This article was originally written in 2000-01. It has never been published. It is a companion piece to Monstrous Tactics: Mimics.

The mimic has long been the bane of adventurers. Their penchant for using their natural shapechanging abilities to disguise themselves as desirable objects – most commonly, treasure chests – often serves as the lure which has led many to their doom. Tough, strong, tenacious, and crafty, the best way to beat a mimic is to simply keep your distance.

HELPFUL TIPS

• Find the mimic before it finds you
• Keep your distance
• Use ranged attacks to wear it down
• Don’t be afraid to bargain

PREPARATION

GRAPPLE: Mimics are coated in a thick, poweful adhesive which they will use to every possible advantage. If they succeed in hitting you with one of their pseudopods, you’ll quickly find yourself stuck fast in a slimy grapple. So if you know you’re entering the lair of a mage who loved his mimics, you’d better be prepared for grappling: This means spells with casting times less than 1 action, light weapons, and so forth. The Escape Artist skill is particularly invaluable.

SPELLS: Freedom of movement will help you free anyone who gets caught by the mimic. You’re also going to want to prep ranged attacks, while avoiding attack spells which require you to touch the mimic – shocking grasp becomes a serious liability when you’re dealing with the fantasy equivalent of a tar baby.

EQUIPMENT: Strong alcohol breaks down the mimic’s adhesive, so you might want to bring a couple of bottles along. If you don’t end up using them, you can always use them for the victory celebration afterwards, after all.

SKILLS: The best way to defeat a mimic is to detect their presence before they can surprise you. This means you’re going to need sharp eyes, and a high Spot skill.

TACTICS

USE THE ROGUE, LUC: As noted above, your best bet against a mimic is early detection with your Spot skill. Not only is this a class skill of the rogue, but the mimic’s preference for assuming the shape of a treasure chest makes it likely that you’ll be sending the rogue in to check for traps, anyway. The rest of the party should consider the rogue to be their first line of defense against a mimic – and the rogue himself should always make sure to run Spot checks on suspicious objects before closing in to detect the traps: It does you no good to know that the chest is really a mimic, if the mimic is already sitting three inches in front of your face.

BARGAIN: Mimics are more intelligent than many adventurers give them credit for, and are actually able to speak Common. If things are going badly – or if you just aren’t interested in facing off against a mimic at the moment – don’t be afraid to bargain with them. Most mimics are more than willing to let you walk away with your lives… in return for some food or treasure, of course.

KEEP YOUR DISTANCE: Mimics are at their most dangerous when they have you within reach – at a distance, their threat is negligible. Another factor to your advantage is the mimic’s relatively slow speed (about one third that of a human). Spread out, keep your distance, try to avoid or escape tight quarters, and pepper the mimic with ranged attacks.

AVOID SWORDS: The mimic is coated in a strong adhesive – if you hit it, your weapon will most likely become stuck fast. Instead, as has been said, you should keep your distance – peppering it with disposable range weapons (such as arrows) and spells. (Note that the adhesive will dissolve once the mimic is dead – allowing you to retrieve your ranged armament without any problems.)

This article was originally written in 2000-01. It has never been published.

The most basic of all mimic encounters (the mimic disguised as a treasure chest) is the ultimate moral message: Don’t be greedy. Used properly, though, mimics can be a constant and pervasive threat – and a DM who knows how to use them well will always have his players just a little bit unsure of whether or not what they see is truly what they see.

ORGANIZATION

Mimics were supposedly created by a wizard long ago with the sole purpose of guarding treasure. Although their creator is long dead, they live on – a solitary species, whose natural predilection for things precious have led them into many unusual circumstances. Mimics can be found anywhere and everywhere, as anything – literally.

PREPARATION

BASICS: A mimic’s basic tactics are simple enough: Assume a shape which will attract attention, wait for their target to draw near, ensnare them with adhesive pseudopods, and then pummel them to death. The most common shape for them to assume when adventurers are in the area is that of a treasure chest – coming to life when someone attempts to open them. Mimics are at a severe disadvantage in ranged combat, so they will typically prefer to lair in enclosed spaces.

