Tag Archives: Clint Bigglestone

All The World’s Monsters, Volume 2 Part 5

All The World’s Monsters, Volume II, Part V

Scrubbing Bubbles

Yes, From The Commercial

What Do You Mean, “What Commercial”?

Get Off My Interwebz, You Damn Punk Kids!

Will you follow me into fire? Into storm? Into darkness? Into death? Into many-tailed giant armadillos? Into killer potatoes? Into telepathic blue panthers? Into, in other words, the further depths of All The World’s Monsters, Volume 2? 

S

Scourgetail: A gorilla-sized armadillo with six tails that, for some reason, breathes lightning (as an attack), disdains magic, and might be armed with technological items.

Scrubbing Bubble: OK, so let’s get this out of the way. This commercial was played incessantly in the time period when All The World’s Monsters was being compiled and created.

And so…

Seriously. They Were Smoking Some Primo Stuff Back in the 70s.

They mostly stay in hiding, except when the object they are charged with maintaining has become dirty. Then they swarm out to clean the item, and attack anything dirty or filthy in the vicinity… you know, like PCs.

Scrubble: A giant, insane scrubbing bubble. Do you need to know more? No, I didn’t think so.

Sheem Battle Spider: I know these were mentioned in the writeup of something else, but I am far too lazy to go and look right now. Anyway, giant mechanical spiders with assorted weapons. They come in six “Marks”, that is, Mark I Sheem Battle Spider, Mark II Sheem Battle Spider, and so on, with appropriately varying hit dice, weapon damage, and attacks/round. The casual blending of sci-fi and fantasy tropes is one of the hallmarks of old school, so it’s always funny to hear gamers 20 years younger than me whine the lack of genre purity in “new” games. Dude/Dudette… haul out your copy of “Blackmoor” and check out the treasure lists for “Temple Of The Frog”. Oh, wait. You don’t have “Blackmoor”. Because you’re a damn punk kid that doesn’t know shit about old school gaming except what you read on the Internet. Now, let me just adjust my belt onion, and I’ll go yell at some clouds.

Smoke Creature: A creature of pure, living smoke that is commonly found on not-so-deserted islands where it acts mysterious and inexplicable until the last season, where it’s revealed to be… uh… did we ever get and real closure on that? God damn it, Nolan, if you pull that same shit on Westworld, by my pretty pink bonnet, I will end you. Huh? What? Yes, there really is a “smoke creature” in the book. It strangles you. With smoke. Next!

Sparkflail: A rhino-sized warthog with a tentacle instead of a nose. Said tentacle can either drain 1-4 levels(!) or do 8d6 lightning damage. I’m sure, by now, you can guess who created it. Here’s a hint: Rhymes with “Shmint Shmigglestone”.

Stardust Potato: If I just transcribed it, you wouldn’t believe it.

I’ll Bet They Make Excellent Fries

Swamp Thing: As per the comic book, from the Len Wein/Berni Wrightson days. So, no psychedelic fruit as treasure, no profound ecological messages, just a… swamp thing. A muck encrusted mockery of a man. Interestingly, the shambling mound of AD&D strongly resembles the Man-Thing from Marvel, which was created roughly concurrently with DC’s Swamp Thing.

T

Timewasp: A giant wasp which can cast “Timestop” three times a day. It paralyzes dragons and lays its eggs in them. I’m not entirely sure how much the “timestop” really adds to the concept, except for making it a bit more deadly, but I guess they felt “giant wasp” was already done, so, this is a giant wasp that stops time. Works for me!

Trimouth: A horse-sized three-headed dog with mithril fur and Vulcan logic and you already know who came up with it, right?

U

Ugly: Every chaotic evil magic user’s hunchbacked assistant. Seriously. It comes in three sizes (3’2, 5’1, and 7’9), is always hunchbacked, and has a 50% chance of getting any order wrong. (“Abby… someone.”) It will act as a sixth level thief/fifth level assassin. It’s not clear if this is actually a race, or just a way to represent a common archetype in the absence of gaming systems that would allow them to be “built” as a human with a certain set of skills and abilities.

V

Vader: Given that this is the late 1970s, the creators are all big geeks, and the book is full of things borrowed from the sci-fi and fantasy of the era, I hardly have to tell you that a Vader is a blue-furred telepathic panther with two antennae that can transmute its body into any element it has had contact with, right? Didn’t think so. Kind of obvious from the name, really.

W

Wafflebanger: There are no words. But there is a screenshot.

Clearly Conceived After One Too Many Wallbangers

Wall Of Darkness: I’m not really sure what to say about this. It’s a wall of darkness which fills the corridor, is 1′ to 30′ thick “depending on age” (though no rules for age are given), and it kills/destroys everything it touches. It’s immune to all damage. It can, barely, be the subject of charm monster, though there’s so many caveats and drawbacks it’s hardly worth it. It has an armor class of -26(!) and 8,575 hit points, at a time when greater gods capped out at 300 or so… not that AC and HP mean anything when the creature is effectively beyond harm. It’s hard to figure out the real purpose of this… a puzzle for players to overcome? There aren’t many obvious solutions beyond “teleport around it”, and that’s so obvious it’s not much of a puzzle…  either you have access to teleport, or you don’t. In effect, it’s not really a monster, it’s a plot device, stripped from whatever plot is was originally part of.

