I discussed this a few months ago on google+, but it seems pertinent to go into some more detail here.
The ability of large monsters to swallow their prey whole is a time honored part of the game. But as best I can tell, there’s not actually a lot of detail on how it’s supposed to work. The AD&D DMG doesn’t mention it in the index, and in the monster manual it tends to simply state that the swallowing happens. Such as this entry for the T-Rex:
“This monster will pursue and eat nearly anything, engulfing man-sized creatures whole on a rolle of 18 or better.”
That’s the end of the entry. A perfectly reasonable interpretation would be that a character who is swallowed whole is now dead. But that feels pretty cheap. A more interesting idea is that the character is now in a state of limbo. If the remaining party members slay the beast then their friend can be saved; if the monster gets away, then their friend is dead.
But shitty movie cliches and lenient referees have convinced most players that being swallowed whole is somehow actually beneficial to them. After all, their sword can’t exactly miss when they’re entirely surrounded by the soft and vulnerable flesh of a monsters insides, right?
From the player’s perspective,though, it’s not an entirely unreasonable request to want to continue fighting so long as they’re still alive and have a reasonable expectation of being conscious. So I think we have to give them the opportunity. But the mechanics of the situation need to represent the fact that the players are at a severe disadvantage. If they actually manage to free themselves, then it should be impressive not because the imagery is so cool (it isn’t. It’s cliche and boring). It should be impressive because the odds of success seemed so incredibly remote.
SO, Miscreated Creatures will include a set of “Standard Swallowed Whole” rules in its appendix. Monsters will either swallow whole according to the Standard Rules, or they will list their deviation from such. I haven’t 100% settled on how the Standard Rules should look yet, but this is where I’m sitting currently:
When a character is swallowed whole, they must succeed on a save versus Paralyzation to determine if they keep hold of their weapon. Bludgeoning weapons like hammers or fists are useless. It’s impossible to get sufficient momentum with such weapons to do any good. Whips fail for the same reason. Most ranged weapons, such as bows, are similarly useless. Guns work, but cannot be reloaded once fired. Any weapon that is too long (a spear, a pike, a musket) wont’ be able to be swallowed correctly, and will thus be broken in half when swallowed. Characters who make their save will be able to use any slicing or piercing weapons they can hold on to.
Attacks made while swallowed whole automatically hit, unless a 1 or 2 is rolled, in which case the character loses their weapon and can’t get it back. Otherwise, roll damage. The creatures takes only half of the damage rolled. Creatures who swallow live prey do not have delicate stomach tissue.
The acids and lack of breathable air within a creatures stomach will be suffocating for any character trapped within. After 1 + Constitution Modifier rounds, a character must make a save versus Poison each round in order to remain conscious. Swallowed characters take 10% of their total hit points as damage each adventuring turn.
Using these rules, a swallowed character’s ability to resist will likely end within only a few rounds. Even a high level halfling with 18 CON has a 10% chance to succumb each round after the 4. But their death will be slow, allowing their companions time to rescue them by hunting down and slaying the creature even if it flees.
These rules are a little over complicated perhaps. Much as I like simple rules, I have a habit of writing rules the way Pathfinder taught me to. TL;DR:
Save v. Para to determine if you can hold onto your weapon. Awkward weapons don’t work. 1-2 attack roll drops weapon, all others are hits that deal 1/2 damage. Save v. Poison to stay awake after 1 + Con Modifier rounds. Take 10% damage each adventuring turn.
Of course, some monsters will have steel bellies that can’t be harmed, or their bellies will be full of fire that kills you very quickly. Unpredictability is the name of the game. But I think this forms a good basis from which to adjudicate monsters that swallow characters whole.
Of late, I’ve been working harder on tabletop stuff than I think I ever have before. I have a lot to write about. Unfortunately, I can’t share any of it. I’ve been trying to increase the amount of work I do on my monster book each week, since at my present rate I’m progressing too slowly to finish it within the single year that I promised. Of course, I can’t share any of that content, since it’s part of a book, and it’s no fun sharing bits of it before it’s done! I’ve also been working on the Dungeon Moon game, which of course I can’t share because the entire goal of that setting is to run it for other people in the online tabletop community. Spoiling all of its secrets simply won’t do! I already cheated a little bit by posting the toy rowboat on Friday.
It’s been suggested that I ought to write about my processes and challenges with these projects, which seems interesting enough. Lets try that.
One of my goals with this monster book is to make every line of writing count. In reading other monster books (both mainstream and indie) as research, I’ve found the amount of wasted space very frustrating. Perhaps I simply don’t care about the kinds of things which other people care about. That’s entirely possible, I do have a bit of an odd perspective. Regardless, I want every line of writing in here to be a line of writing that I would be happy to pay for. Once you have it in your hands, you can tell me if I’ve succeeded in that.
Before starting on my second drafts, I tried to figure out some unique sections I could include in my monster entries. Information which was useful and interesting, and which most monster manuals don’t have. Among other things, I was linked to a person who suggested “Rumor Tables.”
“That’s a pretty cool idea!” I thought. “A small list of rumors the players might hear, which might send them off in search of this new unknown creature. I like it!” So I’ve been including it. But I’ve written a fair number of second drafts, now, and I’m starting to feel less certain of that decision.
For one thing, I feel as though they’re starting to get repetitive. I find it difficult to write more than one or two for a given monster. I’ve been playing with the style a bit, trying to find the best way to make it work. I think I like rumors best when they’re written in the style of a crazy story related by a yokel. Here are a few examples of rumors I’ve drafted.
Call me crazy all you like, but I swear, I’ve walked that path through the woods a dozen times. And that boulder has never been there before!
An elderly leatherworker has heard tell of a creature whose skin is tougher than stone. He’s getting on in years, and he’d love to create one last masterwork before he retires. If someone were to bring him the skin of such a creature, he’d reward them handsomely…
Something happened in the village just east of here. Everybody is dead, and no one quite knows why. The only person who got out alive was the blind beggar.
Three of farmer Logan’s pigs were slaughtered and eaten last night. It looks to be the work of a wild animal, but the only thing big enough to leave those marks is a bear. And with 3 feet of snow on the ground, you can bet none of those are out and about!
I was talking to this feller the other day, and he just up and walked away from me. “Help, I don’t know where I’m going!” he shouted. “Then stop walking!” I says to him. “I can’t!” he whined. Pft. Can’t stop walking. Dumbest joke I’ve ever heard. Haven’t seen him since, though.
