On Gnomes and Titans

Recently, an old high school buddy of mine got inspired to go back and re-read some of the older rulesets of D&D, in part because of my gushing review of the Swords & Wizardry Legion stuff I was able to get my grubby mitts on.

He and I have a weird appreciation for gnomes as a PC race. When 4th Edition came out, there was a Youtube video explaining why tieflings were now PCs instead of gnomes. Ironically, it just cemented everything we like about gnomes. We both are infected with the old-school mind-set that if you can survive a dungeon with a pathetic excuse for a PC it says a lot about your skill as a player. Therefore, we understood this video as a challenge:



So, my friend decides he is going to make a 1e AD&D gnome character and consequently forwards me this quote:

"When being attacked by gnolls, bugbears, ogres, trolls, ogre magi, giants AND/OR TITANS (emphasis mine), gnome characters subtract 4 from their opponents' "to hit" dice rolls because of the gnomes' small size AND THEIR COMBAT SKILL AGAINST THESE MUCH BIGGER CREATURES (mine, again).

He also challenged me to figure out why a gnome would have combat skills against titans.

This rule is actually a remnant from Chainmail:

DWARVES (and Gnomes)…Although they are no threat to the larger creatures, Trolls, Ogres, and Giants find them hard to catch because of their small size, so count only one-half normal kills when Dwarves and Gnomes fight with them…

So, although gnomes are ineffectual at doing any damage to these types of creatures, from a tactical point of view, they do serve as a great way of slowing them down long enough to get stronger units in place to take the larger creatures out.

This rule is not found in OD&D, probably because it was assumed because the combat system used by OD&D was Chainmail. The d20 system everyone is familiar with today was the alternate combat system. As a consequence, this is not found in either Holmes or Moldvay but does find itself back in 1e AD&D with “Titan” added to the list of examples of creatures that have a hard time hitting dwarves and gnomes; however, 1e AD&D also adds that very curious phrase about combat skill…

If one takes a look at the Titan in the 1e AD&D Monster Manual, three intriguing aspects jump out:

1. Titans primarily live on other planes, but do occasionally visit the Prime Material Plane especially to mingle with Storm Giants.
2. Titans can use Invisibility at will and have access to a number of spells from both the magic-user and cleric spell lists.
3. Titans who use Protection from Evil get double the bonus against Lawful Evil creatures.

This paints a picture of a creature type that existed before there was a distinction between Arcane and Divine magic, who does not see other planes as their natural home, spent time specifically fighting Lawful Evil creatures but lost due to the fact the the Prime Material Plane is no longer their normal habitat.

There are two groups of creatures that immediately suggest themselves when one thinks of Lawful Evil: Humanoids and Devils. Only one of those groups lives on the Prime Material Plane.

I am now going to go down a path that necessitates an understanding of my reading of the relationship between various humanoids and Dwarves. You can find that post here.

The ancient being(s) that twisted elves and dwarves into various humanoids did so in an ongoing battle with Titans on the Prime Material Plane. In response, the Titans developed more powerful protection spells against the humanoids which made up the bulk of the armies they were fighting against. In response, the ancient(s) enslaved the dwarves to use as fodder against the titans and further twisted the dwarves into gnomes. Dwarves and gnomes are resistant to magic and gnomes are bread specifically to deal with illusionist magics (to fight invisible titans). Due to the fact that the protective magics of the titans were designed to fight Lawful Evil humanoids, when they came upon dwarves and gnomes, they were caught by surprise and underestimated the danger of their foes. As a consequence, the titans were driven off the prime material plane.

Thus, dwarves and gnomes have combat skills against titans because they were specifically bred to fight against them by the ancient(s) who twisted elves and dwarves in the first place.

Gamer ADD: Monster Manual II Part 9

Ecology of MMII Demi-Humans

As I have noted before, the MMII has two different elves within its pages: wild elves that are neutral fighter/druids and valley elves that are chaotic fighter/magic-users. When deciding which demi-humans to use for PC classes, I chose to use the wild elves. This is due not only to their PC-friendly alignment but also because they offer an interesting departure from the standard D&D elf.