Wandering Minstrel Eye: A completely harmless (no attacks at all, no special effects, no reactions to being attacked) giant eyeball which announces its presence by singing “A wandering minstrel eye”. Yes, really.

Wandering Monster Eye: Identical to the wandering minstrel eye, except that it can do a whopping 1d8 damage with its whip-like tail (optic nerve, I guess). Clearly, it’s intended to confuse players so they don’t know which they’re encountering. Unfortunately, since there’s no downside to attacking the harmless one (thought it is considered “bad form” and “chaotic” to do so, all that means in practice is that the Paladin can’t strike the first blow), and the “dangerous” one isn’t particularly deadly or interesting, the players will simply slaughter any singing eyeballs they encounter, with no consequences for this behavior. (Compare to the gas spore/beholder problem, where attacking a gas spore recklessly is dangerous, and, likewise, treating a beholder as if it were a much-less-deadly gas spore is also dangerous. For “trick” monsters to work, there have to be risks to an incorrect identification of either. (Hitting a gas spore with the kind of alpha strike you’d use on a beholder is a huge waste of resources, but wasting a melee round to “size up” a beholder in case it’s a gas spore effectively gives it an extra round of life, during which it can do all manner of things.)

Whoosh: Onomatopoeia monster for the win! (How many articles did you read this week that used “onomatopoeia”? Not many, I warrant! It’s a 60 lb crab that whooshes from the surf onto the shore, attacks, and then whooshes back again. A surprisingly sane creation from the prolific Mr. Bigglestone, as it’s not a crab/dachshund hybrid with a manticore’s tail that shoots spikes made of frozen starlight, or something. (My spell checker suggests “romantic’s” for “manticore’s”. Make of that what you will.)

Worm, Blind: Wait, are there non-blind worms? Anyway, blind worms are the mortal enemies of colony ghouls.

Y

Yellow Door Creature: Far less perverse than its cousin, the green door creature, this is yet another “monster” whose main purpose is to deprive PCs of magical resources, and which would be better represented as a trap/dungeon feature than as a “monster”. The mechanics of it are rather complex; here you go:

“The Following Things Are Immune, Unless They’re Not”

The Conclusion

An observation: While the books are full of things borrowed (with or without attribution) from the SF media of the day, it is overwhelmingly from books, with a smaller portion from comics, and few, if any, from movies and TV. This says a lot about the makeup of gamers of the time. This may surprise modern folks, but back in the 70s, TV and film sci-fi was not held in high regard by “real” SF fans, and comic books were poor cousins, at best. As RPGs grew their own culture, splitting off from historical wargaming, the social pool it drew from was SF fandom, a strongly literature-oriented group. “Star Trek” caused a massive surge in media SF fandom, and ultimately changed the overall makeup of the culture. While in the late 1970s, the tidal surge was already sweeping fandom as a whole, these books, and gaming fandom in general, was made up of people who were more hard-core and who started in fandom several years earlier, thus being somewhat behind that curve.

You can learn a lot about a culture by studying its tentacled warthogs.

So, that’s it for Volume 2. I may or may not proceed directly to Volume 3, whether or not I pass “Go” or collect $200.00. I’ve got a multitude of other projects burbling, some online, some not. We’ll see.

 

All The World’s Monsters, Volume 2 Part 4

All The World’s Monsters, Volume II, Part IV

What’s A Naz Gul Like You Doing In A Place Like This?

(I Stole That Horrible Pun From A Webcomic Whose Name I Cannot Recall — It Was Popular With Linux Types In The Late 90s/Early 00’s)

(Might Still Be Going For All I Know)

Roll up, roll up, for the mystery tour! Beyond these walls… erm… words… lies the fourth part of an exploration of the second volume of All The World’s Monsters, a classic of the Burgess Shale era of gaming, full of wonder, majesty, awe, genius, and madness, in non-equal portions! The prior part is here, and the start of the whole mess is here, and I’m pretty sure they’re all tagged “All The World’s Monsters” for easy finding. Then again, given my generally lazy and slapdash approach to things, they might not be all tagged. Anyway, on to the show!

Hm. I was going to start with ‘N’, but then I reviewed the last part and realized I didn’t get to ‘M’ there. So, ‘M’ it is.

M

Magebane: Yet one more monster that exists, primarily, to deprive players of resources. The magebane is a silvery blob that eats spell points when it’s attacked with magic — you roll percentage dice and that’s the percentage of the caster’s total spell points that are absorbed, with the creature gaining hit points on a 1-to-1 basis. Despite the obvious audience of the book being D&D/AD&D players, who didn’t use the spell point system preferred by the west coast gamers who produced ATWM, no conversion is given. Old School! As the magebane is not particularly deadly or threatening in itself, after a single encounter with one, the casters will hang back and let the meatshields deal with it. But, hmm… what if a magebane and a rust monster were merged, due to the experiments of a mad wizard? (In D&D-land, Charles Darwin’s contribution to human knowledge was “On The Origin Of Species By The Means Of Unnatural Magics”.)

Magic Absorber, First Class: Yet one more monster that exists, primarily, to deprive… players of… hey, are you getting a feeling of deja vu? There’s no “Magic Absorber, Second Class”, listed here, by the way. This one is a colored globe of light with its own unique mechanics to determine how it screws over the players. It likewise gets bigger and nastier as it eats magic, until it finally explodes.

