Gelatinous Icosahedron

I think I'm done here. The OSR blogosphere -- hell, the internet itself, really -- is just not my vibe any more. Likely it never was, and I've been pushing through on false hope and wishful thinking all these years. But now, it's time to move on. On the off chance I have a change of heart at some point in the indeterminate future: Expect me when you see me! But don't count on it. 

 Before we had golems in the Expert Set, the Basic Set gave us living statues. There are some similarities, but also some important differences, in particular some tantalizing hints that living statues might, unlike golems, actually possess a degree of human-like intelligence and free will, and we'll get to those a bit later. We start off the monster description with the declaration that a living statue is an enchanted animated creature made by a powerful wizard. So, it isn't natural, and it doesn't arise spontaneously (at least under normal circumstances.) That's a strong point of commonality with golems. A living statue may be of any size and any material, but only three are listed. What, exactly, this statement implies is not explored, but it would seem reasonable to assume that the stats listed for the three forms represent roughly man-sized statues, and that larger or smaller ones might have more or fewer Hit Dice and inflict larger or smaller amounts of damage. Fi...

 Today's monster, the giant leech, is one I've never used, nor been tempted to use in play. I'll get to why a bit later, but first, let's look at the stats and write-up as given in the Expert Rules. The monster is described as a swamp-dwelling, three- to four-foot sluglike creature. A giant leech has a listed AC of 7, equal to leather armor, which probably represents a rubbery hide. It has a whopping 6 Hit Dice, which puts it on par with tigers, minotaurs, caecilians, polar bears, and white dragons, hit points-wise. Not gonna lie, that's a lot of beef. It moves at a rate of 90' (30') which is quite brisk for a big slab of worm-slug. Its damage of 1-6 points per attack is not exactly massive, but once it hits, it hangs on and sucks blood for an additional 1-6 every round, and only killing the leech will detach it and stop the bleeding. Its morale of 10 is presumably only to be used before the creature latches onto a victim, making it very unlikely to give up ...

 We use the word "game" in distinct and mutually exclusive ways, and then get confused when we try to equivocate between the two. There are games in the sense of free-form make-believe, such as when children play Cops and Robbers or House, or adults engage in theatrical or comedic improvisation. Then there are games of objective rules, such as chess, checkers, Monopoly, and card games.  D&D, as originally created and played, is a game of objectivity. It has slowly evolved away from those roots. Many of the old forms have been intentionally preserved, but they are vestigial, and as such, useless and pointless to the way the game is played in its modern incarnations.  D&D is known for its mathematical rules -- perhaps digital is even nearer the mark. Target numbers and modifiers are precisely defined, and they're intended to be used that way. There are no "fudge factors" and indeed, that would defeat the entire purpose of the digital precision. If these n...

  The classic Erol Otus kobold.  There might not be a more iconic staple monster of low-level play than the kobold. Curiously, kobolds get a lot more extensive write-up in the Basic Rules than many other monsters, such as goblins. Kobolds have been depicted in a variety of ways in D&D, but in B/X they're describes as small, scaly, rust-brown, hairless, and dog-like. Perhaps the adjective "scaly" contributed to their later portrayal as little dragon-men, a model I personally find cheesy and stupid. I imagined "scaly" more like a skin condition such as mange. Folklore tends to lump them in with goblins and dwarfs, and it wouldn't be a huge stretch to depict them as ugly, gnarled little bearded men, or even combining that with the dog-like appearance of B/X tradition.  Setting aside attempts to make them truly formidable and fearsome opponents (e.g. "Tucker's kobolds"), kobolds in their basic form are individually quite weak. Their AC is equal...

 One monster that captured my interest right away was the killer bee from the Basic Set. I'm not really sure why, exactly, but when I set out to expand the outdoor map from B2, one of the first encounter areas I wrote up was a hive of killer bees. I'd like to note that in the next revision of the rules, the Frank Mentzer-edited Basic Set, the killer bee was listed simply as "Bee, Giant." Same monster, same stats, but "killer bee" suggests something more than just a big honeybee -- it's aggressive and fearsome. It's a killer . Anyway... Killer bees are a bit odd among the critters of the D&D bestiary. They're described as being one foot long, which is gigantic relative to normal bees and other insects, but not stupidly large. They're not hard to kill, having AC 7 and only 1/2 Hit Die, but they are not an encounter to be taken lightly, even by mid-level PCs. Why? Because every successful attack features a save-or-die poison. Your 4th-level ...