GUARDS: Mimics were created to guard treasure, and many of them continue to fulfill that role even today. Mimics can be found watching over the lich’s foul tomes of magic (disguised as a book or even an entire bookshelf), the king’s treasure (as one chest among many), or the weapon’s of an orc tribe (as a spear, perhaps). Mimics typically fall into this line of work as an effective way of earning “room and board”. Other mimics have been known to let their protective desires become covetous – amassing their own hordes, which they guard preciously s extensions of their own personality.

THE THREAT WITHIN: Once your PCs are familiar with mimics, you can begin throwing some curves at them. One of the simplest is a dislocation of the danger: Instead of having the mimic imitate the form of a chest, have the mimic place itself inside the chest – disguised as some ordinary object, or merely lying in wait for the first unfortunate to open their lair. Some of these chests have been known to have false bottoms – allowing the mimic to enter and leave the chest without disturbing the surrounding environs.

FALSE LURES: PCs are who see a treasure chest sitting unguarded in the middle of an empty room are instantly suspicious. Mimics, however, are aware that the unusually easy access to the wealth they promise sets many on their guard. Some mimics have taken to setting up false lures to set their prey at easy. For example, setting out actual chests in the middle of empty rooms – so that they are, again, merely one among many.

THE UNEXPECTED THREAT: While some mimics attempt to make their unusual appearance in plain sight merely seem like one unusual occurrence among many, other mimics choose to hide in plain sight without arousing suspicion: For example, it is relatively easy for a mimic to assume the form of the walls or floor. Let the PCs enter a small room, and then have the floor come to life beneath their feet!

NATURAL WONDER: Because they prefer enclosed spaces, mimics are typically found underground. However, some mimics have learned to enjoy the outdoors. Some go to the forests and disguise themselves as trees (waiting for prey to pass beneath their boughs before ensnaring them). Others will slip into farmer’s fields, disguise themselves as part of the crop, and wait to trap the farmer as he passes near them.

IT’S HUGE!: It is easy to forget that larger mimics exist. If the PCs can be surprised by a treasure chest coming to life, imagine their horror when the fifteen foot tall golden idol comes to life and flows towards them!

TACTICS

Mimics have a limited tactical repertoire – with their primary advantages as combatants coming in the preparation they put into their attack.

LURE THEM IN: The mimic’s primary tactic is to wait for someone or something to draw near, and then come to life – ensnaring them in their pseudopods. Mimics will attempt to time their assault so that they can trap as many of their foes as possible.

BARGAIN: If things are going badly for the mimic, it will not hesitate to bargain – often doing so while it can still maintain the appearance of superiority. If the bargaining fails it will attempt to escape.

NEXT: vs. the Mimic

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 11A: Into the Caverns of the Ooze Lord

At the same moment, two of the greenish, ooze-like creatures dropped from the ceiling of the chamber and landed in front of the passage. They were not as large as the creature they had just defeated, but between the two of them the entire width and much of the height of the tunnel was filled.

In some design circles, there is a tremendous amount of focus and energy expended on making encounters mechanically interesting and/or mechanically novel. While I generally agree that a game (and thus encounters) should be both mechanically interesting and varied, I also think that there’s currently way too much emphasis being placed on this.

In my experience, you don’t need special snowflake mechanics in order to have memorable encounters. Of course, this doesn’t mean that mechanical interest isn’t important. Those who go to the other extreme and act as if mechanical design, mechanical effects, and mechanical interaction aren’t significant in the design and experience of combat encounters (and other gameplay elements) are blinding themselves and needlessly crippling their toolkit as a GM.

NOVELTY STAT BLOCKS

There are several ways to generate mechanical interest. For the moment, let’s limit our discussion to mechanical novelty in stat blocks – i.e., studding the stat blocks of your adversaries with unique abilities.

This is a particular area where it seems to have become fashionable to expend way too much effort on creating these unique, special snowflake stat blocks in the name of creating “memorable” encounters. There are 4^th Edition modules, for example, where seemingly every single encounter features an orc with a different suite of special abilities.