Melter: An elephant sized merger of crab and hog that breathes acid and can use “Mass Charm” three times a day. To the surprise of no one reading this series, we can thank Clint Bigglestone, surely one of gaming’s unsung mad geniuses, for this. I honestly must wonder if Mr. Bigglestone’s brilliantly insane creations were fully formed in his imagination, or if he had the most amazing set of random tables ever known to humankind, and he simply “let the dice fall where they may” and submitted them. (Kind of like building an entire comic-book universe by using the Marvel Super Heroes “Ultimate Power Book” tables.)

Mobile Dis Swarm: This creature is a swarm of “quarter inch long stomachs with half inch fangs”. It simply engulfs and eats everything in its path. While that’s pretty par for the course in ATWM (which tells you a lot about the course, I wager), I noticed that it’s only injured by cold, heat, or “a special chemical called ‘Mobile Dis Salt'”. The frak? There has to be a story/pun/reference/something there I’m not getting. Something specific to the creator’s campaign, or something that was a common cultural touchpoint among some subset of late 70s gamers?

N

Off They Go, To Harvest Elves For Their Flesh. Mmmm… Elf Honey.

Naral: A “carniverous” (sic) 10 foot long bee, favored by “the people of the City of Chaos” because it makes a “stable riding platform”. Wouldn’t the people of the City of Chaos favor an unstable riding platform? In a perfect example of what some call “Gygaxian Naturalism”, it favors elf flesh. And now it occurs to me that, if it’s a meat-eating bee that lives in a huge honeycomb… and it is, and it does… then the “honey” must be made from flesh, not pollen or nectar. That’s, uh… an interesting concept. Wait, the “honeycomb” of bees is made from wax produced from the sugars they eat. Now, I think you can render animal fat into wax, or something, so I guess that works… but, wow, there’s a definitely horrific image of what a naral’s lair must look and smell like…

Nazgul: As promised. These Nazgul can be turned by Patriarchs, which is what they used to call “clerics of 7th level or higher” in Original D&D. (There was a thankfully brief trend in the 70’s to refer to NPCs by their “level name”, not by their class and level, so you’d encounter “two heroes and a theurgist” or the like. Nazgul drain 1d6 life levels per attack, or 1d3 if you save. That could destroy a party in 1 or 2 melee rounds, easily.

Nightseeker: A five-headed hydra which attacked with a dissolving poison. If you save vs. the poison three times… you don’t get to save any more. Please read carefully. Not “you don’t have to save anymore”, meaning, you have become immune to the poison, but “you don’t get to save anymore”, meaning, “Screw you and your so-called ‘lucky 20 sider’, You’re turning into protplasmic goop next round!”

The nightseeker is found in ruins as opposed to inhabited cities. The inclusion of this sentence implies it was considered common or normal for creatures of this ilk to be found in inhabited cities. Well, OK, then.

O

Ondoculus: This falls into the “I can’t write it, you have to read it” category.

“Quick, Ask Him About The Is-Ought Problem!”

Back in the “G”s, there is the “golcodulus”, a pet of the ondoculi. (That is the plural, yes.) 1d6 of them accompany each ondoculus. Thought you’d like to know this.

P

Poison Ivy Hedge: A mobile (why not?) hedge made of poison ivy. Because if the ceiling (lurker above), the floor (trapper), the walls (stunjelly) and the furniture (mimics, among others) are going to kill you, why not the freakin’ topiary? The poison it excretes causes severe itching, resulting in a -2 to attack rolls for two hours, and there is no saving throw. The treasure is “contained within itself”, so I expect this turned a minor encounter with a walking garden decoration into an hour long session of arguing with the DM over how you were going to get the treasure without exposing yourself to the poison, and the DM telling you how your plan wasn’t going to work, because we had “rulings, not rules” back then, and everyone was totally reasonable all the time and agreed on what “common sense” meant.

R

Raw’Yas: An ant-sized robot that follows other creatures around for when they (the other creatures) attack “anti-technos”, i.e., wizards. They “attack” by activating any technological devices in the area and directing them against the victims. They really don’t have any other stats to speak of. They appear in swarms of several hundred and have 1 hit point each, so (given the absence of generic ‘swarm’ rules in the era), you pretty much had to fireball the swarm to get them to stop… erm… using their “electric charm” on the other machines, which of course were always there to be charmed. This creature seems like it was created as part of a specific setting or adventure and then added to the book because, hey, it says “all” the world’s monsters, not “most of” the world’s monsters.

Rustlance: A rust monster that’s a snake. Yeah, that’s about it. It attacks with a horn for “4d8 plus rusting”. Since no rules are given, “use the rust monster rules” is heavily implied. Why not just use a rust monster? Because once players have encountered one, they’ll keep the meat shields away… see my comments on the magebane and the magic absorber, above. “Player skill, not character skill” meant “remember whatever killed your last character and have your new character react appropriately to it, despite having never encountered it before”.

Next Time: Scrubbing Bubbles

All The World’s Monsters, Volume 2 Part 3

All The World’s Monsters, Volume II, Part III

Featuring the Garlic Bread Golem

From The Rare “Bugbears And Bakeries” Supplement, I Guess

I Made That Up

The Supplement, I Mean. The Garlic Bread Golem? Totally Real.

