I've been a huge fan of Dungeons & Dragons since middle
school. And one of my favorite things
about the game has always been the weird monsters. The weirder the better for me.
Starting a few years ago, there's been this trend on the internet towards making lists of "stupidest D&D monsters", because apparently only the grimmest of the grimdark are acceptable creature material (though that does seem to be changing a little for 5th edition). This blog will showcase the wide variety of obscure, silly and/or just plain weird monsters of D&D and hopefully show folks that these creatures have just as much of a place in D&D as the baddest-ass were-dire-owlbear tiefling (or whatever). When possible, I try to give credit to the creatures' creator.
Starting a few years ago, there's been this trend on the internet towards making lists of "stupidest D&D monsters", because apparently only the grimmest of the grimdark are acceptable creature material (though that does seem to be changing a little for 5th edition). This blog will showcase the wide variety of obscure, silly and/or just plain weird monsters of D&D and hopefully show folks that these creatures have just as much of a place in D&D as the baddest-ass were-dire-owlbear tiefling (or whatever). When possible, I try to give credit to the creatures' creator.
A major source for a lot of these critters is the
"Dragon's Bestiary" column regularly found in the pages of Dragon
magazine. White Dwarf-- a sister gaming magazine
from Great Britain that long ago dropped D&D to focus exclusively on
Warhammer and Warhammer 40K-- also had a regular column devoted to creating new
monsters for Dungeons & Dragons. Many
of D&D's most iconic creatures came from this magazine, including drow, githyanki, githzerai and grell.
In addition to Dragon, I've combed through several issues of WD to find more unusual and
intriguing monsters for your enjoyment.
I should add that inspiration for this blog came from a
similar series of articles written by Jonathon Wojcik over at Bogleech.com
So let's start this blog with one of my favorite weird
D&D monsters-- a bunch of living bedclothes!
The October 1998 issue of Dragon magazine (#252) featured a
Dragon's Bestiary article titled "Formidable Visitants" written by
Michael D. Winkle. The monsters here
were inspired by the works of M. R. James, a popular writer of ghost stories from the early 1900s. James wrote most of his stories to be read
aloud at Christmas gatherings with friends (reading ghost stories at Christmas
is, or at least was, a popular part of the holiday celebration in Britain which
we here in America really need to adopt).
Eventually I'm going to talk about all of the Jamesian monsters featured
in this article, but for today let's focus on the three species of "Death
Linens".
Winkle writes: "Death Linens are beings of living
cloth, usually sheets, pillows, and other items associated with beds. They have
been infected with latent psychic forces born of nightmares."
KILLER PILLOW
Basically a textile version of a Venus Flytrap or a predatory
Megalodicopia tunicate. Killer Pillows
lie in wait on a victim's bed and close around their head when they sleep,
suffocating them. They are, as the article says "literally bad dreams in
physical form"
The creatures were
inspired by James' story "Two Doctors", specifically a scene at the
end where a character is discovered dead in his bed with his pillow curled
around his head by implied supernatural means.
FLANNEL BEAST
Described as a thin, ribbon-like bit of shredded cloth that
lies coiled up in a pile of towels or linens, waiting to bounce on victims.
Interestingly, the Beast is described as having poisonous fangs-- presumably
formed from some material besides cloth? I'm curious where these hide when the
Flannel Beast is camouflaged. Are they
folded up deep inside the cloth? And
where does the "poison" come from?
Does this thing have venom glands like a cobra?
SHEET
In essence, this is your classic, cartoon "sheet
ghost", except instead of being the spirit of a once-living person, the
Sheet is a non-living fabric that has been animated by supernatural (but not
ghostly) powers. When animated, the
Sheet develops a disturbing, semi-human face formed from crumpled fabric. Like the Flannel Beast, it possesses fangs
(somehow) that it can use to cause damage.
And, like the Killer Pillow, it can wrap around a victim to smother them
Both the Flannel Beast and Sheet were inspired by the story"Oh Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad", wherein a character finds
an old metal whistle in a Crusader ruin.
Blowing the whistle summons some sort of mysterious entity (exactly what
is never made clear) which takes the form of the narrator's own bed sheets
crumpled into a vaguely humanoid form at the climax.
While Death Linens obviously don't provide much of a
challenge in a hack-and-slash dungeon crawl game, they work quite well in a
slower, atmospheric game. Maybe even a
campaign set in Ravenloft.
Living clothing and other normally inanimate objects do
actually exist in real-world mythology.
In Japanese folklore, any household item that has been around for 100
years will develop a soul and transform into an intelligent,
semi-anthropomorphic spirit called a tsukumogami.
Folklore records dozens of distinct tsukumogami types,
including animated parasols (Karakasa-obake), straw sandals (Bake zori), paper
lantern (Chochin-obake), inkstones (Suzuri-no-Tamashi) and many more. There is even a spirit equivalent to the
flannel beast called an Ittan-momen.
Source: The Night Parade of One Hundred Demons: A Field Guide to Japanese Yokai by Mathew Meyer
Source: The Night Parade of One Hundred Demons: A Field Guide to Japanese Yokai by Mathew Meyer
Wish I'd found this blog a couple of years ago! Oh, well. I might as well point out that the "Flannel Beast" was actually inspired by James' "The Uncommon Prayer Book":
ReplyDelete“And then, sir, I see what looked to be like a great roll of old shabby white flannel, about four to five feet high, fall for’ards out of the inside of the safe right against Mr. Potwitch’s shoulder . . . I see this roll had a kind of face in the upper end of it. . . it fell right over on to Mr. Potwitch’s shoulder, and this face hid in his neck -- yes, sir, about where the injury was -- more like a ferret going for a rabbit than anything else.”