Not only do I think this is unnecessary, I think it can actually backfire: One of the things which creates mechanical interest is mastering a mechanical interface and then learning how to interact with it. Chess doesn’t become more interesting if you only play it once and then throw it away to play a different game; it becomes less interesting because you never learn its tactical and strategic depths. Similarly, when every single orc is a special snowflake with a package of 2-3 unique abilities that aren’t shared by any other orc, you never get the satisfaction of learning about what an orc can do and then applying that knowledge.

A constant, never-ending stream of novelty doesn’t make for a richer experience. It flattens the experience.

This is why video games generally feature a suite of adversaries who each possess a unique set of traits, and over the course of the game you learn how to defeat those adversaries and become better and better at doing so. That mastery is a source of interest and a source of pleasure.

(Of course, conversely, most video games will also feature bosses or other encounters that feature special mechanics or unique abilities. I’m not saying you should never have something a little special; I’m just saying that when everything is “special”, nothing is.)

My general approach to stat blocks is basically the exact opposite of this novelty-driven excess: Not only do I get a lot of mileage out of standard goblin stat blocks, I’ll also frequently grab a goblin stat block and use it to model stuff that isn’t even a goblin.

The other big benefit, of course, is that this is so much easier. So there’s also an aspect of smart prep here: Is all the effort you’re expending to make every single stat block unique really paying off commensurately in actual play? For a multitude of reasons, I don’t think so.

SYMBIOTIC TACTICS

The other two goblins passed into the slime creatures and… stopped there. Their swords lashed out from within the protective coating of the slime, further harrying Agnarr.

Perhaps the primary reason I don’t think so, is that there are so many ways of creating novelty (including mechanical novelty) in encounters without slaving over your stat blocks. One way of achieving this is through the use of symbiotic tactics.

Basically, symbiotic tactics are what happens when you build an encounter with two different creatures and, in their combination, get something unique that neither has in isolation. The current sessions includes an extreme example of that in the form of the ooze-possessed goblins who can fight from inside the green slimes (and are, thus, shielded from harm).

Symbiotic tactics, however, don’t need to always be so extreme in order to be effective in shaking things up. A particularly common form of symbiotic tactics, for example, are mounted opponents: Wolf-riding goblins are a distinctly different encounter than either goblins by themselves or wolves by themselves.

Symbiotic tactics also often appear in other media. For example—

—the fastball special from X-Men comics.

Unfortunately, to truly enjoy symbiotic tactics it’s not enough to simply design an encounter with multiple creature types. If you design an encounter with ogres and dragons and then the ogres simply fight separately from each other, it’s not necessarily a bad encounter, but it’s not employing symbiotic tactics. In order to have symbiotic tactics the goblins have to walk into the slime creatures.

(So to speak.)

Like many GMing skills, this is something that you can practice. Grab your favorite bestiaries, flip them open to two random pages, and then think about how those two creatures could cooperate to do something neither could do on their own.

Some actual examples I just generated:

• Dyrads + Ogres. A dryad is typically limited by their tree dependency, but this dryad is worshipped by a cult of ogres who carry their tree in a holy receptacle. The dryad is thus more mobile than usual, and will entrap opponents on the edge of their at will entangle ability so that the ogres can stand safely 10 feet away and use their reach to pound on them.
• Ankheg + Homunculus. An ankheg’s homunculus will fly above the surface, acting as a spotter for ankheg’s moving undetectably below the surface of the earth. (Yes, this does beg the question of how an ankheg ends up with a homunculus. Probably an interesting story there.)
• Harpy + Bebilith. The harpy uses their captivating song to keep victims passive while the bebilith snares them in their web.

What you end up may or may not be an encounter which even makes any sense. The point here isn’t necessarily to generate usable ideas. You’re flexing a muscle, and developing your sense of how creatures with disparate abilities can work together in interesting and creative ways.

In the process, you may start finding familiar themes: For example, after the three above I generated a Red Slaad + Ettercap. That can be another “stun ‘em, then web ‘em” combination like the Harpy + Bebilith.