This article is being written because a)My weekly Pathfinder game was cancelled as the GM failed his Fortitude save vs. Generic Winter Disease, and, b)I could get out of going to listen to my mother whine about things by saying I had writing to do, but not by saying I had to keep leveling my WoW character. So, writing.

The prior part of this particular walkthrough is here, and it has links to other parts, and someday I’ll stop being a lazy ass and spend 5-10 minutes organizing this series into a page. Someday. The day may come when I will stop procrastinating, but it is not this day!

Gangbat: Sadly, these do not come subdivided into Cripbats and Bloodbats, or even Jetbats and Sharkbats. It’s just a bat that always attacks in a horde. Sigh.

Ghostshark: Surely, the next big hit from Asylum pictures. Ghostsharks, from Clint Bigglestone, are actually sharks that “swim” on the ethereal plane but which will manifest on the material in order to take a bite out of crime, and by “crime”, I mean, the PCs. There is a small chance of more showing up each time one bites, which could cascade horribly (and by “horribly”, I mean “awesomely”) with a few good (or bad, depending on your perspective) rolls.

Golem, Garlic Bread: What, you thought I was kidding?

Look, I Just Comment On ‘Em, I Don’t Create ‘Em!

Some variants are burnt, granting +2 to AC, while still others are buttered, causing the area around them to act as a grease spell. Yeah, those two, I made up. But they’d be reasonable extrapolations, no? How about Bear, Gummi? Rabbit, Vorpal, Chocolate? Whale, Fudge?

Anyway, it is “mainly found in pizzerias”. Which are, I suppose, common in dungeons?

Griffopotamus: A hippo with wings. It will not attack unless provoked. Sadly, the writeup does not include rules for having it simply fall on you. Oh well.

Groaner: Small, extra-hairy, unwashed, hobbits. Their piteous whine causes beings of 4 HD or less to feel sorry for them and give them things. They are unfavorably compared to Denebian slime devils. This being a Dave Hargrave creation, I cannot help but imagine there’s some backstory here.

Grond: Another Hargrave creature, this is a bipedal badger-porcupine. It’s interesting how many mid-70s creatures seem like the result of someone going to a furry convention and seeing who hooks up with who, then imagining the resulting offspring. But since “furry fandom” didn’t exist back then, to my knowledge, this explanation is unlikely to be true.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Harvestman: OK, folks, we got some serious nightmare fuel here. It is the result of the mating of a spider demon and his high priestess. It “dispises”(sic) all forms of life other than its own, and spell checkers. In combat, it prefers a “crush” attack which, naturally, has its own unique mechanics, as the idea of universal rules for things like this had not yet materialized. Welcome to the era of “microrules not rulings”!

Hellshrew: A 25lb shrew of “angry, evil, disposition”. As opposed to all those sweet-natured shrews we’re familiar with.

High Hunter: Dude, I am so stoned right now. Is that a deer? We should shoot it… wait… why is is sparkling? Whoa. I can hear it singing to me… OK, sorry. (Not sorry.) This is a “huge air dwelling creature” that is otherwise undescribed as to its looks. It hunts by dropping quills on potential targets. Said quills then inflate the victims with helium, so they float up to where the hunter kills it. Uhm… yeah. I think the hunter isn’t the only thing that was “high” at the time this was created, if you etgay my iftdray.

Ibem: A cubelike creature with one eye, one tongue, and two tentacles on each side. It will not bite until a victim is entangled in the tentacles, but there’s no real way to know what that means. I’m guessing, if both tentacles hit, the target is entangled, and then the ibem bites? Works for me!

Kalidah: A creature with a bear’s body and a lion’s head, from the Oz books, thus demonstrating L. Frank Baum was into kinky furry stuff long before it was mainstream. Well, mainstream-ish.

Kilmar: A psionic tennis ball covered with hair. Yes, really. Look!

“My Character Was Killed By A Psionic Tennis Ball” Is A Horrible Story To Tell At Cons.

Lert: If your party befriends one, the chances of being surprised drop considerably. You see, you’re keeping a lert. Think about it. Moving on…

Lotus, Gold/Yellow: This is actually two different plants. The golden lotus is very valuable and can be worth up to 1,000 gp per leaf, as well as being an ingredient for healing potions. The yellow lotus will just paralyze you if you touch it. Only trained botanists, which would never be a PC back in the days before any kind of knowledge skills, can tell the difference. It’s a good example of the kind of traps/gimmicks that abounded in those halcyon days. The solution to the problem is obvious: Send a 1HD NPC to go pick the flowers. If they’re not paralyzed, you keep the leaves and toss him a copper piece for his troubles. If he is, you’ll draw out the inevitable monster lurking around to take advantage of paralyzed PCs.

Lung Dragon: This is not one of the “Chinese dragons” featured in later volumes of the Monster Manual, but a dragon that is almost nothing but lungs. Its only attack is to inhale (make Bill Clinton joke here), which will cause targets to be sucked in based on a formula involving distance from the dragon. It feeds by inhaling metals; any jewels attached to the metal remain undigested.