I was doing my business in the bushes out on the road, when a fine looking woman passed through. Strangest thing, she didn’t have no horse or guards, or more than simple clothing. Still she musta been loaded, figuring as she wore diamonds on her face, like spectacles!
Are these really that useful? It’s starting to feel like all I’m doing is imagining a non-fatal encounter with a monster, and then jotting down a way the PCs could learn about that. I’m starting to doubt that this is worth the page space it’s taking up.
Further, I’ve also begun to wonder if I completely misunderstood what was meant by “rumor tables.” I understood it to mean a list of adventure hooks. Perhaps what was actually meant was “A list of rumors about the creature which may or may not be true,” like what Courtney does with his Ecology posts.
As I mentioned the other day, I’m working on a monster book. The project is going swimmingly so far. For awhile I focused on creating a binder filled with ideas for monsters. Anything from a doodle, to a fully developed creature I’ve used in my own games. After I finished cataloging all of the stray ideas I had already come up with (in the process of which coming up with twice as many NEW ideas, which also had to be cataloged), I started drafting. The goal with drafting is to figure out the broad thrust of what the monster will be like, and work it into a playtestable state. In the last few weeks when rolling an encounter, I’ve just used a random page from my drafts binder. Everything has turned out better than expected so far.
Now that I’ve had the opportunity to playtest some of the drafted monsters, though, I’m starting to wonder about making more formal drafts. All I have for most of the monsters is mechanics and either a doodle, or a short description of their appearance. What else ought to be included? The obvious essentials for every monster are art, statblocks, and descriptions of abilities. That last one is the most problematic, since some monsters have abilities which can be described in a paragraph, while others have more complex abilities requiring 3 or 4. My favorite LotFP monster so far (The Watcher’s Second Creature from Better than Any Man) requires no less than 7 paragraphs to fully describe. With such a wide variance in essential information, I’m not sure how to plan a standard set of supplementary information.
Here’s stuff I’d like to include.
A bit about the monster’s origins and typical behavior. Not much, mind you, since I don’t think many people find this sort of thing quite as interesting as I do. Over-explaining a monster’s ecology has been a failing of mine in the past which I’m determined not to repeat with this project. All the same, I think it’s nice to include a little background. Maybe the monster came from hell, or was created by a priest trying to rid his town of non-believers, or was crafted by a wizard, or a mad peasant who got very lucky with some gibberish he was screaming. I enjoy coming up with that information, I think I just need to present it in a much more concise form than I have in the past.
Brief, written descriptions. If you own a recent D&D or Pathfinder monster book, you’ve probably seen the italic text right under the monster’s name. Such as for the Ogre: “This lumbering giant’s beady eyes are devoid of wit or kindness, and its puffy face features a mouth with ill-fitting teeth.” I think this is a great addition to a monster book. Sure, a person gifted with descriptive talents could easily draw upon the art for this, but for those who are not, a line or two like this can provide a good springboard.
Rumor tables / plot hooks which might inform the players about the monster, and lead them to hunting it down. This would be particularly useful not only because it’s a great assistance to the GM, but also because it’s easy to vary in size. If the monster’s abilities required 10 paragraphs to describe, include only 3 rumors. If the abilities took 2 paragraphs to describe, include 10 rumors.
Size scale. This one actually shouldn’t take any additional space. My idea is to find open source silhouettes of humans (which I’m sure shouldn’t be too hard) then place them somewhere in the art, and scale them so that their size is correct, relative to whatever monster is depicted in the image.
What to do with dead bodies. I find this idea particularly fascinating. In every game I’ve ever run, at least one player wants to make armor or weapons out of a dead monster’s body parts. Wouldn’t it be cool if monster bodies had some explicitly spelled out uses?
Quick reference icons. Another idea from Pathfinder’s bestiaries, where every monster has a number of icons next to their name indicating the creature’s type, native terrain, and preferred climate. While the informational content in Pathfinder’s books isn’t terribly interesting to me, the method of communicating it is. What if intelligent monsters had a little brain next to their name, to let the GM know that these monsters could talk & make deals with players, while any creature without a brain would act as a beast. What other icons might be useful?
I’d be interested to hear my readers thoughts on these. What information is important to you, and what information isn’t?
Last week I posted regarding Vampiric Hierarchy, detailing how the hidden society of vampires interact with one another in my campaign worlds. With that out of the way, I’ll move on to specific vampire types, and a broad generalization about what those types represent. But that’s all which can be offered here: generalizations. A player would be a fool to assume two vampires of the same type will present the same challenge, because the curse of the nosferatu affects each of its victims in a unique way. As the great monster hunter Van Richten wrote, “Unfortunately, there is no such thing as a ‘typical vampire.’ Vampires are perhaps the most individualistic of undead. What is true for one is an outright–and dangerously misleading–falsehood for another.”
Types According to Hierarchical Ranking
Fledgelings are newly created vampires, and the lowest on the vampiric hierarchy. Since vampires gain in power as they progress in age, a fledgelings powers are understandably weak compared to most of their brethren. Their strength and spell-like abilities have not yet come into their full potential. Each fledgeling develops at a different rate, but it is common for the vampire’s physical abilities–great strength and speed, the ability to climb walls as a spider would, resistance to mundane weapons, etc.–to be available immediately upon the vampire’s creation. While the more mystical and subtle of a vampire’s abilities, such as domination or changing shape, often take longer to develop. Conversely, all of a vampire’s weaknesses are in full effect immediately after a fledgelings creation, and in most cases the fledgeling is significantly more vulnerable to them than a more powerful vampire would be. While a vampire Lord, for example, might survive several seconds in sunlight, a vampire fledgeling would be instantly incinerated by it.
Coven Vampire. Though stronger than fledgelings, coven vampires are considered weak because they were unable to rise to the rank of soldier or lord/lady. Most commonly, coven vampires live in groups of 5-30, though larger covens have been known to exist. A coven vampire’s abilities are developed more fully than a fledgeling’s, but coven vampires cannot create spawn. In a game like Pathfinder, coven vampires would not have PC class levels.