 The invisible stalker... a monster I have never, ever used in any game I've run or played in. Let's see if that was reasonable, or a missed opportunity. An invisible stalker pursuing its quarry through ancient ruins. Invisible stalkers appear only due to being summoned by a magic-user with a powerful spell. The stalker is a formidable creature, having an AC equal to plate armor and 8 Hit Dice, just one fewer than an elephant. It moves at the same rate as an unencumbered human, 120' (40'). Its single attack deals an impressive 4-16 (4d4) points of damage. And its morale is 12 -- it doesn't give up, ever, until it's slain or dispelled back to its home plane. (In other editions, this is specified as the Elemental Plane of Air, but in B/X, it could be any place the DM wishes.) Only a single one is encountered a time. The signature characteristic of invisible stalkers, is, of course, invisibility, but this literally goes completely unremarked in the monster descript...

 There's a lot more to the power curve of old school D&D than just being able to take on bigger and tougher monsters as the party levels up. Newish players and DMs might be forgiven for thinking that way, but they'd still be wrong. In this post, I'm going to look at the different dynamics that emerge over the course of an old school-style campaign, and then compare that to what happens with a lot of the "innovations" of new school play. First up, though, we're kickin' it old school! Low-level play is a game of stark contrasts and sudden death. Randomness can turn victory to defeat, or vice-versa, in the blink of an eye, and the players' primary challenge is to minimize its effects as much as possible through careful and clever play.  New player characters in old school D&D are fragile. Most have a fair chance of being slain by a single hit from a 1d6 attack. Even if you use the popular house rule of allowing new 1st-level PCs maximum hit point...

 Here's another "monster" that is wildly underappreciated and underutilized: the insect swarm, from the Basic Rules. I don't think I've ever used one myself, neither back in the day nor more recently, which is kind of a shame. Let's get into it and see what sort of possibilities such an unconventional monster entry lends itself to. According to the book, an insect swarm may be comprised of various types of insects (or other arthropods such as spiders), either crawling, flying, or both. (Presumably a single swarm is composed of a single type of creature, though.) The swarm has an Armor Class of 7, which is mediocre but still better than an unarmed human, perhaps because of the decentralized nature of the swarm. There's just not a coherent "body" to strike against. In fact, because of the other curious mechanics of the insect swarm, this number is completely, entirely irrelevant; it will never be used in play. The swarm effectively has 2-4 Hit Dice...

 From the second installment in the B series of modules to the penultimate one: B11: King's Festival, by Carl Sargent. Though it was not packaged with a rule set, B11 was billed as an introductory module, complete with DM advice and background information on the wider setting beyond the immediate environs of the module itself. While not a "bad" adventure, it lacks many of the greatest strengths of the earlier modules like B2, and leans on a lot of trends that deviate strongly from the earlier ethos of the game, making it a good module to contrast with the classic Keep on the Borderlands.  Nowhere are these differences in ethos more evident than in the DM advice with which the book opens. To be sure, there are some good bits, but a great deal of it is geared toward running "scripted" adventures, including advice on how to keep players on the rails and how to get them back on if they insist on deviating from the path. That's a stark contrast to Gary's wisd...

 TSR-era D&D produced a plethora of published adventure modules. Some are beloved, some reviled. Some exemplify the modern "old school" ethos and some started D&D down some very dubious paths, which old schoolers today by and large disavow. Some of them made for engaging, fascinating reads, but were problematic at the game table.  In this series, I plan to take a look at some of these old modules for Classic (that is, non-"Advanced") D&D, not necessarily as a reviewer, but really digging into the specifics of what I like, what I don't like, what works and what doesn't, and most importantly, what DMs and authors of today might learn from them. It seems appropriate to kick it off with the module that introduced me to the game, that is still considered a classic among classics, so without further ado, I give you may take on... Module B2: The Keep on the Borderlands, by E. Gary Gygax himself (Spoilers to follow, on the off chance you're not famil...

 The hydra is a monster with deep roots in Greek myth. Like many D&D creatures portrayed as whole types or species, the hydra, too was once unique. It was a many-headed serpent, reputed to have poisonous breath and blood so toxic even the scent of it was deadly, with later incarnations of the myth adding the regeneration of two heads for each one severed. The slaying of the hydra served as the second of the mythic Labors of Hercules.  The standard D&D hydra is toned down a bit from the myth. Though it's a tough beast to be sure, it can be slain by heroes of less than demigod status. The book describes it as having a dragon-like body (minus wings) and 5 to 12 snake-like heads.  The hydra is a bit of an odd duck, mechanically. Its AC of 5 is decent. It has 1d8+4 heads, with 1 HD and 8 hit points for each one. That makes it quite a bit tougher than other monsters of the same HD, on average, since it always has maximum hp. Compare a 10-headed hydra with 80 hp to a typ...

