BX Monsters A to Z: Black Pudding

 I've always had a weird fascination with the oozes, slimes, and jellies of D&D, and jumping back now to the Expert Rules, we come to the very top of the slime food chain: the Black Pudding.

At a hefty 10 Hit Dice and dishing out 3-24 points of damage per attack, these things are nothing to mess with for any but the most seasoned adventurers. That's not all they've got going in their favor, though.

"I eat it." -- some smart-arse British player,
right before the DM tells him to roll up a
new character, probably.

One of the things I wonder about all the oozy monsters is the consistency of their substance. Black puddings, having an AC a point better than leather armor, seem like they must be tough and rubbery, or maybe just with a tougher outer skin (a bit like the American dessert which bears no serious resemblance to its British namesake). As a defense, this is nearly moot, though, because almost any attack from a weapon or spell simply splits off smaller 2 HD puddings that attack for 1-8 damage. I'd probably limit this division to five smaller puddinglets, accounting for the original's full 10 HD, but then you're looking at five attacks per round for up to a cumulative 5d8 damage instead of a single strike for 3d8. Whether the small puddings eventually merge back into one, or go their separate ways to grow into full-size puddings in their own right, your guess is as good as mine.

Only fire-based attacks actually hurt a black pudding. A fireball spell would be handy if you can get it off before the pudding attacks in melee, but even then, a 10d6 fireball is unlikely to knock off a 10d8 hp pudding in one go. Better bring plenty of torches and oil to finish the job!

The book description states that a black pudding can travel along walls and ceilings and squeeze through small openings, but despite this and its advantageous pure black dungeon camouflage, there's no mention of increased ability to surprise prey. I'd posit that there must be some telltale sign of its presence. Maybe it makes a squelching noise as it slides along, or perhaps it produces a strong, characteristic odor as it dissolves its way through dungeon detritus. It can destroy wood and metal in a single turn, but not stone. I'd probably amend that to specify only hard stone like granite or basalt; I can't imagine weak stuff like limestone or sandstone putting up much resistance to a giant acidic blob.

Though it's a formidable creature, the black pudding does have a few weaknesses to be exploited. First, only one appears at a time. There's no such thing as a group of puddings, so there's little danger of being caught in the middle of a pudding feeding frenzy (except see above). Second is its single attack, which, taken with its solitary nature, means only one party member can be targeted at a time in a pudding fight. If the party's fighters can withstand a 3d8 damage hit and keep rotating the injured to the back ranks to be healed, you might be able to outlast it. Finally, its movement rate is sluggish; at 60'(20') even a plate-armored fighter can at least keep ahead of it, if not increase the gap very much. Because of this, I wouldn't bat an eye at throwing one into a dungeon for relatively low-level parties and see if they have the sense to avoid or evade it.

Like all their slimy kin, black puddings seem natural members of the Dungeon Cleaning Squad. It would be extremely difficult to confine one, what with their natural squeezy-climby abilities, but some clever dungeon dwellers might devise a way to keep a pudding, well-fed on rubbish, at the bottom of a pit trap as a nasty surprise for intruders. 

All in all, the black pudding is a pretty well-designed monster, and I can't see any need for much in the way of tweaks.