Then porphyre77 opened a can of worms inside my head by suggesting that the Swanmay could also be an interesting stand-in for the elf. They are rangers and (for the purposes of a three-tier alignment system) are lawful. My brain immediately started linking the swanmay ability to shape change into a swan with the long list of normal animals that can be found in the MMII. Each animal became the basis for a different clan or tribe. Thus, elves are primarily ranger-types that can, depending on what clan they belong to, transform into an animal form.

I also made the connection that dwarves, as represented by the duergar, also have transformation powers: they grow big. Transformation is also implied by the mongrelmen and their chaotic morphology. Thus, shapeshifting becomes the common denominator of what it means to be a demi-human in an MMII-inspired world.

Chaos, in the form of arcane magic, has twisted both elves and dwarves into humanoid versions of themselves: valley elves and derro. Given that the undead in the MMII are largely dependent upon the existence of necromancy to bring them to unlife, it follows that there ought to be a twisted version of the mongrelman that dabbles in such nasty magic. This could be the origin of the implied necromancer.

Finally, there is one more creature in the MMII that is a shapeshifter: the wolfwere. These nefarious hunters have very fey-like powers: music that casts the equivalent of a slow spell on its listeners and they can only be harmed by cold-iron or magic weapons. This suggests that there are tribes of elves that have gone “wild” — thus the moniker wild elf. These clans, to certain degrees, have lost themselves in their animal forms. Thus, they range in alignment from neutral to chaotic.

Given that the “example” of a lawful elf transforms into a swan and a “wild” elf transforms into a wolf, it follows that the mammalian clans are the ones most likely to have gone wild, with the carnivorous ones being the most likely to have fallen into a chaotic world-view. In turn, the avian clans are the ones that still hold onto their “elfishness.”

Ecology of the Hobgoblin

I don’t know about you, but I have long felt that the hobgoblin is the most neglected of all the “primary” goblinoid races. They just feel like an afterthought. This has also long bothered me because of all the various humanoids and goblinoids that exist in the game of D&D, hobgoblins are my favorite. This is in large part due to the way they are depicted in the MM1, especially the illustration that looks kinda like this:

Due to this rendering, I have always thought of hobgoblins as having an altogether different order of civilization and culture than other goblinoids. Recently, I have been meditating upon the ecology of the hobgoblin and had an epiphany, which I’d rather like to share.

First things first, in order to understand some of my basic assumptions about goblinoids in general and hobgoblins in particular, please refer to my previous ramblings on Elves and Dwarves.

These assumptions seem to be supported by the MM1 description. Note that, like goblins in Holmes who attack dwarves on sight (thus suggesting their dwarven ancestry), hobgoblins “will attack [elves] in preference to any other troops.” Thus, hobgoblins are twisted elves.

One quirk of the MM1 hobgoblin that I have always found fascinating is the fact that they can speak the rudimentary tongue of carnivorous apes and that 60% of hobgoblin lairs will have carnivorous apes as guards. Note also their baboon-like physical description:

The hairy hides of hobgoblins range from reddish-brown to gray black. Their faces are bright red-orange to red. Large males will have blue-red noses.

Given these factors, the origin of how elves were twisted into hobgoblins seems to suggest itself — hobgoblins are the product of a breeding program that intermixes elves and carnivorous apes. The majority of hobgoblins seem to continue this rather disturbing process. This explains the necessity to speak the language of carnivorous apes and the close relationship they have with them. It also suggests a reason why hobgoblins prefer to attack elves above all other troops — to capture more elven stock to interbreed with carnivorous apes in hopes of producing stronger strains of hobgoblin.

It is even possible to imagine, due to the arcane nature of elves, that such experimentation has resulted in such ape-like monsters as girallons. Considering the fact that the MM1 gives hobgoblins Average intelligence instead of the typical goblinoid Average (low), it is possible to imagine that the entire hobgoblin culture centers around a quest for some kind of eugenic ideal that they are continually refining through their interbreeding with carnivorous apes and the offspring of carnivorous apes and the occasional elven captive.

There, I hope that helps folks see that the hobgoblin can be more than merely a bigger goblin.