 Horses are one of those entries in the B/X bestiary that exists not because they're interesting as monsters, but because they're creatures that are useful to characters. They're essentially living pieces of equipment, but as such, they need stats like monsters. The book breaks them down into three broad categories: riding, draft, and war. All three have a base AC of 7, which is pretty standard for most animals with no predatory inclinations or particular affinity for combat. Everything else is different among them. Riding horses are the standard we're most familiar with in our modern world. Their purpose is to be sat on and take their riders places. They're capable of a very brisk pace of 240' (80'), or twice the speed of an unencumbered human, and can maintain that speed while carrying up to 3,000 coin weight (300 pounds), including the rider. They can carry up to 600 pounds at half speed, which is still a very respectable 120' (40'). (More on this...

 Well, it's been a few seconds since I last felt inspired to write and post here, but here I am again. An A to Z Monster post feels like a good way to ease back into the flow. We come now to another perennial staple of low-level play: the hobgoblin.  Hobgoblins are described as bigger and meaner relatives of goblins, presumably with a similar appearance (e.g. chalky tan to livid grey complexion, red eyes, etc.) though that is not explicitly stated. Though they live underground, they are able to function in full daylight without penalty, unlike goblins. Mechanically, hobgoblins are exactly what it says on the tin. Their AC of 6 is equal to a goblin, while their 1+1 HD give them an extra couple of hp on average. They are slightly faster at 90' (30') (compared to 60' (20') for goblins), and a bit braver with a Morale score of 8 (vs. the goblin's 7). Their damage is listed as "1-8 or by weapon," so it's implied that they wield swords or perhaps battle ...

 Next up, another creature with firm roots in the fertile soil of real world mythology: the hippogriff. The Classical world certainly did love its animal hybrids. The hippogriff, a beast with the front parts and wings of an eagle and the hind parts of a horse, is a prime example. The entry in the Expert Rules is one of the shortest in all of B/X, and by extension, in all of D&D, at a mere four sentences. The first describes the creature's appearance, the second notes that it can be tamed and ridden, the third briefly expounds on its natural enemy relationship with the pegasus, and the fourth states that it nests in rocky crags. That's the full extent of it.  Stats-wise, the hippogriff is a moderately formidable opponent. Its AC of 5 and 3+1 Hit Dice are fairly stout, a little better than the average war horse. It is a swift flyer, at a movement rate of 360' (120') and somehow it manages to run almost as fast as a good horse on its eagle-talon forelegs. It's able...

 Time for another monster! We're still working through the H-critters, and next up is the hellhound. By the book, a hellhound is a large canine monster, reddish-brown in color and the size of a small pony ("That's quite strong, that is!" -- Eddie Izzard). It is impervious to normal fire, and highly intelligent (saving as a fighter of its full HD rather than half), often dwelling either deep in dungeons or in hot, fiery places such as volcanoes, and consorting with fire giants and other fire-loving creatures. Mechanically, the hellhound is a bit odd. Its Armor Class of 4 is quite a bit tougher than one would expect. Its Hit Dice run anywhere from 3 to 7; apparently whoever designed the monster either wanted it to be flexible with regard to the levels of parties it could be used against, or to create uncertainty for players, or perhaps both. Its physical attack is a pretty standard bite for 1-6 damage. Its movement seems a bit slow and lumbering at 120' (40'), e...

 It seems fitting, after the harpy, to focus on another creature of wing and feather, this time one of a more natural and less malevolent persuasion. I give you the hawk. We all know what hawks are, so there's no need to recapitulate that here, even though the monster entry in fact does describe what a hawk is. What is of note is that all hawks do double damage on their first attack if they surprise their targets. Two varieties are detailed, normal and giant. It is noted that normal hawks won't attack human-sized or larger targets unless they appear unable to defend themselves. (It seems extremely unlikely that they'd attack even halfling-size creatures unless for the same reasons or maybe in cases of desperate hunger.) Their stats, AC 8, 1/2 Hit Die, and 1-2 damage per attack, bear this out pretty soundly. Their movement rate is an impressive 480' (160'), though, and their Morale of 7 is decent. It's the giant hawk you might need to watch out for, especially if...

 Anyone who's played old school D&D is probably familiar with the potion of poison, one of the items which might be generated by random rolls on the magic item tables. Any potion found might be poison, up to 1 in 8 if only the Basic Rules were used, or a mere 2 in 100 when using the tables from the Expert Set. According to the item description, if any amount of the potion is swallowed, even a sip, the character consuming it must make a saving throw vs. poison or die.  I believe the potion of poison was meant to serve the purpose of risk, making players always a little bit apprehensive about any potions their characters might acquire during an adventure. I believe this in large part because no practical uses were even suggested for the potion of poison; it seemed to be included in the lists only as a "gotcha!" item. While uncertainty and risk are important parts of a good D&D session, it is always preferable to enable players to manage these for themselves, to make...