 

 

 

All The World’s Monsters, Volume 2 Part 2

All The World’s Monsters, Volume II, Part II

Featuring “Demon Of Sleep Etc”

And The Foil Monster

God Damn, But I Love Unapologetic Old School Madness

Right! Let’s skip the all usual shilly-shallying, malingering, dilly-dallying, and loitering. If you want backstory, here’s part I of the Volume II walkthrough, and here’s Part I of the whole series. Now, on to the monsters!

“Carbuncle” Can Be A Pustule Or A Puppy. Go Figure.

Carbuncle: First, for the love all that’s holy or unholy, do not type ‘Carbuncle’ into Google Image Search unmodified. Trust me. In the classic AD&D Fiend Folio, a carbuncle was an armadillo with a gem in its forehead. This much earlier incarnation, presumably drawn from similar myth, is a winged puppy with a gem in its forehead. Since the gem is worth a fortune (per ATWM) and acts as a “double luckstone”, PCs will be gleefully massacring the adorable creature to the left. That might be why it was changed to a less-cuddly armadillo, because, let’s face it: If it’s walking around with loot in its forehead, it’s meant to be killed, so trying to make the players feel guilty for helping a creature fulfill its role in the ecosystem is hardly fair.

Cockroach That Ate Cincinnati: Based on the song. What do you mean, “What song?” Get off my lawn, you damn punk kids!

Coldtusk: A warthog with a tentacle for a nose (doing 8d10 damage(!)) and tusks that do 4d6 damage (+6d6 cold if a save vs. wand is failed). And it’s only a 5-7 HD monster!

Conehead: They are from France, and immune to any powers that effect emotion or thought. Come to think of it, I think a version of Coneheads also appeared in Arduin. Yeah, this entry is by Dave Hargrave, so they did.

Cyberscorp: Sounds like a 90s Marvel character, but it’s a cybernetic scorpion with a force-lash for a tail. When it fights sheem battle spiders, the tail “switches to positrons”. Thought you’d like to know that. Could come in handy someday.

Darkness Monster: It’s a reptile with hairy arms and… oh, just read it!

Reptiles Can’t Be Seen On Infrared. Who Knew?

Deadeye: A giant hog with a death gaze. Man, if you want bacon in old school games, you have to bloody well earn it!

Demon Of Sleep And Nightmare: This demon can put you to sleep with a single touch and then kill you in your dreams. It’s a mechanically complex critter, with a full paragraph of rules for its “death dream” power that can kill someone over the course of several rounds, and it also has a different armor class based on what type of attack is being used, effectively replacing the standard AC system entirely.

Demon Of Sleep Etc: I suppose someone didn’t want to type “Demon Of Sleep And Nightmare Type II”. This creature is like the Demon Of Sleep And Nightmare Type I (which was not listed as Type I, but never mind), except it can also put you to sleep with its gaze, and it carries a flail that inflicts a “Perrin Critical”, which means rolling twice on the “Perrin Critical Hit Table”, which is, hmm, probably in the “Perrin Conventions” at the beginning, no, maybe at the end? No. Hmm.

Old school!

(See also my coverage of the Princecon III rules for my comments on the long-lost “personalization” of mechanics and systems in the Burgess Shale era of gaming.)

Demon, Rainbow (Lesser): Resembles an octopus, but it can attack with only six tentacles, and each tentacle is “like a prismatic wall”,  but they “harden and strike like a storm giant”. Hm? I don’t see a Demon, Rainbow (Greater) here.

Dillemma (sic): It’s a goat headed ape. If it attacks, you may be stuck on its horns. Get it? Get It?

Dragon, Cinnamon/Sapphire: One of the rare and majestic “stripper name” dragons, this beastie breathes “polymorph”, and often inhales its own breath to change shape. Uhm, seriously. That’s what it says.

Dragon, Mahogany/Diamond: I already made the joke.

Dragon, Russet/Emerald: This one breathes “flesh to stone”. And doesn’t really sound like a stripper.

Dragon, Umber/Ruby: Because I felt they all needed to be listed.

I find the idea of “wood dragons” appealing as a collective type (maybe I’ll write them up…) , and I am huge fan of the original gem/crystal dragons (the psionic, neutral dragons) from AD&D. Unfortunately, this is a case where “less is not more”. Introducing a new set of dragons (they are referred to as the “Luce Neutral Dragons”) without any kind of context or framing, even two or three sentences, really leaves them as just some naked stat blocks, and dragons deserve better.

Today, We Steal From Video Games. Back Then, Album Covers. All Culture Is Appropriation.

Elephant Fly: Well, you’ve seen a horse fly, and a dragon fly, but you’ve never seen an elephant fly! (Was that from Dumbo? It must have been. It was in my brain, but I know I didn’t make it up.) But this creature isn’t from Disney. It’s from Roger Dean. See left.

Elephant, Flying: Also from a Roger Dean illustration, but, I guess, not the one I just found. So it goes.

Fighter In Mirror Armor: It’s a fighter. Wearing mirrored armor that reflects spells, based on alignment. For example, chaotic magic used against lawful armor “is reflected back 50%”. I do not know if that means “reflected back half the time” or “reflects for half-effect on the caster”.

Flailtail: It’s got a big butt and I cannot lie. I am not making this up! It “backs into combat” and “its armor class is due to its massive buttocks”.