Soldiers are most likely the vampires which you find under “V” in your Bestiary, Monster Manual, or what have you. They are fearsome foes with full mastery of all the basic vampire abilities. They can create fledgelings if they so choose, but the creation of fledgelings is often considered a declaration that the Vampire wishes to establish themselves as a Lord or Lady in their own right. Despite the title ‘soldier,’ this rank does not necessarily imply that the vampire fills a combat role. In addition to bodyguards and warriors, soldier vampires can include advisers, diplomats, or even consorts. A fully developed vampire who is in direct service to their Lord or Lady is termed a soldier, regardless of specific occupation.
Lord and Lady vampires are undead aristocracy. They rule over impressive lairs or even castles. Occasionally they will even rule over a populace of the living, keeping their unlife a secret by shrouding themselves behind layers of bureaucracy, or using a trusted majordomo to carry out their edicts. Vampiric Lords and Ladies have grown in power beyond anything which could be called ‘typical.’ It is at this level of power which a vampire’s unique traits truly begin to emerge. Some vampires gain physical prowess in the extreme, becoming far stronger and faster even than their already strong and fast fellows. Others may gain unnatural mystical prowess, allowing them to call upon more powerful versions of their spell like abilities, or even developing new abilities altogether. Still others may actually become resistant to their vampire weaknesses, allowing them to ignore the upheld holy symbol of a cleric, or walk freely across running water. And the older a vampire grows, the more powerful they will inevitably become.
First is a rank which cannot be achieved through a vampire’s growing power. While even a commoner could rise to the level of Vampire Lord if they had enough ambition and talent, the rank of First Lord and First Lady is reserved for those who are a direct descendent of the Highlord or Queen of their bloodline. And while a Lord or Lady’s power may be immense, the power of a first dwarfs it. The purity of the curse which afflicts a vampiric first allows them to evolve at twice the speed of any vampires they or their descendents create.
Highlords and Queens are without peer. Often they are so powerful, that they are immune to typical vampire weaknesses. Even sunlights, while painful and disorienting, cannot destroy without prolonged exposure. These rulers of vampiric bloodlines frequently have unique and devastating powers. For example, The Blind Empress, a vampiric queen, was actually capable of causing a solar eclipse, allowing herself and her vampire warriors to devastate rival bloodlines easily by attacking them during the day. Highlords and Queens also develop physical changes as well. To again use The Blind Empress as an example, she had permanent wings, and skin which cut like a blade.
Anomalous Types
Feral Vampires are hungry. They have been without any blood for months, or even years, and they have lost their grip on reality. A feral vampire is a beast who pursues blood without a thought for subtlety or personal safety. Mind you, feral vampires will not foolishly destroy themselves, and they maintain enough intelligence to recognize and avoid danger. But they will brazenly attack in plain view of dozens of people, and they are not very good at keeping track of how much time they have remaining until sunrise. The only cure for a feral vampire is to consume massive amounts of blood. The equivalent of about 100-200 people in the space of a week. Any fledgelings created by a feral vampire will be feral themselves, and incurable.
When a vampire goes feral, it draws a great deal of attention to itself. For this reason, feral vampires are typically hunted down and killed by other vampires. The last thing anybody wants is for one vampire to go on a killing spree, and inspire a dozen towns to put bounties on vampire teeth.
Recovered Feral vampires are uncommon, since most are either killed by those they wish to hunt, or by their fellow vampires. However, it does occur, and when it does the effects of their feral period are not kind to the vampire’s appearance. Their face becomes much more sunken, and their teeth and fingers both become much longer, even to the point of being somewhat unwieldy. While most vampires are able to pass for human if the need arises, a feral vampire would be unable to do that without great difficulty. They appear much more like an animated corpse than their fellows, and will always lust for blood more than a typical vampire would. Recovered ferals are generally looked down upon within vampire society.
Rhonin Vampires are a rare breed. Somehow they managed to overcome the powerful magics which prevent a vampire from ever attacking their master. Every time their attention was diverted, or they lost consciousness, they powered through, until they had broken the magic’s hold over them. At this ponit they are already dangerously unbalanced, and the final act of killing their own master drives them fully into maddness. They become completely severed from their bloodline. Normally they are left to their own devices, and their maddness is used as a deterring example to other vampires.
Damphyr, or ‘half vampires’ can come about in several ways, none of them common. A pregnant woman who is turned into a fledgeling, for example, will not give birth to a full vampire, since the child was already partially formed prior to her transformation. Likewise, it is sometimes possible for congress between a vampire and a living mortal to result in pregnancy. The child who is born part vampire does not have access to the full range of vampiric abilities, but does have many of the traits of their vampiric parent, though to a lesser degree. Damphyrs are also afflicted by a vampire’s weaknesses, though again, to a lesser degree than their parent. A Damphyr can go out in daylight, for example, but will find the experience both painful and disorienting. If a damphyr refrains from consuming blood, then both their powers, and their weaknesses, will lessen over time, allowing them to live as a normal member of their species. If at any time they do consume blood, though, their powers will return in full force.
Survivor Vampire. After a vampire is nearly destroyed by one of its weaknesses, they occasionally develop an illness which incapacitates them for weeks. This illness is extremely painful and draining, requiring the vampire to feed a great deal more often than normal. When the illness ends, the vampire will find they have become resistant to the harmful agent which caused the illness. For example, a vampire who was nearly destroyed by sunlight would be able to last in sunlight for up to a minute without dying. Or a vampire who was doused in holy water would find they now had greater resistance to holy magics.
Revenant – Spectral vampires. The exact method of their creation is unknown, but it is suspected that they are destroyed vampires who have been reanimated through the most powerful and evil necromatic magics imaginable. Revenants lose the ability to create spawn, as well as any interest in participating in the political machinations of vampire society. They are indiscriminate death-dealers who spread disease and discord wherever they go. In many ways they are like feral vampires. But while ferals are driven by hunger to become beasts without intellect, revenants are driven by hate to become beasts without affection or restraint.
If I had to select a single fantasy creature as my favorite, I don’t think there’s any competition for the vampire. I know it’s not a particularly original answer, but I don’t care even slightly. Vampires take everything I love about the macabre, and inject it with intellect, and grace. As monsters they tap into something so primal within the human psyche, that an equivalent to the vampire can be found in dozens of folkloric traditions. And as characters, vampires project an air of dignity, and elegance. The allure of the vampire is strong, which is why so many excellent tomes have been written about them already. The AD&D 2nd edition Ravenloft supplement “Van Richten’s Guide to Vampires” has a special place on the shelf above my desk.