Those types of discoveries are useful because you’ll begin building up a toolkit of such common tactical combinations that you can improvise with during play. But for the purposes of the exercise, try to pushing past the repeats and finding something unique. For example, the ettercaps might use their webs to stick the red salads to the ceiling. When the PCs enter the cavern, the ettercaps slice their webs and the red salads drop down all around them in an unexpected ambush.

Similarly, remember that you’re not necessarily trying to get their mechanical abilities to interact with each other in a purely mechanical way. It’s OK if that gives you an interesting idea, but it’s also limiting. Think outside the mechanical box and look at how these creatures might actually interact with each other. If that takes you back towards the mechanics, great! If it doesn’t, also great!

The final note I’ll make here is that this is not something I typically spend a lot of time (or any time) prepping before play. When you’re first exploring symbiotic tactics, it may be something that you do want or need to include your prep notes. But as you gain experience (as you exercise the muscle), you’ll likely find that you can dynamically figure out how different creatures can interact with and mutually benefit each other on the battlefield during actual play. You’ll be able to just focus on designing general situations (“there are ooze-possessed goblins and slime creatures in this area”) and then discover the rest of it during play. (Which will also have the benefit of allowing your encounters to dynamically respond to the actions of your PCs without losing depth or interest.)

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

Session 10D: Clan of the Torn Ear

I suspect that there will be a number of posts in this series that end up being basically variations on, “Look how cool prepping situations instead of plots is!”

But that’s because it’s really frickin’ cool.

Let’s talk a little about how this scenario came into existence, because it’s a confluence of several different factors that went into building the In the Shadow of the Spire campaign.

First, of course, was a desire to run a campaign in Ptolus, which I’ve discussed before. Among the raw material Monte Cook designed for Ptolus were a half dozen scenarios in the Ptolus supplement designed to kick-off a Ptolus campaign.

One of these was “The Trouble With Goblins”, which you can more or less see play out in Session 5 of the campaign: Goblins emerge from the catacombs beneath the city and take up residence in an abandoned house in the Rivergate District. In the scenario as written, the players can trace the goblins back to Ghul’s Labyrinth, but there’s nothing to find down there: “The passages literally go as far as you want them to – and as far as the adventurers are willing to take them. They wind through ancient chambers empty except for more and more zombie encounters. There is no treasure to find.” The intention is that the zombies will eventually drive the PCs back to the surface (through boredom if nothing else).

I’ve never been comfortable with “there’s an endless array of empty corridors down there, so eventually you turn back” set-ups because, basically, I’ve never figured out how to run them successfully (by which I mean, in a way which is satisfying for both me and the players). So I decided to take a different approach: The goblins came from somewhere, and they could be tracked back there.

I decided that the “somewhere” in this case would be an impassable bluesteel door. (This would allow me to introduce one of the major features of Ghul’s Labyrinth.) Rather than just placing a bluesteel door, though, I created the mini-scenario The Complex of Zombies: The idea was that the PCs would be “rewarded” for tracking the goblins with a little horror scenario, find the bluesteel door, and be able to satisfactorily conclude this line of investigation.

As previously discussed, however, things didn’t quite work out like that: The PCs managed to do something incredibly clever and get the bluesteel door open.

Although I ended up adding a whole new scenario on the opposite side of the bluesteel door, I now had a situation where the PCs would logically be able to track the goblins back to their “home”… wherever and whatever that was.

The goblin shook his head. “He was not of our clan. He was traitor. Come. Look.” Holding the runty goblin’s corpse by the head like a rag doll, he bent it forward to present the neck.

Puzzled, Tee came closer. On the back of the goblin’s neck she saw four small tendrils of greenish ooze – they were still wriggling and writhing.

The other major factor was that, before the campaign began, I had done a survey of about 40-50 issues of Dungeon Magazine looking for interesting scenarios that would be appropriate for Ptolus. One of the scenarios I had really liked but ultimately ended up not finding a place for was “Caverns of the Ooze Lord” by Campbell Pentney in Dungeon #132. Now I pulled it back out.

The original module features a small village that’s been infested by mind-controlling ooze parasites, and the PCs are able to track the problem back to a local cave complex. I said to myself: What if the infested “village” is actually a clan of goblins? And the goblins had come to Greyson House because they were fleeing the ooze?