Foil Monster: Normally made of tin, but can be gold or silver. There’s no description of what it looks like, just what it’s made of and what its corpse is worth, which is so Old School I could just plotz. Since it’s listed as one of the “clean up crew”, a category containing all those creatures that wandered dungeon corridors for no good reason, including assorted slimes, oozes, and cubes, I’m going to say it looks like a giant foil ball that rolls at you. And then bites you.

Foulmouth: Rather disappointingly, this is not some kind of goblinoid that curses at you with such vigor that you take damage. Rather, it is an upright leprous aardvark with severe bad breath. Should go to San Francisco. There’s a New Age guru there who specializes in dealing with such problems. Surely, you’ve heard of the super California mystic, expert: Halitosis?

But, seriously, it’s a bipedal leprous aardvark with “miasma” breath. Clint Bigglestone’s uniquely brilliant insanity, again. I wish I could have met him.

Fuzzy: It’s a fur covered beholder with only the central eye, and about 2 feet in diameter, or, if you will, a hairy floating beachball with an eye. And tentacles, which can sting you, constrict you, or wield a weapon. The normal beholder central eye attack of “anti-magic ray” isn’t listed, but “psionic blast” is; it’s not clear if you’re supposed to just know that the central eye creates an anti-magic ray, or if the psi-blast replaces it (I am strongly inclined to the latter).  And why am I spending so much time thinking about the specific mechanics of a fur-covered mini-beholder?

PS: It is described as a “less imposing” version of the beholder. Yeah. You could say that.

And In Conclusion…

About 1200 words, covering four letters of the alphabet. Seems like a good length. Tune in… eventually… maybe even next week… for part III!

 

 

 

All The World’s Monsters, Volume 2 Part 1

All The World’s Monsters, Volume II, Part I

This One Has Bionic Unicorns

Seriously, What More Do You Need? Bionic Unicorns, Dude!

The backstory on All The World’s Monsters, the series (not to be confused with the movie, the web comic, or the stained glass windows) is located here, in the first part of the walkthrough of the first book. Thus, we shall omit going over it again.

Conventions From A Convention

Volume 2 has significantly more explanatory/framing material than Volume I. From a “history of paleolithic gaming” perspective, the most important is a codification of the Peterson Conventions — the “common law” rules used by many West Coast gamers. (I’ve gone at great length on the cultural differences between the Midwestern/Gygax style of early gaming, which has been a primary influence on the “Old School Renaissance” to the degree that everything else about the era has been dropped down the memory hole, and the West Coast style that is exemplified by the Arduin books, Booty And The Beasts, and this series we’re discussing right now.) The rules show some things that have been widely adopted, such as the shorter melee round (10 seconds in this case) and heavy armor reducing Dexterity (now a reduction in the maximum bonus), and some things that have not been, such as complex rules for determining action times (how long it might take to coat yourself with magic oil). These rules debuted at DunDraCon in 1976; both DunDraCon and Steve Perrin are still around and are major parts of gaming culture, (The highly percentile-based system he built on top of D&D’s D20-ish mechanics were, obviously, the genesis of Runequest, and through it, of Call of Cthulhu, which, in turn, inspired much of Lovecraft’s modern invasion of pop culture. From little oaks do mighty cultural monoliths grow. But I digress. Big shock.)

Some samples:

“How Long Does It Take To Apply Oil Of Slipperiness?” Is A Big Issue If You’re Using the BOEF D20 Supplement. Google it.

Perrin’s SCA Roots Show When Discussing Things Like Reach And Initiative. (Don’t Look For A Joke Or Pun. That’s Just A Comment.)

So, as I have said before, and as I shall say again:

I got your “Rulings, Not Rules”, right here, pal!

The Actual Monsters

Agarret: A ten foot tall mutant “distantly related to the goblins”, it impregnates you with its tongue. I could make another BOEF joke here but, really, why bother? Kind of obvious, even for me.

Oh, and its wings have lashes which work as whips.

Goodnight, everybody!

A Rare Image Of An Unexploded Air Shark

Air Shark: From the Arduin series. It’s a flying shark filled with hydrogen. Why don’t flying creatures ever evolve to be filled with helium?

Alacorn: A unicorn-pegasus crossbreed, created by “Charlie Luce”, which is an odd name for a six year old girl. I kid, I kid… believe me, I’ve done worse. It “resists magic” as a “sixth level mage”, which is odd, because they don’t really resist magic. (“You know what happens to a sixth level mage that gets hit by a magic missile? Same thing that happens to everything else. Except that since a sixth level mage will have about 15 hit points, the odds of it getting killed if it’s taken any other damage are pretty high.”) Perhaps they meant “saves vs. magic as a sixth level mage”? Or perhaps, in Mr. Luce’s games, spellcasters had special magic resistance? The “we forgot these are our house rules” phenomenon (doot-doodoot-doot) is endemic to the Burgess Shale era supplements I love.

Amanda: Last name, Hugginkiss. It’s a telepathic horse that emits a “mental wave” that has “the same range and direction” as a mind flayer’s psychic attack, but which is not a psychic attack. What is it, then? Hey, what is life without some mystery?

Ape, Man Eating: A giant ape with “a taste for human flesh and human females”, and no matter how you parse that description, it’s disturbing. Speaking of parsing: It rolls 1d6 for Intelligence, and “if its intelligence is three or above, it can use weapons other than a club at +2 damage”. So, it can use a club for normal damage (listed as 1d10 in the creature’s stat block), or something not a club, but with a +2 damage bonus? Then why not +2 with a club?