I don’t think my take on vampires is even particularly original. At best you could call it an amalgam of traditions. Regardless of how original it is, though, the way I depict vampires in my games is something I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about. I’m happy with it, and the Halloween season seems like as good a time as any to share what I’ve devised. In this post I’ll cover the hierarchy of vampire society, while a later post will detail specific types of vampires.
The basic structure of vampiric hierarchies is the bloodline. Each campaign world has between one and five elder bloodlines active. Typically a bloodline will include hundreds, thousands, or even tens of thousands of vampires, scattered all throughout the world. Relationships between different bloodlines may vary, but no two will ever form anything more than a temporary alliance. It is always the ultimate goal of every vampiric bloodline to eliminate all others.
While vampires of different bloodlines may not have any distinguishing features to a casual observer, the creatures themselves are able to determine what bloodline another vampire belongs to based on appearance. This ability is not magical in any way, but instead is based on minor physical features which may not be regarded as important to a mortal. The shape and size of teeth is a common indication, as is the hue of the eyes and the palor of the skin.
Each bloodline is led by either a highlord, or a queen vampire. Every other member of a bloodline is descended directly from them. Unlike most vampires, highlords and queens were not (for the most part) created by having their blood consumed by another vampire. Instead they are rare creatures who were granted the gift of eternal unlife by a powerful demon or evil god. Rarely the Logos itself creates a vampire when a person of sufficient evil and temperament dies. It is also possible for a mortal to become a highlord or queen if they fully consume the blood of a vampire. This would both destroy the vampire, and cause the mortal to die and rise again as the first of a new bloodline. This last method is almost entirely unheard of, and only a select few know that it is even possible.
Often, young highlords and queens do not last long, unless they sequester themselves in a small area of the world and make no attempt to grow their bloodline. Even then, elder bloodlines are uncomfortable with the prospect of young bloodlines growing powerful enough to challenge them. A newly risen highlord or queen may quickly find themselves marked for assassination by the elder bloodlines if they are not careful to maintain a low profile.
The vast majority of vampires are not highlords or queens, though. Most are created when another vampire drains the blood of a mortal, killing them. The victim (whether they are willing or not), then rises as a fledgeling vampire subservient to their creator. At first, a fledgeling will be completely obedient to and reliant upon their master. As time passes and the fledgeling grows stronger, however, they will gain some measure of independence from their creator. As they grow in power, a fledgeling may become a member of a coven, or soldier for their master. Someday they may even become powerful enough to be a Lord or Lady in their own right. Though no matter how powerful a vampire becomes, they can never disobey a direct order from, nor can they plot against their creator. Nor can they disobey or plot against their creator’s creator, nor any other vampire they are descended from, all the way back to the highlord or queen of their bloodline. This restriction is not a social one, but rather it is a simple fact of a vampire’s nature. Any attempt to plot against one’s master would likely result in immediate distraction, and a concerted effort would only cause a loss of consciousness.
Which isn’t to say vampires haven’t found loopholes in the past. But it is not easy, nor is it common.
Within the first hundred years or so of their existence, fledgeling vampires are expected to become powerful enough to serve their masters as soldiers. Soldier vampires, while not independent from their creator as a lord or lady is, are none the less respected, and normally well treated by their masters. Some vampires are even content to remain soldiers, without seeking to establish themselves as a lord or lady in their own right.
When a fledgeling is not strong enough to rise to the rank of soldier, they are relegated to a coven. These groups, often composed of several dozen vampires, are the lowest rung of a vampiric bloodline. They are regarded as failures who must band together in order to survive. While they do ostensibly serve their creators directly, as soldiers do, most vampire lords and ladies have no use for their covens. Most covens are thus established far from their master’s home, and are called upon only rarely to serve. Covens are only created by common Lords and Ladies. The vampires created by Highlords, Queens, and Firsts are always powerful enough to become soldiers and lords. Though there has been some speculation that these high ranking vampires may merely kill their weak fledgelings to maintain this illusion.
Occasionally an upstart adventurer will actually succeed in killing a vampire lord or lady, creating a hole in the hierarchy of the bloodline. Any fledgelings created by that vampire are immediately destroyed or driven mad by the destruction of their master. Any soldier vampires which do not die protecting their master will likely be recruited by another vampire lord or lady in the same bloodline. If they do not wish to serve another, the soldier may attempt to become a lord or lady in their own right. Covens left behind by a destroyed vampire are either forgotten about and left entirely to their own devices, or destroyed by more powerful vampires who do not wish to leave any loose ends which may cause problems down the line. All of the vampires which were created by a deceased lord or lady become a little more free. However, they are still subservient to the remaining vampires from which they are descended.
In the rare event that a Highlord or Queen vampire is killed, every vampire in their bloodline with 6HD or less is immediately destroyed. Every other vampire in their bloodline takes 1d12 damage per hit die. So a vampire with 10HD would take 10d12 damage if the Queen of their bloodline were destroyed. A bloodline which loses its leader is often reduced to beneath half of its former strength in the space of a heartbeat. When this happens, any surviving first lords and ladies are presented with an interesting choice. They may opt to separate from their bloodline, and declare themselves and their descendants to be a new bloodline altogether. Alternatively, if a single First is able to consume the blood from, and destroy, every other First within their bloodline, then they may seize control of whatever remains.
Given the nature of vampires, the destruction of a Highlord or Queen almost always results in a bloody scramble for power among the remaining Firsts. After which the victor must move quickly to defend their severely weakened bloodline from any challenger bloodlines who would use this opportunity to destroy them.
The Fotavyon is a huge reptilian creature which lives primarily near swamps and bogs, or occasionally around underground pools. When standing on all four of its spindly, almost spider-like limbs, the creature is about 8ft tall, and 20ft from nose to tail. It is covered in hard scales, with small groupings of feathers on certain areas of its body. The coloring and location of these feathers is unique to each fotavyon, sometimes lining the jaw or forming a crest on the head, or even covering the entirety of the tail. The only feathers which are consistent for each fotavyon are the ones on the the creatures legs, which flay black like vestigial wings. These do not allow the creature to fly, but it does sometimes use them to leap, or to flap threateningly at an intruder while emitting a deafeningly loud, chrip-squawk sound.
