Fiend Folio Friday: Monsters as Dungeon Features

The Crypt Thing looking cryptic

Among my least favorite monsters in all of D&D are the creatures I think of as dungeon features disguised as monsters. Examples in the AD&D include Gelatinous Cubes, trappers, mimics, piercers, and shriekers. They aren't really monsters, they're traps or puzzles disguised as monsters. Which isn't really the heart of the problem -- the problem is that they are one-shot critters who are just part of the arbitrary weirdness of the dungeon. Sure you can make them work, but why not just use a trap or a puzzle? Expecially given the really weird nature of the critters you end up putting in the dungeon.

The Disenchanter.

The Fiend Folio has its own share of these kinds of monsters. Some are moderately clever to use once, like the Crypt Thing. Of course, the undead fake-out in appearance and the teleportation trick seem more clever to implement, and more disappointing on discovery. The real point of this is to put a monster in the dungeon that seems one thing, but is really an atmospheric teleportation trap. This might be cool in a megadungeon, and screws up mapping, but really is an annoying f-you from the DM.

The Jaculi

The Disenchanter follows up in the fine annoying tradition of the Rust Monster as a way of taking away your character's stuff. Again, this is the kind of thing to put in your megadungeon as a scary obstacle, a motivation to find more magical stuff or, more likely, to undo the mistake of having a vorpal sword in that treasury on level 2. Mostly, the purpose of such monsters is to remind the players that you can take away their stuff at any point.

Bilbo hates Stunjellies.

The Goldbug, like ear seekers or rot grubs, mostly exists to remind players that the dungeon-delving that is supposed to be the goal of the megadungeon you designed, is a stupid thing to do. Like the ear seekers existing to make players hesitate to listen at doors or the rot grub existing to make your characters hesitate to loot bodies, the gold bug is there to make players wonder about picking up gold, because it's a bug that looks like a gold piece, except that it can kill you with a poison bite. Sure, it's loosely based on the title of a Poe story. But mosty, it's a trap your thief can't disarm. The Jaculi, on the other hand, is a spear trap that slithers up to reset itself. And that your thief also cannot disarm. It's a snake that launches itself from trees or pillars like a javelin, then slithers back to height to do it again.

The Tentamort gets busy

Stunjellies are definitely in the Gelatinous Cube-Trapper-Lurker Above-Mimic family of killer creatures disguised as part of the dungeon. Again, while this does a great deal to build up paranoia about the megadungeon setting, these things really have no place outside of the megadungeon. And used more than once or twice become tedious at best, annoying at worst. Even the slimes and jellies can be that way. They also promote the kind of paranoid delving that lead to a desire to create ways to speed up play like rot grubs and ear seekers. Add things like the tentamort, which can crush one character while turning another character's bones to jelly, and you end up with a family of monsters that are just death traps that can be killed, and which add to the nonsensical nature of the dungeon. Now, you can get all Philotomy Jurament on my ass and tell me about the dungeon as mythical underground, but monsters like this don't feel mythical at all. They feel cynical. I get more inspiration from watching Labyrinth than I do from stunjellies and tentamorts, despite the gratuitous David Bowie musical numbers.

The Vortex

The Vortex is, on the other hand, a way to justify a trap. The idea of some sort of whirlwind that traps characters who get into the room is interesting, but maybe you don't want to have elementals, or some site of high-tech fans, or a magical trap. So instead, it's a living ball that makes a whirlwind. Personally, I'd rather go with the fans.

Of course, much of this reflects my dislike of the dungeon as a setting. This may revoke my old-school card, but dungeons are generally pretty dull. The ones I have thrown in over the years tended to be small, focused settings. A ruined building. Some mines. A place to explore with a purpose and get out of. I tired of megadungeons a year into running D&D in the 1980s, and while I have tried to like them now as an adult as gonzo fun, I just can't do it.

Draft Disease Rules

Version one of a set of disease rules, if I ever decide to actually have mechanics for this sort of thing. These do take some elements of 4e disease rules as an influence.

Diseases are defined by the following five traits:

1. Exposure: how a character is exposed to the disease.
2. Incubation Period: how long it takes for the disease to manifest.
3. Effect: progressive effects of disease on the infected.

• Stage 1: Initial infection.
• Stage 2: Ongoing infection.
• Stage 3: Advanced infection.

4. Treatment: non-magical ways to help a person recover.
5. Recovery: any lingering aftereffects of the disease.

• On initial exposure, the character must save vs. poison or become infected.
• After the incubation period, the disease begins taking effect.
• Each day, the character must make a save vs. poison or move on to the next stage of infection.
• If the character is given treatment, each day they may also make a save to improve to a lower level of infection (stage 3 to stage 2, etc.) A successful save for patients at Stage One leads characters to the Recovery stage.

My first impression is that this may be too mechanical for regular use, but could provide a way to run a significant disease, like a plague. So in this case, let’s make up a plague to run rampant through Haven, the Red Death.

