief ignored by all, her sorrow grew unbearable.  Slowly it consumed her, and she remained in mourning even to her death.  But her sorrow was hungrier even than death, and she remains, wailing, grieving until the end of time, lashing out now at those who would ignore her sorrow.

A serpentine lower body, the upper body and face of a once beautiful woman, now decayed.  The banshee sits beside watery places, washing the blood out of someone's shirt.  You may be traveling with another, but your companion won't hear; when the banshee calls, she calls for you alone.  Your death is assured, and you are the only one who knows.

A is for Aboleth

A is for Aboleth, the abyssal ichthyoid.

Whenever you're wading in the water, especially when the waves and sand and silt and murk make it difficult to see, and you feel something slither against your feet, that's the Aboleth.  Some say it's enormous, the size of an island, or maybe even an entire continent, swimming down in the crushing depths.  Others say it's man-sized, swimming around on translucent jelly-like fins.  Is it a creature of brute strength, sucking ships down to the bottom of the ocean with its tentacles?  Or a creature of domineering mind, drawing strange souls to the ocean to stare for hours, looking, searching for something they don't quite understand?

The Aboleth is the song that beaches the whales, it is the sting of the man o war, the broken bottle in the surf.  The Aboleth is patient, and ageless.  Eternal as the tide, the Aboleth waits for prey to draw near.  A gelatinous body with a hundred eyes, all stinging tentacles and toothed suckers, a mind as unfathomable as the depths.  There are castles on the ocean floor, palaces and labyrinths and dungeons and spires and canyons, and it is here the Aboleth makes its home.

The Aboleth is what you can't see and what you don't know.  It is what you fear may be in the water, the slime on the bottom of your foot, the brief flutter against your leg.  You can't see it, you can't know it, you can't find it.  It sees you.  It knows you.  It finds you.

The Monster Alphabet

So Zak over at Playing DnD with Pornstars did this thing a while back where he went through the alphabet and wrote about some iconic monsters.  I will sorrowfully admit to reading some of it, but not all of it.

However, I really like the concept.  I'm copying his idea, both as a brainstorming exercise and because I've had Aboleths on my brain all day.


Without further ado, ladies and gentlemen, let us commence the Monster Alphabet!

Hoss Brainstorms a Questionnaire

I've been reading both the Dungeon Master's Guide 2 and a lot of Playing DnD With Pornstars lately, and both have some excellent comments about trying to discover what your players want and how to give it to them.

This is my brainstorming post for things-to-ask-players-so-we're-all-on-the-same-page-of-a-dnd-game-from-the-beginning.

1 - Do you want to BE, or SEE?  Some DnD games are about your character BEING weird, or BEING heroic, or BEING awesome.  Other DnD games are about a relatively unimportant nobody who nonetheless SEES weird shit, or SEES heroic circumstances, or SEES awesome worlds.  The former is a focus on the nature of the characters, because it's the characters that are weird/heroic/awesome or otherwise notable; the later is a focus on the nature of the world, because while the characters are just farm boys or scullery maids, the world is weird/heroic/awesome.

2 - Do you prefer weird fantasy or heroic fantasy?

Weird Fantasy: the heroes encounter a female bullywug that insists that it is a beautiful kobold maiden that's been transformed.  She only talks in rhyme, and hopping is her only method of transportation.  To restore her to her original swamp-lizard-halfling glory, the heroes must bring her the hair of the sorcerer who transformed her, which she must eat to turn back the transformation.

Heroic Fantasy: the heroes encounter a female bullywug that's responsible for the plague sweeping through the town.  In an epic battle against the bullywug cultists, the heroes stem the tide of filth and save the town.  Also, the mayor's buxom daughter was being held in a nearby cell- the heroes claim a handsomer-than-usual reward for her return.

3 - Do you prefer fighting or roleplaying?

4 - Do you prefer puzzles that the players have to figure out (like a number puzzle that everyone has to think about together, which unlocks the door) or puzzles that the characters have to figure out (some combination of skill checks or other actions by the characters unlocks the door)?

5 - Do you prefer Dungeons or Dragons?  Effectively, do you prefer fighting the environment (the dungeon as the primary enemy, with monsters as "flavor") or monsters (the dragon as the primary enemy, with traps/hazards/dungeon features as "flavor")?


Just a few for right now... others perhaps to follow at a later date.

Encounter of the Week: Fire Alarms

So part of this blog's purpose is to serve as a creative outlet, either with short stories, or gaming scenarios, or what have you.  Ideally, I'd like to do something creative in that manner once a week.

The scenario that's been bubbling around in my head this week is based around fire alarms.

Back when I was having trouble with my phone beeping, which I thought was my fire alarm beeping, my attention was called to the fact that fire alarms are very commanding.  When a fire alarm goes off, people pay attention, and I don't think it's just because of the volume, I think it's almost a classical conditioning response.  People pay attention to fire alarms because they've been trained to from a very young age.

So how to take advantage of that in an encounter?


In Dungeons and Dragons, I'm not the sort of DM who regularly incorporates sounds or music into the gaming session.  I think I've done it very infrequently, but I've read some good ideas on it.  Here's one encounter idea:

The Background: Strange noises, like howling gusts of wind, crackling lightning, and sonic bursts, have been coming from one of the dilapidated old buildings at the center of town.  Since the low-level noobish PCs have been bothering the local constabulary for work, the sheriff directs them thither.

The Lead In: The party is exploring through an abandoned building.  Because the building is in the midst of a populated city, the building is set up with working fire alarms; ritual sigils inscribed on walls or ceilings that detect the presence of flame within some number of squares.

The Encounter: The party kicks in the door on a few acolytes experimenting with some very expensive elemental crystals.  To protect themselves, the acolytes cast a quick summoning, drawing a few fire elementals into the room.

The Kicker: The DM has set up his computer with a loud and annoying looping fire alarm mp3.  When the Fire Elementals are summoned, and whenever they're within 5 squares of a Fire Alarm Sigil, the DM plays the mp3 at max volume.  Think of it as a hazard that affects the players instead of the characters, motivating the players to draw the fire elementals away from the Fire Alarm Sigils, thus motivating specific prioritization of enemies and movement around the battlefield.

The Caveat: Don't use this trick more than a few times.  Loud noises are annoying and you might have to find another group of players to torture.  Also, 4e fights tend to take a while, and long-lasting loud noises are even worse than short ones.  Even if it's not standard practice in your campaign, do everyone a favor and consider cutting hit points by 25% and letting enemies deal an extra 1[W] damage to the players when they're bloodied.  The fight will go faster, enemies will be more of a threat when bloodied, and the alarms will stop sooner.