Fotayvons have an elongated jaw, with numerous rows of teeth, and eyes mounted on the sides of their head. Their body is lean, and ends in a strange tube-like tail, with a large orifice on the end of it. The creatures four legs are lean and muscular. While at rest, these limbs orient upwards from the creature’s body, and are turned down at the elbow, with long forelegs so they can reach the ground. Each of the four legs ends in a three fingered claw with an oppasble digit, allowing Fotayvons to pick up objects and manipulate them as a human would, though they lack the intelligence to make use of this ability to make tools or other objects. Though they have occasionally been known to improvise crude weapons such as clubs or stones.
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of this species is that all of its members are female. Or, more accurately, the females of the species are the only ones anyone is likely to recognize as a living creature. The males of the species are microscopic organisms which live in a slimy substance which is excreted whenever the creature lays an egg from the orifice on its tail. When the egg hatches, the newly born female eats this slime for sustenance, and in doing so, also consumes the fotayvon males. The microscopic creatures then live as parasites within their mate’s stomach for the rest of her life.
The digestive process of the fotayvon female creates a large amount of noxious, poison gas. An interesting aspect of the fotayvon anatomy is that this gas is expelled not directly through an orifice, but is instead placed within the creature’s unfertilized eggs, which it must constantly produce in order to siphon off this gas. The unfertilized eggs are under immense pressure from this gas, and if an egg is cracked, the gas will tear the egg apart quickly. Once exposed to oxygen, the gas ignites, and expands rapidly. Occasionally, however, one of the fotayvon males will travel to the egg sac of its mate, and enter one of its eggs. The male then dies, releasing a chemical which neutralizes the dangerous gas, as well as fertilizing the egg.
Fotayvons typically bury their eggs, if it is possible, leaving only a small part of it exposed for the potential child to climb out of. Most fotayvon lairs are surrounded by a small field of slime and mostly buried eggs. The fact that 99% of these eggs are explosive prevents most predators from attempting to eat the eggs, and surroundings its lair with what is essentially a minefield is the fotayvon’s best defense against aggressors.
Fotavyon
Moving on spider-like legs, a reptilian creature approaches, ruffling the feathers that cover its body menacingly.
AC 19, touch 15, flat-footed 12 [10 + Dex(7) – Size(2) + Natural(4)] HP 116 (11 HD, 1d10) Fort +8 Ref +14 Will +4;
OFFENSE
Speed 100 ft. Climb 40ft. Swim 20ft (Water’s surface only) Melee +22/+17 Bite (2d8)(Piercing)(May choose to grapple on successful bite attack) Melee +22/+17 Slam (2d6)(Bludgeoning) Ranged +17 Egg Hurl (5d6)(2d6 splash)(40ft)(Fire Damage)(Noxious Cloud)
STATISTICS
Str 33 Dex 24 Con 16 Int 2 Wis 13 Cha 08 BAB +10/5; CMB 32; CMD 39 Languages None SQ Quick Initiative, Egg Hurl, flying leap
SPECIAL ABILITIES
Quick Initiative +4 to Initiative Rolls Egg Hurl Once per day, the Fotavyon expels an egg through its tail orifice. If in combat, it can make a ranged attack to attempt to hurl one of its eggs at an attacker. An egg created during the stress of combat will never be fertilized. Flying Leap Using its feathered limbs, a fotavyon can make impressive flying leaps, easily covering distances of up to 50ft with a single bound. Explosive Eggs When a fotavyon’s egg explodes, it deals 5d6 damage to anyone standing within 5ft of it, and 2d6 damage to anyone standing within 10ft of it. This damage is from the flames and pressure of the gas expanding and igniting. After the initial explosion, a cloud of fumes is left in a 15ft radius from the egg’s location. Anyone who ends their turn in these fumes will be paralyzed until they are taken out of the fumes and given a turn to rest, or until the fumes dissipate 10 rounds later. The fotavyon will often attack this paralyzed character first. ‘Mine’ field The slime covering a fotavyon’s egg field is harmless in and of itself. It is slightly slippery, but not enough to cause any penalties.
ECOLOGY
Environment Wetlands, or dank caves. They enjoy moist, cool environments. Organization Solitary Activity Cycle Fotavyons are diurnal, so they function during the day and sleep at night. Diet Fish, small mammals; Natural Enemies Dragons, occasionally. Treasure Typical
Lately it seems as though all I post about is the Legend of Zelda Adventure System that I’ve been working on. Which isn’t really surprising, I’m inspired to work on it and I don’t have anything else related to tabletop games drawing my attention right now. I enjoy the OD&D game I participate in on Monday but don’t have a lot to say about it beyond that, and it’s been awhile since my Pathfinder group has found time to get together. So when I work on tabletop stuff, it’s focused on the Legend of Zelda.
But I thought that instead of posting another monster constructed with a half-finished monster system, I’d adapt one of the most classic Zelda enemies to Pathfinder: The octorock. It’s a land-based octopus that shoots rocks out of its mouth. Literally, that’s how it was originally conceived. See?
As with all of my recent Zelda work, however, I’m using the Link to the Past as my source. That game’s conception of the creature was a little less silly looking I think. Unfortunately, there is no art for the creature that I am aware of, but I did find this nice image of the game’s sprite:
I’d also like to note that starting with this post, and from now on, I will not be using the ‘proper’ methods for creating monsters in Pathfinder. It takes far too long, and the results are not worth the effort it involves. My monsters will have no skills, nor will they have any feats, nor will they be constructed with painstaking care to ensure that the CR is “accurate.” Personally, I don’t even use the CR anymore, preferring that my players learn the fine art of running away if they encounter something beyond their ability. I’ll still include the most accurate CR I can, but it will be estimated, not calculated.
Pathfinder Octorok
The Octorok is an aberration which makes its home in plains. It is often incorrectly assumed that the octorok prefers plains of dirt, but this is only an illusion. Octoroks often migrate to grassy plains rich in plant and insect life, but they quickly overgraze the land, reducing it to an expanse of dirt where the creatures must forage for worms, beetles, and nutrient-rich soil.
