When it came to designing the fifth edition of Dungeons & Dragons, lead designer Mike Mearls and his team had one mandate: create a fast-moving, easy to run rules set that would appeal to old school veterans and youthful neophytes alike. It was a tall order, but by most accounts, they succeeded.
Last summer's release of the Dungeons & Dragons Starter Set and free, downloadable Basic Rules was received with great enthusiasm by hobbyists and critics alike, many of whom considered the new edition a welcome return to form for the forty year-old fantasy game. The accolades continued with the release of the Player's Handbook, which bundled a "greatest hits" collection of race and class options with the core of the game's rules, and Hoard of the Dragon Queen: the first installment in the grand adventure Tyranny of Dragons.
This week saw the release of the Dungeons & Dragons Monster Manual, the second of the game's Holy Trinity of core rulebooks: Player's Handbook, Monster Manual, and Dungeon Master's Guide. Monsters are a crucial ingredient of the game's winning recipe, and a fumbled release could potentially devastate the new edition.
Fortunately, the new book more than exceeds expectations, both in presentation and content.
The hefty 350+ page hardcover is durable and solid, with beautiful full-color illustrations printed on slick but not overly glossy paper. Like the Player's Handbook, one is left with the impression that this book will be able to take a little abuse without falling apart and will be around for many, many years of play.
It includes all of the mythic standards like dragons, goblins, trolls and zombies plus plenty of monsters rooted in D&D's own mythology like ankhegs, drow elves, slaads, and rust monsters - almost 200 monsters in all. Each creature is accompanied with just enough background information to integrate it into the game universe and offer suggestions for play, but not so much that it stifles the Dungeon Master's own imagination. The stat blocks, critical to the monster's effective use in play, are short and concise, making it easier for the Dungeon Master to run a game without constantly flipping back to an entry in the Manual.
Some of the more powerful creatures in the Manual are capable of influencing their environment in dangerous ways. The presence of these "Legendary" creatures bleed over into areas they call home, making it an extension of their being: Overgrown walls of thickets grow in a mile radius around a green dragons lair. Wolves, bats, and rats are drawn to the perpetually foggy, shadow-haunted lands claimed by vampires. Reality itself warps around a beholder's domain. Not only are these great ways to bring a lot of flavor to an encounter with a powerful monster, they can also trap and injure characters. If they're not careful, they'll be sapped of energy or even killed fighting the land itself long before they reach the monster's lair.
In summary, the new Monster Manual brings back the fear and strangeness of a monster encounter without getting bogged down in superfluous detail or excessive, complicated rules, and does so in a way that enables a DM's creativity instead of limiting it.
You may recall our conversation last month with Dungeons & Dragons lead designer Mike Mearls about the D&D Player's Handbook. I'm very happy to say that he was kind enough to return for some more questions about the new Monster Manual:
The Monster Manual defines "monster” as “…any creature that can be interacted with and potentially fought and killed”. That’s a fine place to start for the purposes of establishing rules, but how would you define “monster” in a broader sense? Why does Dungeons & Dragons need monsters, and why do we as human beings love them so much?
We love monsters because in the grand scheme of things, monsters render our fears, worries, and anxieties into things we can run away from or defeat. They cast things in such lovely, stark terms, as compared to reality where true monsters are thankfully quite rare and invariably human or of human creation.
D&D gives us a world where our monsters can be overcome through courage, determination, and teamwork. They’re cast as vivid, tangible threats for us to defeat. There’s an aspirational quality in battling them, of empowering individuals with a clear way to become a hero and improve the world.
Look back to your earliest years: What is the very first monster that frightened you? What was the first monster you grew to love? Were they the same? Different? What about now? Are there any monsters that still give you the willies?
John Carpenter’s The Thing freaked me out when I saw at age 6 or 7. The idea of a creature that could hide inside a dog or a person was terrifying, especially within the context of the early 1980s where cases like the Adam Walsh murder dominated the news. It all came together a little too neatly in my mind.
On the other end of the spectrum, I loved every kaiju that showed up on WLVI’s Creature Double Feature. There was something about their raw power, destructive force, and the pro wrestling-style alliances and rivalries that captivated me. It’s been great to see them make a push into the mainstream with Pacific Rim and the re-launch of the Godzilla franchise.
In many ways, kaiju are the ideal monster. Yes, they’re huge and destructive, but you can build a giant robot or find a friendly specimen to save the day. There’s nothing insidious or truly creepy about them. They’re like a natural disaster that you can punch back into line.