1. Exposure: contaminated drinking water or food.
2. Incubation Period: 1d6 days after exposure.
3. Effect: progressive effects of disease on the infected.
• Stage 1: Fever, stomach cramping, weakness. Cannot engage in extended physical activity and takes -1/-5% penalty to all actions.
• Stage 2: Fever, light bleeding from tear ducts, bloody stools. Cannot tolerate solid food. Cannot engage in extended physical activity and takes -3/-15% penalty to all actions. Moves at half speed.
• Stage 3: Fever, sores, light bleeding from all orifices. Not able to engage in combat or significant action. Barely able to stand or move. Cannot hold down food at all. Hallucinations. Will die in 2d6 days in absolute misery.
4. Treatment: Clean water, cold compresses, liquid diet, bed rest, bloodwort tea, leeches.
5. Recovery: After recovery, patient is still exhausted. Cannot engage in extended physical activity and takes -1/-5% penalty to all actions for 1d6 days.

This means that to recover, barring a cure disease spell, a character must be on bed rest with cold compresses, drinking soup and bloodwort tea, and getting leeches under the eye of a helpful caretaker to get better, or linger in illness -- or worse, progress closer to painful, debilitated death.


This can be a useful conundrum in a situation where time is of the essence, and a PC is needed to be on the case, but the plague is spreading at the same time. Maybe. I don't know, but I'm putting it out there in case someone else feels like tinkering or using the rules, too.

After watching Labyrinth on Netflix instant play.

It had been a while since I last saw Labyrinth, probably on VHS. I had forgotten many things about this film:

• The gratuitous Bowie musical numbers. Not enough to be a musical, just enough to make me wonder why they were there (other than the fact that it seemed a shame to have Bowie there and not have him sing.)
• The CGI owl. How much did that cost them? Boy, the effect didn't age as well as the puppets, which were great.
• The fact that most of the characters in the rest of the film appear as toys and items in Sarah's room as they pan through it. I told my wife that I think this clearly means that this film is really the day that Sarah finally has a psychotic break as she begins manifesting severe schizophrenia as an adolescent. She thought that this was probably not the point of the film.
• How young Jennifer Connelly was. Which is a sign of my middle-age, since I'm only three years older than her. But I did like the fact that, unlike many 80s film, they hired a 15-ish girl to play a 15 year old.

The film is ripe with ideas to steal for those old-schoolers interested in building megadungeons. There are puzzles, tricks, and traps galore, some of which are basically steampunky in design, and thus might fit well into your own megadungeon. But playing out that Escher-inspired final room would be a bit of a challenge.

Other than that, it is an uneven film. High on imagination, filled with great puppetry, but often seeming to veer around without strong mooring in mood, style or plot. Never so badly as to ruin the experience, but enough that in its day it was a box-office flop, with audiences unsure of whether or not this was a children's movie or what it was supposed to be.

Brainstorming Ideas for Disease Rules

In the real world, disease is a big deal. In literature, disease is a big deal. Disease is a cool thing to work with -- it has been imbued with supernatural import (the wrath of God, as it were), moral import (a sign of corruption), and horrific value. Whether it's the bubonic plague, the Red Death, or a zombie plague, disease is a trope that seems to have great value.

But from the appearance of disease rules in Supplement II: Blackmoor, disease rules in D&D have left me lukewarm, either with too much detail or seeming to focus on combat effect rather than feeling like illnesses. Now granted, rules for poison also suck (save or die? Ability damage?What about writing in agony? Slow lingering death? Seeming illness and weakness?), so this isn't much of a surprise.

So, since I am 1) working on a city campaign and 2) recently watched Black Death, I need to come up with some rules for disease that are interesting and simple (even though a cleric of 5th or 6th level or higher, depending on your flavor of rules, could easily cure the disease.) Anyone know of a simple way to put diseases in play (I admit, I am a mediocre rules designer at best)?

I may just wing it, writing up a narrative description of symptoms and some notes on how it may be communicated, then think of ways to use disease as a mystery or  puzzle to solve, and then happily avoid disease from then on.

San Diego Comicon

My wife is again between jobs, so my summer vacation is turning to a staycation... and an opportunity to work on my dissertation a little, too. But for the first of my two weeks off, I will be at the San Diego Comicon International. I'm a local, but I only go to the con these days to see some old friends from Santa Cruz and to help out another pair friends by working in their booth. I will be there on Wednesday (for preview night), Friday, and Saturday hawking t-shirts and Lovecraftian goodies for my friends Brian and Gwen from Sighco Graphics. And taking a few breaks to wander the floor.
 

Help my failing middle-aged mind

A while back, I downloaded a pdf from a blog that I have since lost. It was a simple campaign log booklet that could be printed in digest form. Any clues where it could be found?

Legal Assassination in Aquila

Assassination is permitted under Aquilan law under specific circumstances. The Aquilans refer to legal assassination euphemistically as "a game of darts." Such contests must follow certain rules.

First, the games may be between nobles or between commoners (such as merchants), but cannot cross those lines.

Second, games of darts must involve guild assassins, not amateurs.

Third, games must be declared openly, allowing targets a full day to prepare, including hiring their own assassins.

Games end when targets are dead or when the assassins involved are dead. A game may only be played between particular participants once a month.

Dart games are frowned upon if used excessively or if largely focused on secondary targets, such as a rival's children. They mostly serve as a redress to slights or as an alternative to vendettas.

Haven under Aquilan law has embraced this tradition both among its nobles and its merchant and guild houses. Many Kemari, though, consider the practice unsavory or immoral.