Saintly Saturday: St. Clement of Rome

Today is the feast of St. Clement of Rome. According to the list of bishops given to us by both St. Irenaeus and St. Hegesippus, Clement was the third bishop of Rome. He became a Christian through Sts. Barnabas and Peter. Under the reign of Emperor Trajan, St. Clement was first sentenced to hard labor (where he found and ministered to many Christians) and then drowned by having an anchor tied around his neck about the year A.D. 100.

His legacy includes two Epistles written to the Corinthians. According St. Dionysius of Corinth, these letters were publicly read on Sundays in the church. Intriguingly, this means that these two Epistles were part of the discussion in the early Church as to what should be included in the New Testament canon. In my own experience, I have found that many do not realize that the NT as we know it was not formally recognized until the 4th century. Indeed, the earliest NT writings first appeared more than two decades after the crucifixion of Christ.

This, of course, is soil ripe for folks to claim that certain books were suppressed while others were forced upon Christians and other conspiracy theories about how the NT came to be. The Epistles of St. Clement, however, demonstrate a couple of important factors. First and foremost, the books of the NT were written by Christians for Christians and it was Christians who determined what stayed and what didn’t. Secondly, due to the fact that Clement’s letters did not make the cut despite being accepted as good and right (they were read publicly in church), the criteria for what stayed and what didn’t had two factors:

• They had to contain the Apostolic kerygma — Christ crucified and risen.
• They had to be written by that generation that witnessed Christ.

Clement, being the third bishop of Rome was too far away from the Apostles to make the cut.

His letters, though, are a very interesting read — particularly the first. It is replete with Scriptural quotes, focuses primarily on ethical behavior (something of a trend with early Roman Christians) and integrates Hellenistic thought. The most intriguing example of the latter (and most useful in terms of an FRPG) is the 25th chapter:

Let us consider that wonderful sign [of the resurrection] which takes place in Eastern lands, that is, in Arabia and the countries round about. There is a certain bird which is called a phœnix. This is the only one of its kind, and lives five hundred years. And when the time of its dissolution draws near that it must die, it builds itself a nest of frankincense, and myrrh, and other spices, into which, when the time is fulfilled, it enters and dies. But as the flesh decays a certain kind of worm is produced, which, being nourished by the juices of the dead bird, brings forth feathers. Then, when it has acquired strength, it takes up that nest in which are the bones of its parent, and bearing these it passes from the land of Arabia into Egypt, to the city called Heliopolis. And, in open day, flying in the sight of all men, it places them on the altar of the sun, and having done this, hastens back to its former abode. The priests then inspect the registers of the dates, and find that it has returned exactly as the five hundredth year was completed.

So, Clement gives us inspiration for a fantastic creature (the phoenix), its life cycle (which includes a larval stage) and an adventure — retrieving the bones from the city of Heliopolis. This presents a couple of interesting possibilities:

First, what if a the phoenix were an insect rather than a bird? This would explain the 500 year life cycle (an exaggeration of the 7-year cycle of the cicada), the worm-like larval stage (found in all kinds of insects) and (though Clement does not mention it) even the mythical fire of the phoenix (there are several insects that produce nasty chemical cocktails for self-defense). The “bones” in question could very well be the shedding of the outer shell as the phoenix emerges into its adult state.

Second, the adventure in question could very well be something of a competition or race. The value of the phoenix bones would have to be very high (are they a key component in the spell Raise Dead?). Various factions would hire and equip expeditions into the ancient (and monster infested) city to recover these bones. The party could very well be one of these expeditions. Extra-party rivalry, intrigue and conflict would be all part of the fun. Are there any agreed-to rules as to how these expeditions are to be conducted or is it a free-for-all? If there are rules, what are the penalties for cheating? What is the procedure for proving that someone did or did not cheat?

This, of course, is a beautiful set-up for a campaign. There is a built-in cultural reason that there are adventurers and that there is a megadungeon. There is also the added bonus of a built in time-frame in which a party needs to “level up” enough to be a contender in the adventure of several life-times. On this day one year from now, the competition begins. Will you and your party be ready?

Ecology of the Flumph

Throughout my meditations on the FF, Anthony has repeatedly voiced an opinion that many (myself included) have accepted as D&D truth — the flumph is one of the most (if not the most) useless and silly monsters in the history of the game. He also implied a challenge (if only tongue in cheek) — one that I have taken half-seriously since.