These days, I love zombies. Once I discovered Romero’s zombie movies, there was no looking back. I think zombies encapsulate a lot of our anxiety about modern society. They might overrun and devour you, but they also destroy the old order and make way for a new, maybe better society. The zombies devour the people too caught up in red tape, politicking, or useless squabbles to understand their threat. The go-getters, the people who want to fix stuff or fight to save the world, those guys either die heroically or live to rebuild. It’s a perfect fantasy for the 21st century.
The Thing still completely freaks me out. If anything, it’s more apt as threat today than ever.
How did you get into Dungeons & Dragons, and as a player, what were some of the monsters that filled you with dread - or even anger? I hated ghouls. Hated them. That paralyzing touch took down many of my characters.
I started playing D&D in 1981, when my brother sold me his Basic Set. He had played with a few of his friends in Cub Scouts, but gave it up after a short time. I think the monsters were a big part of the appeal. As a six year old, the world can be a scary place. In D&D, the world was afraid of me (or at least my character). The creatures lurking in the shadows were fodder for a strong sword arm or a fireball spell.
I absolutely hated wights, because by draining away levels they specifically attacked the stuff that made my character powerful. As a kid I didn’t see it on this level, but so much of my visceral reaction to them was this idea that they attacked the stuff outside of the game world that I had earned. When a wight zapped my character’s levels, it was taking away everything I had earned and deserved. I hated those guys!
Oddly enough, I really like wights now. They’ve evolved into the sinister, scheming, hateful undead, a bit more in line with the Tolkien barrow wights that inspired them.
I’ve really loved the art of the fifth edition rulebooks, thus so far. The Monster Manual - like the Player’s Handbook - is illustrated in a style that seems quite distinct from fourth and third edition. For lack of a better word, these seem a little more “painterly,” particularly the illustrations of the fey creatures and giants. I don’t want to put any words in your mouth, so can you maybe tell me about how the team wanted these monsters to appear? Were the illustrators obligated in any sort of way to be faithful to depictions? I noticed that goblins have an entirely different sort of look to them than they have in prior editions.
Before we began work on the fifth edition rulebooks, we went through an extensive process of studying each monsters and deciding on its appearance, its legends and ecology, and so on. Those were some of the most enjoyable days I’ve spent working on D&D. We synthesized 40 years of D&D history while adding in flourishes and details where we thought gaps existed.
Part of that was making sure that a creature’s appearance was unique but still resonant. Our bugbears are tall and lanky, showcasing their physical power but also their stealth and agility. Ideally, if you look at the art you get a good sense of a creature’s character and nature. The visuals should synch up with a creature’s nature and its place in D&D’s mythos.
How has the addition of rules like the Proficiency Bonus and advantage/disadvantage, and the idea of bounded accuracy change how the team approached these monsters on a mechanical level? What about the reversion to a “theater of the mind” model of D&D? On that note, will these new monsters be useable as-is if someone would prefer to retain the combat grid style of fourth edition?
The really nice thing about bounded accuracy is that it meant we no longer had to strain to create higher level creatures. An orc warband is a threat even to high level characters. Rather than worry about having enough creatures at high levels, we could focus only on the important creatures and allow low-level threats to fill in the rest of the space.
The main change came down to focusing on fewer but more impactful abilities. Rather than give a creature a long list of tricks, we tried to keep things to one or two options that really spoke to what a creature does. That approach worked well both in terms of complexity and for making it easy to opt in or out of miniatures in play. An ability that is noticeable and interesting enough to register without miniatures also makes tactical, miniature-driven play more interesting. Really, it was more a process of finding abilities that could work well in both areas, rather than choosing one over the other. Monsters in fifth edition tend to avoid fiddly, minor abilities that only served to clutter the game.
Was it difficult to pick a format for the monster stat blocks? While I loved third and fourth edition, I have to admit that glancing down at the book and seeing a short block of text representing the creature’s attributes and possible actions - with clear explanations of how each works - made me breathe a sigh of relief.
The stat block format was an enormous effort. We took what we had learned from fourth edition and iterated on it several times. It’s great to hear that it’s working for you. We knew that fourth edition had set a high standard, and we set out to make sure that we met if not beat it.
What was the process behind choosing which monsters made it into the books and which didn’t? Did the team play a monster version of “The Bachelor” or something? (Please tell me that the bugbear won one of those roses.)
It’s actually a fairly similar process, and the bugbear did indeed win a rose! We had to make sure that every creature that appeared in the book pulled its weight. It had to be an interesting or popular creature in terms of its story and place in D&D. Ideally, we’re hitting on all the creatures that people expected, and in some cases revealing some new lore on the less popular creatures that makes them stand out.