THE SITUATION

So I basically ripped out the entire front half of Pentney’s module, heavily modified the caverns in the back half to fit the new back story, and inserted a freshly designed set of goblin caverns. I summarized the situation and background like this:

• 40 years ago an earthquake struck this area. It opened the fissure leading to the Laboratory of the Beast (Adventure 003B); collapsed the tunnels which once led in that direction; and also opened the fissure leading to the Temple of Juiblex.
  • Juiblex the Shapeless is one of the Galchutt.
• The connection to the Temple of Juiblex contaminated the caverns and disrupted the local balance, leading to the emergence of sickstone. The goblins were eventually forced to abandon the sickstone caverns.
• An expedition was mounted to the Laboratory of the Beast, but it ran into the adamantium guulvorg skeleton, suffered heavy casualties, and retreated. The complex, along with the legendary “surface world”, was forbidden to the tribe by their leaders.
• 2 years ago the warcaster Morbion journeyed into the sickstone caverns. He found the Temple of Juiblex and was corrupted.
• 3 months ago, the goblins became aware that something was wrong: Goblins were disappearing. Eventually they figured out the “oozed ones” were controlling some of them and kidnapping or killing others. Their efforts to combat this threat have failed.
• 2 months ago, a small group of goblins fled through the Laboratory of the Beast and reached Greyson House.
• Currently Ursaal and the duskblades, along with 8 of the lesser warriors and one of the greater warriors, have been corrupted by Morbion.

(Tangentially, I knew that the Galchutt referenced here would play a major role in Act II of the campaign. I find that when designing unanticipated interstitial material in a campaign it’s useful – and also logical! – to find opportunity to reincorporate and foreshadow other elements from the campaign. You can see a similar methodology in the Obelisk of Axum and Severn Valley scenarios that I added to the Eternal Lies campaign as a result of actual play.)

EMERGENT EVENTS

In designing this scenario, my assumption was that the PCs would actually fight their way through the goblins – slowly gathering environmental clues about the presence of the “oozed ones” – and then fight their way through the ooze caverns. Kind of a standard “kill all the goblins” dungeoncrawl that would slowly morph into a horror scenario.

But as you can see in this week’s journal entry, that’s not what happened: The PCs ended up negotiating with the goblins and the entire scenario literally turned on a dime and became something completely different. And that’s what makes prepping situations so cool: Not only do you have the joy of being constantly surprised by what happens at the gaming table, but something like two hundred words of situational prep can suddenly blossom into entire sessions of compelling play.

The character of Itarek is one example of this: Found nowhere in my prep notes, he emerged logically out of the adversary roster I had created for the scenario, and (as you’ll see) quickly became one of the most unforgettable supporting cast members in the campaign.

“I will take you to our Queen. She will decide.”

Tee laughed. “You expect us to just walk into the middle of your caves?”

“You were going there anyway. And I give oath of safety.”

The “oath of safety” is a key emergent moment: If Tee hadn’t laughed off Itarek’s initial offer to take them to the queen, he never would have given them an oath of safety (and the subsequent scene would have played out completely differently).

Note, too, the roleplaying with Tor that emerges out of this completely unanticipated sequence of events. In the Shadow of the Spire benefits tremendously from players who are willing to make bold, strong choices.

I’ve said in the past that I think a lot of games suffer because of two unexamined paradigms or meta-rules:

1. The PCs are not allowed to fight each other.
2. PCs are not allowed to split up or leave the group.

The belief is that this prevents friction and disruptive play, but in my experience it actually creates those things. The moments between Tee and Tor that emerged during this session are an example of what can happen when you remove these artificial limitations: Tor being willing to leave the party because of his principles forced the group to resolve the situation in a way which created an even greater bond going forward.

And I firmly believe that interaction was only possible because it was, in fact, a real possibility that Tor would leave forever. (At which point we would have figured out a new character for Tor’s player.)

In much the same way that the enduring relationship between the party and Crashekka and Itarek only exists because it was equally possible that the party could have just stabbed them without ever learning their names.

Prepping situations is so frickin’ cool.