Though I am not yet willing to go so far as to make them a PC class, I do have in mind a way to rehabilitate the flumph in a way that not only makes them interesting, but potentially dangerous. In order to do this, I will take full advantage of the science-fantasy feel of the FF, though my inspiration for this rehabilitation is via the good ‘ol 1e MM.

I have always been intrigued by the relationship between blink dogs and displacer beasts. The latter is described as hating all life, but particularly blink dogs. Under the description for blink dogs, it clearly states:

There is a great enmity between blink dogs and displacer beasts and the two creatures will always attack each other.

Of course, the reason for the enmity is never given — allowing me free reign to do what I will with it.

Since the two share similar powers (displacement and limited teleportation), I have always liked the idea that they are both creatures or descendants of creatures that hail either from outer space or another dimension. Though the 1e MM lists the displacer beast having a neutral alignment and only semi-intelligence, Holmes notes in his rule book that they have evil tendencies and makes no mention as to their intelligence. This, in part, helps explain the lawful good alignment of the blink dog.

One of the powers of the flumph that I imagine helps solidify it as one of the most ridiculous creatures in D&D, is actually a key in which to tie the flumph to this relationship between blink dogs and displacer beasts. The “stink spray” defense mechanism is actually a perfect weapon against a displacer beast — it is an area effect 60° arc in a 20ft. cone.

Given this weapon and that they share a lawful good alignment, flumph and blink dogs are natural allies. The description of their languages, however, suggest an interesting, if ironic, picture of this relationship. While the flumph has a limited vocabulary with the Lawful language (suggesting that much of its communication skill is body language), the blink dog has a “fairly complex language consisting of barks, yaps, whines and growls.”

This implies that it is the flumph, not the blink dog, who fills the role of the hunting/pointer dog in the relationship. The flumph uses its defense mechanism to mark a displacer beast with the distinctive smell, making them easier to track and kill for the blink dogs.

Falling back on the inspiration for the displacer beast — A.E. Von Vogt’s Coeurl — it is easy to imagine that the displacer beast is a kind of interstellar/extra-planar criminal. The blink dog, with its flumph “hound” is the grunt of an interstellar/extra-planar police force tasked with hunting down and arresting/killing the displacer beast.

It is easy to imagine, therefore, that in a FRPG setting with a dash of science fantasy that the standard blink dog, displacer beast and flumph are the descendants of an ancient crash of a prison ship. The enmity of the blink dog and displacer beast stems from this relationship and has been passed down from generation to generation. In the meantime, flumph are the loyal hunting/pointer dogs cooperating with the blink dogs to hunt down and kill their nemesis.

Thus, an encounter with the flumph, rather than bordering on the ridiculous, can be quite deadly. Since their “stink spray” is described as a defense mechanism, anyone unfortunate to stumble upon a flumph might get sprayed. This would then mark them as a criminal ally of the displacer beast and therefore for eradication by nearby blink dogs. The lawful good alignment, in this case, becomes dangerous because they will assume anyone marked by a flumph needs to be doggedly pursued until defeated.

The Ecology of Yellow Mold

I have been putting together a level for my version of the Chateau des Faussesflammes, and in process came up with another interesting ecology based upon the monsters that occupy that level. Since folks seem to enjoy my musings on such things, I thought I'd share.

The key organism in this ecology is yellow mold. It is central to two diverse groups — giant ants and troglodytes.

One of those wonderfully tantalizing monster descriptions that set my imagination on fire can be found in LL's entry on giant ants:

They will tend to only have a small amount of treasure around, from past opponents, but in some rare instances giant ants will inexplicably mine precious metals.

I've fiddled with this idea before but have never tried to explain the behavior. Carpenter ants harvest leaves in order to grow fungi that they then use to feed the colony. If some giant ants had a similar behavior there is plenty of potential for explaining this inexplicable mining instinct.

In this particular case, the giant ants harvest the leaves from the yellow musk creeper. This vicious plant has no real defense to protect itself from the giant ants, whose central nervous systems are not developed enough for the creeper to take full advantage of. However, the chemicals that would normally result in a yellow musk zombie do alter the behavior of the giant ants. In addition to the leaves from the creeper, they also begin to mine for precious metals. This, in turn attracts humanoids which can fall victim to the yellow musk creeper.