Part of this confusion rises from the assumption that the nozzle on an Octorok’s face is a ‘mouth.’ For lack of a better word, it is in fact a kind of sphincter which the octorok uses to expel waste products. The octorok’s actual ‘mouth’ is an unusual scooping apparatus located on the bottom of its body. Octoroks feed by moving across the ground at high speeds, picking up soil, insects, and plant life as they do so. The octorok’s digestive tract quickly siphons part of this collection into the octorok’s stomach, where it is digested and used to produce energy. Meanwhile, any unneeded food, or inedible substances such as stones, are shunted to the octorok’s colon, where they are coated in an unusual kind of adhesive juice which is actually quite valuable if it can be harvested. This organ shapes the ‘leftovers’ into a solid ball, which the octorok can hurl with some force from its forward nozzle. The ball formed by this process is quite hard, making this hurling ability an effective defense mechanism for the octorok.
While similar in appearance to the aquatic Octopus, Octoroks differ in a number of important ways to help them survive and thrive on land. On close inspection, their eight ‘legs’ more closely resemble the bodies of snakes than they do the suckered tentacles of a cephalopod. While these legs might not seem practical, they actually allow this aberration to move much faster than many larger creatures. Most of the Octorok’s body is also covered by a soft ‘shell’ which protects the creature from most attacks. While this shell is not calcified as a turtle’s shell is, meaning it can be pierced or cut, it is actually much more resistant to cracking, and distributes the force of an impact more effectively. This is a useful ability when traveling in a herd of creatures which are constantly hurling heavy objects around.
Octorok
A dull red creature darts past you on a mass of wriggling legs. A strange nozzle protrudes from its face.
AC 17, touch 17, flat-footed 12 [10 + Dex(5) +Size(2)] HP 3 DR 3/Slashing, Piercing Fort +9 Ref +4 Will +5;
OFFENSE
Speed 45 ft. Melee +2 Slam (1d4)(Bludgeoning) Ranged +7 Rok Hurl (1d6)(15ft)(Bludgeoning)
STATISTICS
Str 10 Dex 20 Con 10 Int 2 Wis 14 Cha 10 BAB +2; CMB -2; CMD 13 Languages None SQ Quick Initiative
ECOLOGY
Environment Plains. They prefer grassy plains, but quickly reduce these to large expanses of dirt. Organization A ‘Tangle’ of Octoroks is usually between 6 and 20. They are rarely seen in smaller groups. Activity Cycle Octoroks are diurnal, so they function during the day and sleep at night. Diet Plants, Insects, Earthworms, Nutrient-Rich Soil; Natural Enemies Hawks, Leevers, Most Medium-Large Aberrations Treasure Typically None
If you haven’t yet, there’s only today and tomorrow left to fill out the first annual Papers & Pencils survey! It honestly means a lot to me, so if you enjoy the blog, and you have a couple minutes, I would really appreciate your time!
It’s been a long while since I made a Merciless Monsters post. The Draugr were all the way back in March, and my only attempt since then was when I adapted Telecanter’s work in April. For awhile after the Draugr, I avoided writing another MM because they took so damned long to get done. Then I had my big rant denouncing Pathfinder’s complex methods of stat block creation. Since then I haven’t really been sure about how to approach making monsters. I figure I ought to come up with my own style of Pathfinder-compatible statblock which allows monsters to be built faster, but I haven’t gotten there yet.
So instead, I thought it would be fun to waste everyone’s time by working out some of the monsters for my in-progress LOZAS system. Below are two of the monsters which will appear in that game, built using the current iteration of the rules. First is the Skeleton, which I’ve included to serve as a connection between the tried-and-true (skeletons in fantasy RPGs) and the new-fangled (the LOZAS system). The other creature, which I’m currently calling a Popo, is a little more unusual, and to my knowledge hasn’t appeared in a tabletop RPG before.
None of these rules are quite pinned down yet, so these creatures may end up changing before I’m done. I’ve also added some commentary to the statblocks, to explain my reasons for making certain choices. Despite my joke above, I hope you find this enjoyable rather than annoying. The survey isn’t over until tomorrow, but a lot of people have noted that they’d like to read more about my amateur game design.
Skeleton
HP 8 AC 20 Body 10; Agility 26; Wisdom 3 Speed 40 Special Protection: Skeletons take no damage from piercing weapons unless it is a critical hit. Special Weakness None Attacks Claw (+5/1dmg); Throw Bone (50ft)(+8/1dmg) Special Moves
Disengage: As an action, the skeleton may leap straight back 20-50ft. If there is a wall within that range, the skeleton is not harmed by colliding with it, instead gracefully sliding down the wall to land at the bottom.
Stealthy: A sneaking skeleton is able to move with complete silence, and hide itself within deep shadows. While sneaking, a skeleton can move at full speed. While hiding in deep shadows, it must remain still while it is being observed, or it will be revealed.
Description With magically animated joints the skeleton glides silently across the stone floors of a crypt. While the creature was once a person, all flesh and humanity have been stripped from it, leaving only a collection of bones with a fervent desire to harm the living. Skeletons are created either by powerful and evil sages, or by the sheer evil presence of a monster even more merciless than itself.
Tactics Skeletons much prefer to fight from range, breaking off spare bones from their rib cage and throwing them with deadly accuracy. If a skeleton ever ends up in melee range, it will sometimes attack with its claws, but its immediate reaction is to leap straight backward. Skeletons are not very bright creatures. They’re barely more than an automaton, with only a rudimentary understanding of friend & foe, and not much ability to think ahead. Clever players could potentially trick a skeleton into using its disengage ability to take a blind leap into lava, or some other dangerous substance.
Design Notes In this game, the the range of human ability can go as low as a score 2, and as high as a 22. Given that, the skeleton shown here has an average body score, extremely low wisdom score, and supernaturally high agility score. Lacking the constraints of flesh and sinew, skeletons are more flexible and fast than the world’s greatest gymnasts and runners. I’ve never liked the portrayal of skeletons as level 1 cannon fodder, possibly because of my love for the 1963 film Jason and the Argonauts. My hope is to make them a little more menacing in this game.
While individual GMs are free to run the skeleton however they like, obviously, I thought it would be fun to play up the graceful aspect of the skeleton, making it a quick, stealthy foe. I particularly like the idea of skeletons being able to avoid melee range, thus allowing them to force their foes to use arrows–which they are immune to.
Popo
HP 2 AC 12 Body 16; Agility 11; Wisdom 5 Speed 30 Special Protection: None Special Weakness None Attacks Constricting Barbs (Auto-hit on entangled foes/1dmg) Special Moves
Entangle: If a popo enters the same space as a target, then that target becomes entangled. The target cannot move until the popo is either killed or shaken free with a successful agility check. Once entangled, a target is vulnerable to the popo’s Constricting Barbs attack, which does not require any attack roll.