Aquazombie: It wears rotting orange chainmail and is laughed at by the other zombies because it speaks to dead fish.  Sorry. It’s not actually a zombie at all, but a victim of the alien slime god. Also known as “The Walking Wet”. No, that’s not my joke. That’s in the actual text. I am not making this up.

Barluk: A typical example of “something that is basically a self-propelled save-or-die”. It’s a green lizard that can walk on ceilings, with a petrifying gaze, and, if it touches you, you must save vs. magic or die of a putrefying (not petrifying) disease within five minutes. You can hear the DM saying “Go ahead, use your little reflecting shields!” in a mocking tone even now.

It Took Me Longer That You’d Think To Google This.

Bionic Unicorn: Rainbow Sparkle. Astrocorn. A unicorn barely alive. We can rebuild him. We have the technology. We have the capability to make the world’s first bionic unicorn. Rainbow Sparkle will be that unicorn. Better than he was before. Better. Stronger. Sparklier. With a lightning horn. (Yes, really. It can shoot lightning (6d6 damage) from its horn 24 times a day. Not once an hour, mind you, but 24 times a day.)

“Based on a Roger Dean illustration”, along with the Bionic Paladin and the Bionic Bat.

Black Death: Another of the brilliantly mad creations of the late Clint Bigglestone, this creature is not, in fact, a giant yersinia pestis bacterium (which would hardly be out of place in the West Coast gaming culture of the 1970s, mind you), but is an elephant-sized cross between a spider, bear, and squid, which has true seeing, hunts with “find the path”, and is immune to cold and confusion. Not to be confused with Manbearpig. I’m totally serial.

Blue Moon: A hovering blue sphere, about six feet in diameter, which can paralyze like a gelatinous cube. (So, a gelatinous sphere?) It is found hovering over graves, for some reason, and can be used by vampires as “an early warning system”.

Bunny, Vorpal: You’ve seen the movie. If you haven’t seen the movie, how the hell did you end up reading this?

And So We End…

I did the introduction and two letters. That’s enough for one day. You might notice I’m commenting on more creatures, so far, than I did in the prior article (which had two from the ‘A’ and four from the ‘B’, and no, you can’t have two extra egg rolls instead of the hot and sour soup, it says so right there on the menu). That’s not part of any conscious plan (conscious planning never enters into these articles, trust me). Perhaps there are more interesting monsters in this book (so far), or my personal “this is worth commenting on” bar is momentarily lower, I don’t know. I just read the book and call out anything I think is amusing, intriguing, unique, or informative. Give me the same book on a different week, and I might pick different creatures. Or not.

Anyway, hoping to get the next part by next week.

 

 

 

All The World’s Monsters, Volume 1 Part 4

All The World’s Monsters, Volume I

Part IV

That’s The Funny One With The Whales, Right?

No, This Is The One With The Killer Pinecone In It

Yes, Really

Welcome back, after a long absence, to what ought to be the last part of the first part of the walkthrough of All The World’s Monsters, Volume I. The penultimate part is here, and the antepenultimate part is here, and this useless spell checker doesn’t know that “antepenultimate” is a word. It totally is. It means “the sister of one of penultimate’s parents”. Duh.

Having just covered hybrid crabs/WW1 helmets, we move on to…

Random Horror: Insert 2016 Presidential election joke here.

An evolutionary step between the wandering monster table and the wandering damage table.

An evolutionary step between the wandering monster table and the wandering damage table.

Razortongue: A gorilla-sized koala bear with steel-hard fur. Yes, really.

Just like it says on the tin.

Just like it says on the tin.

The razortongue is one of the many creations of the prolific Clint Bigglestone, who was evidently part of the gaming circle of a certain George R. R. “Are You Finishing The Damn Series” Martin, as a character by the hardly-common name of “Clint Bigglestone” appears in one of Martin’s early stories.

Shaggy: A huge (man size, I guess, though it’s not specified precisely) tribble. Which secretes adhesive glue. And when it attaches itself to you, it sucks out life levels. Not to be confused with a monster-hunting stoner.

Shaggy Beast: A snake-headed bull with green fur. Said fur is full of stingers that will kill you in two turns if you fail a save. It can also breathe fire. Why not?

Shrew, Giant: Insert “mother in law” joke here.

Skull, Flying: The “poor man’s liche”, sometimes called the “Obamalich”, even though the program actually started under Bush. It looks “just like you would expect, a skull with wings”. I generally don’t expect winged skulls, but anyway. It can use spells, but there is a “spell level/8” chance it will be destroyed when it does. I’m going to interpret that as an “X in 8 chance”, that is, if it’s a 4th level spell, roll a D8, and if it’s 4 or less, the skull dies. Re-dies. Double secret dies.

Starling: Not a cute little bird. This starling is a giant mutant starfish, where each tentacle has a unique, deadly, power. Kind of like a beholder, except with tentacles instead of eye beams. It has seven tentacles, and their powers include constriction, petrification, cold damage, poison, and “squirting ink”. The “constricting” tentacle can extend for up to 100 feet, and this is getting way too hentai for me. Next!