After harvesting the leaves, giant ants dust them in yellow mold spores. The combination creates a very fertile ground for the growth of yellow mold. The giant ants then feed on the mold, its spore and a liquid that they create by combining the mold with giant ant feces. This liquid is mostly used to feed giant ant pupa, but is also used by the ants to prevent the yellow mold from releasing its spores and protects flesh from the acidic touch of the mold.

Troglodytes are a subterranean sub-species of lizardmen, who all have organs that produce smell to communicate tribal affiliation, willingness to mate, anger, etc. Due to their oft dark environment, this gland came to grow all over the body of the trog, increasing the distance from which these odorous communications could be detected.

What these glands did not do however, was develop the infamous stench that causes humans and demi-humans to save vs. poison or suffer a -2 on attack rolls. This ability is the result of purposely ingesting yellow mold as part of the troglodyte diet. The ingested spores from the yellow mold alter the chemicals produced by the glands, producing a toxic mix for humans and demi-humans.

As a result, troglodytes like to live in proximity to both giant ants and yellow musk creepers. They collect the giant ant liquid to protect themselves from the yellow mold that they harvest for producing their infamous odor.

Ecology of the Rot Grub

This is an example of what happens when random rolls, Gygaxian naturalism and OSR goodness get mixed within the recesses of my imagination. Awhile back, a simple random wilderness encounter turned into the Blighted Fist orc tribe (itself a randomly generated name). Playing off this name, I decided to give these orcs a special weapon — clay pots full of Rot Grub. In prepping for my players' most recent foray into the wilderness, I rolled up an encounter with a dragon in the same territory occupied by the Blighted Fist. In my mind, these two random encounters ought to be related somehow. . . it's that fuzzy warm place in my mind where I actualize my own distorted version of Gygaxian naturalism.

When I get a series of random encounters that share the same space, I like to try and link them via an ecology that makes sense — somehow, whether biologically or socially, these creatures have a relationship. Contemplating the disparate encounters of orcs and dragons, two things formed the foundation for this relational ecology. The first was a nice little post by Dyson Logos over at A Character for Every Game where he re-skinned some dragons with a variety of cool concepts. The second was a comment on a post at Grognardia musing on purple worms that postulated the cool factor of purple worms being the larval stage of dragons. The link between these two was the lowly Rot Grub.

I decided to steal Dyson's idea of the Carrion Dragon since it fit nicely with the Rot Grub theme. Imagining that the Rot Grub is a kind of (very nasty) egg, I added this wrinkle: 1 in 6 Rot Grubs won't go for the heart, but rather for the stomach. When they come into contact with the stomach acid, they start to produce a chemical that serves two purposes: 1) it starts a metamorphic process that will result in the larval stage 2) it causes the adrenal gland in the victim to go into overdrive.The result is the victim is driven mad/transformed into a berserker. Riffing off the Carrion Dragon, the larval stage is the Carrion Crawler. The overactive adrenal gland serves two purposes — it protects the egg in its initial metamorphosis, and it eventually leads to the death of the host giving the small Carrion Crawler its first meal.

The Blighted Fist enters the picture as willing hosts to the Carrion Dragon's eggs. The orcs see the dragon as a kind of avatar bearing divine gifts that transforms worthy recipients into uber-orcs. As such, they have become a bunch of zealous fanatics dedicated to the care, feeding and harvesting of the Rot Grub eggs and their Carrion Crawler hatchlings. These uber-orcs are created during ceremonies in which Rot Grubs that are most likely to go to the stomach instead of the heart are chosen and placed onto the stomach of those orcs undergoing the "transformation." If the wrong Rot Grub is chosen, the victim orc was "not worthy." Those who receive the eggs successfully are transformed into a berserker class of orcs. Upon their death a small 1HD version of the carrion crawler will eat its way out of the corpse in 1d12 hours. The Blighted Fists shower their enemies with Rot Grubs in order to feed enough so that they are ready to go into the stomach of a willing orc.

In turn, when the carrion crawlers have engorged themselves enough on rotting flesh, they will form a cocoon. Eventually, a young carrion dragon will emerge. Upon reaching adulthood, these dragons will start producing Rot Grub and the whole process begins again.