Description ‘A multicolored mass of wriggling tentacles with no other recognizable anatomy” is the simplest way to describe the popo’s appearance. While primarily colored in shades of orange and purple, a popo’s tentacles can fall anywhere on the color spectrum. The creature uses its bright colors and wriggling movements to attract potential predators. Once it is attacked, the popo latches on tightly, extruding small barbs which allow it to draw bloody sustenance from its would-be attacker. Even the strongest or most agile creatures find it difficult to rid themselves of a popo once it has latched on.
Tactics Popos are simple creatures who live in ‘clusters’ which generally range from 4-10. Often, members of a cluster will hunt separately. But when threatened, the creatures demonstrate remarkably unity by gathering together, and moving in union. In doing so, they cover a larger surface area than a single popo would, making it more difficult for attacks to avoid getting their feet entangled.
Design Notes I’m experimenting with mechanics which have ‘absolute’ results in this game. Above, you saw how the skeleton is almost completely immune to piercing weapons (as opposed to Pathfinder, where skeletons have DR/bludgeoning). The popo is another example of a mechanic with an absolute outcome: if the popo enters the same area as a PC, that PC is entangled. No saving throw or chance to avoid it. The player’s best chance to avoid being entangled by a popo is to deprive the monster of the opportunity in the first place.
You might note that all of the attacks mentioned deal a set amount of damage, rather than a dice range. At present, the game uses different rules for monsters and players in this regard. On the one hand, monsters can have any number of HP, and player weapons deal damage using a dice range. Players, on the other hand, start with only 3 HP, which can be increased one at a time by adventuring, and discovering magical items which allow them to resist wounds beyond what a normal human could sustain.
I don’t really like that method very much, but it’s what I’m working with for now.
A new species of termite was discovered recently. That, in itself, is hardly news. New species are discovered all the time, and in fact, I recall hearing that there are many thousands of undocumented insect species in particular. But what makes this species worthy of note is that they explode. No, seriously. When the worker termites grow old, they can fill a cyst on their backs with toxic crystals which have been produced throughout their lifetime. Once the ‘backpack’ cyst is full, it bursts, killing both the termite, and any enemies unfortunate enough to be caught in range of his toxic explosive.
My first thought when I read about these was “Wow, all those video games with exploding insects suddenly have a lot more grounding in reality.”
The scientists who documented this find even released some brief video footage of the phenomena. It’s a little difficult to make out, and it only shows the cyst filling, not exploding. None the less, it’s a fascinating discovery, and one which prompted me to finally cover a subject which I’ve been thinking about for several months now.
Animals are strange. Exploding termites aren’t even the most bizarre creatures I’ve heard of. Did you know that many species of shark fight their siblings to death while still growing in their mother’s womb? Or that some species of hermaphroditic gastropods fight each other to determine which one of them has to be the female? And then there’s shit which just looks strange, like the soft shelled turtle. And for me, the strangest part about these creatures, is that I’ve never seen anything in a tabletop game based on them. The world is filled with potential monsters, all we need to do is make ’em big enough to eat an adventurer.
Angler Fish: I’ve linked before to The Oatmal’s excellent description of the life of a male angler fish, but I’m linking to it again, and if you haven’t read it, you should. Anglers are fascinating, and still very mysterious, creatures. You could base a dozen different monsters off of them, but here I’m specifically interested in the fact that the skin of the female absorbs the male, and uses his remains for reproduction. A Pathfinder monster could do the same thing. Except instead of luring the males of the monster’s species, the creature could instead lure male adventurers. Once their skin touches the monster’s flesh, the contact poison the beast secretes would begin to melt the adventurer, until nothing was left but his testicles. (Or, if you’d like to go more creepy and less vulgar, nothing is left but his expressionless face).
Speaking of angler fish, I just noticed…were they the inspiration for the modern design of the Beholder?
Traumatic Insemination: One of the most interesting things about animals is the way they have sex. Often that’s where the truly unique and bizarre aspects of an animal really come out. I’ve made an effort to avoid filling this list with dicks (which was not easy, let me tell you)! But this one has fascinated me for years, and it translates well to a game.
Essentially, many species of invertebrates do not have external female genitalia. Not even a Cloaca. So since there’s no opening, the male’s phallus makes one. It stabs the female in the abdomen with a sharp phallus, and that’s how insemination is handled. It’s gruesome, kinda disturbing, and a perfect way to fuck with your adventurers. I’m not saying your game should be filled with dagger-dicks (though I did once post a dick-dagger…) but why not have a prehensile blade extending from a monster’s chest, or back? The creature gets an extra attack with it, and upon scoring a critical hit, the monster implants a parasitic larva within the victim, a-la the Alien films.
The Almighty Squid Worm I really don’t have anything specific to say about this creature, or how it acts, or the abilities it has. But I marvel at it’s profoundly alien shape. These are the dreams of a mad god.
The Hagfish: Ocean life is often the most unusual. As humans, we’re at least somewhat familiar with what it’s like to live on land. Legs are a good way to get around, warmth is needed to keep our bodies functional, light is useful to help us understand our surroundings, and so on. Creatures which have adapted to living deep underwater need none of these things. And, as such, serve as perfect inspiration for game masters hoping to create interesting monsters.
The Hagfish is one such creature. For starters, it has a skull, but no column of vertebra. To my knowledge, it is the only known species where this occurs, and that is awesome. But far more interesting to potential monster-creators is its slime. Hagfish can exude insane amounts of slime which reacts with the water around it. If the Hagfish is captured, this slime can clog the gills of an attacking fish, suffocating it. And after it does so, the Hagfish needs to literally tie itself into a knot to clean itself off, restoring its own gill function.
Imagine a creature which could excrete goo which expanded into a foam capable of filling dungeon corridors. Or a giant hagfish which waited until adventurers tried to swim across its pool, only to quickly turn the water around it into a thick gooey substance which is impossible to swim through.
Elephants: A long time ago, Elephants captured the imaginations of the western world. They were huge, majestic, and interesting. And because of the way Elephants captured the imaginations of our ancestors, they had become ubiquitous by the time we were born. While we were growing up, we regularly saw elephants depicted in drawings and cartoons. Most of us even saw them up close at a zoo. I personally, find them somewhat boring.