Stormquill: Another of Mr. Bigglestone’s visionary creations, this is a “gorilla sized ankliosaurus(sic)”. It has 12 quills on the clublike end of the tail, which, when flung, transform into lightning bolts that attack as a heavy crossbow fired by a Champion. (You can tell the really old school stuff, from the first few years of D&D, by use of the “attacks as a (level name here)” trope.

Stun Cone: A giant killer pinecone. Look, I told you it was in here. Why did you not believe me? Why? Now look what you’ve done in your foolish ignorance and defiance!

See? Killer Pinecone. Not A Metaphor. Not An Exaggeration. Not A Dream, Hoax, Or Imaginary Story.

See? Killer Pinecone. Not A Metaphor. Not An Exaggeration. Not A Dream, Hoax, Or Imaginary Story.

Thundertread: Found in the deepest levels of dungeons, it is “hideous and virtually indescribable”. And… that’s its description.

DM: You encounter a thundertread! It’s hideous and indescribable!
Player: What does it look like?
DM: I just told you, it’s indescribable.
Player: But what do our characters see?
DM: Something they can’t describe.
Player: (Sighs) Does it have hit points?
DM: Yes.
Player: Then screw the flavor text, we can kill it.

Tiger, Blink Saber-Tooth: When a blink dog and a saber tooth tiger love each other very much…

Next time someone who wasn’t even born until after AD&D 2e came out whines that they hate D&D 3.x or Pathfinder because “all the stupid templates let them make up these weird hybrid monsters instead of sticking to the glorious, sacred purity of genuine creatures from myth and legend like in the Good Old Days”, show them the blink dog/sabre-tooth tiger crossover, then laugh at them. A lot. They need to be laughed at.

Tumble Tangle: A tumbleweed-like plant that often travels among them, until it finds food. It then attacks and attempts to entangle and devour the victim. Given that I created the very similar “tumblebleed” for Earth Delta, I’ve got no moral high ground here.

Unalhit: A six legged hairy octopus demon. Heh. “Hairy octopus”. Know what I mean, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more?

Voltree: Comes in five colors; when danger threatens, all the voltrees spend time getting their asses.. erm… trunks handed to them for ten minutes before finally remembering that can combine to form an all-powerful robot tree that… no, wait. This is a weeping willow with silver leaves that can electrocute passers-by. Based on a story by Eric Frank Russel.

Vuun: A fifty-foot giant bat, with psychic powers. “Very rare”, with only one colony remaining in a network of caves in the walls of a volcanic crater. I’m not even going to ask how a creature with a 50 foot wingspan navigates inside the tunnels.

War Wheel: It’s a living creature shaped like a giant wheel that will… oh, just read it.

Man, If You Could Figure Out How To Put A Saddle On One Of These...

Man, If You Could Figure Out How To Put A Saddle On One Of These…

I can kind of imagine the in-world arguments over what to call it, akin to the debate over “soda” or “pop”. (Soda, you morons) or “Sub”, “Hero”, “Grinder”, etc. (Sub or Hero. Grinder? Please.)

Water Sucker: Someone who pays 3.99 for a bottle of “Pure Glacier Mountain Spring Organic GMO Free Water” that’s bottled in Spokane from the local pipes. Also, a kind of armadillo thing that drains water like a stirge drains blood.

Weasel, Giant: Insert 2016 Presidential election joke here, too.

Were-Hellhound: There is a 25% chance it can use magic in human form and one-third of the magic-using were-hellhounds will be Priests of Roofdrak. No, I do not know what a Priest of Roofdrak is. I mean, yeah, I can guess, it’s a priest, that worships Roofdrak. That’s helpful. Not. Also, it will only work with were-coldcats if it has a good reason to. No, “were-coldcat” is not in this book. Nor could I find “Cat, cold” or “Coldcat”. Old School!

Were, Anti: At first, I read this as “were, ant”, which makes as much sense as anything else, but, no… an “anti-were” is like a were wolf, bear, etc., except that it’s immune to silver and magic weapons but is harmed by normal iron ones. This is a fairly typical trope for the era. Back when “player skill, not feats and stats” mattered, “player skill” consisted of memorizing every rulebook one could find, and ignoring things like “but your character has never met a werewolf, how does it know what’s effective?” And so, there was an eternal arms race, and “trick monsters”, which looked like typical members of a species but had altered or reversed weaknesses, were one of the primary weapons in the arsenal.

Witch Tree: Which tree? That tree! That one, right there. The one that’s trying to kill you. Forests in a typical D&D world are not exactly safe havens. I suppose the number of giant, poisonous magical scorpion-tailed creatures that roam the woodlands makes sense if you consider that “the woodlands” are themselves highly predatory.

Worm, White: A hundred-foot long worm that dwells in polar climates. It will devour anything that is not fuzzy, because, and I swear I am not making this up, it is very ticklish on the inside.

X-Ray Beast

The Next Time Someone Tells You The Flumph Was The Most Ridiculous Monster Ever, You Just Show Them This

The Next Time Someone Tells You The Flumph Was The Most Ridiculous Monster Ever, You Just Show Them This

Yes, it’s a one-eyed hippo which shoots an x-ray beam that does 3d6 radiation damage and would give a +2 on Heal checks to detect cancer, if there had been skills back then. For some random reason, it’s immune to fire.

Zanth: Six legged wolf-komodo-lizard. That is the entirety of the descriptive text. A fittingly old-school ending for this entry in the series.