Then I remember that they have a FUCKING THIRTEEN FOOT LONG, PREHENSILE NOSE. WHAT THE FUCK!?
It’s funny, actually, because I have a difficult time imagining a fantasy creature where such a thing doesn’t look goofy. Yet on an elephant it has a certain majesty, appearing almost regal.
Vampire Squid:Vampire is an acquired template which any intelligent creature can gain if their life force is completely drained by another vampire. But if a mer-person gains the vampiric template, surely they don’t turn into a vampire bat, right? So what do they turn into?
This:
Based on what I’ve read, the Vampire Squid is quite unique. Its order is somewhere between that of a squid and an octopus. It is almost entirely covered in a special organ called a Photophore, which can produce light. The creature can either use a quick flash to disorient attackers, or can sustain its light for several minutes at a time. The vampire squid’s “cape” is covered in spines which, while technically harmless, look quite dangerous. When threatened, it will turn its cape inside out, making itself appear larger, and covered in dangerous-looking spines.
This post could keep going on forever. There are hundreds and thousands of creatures with unusual anatomies or abilities ripe for use crafting monsters. I’m sure the subject will come up again in the future–though someone with a better grounding in biology would probably do a much better job than I can.
One of the frequent criticisms of Dungeons and Dragons 3.0 is that it made monsters too complicated. It’s a criticism which D&D 3.5 and Pathfinder both inherited, and its one that I’ve offered some defense against in the past. However, having created several monsters of my own by now, I find that my resolve in this matter is weakening. When I’m preparing for a game, and I need unique monsters, I don’t employ an elaborate series of rules for constructing the statblock. I take my concept, write down any information which I think will be relevant to play, and that’s that. The whole process takes 5 minutes. Maybe 15 if the monster is particularly complicated, or I’m being fiddly with the mechanics.
The only time I’ve ever actually followed the rules for creating monsters is when I was preparing that monster to be posted on Papers & Pencils. That’s a total of four times in my entire GMing career: The Corpse Sewn Hekatonkheires, the Bloody Avenger, the Draugr, and the three spiders I ganked from Telecanter. Every time it was a pain in the ass which lasted at least an hour, more often two. And what, precisely do I have to show for it? Do those monsters I created according to the official rules function more elegantly? Are they balanced better? Would players even notice a difference between a creature created in 15 minutes, and one created in two hours using the official rules?
No.
If the answer to any of the above questions was ‘yes,’ would it justify the extra time investment?
No.
Functionally, there’s very little difference between a monster I quickly jot down, and a monster I laboriously construct using the rules. Aside from the “statistics” block of information, all the same stuff is there. What else could you even conceivably remove? In combat you need to know a creature’s defenses and offenses. Ecology might not be strictly necessary, but it has a lot of value to GMs, and takes no real time to create. The reason the official monster creation method wastes so much time is not because of the volume of information it creates, it’s because of the ridiculously precise methodology it calls for. Every monster needs to have a certain amount of HD, and based on that can have a certain number of feats and skills.The monster’s statistics, HP, AC, saving throws, attack and damage rolls, all of it needs to be cross referenced with the desired CR of the creature, and anything that is raised requires something else to be lowered in response.
Ostensibly, the hope is that all of this will help GMs predict the how challenging a monster will be. Once the process is complete, you should theoretically be able to calculate a monster’s Challenge Rating, and know what level of adventurer it is appropriate for. Following the rules will ensure you don’t create a monster so overpowered that your players get murdered, and you won’t create a monster so underpowered that your players get bored.
For the moment, I’m going to set aside the question of whether or not a GM should even try to create “appropriate” challenges. For myself, I prefer that my players learn to run away now and again. If they never face a battle which is beyond them, then they’ll never be forced to look beyond combat for solutions. However, I can understand and appreciate the desire to have some kind of measuring stick for the level of challenge an encounter will present.
The problem is that after all the work this system puts us through to ‘calculate’ a monster’s challenge rating, it doesn’t even work. It doesn’t work because there’s no meaningful way to take a monster’s Special Abilities and Qualities into account when you’re trying to calculate CR. There’s not even a quarter of a page in the “Monster Creation” section of the bestiary devoted to the topic, and it’s the most important one. Pick up your bestiary, flip to any monster in the book. If that monster has a CR higher than 1, a guarantee you that the most important part of the statblock is the special abilities. Of course it is! If not for special abilities, then a monster is nothing more than a pile of calculations about how hard the monster hits, and how hard it is to kill. If monsters didn’t have special abilities, then there would hardly be any point to having a Bestiary at all.
I am not making the argument that Pathfinder needs a better system for determining how special abilities influence a monster’s CR. Special abilities often bend the rules, or create entirely new mechanics. They are far too varied for any system to properly take them into account, and any system which tried would be even more complicated than the one Pathfinder already uses. The argument I am making is that the official monster creation rules don’t even succeed at the one task they’re supposedly good for: accurately estimating a monster’s CR. And even if they were, it still wouldn’t be worth the time.
Then there’s the “statistics” block. Here you’ll find information on the monster’s six base abilities, it’s base attack bonus, it’s CMB and CMD, the feats it has, the skills it has along with any racial modifiers, and the languages it speaks. I confess that I find most of this to be at least marginally useful. Certainly it is essential to know the combat maneuver scores of anything the players might fight. And even if I don’t need to know the bonus that a Couatl has to its survival check, I can accept that others do. But what is gained by meticulously calculating how many skill points each of these creatures receives per hit die? Is it imperative that each monster can be reverse engineered, just so others can have the satisfaction of discovering that there was indeed an internal logic at play? I remember that after I had finished with the Corpse Sewn Hekatonkheires, I realized that I had forgotten to add feats. I then felt forced to search for ways to empower a monster which I knew was already powerful enough to suit my needs.
So what’s the solution? To be frank, I don’t have one right now. As I mentioned above, I see the value in challenge rating. It provides a measuring stick, and its never bad for a GM to have a fuller understanding of how something will impact their game. But I don’t think that measuring stick is worth the eternity required to achieve even the most uncertain result. For now, I’ll resign myself to making estimates about a creature’s abilities. Perhaps at some point in the future I’ll come up with and post a new system. But, for now, I think it’s simply important to acknowledge that the current system is bad. It is broken, and should not be used.