So.. um… Modrons are back?
They’re definitely back! They’re a good example of a creature that is uniquely D&D, especially for people who played Planescape campaigns or the Torment CRPG. While D&D draws on a lot of classic myths and stories, it also has its share of creatures that have appeared only in D&D. We wanted to embrace a good number of those creatures to really lay claim to the fact that this is D&D and not a generic fantasy game.
My personal, favorite element of the modrons didn’t make it into the book. We mention that Primus, the leader of the modrons, created the slaad, murderous creatures of raw chaos. Primus cast a stone into the chaotic plane of Limbo in order to introduce more order to it. The stone produced the slaad. While the slaad kill, murder, pillage and spread chaos, they are also organized into a distinct, rigid hierarchy. Thus, the universe is overall more ordered and Primus is thereby pleased, even if countless creatures have been murdered by the slaad.
I like that sinister side to what looks like a cutesy creature. If you asked a modron to stop a plague, it might simply kill everyone in a city. No living creatures means no sick creatures. At least, that’s how I run them.
I know it’s hard to pick a favorite when it comes to your children, but do you have a favorite monster, or a favorite category? Being a bit of a folklore buff, I’m especially fond of the fey and goblinoids, and if you didn’t guess from the “Bachelor” joke above, bugbears are my favorite of the bunch. What about you?
I really like the oni, because it’s so versatile. Chris Perkins wrote the nursery rhyme that goes with the entry, and that made me love them even more. I like creatures that can trick the characters, but the oni brings a combination of powerful, destructive spells and physical strength that few others tricksters can match.
Which do you prefer when designing a campaign or adventure? Choosing thematically similar monsters (all aberrations, etc.) or a grab-bag of different creatures?
I like thematic groupings interspersed with the occasional oddball. In my adventures, a nifty monster theme goes a long way toward pulling together a clear theme or tone. The oddball monster – like the nothic mixing among the Redhand bandits in Lost Mine of Phandelver – helps serve as a contrast to that core while also providing a bit of variety.
I loved the flavor text that accompanied the monsters, especially the little in-universe quotes. A good many of them made me hungry for the rest of the view-point character’s story. Is it just me, or did you guys try to make it sound more like these were grizzled professionals passing on old war stories and tricks of the trade?
Yes, that was definitely part of it. It’s like the wisdom of folklore that gets passed around taverns in the world of D&D, the bits of lore that everyone knows about or has heard.
When I was growing up I was a big fan of the old “The Ecology Of…” articles found in Dragon magazine. I think that they triggered my initial interests in mythology and folklore. I noticed what seemed like a bigger emphasis on “Ecology of…” trivia and lore in the monster descriptions. Or, at least I think I did. Am I correct? How does the D&D design team avoid providing too much or too little of this kind of thing? It would seem the more you provide, the stronger the sense of an inextricable, implied setting becomes, but with too little, it’s hard to envision what these monsters do.
“The Ecology of…” is something we were also inspired by, so it did drive the idea that the Monster Manual should be an enjoyable book as reading material, not as a reference book. The key to balancing things out lies in finding the monster’s defining traits, the two or three things that make it stand out. We tried to focus on that material, and then build out the more mundane details that give DMs a sense of where the creature lives, how it acts, and so on.
If you focus too much on the unique elements, you risk leaving a creature without a relatable place in the world. It sits in a vacuum. Too many of the details and not enough of that unique stuff, and the creature ends up bland and dull.
Context is important. We had to ask what made a creature stand out from other monsters, especially ones similar to it. If we didn’t have an answer, we had to find one.
Were there any monster concepts that worked well in prior editions that didn’t in fifth edition?
We mostly moved away from presenting multiple versions of the same monster. In recent editions of D&D, once you were more powerful than a creature it posed no threat. Fifth edition makes groups of weaker creatures dangerous to powerful characters. We no longer had to find the 10th-level version of the orc, for instance. That kind of creature, specifically humanoids that were arbitrarily given powerful abilities and stats, is no longer a requirement.
Is it just me, or are these monsters a little stronger than they used to be? I nearly had a total party kill while DMing a fight between a small group of goblins and my players. Not that I mind - I love that D&D is dangerous again. My players seem to be comfortable with that, too, although it was a bit of a rude awakening for our party’s ranger when he caught an arrow to the skull after leaving the party to track down a goblin archer in the woods…
That’s probably the biggest shift for monsters in fifth edition. When we created stats for stuff like orcs and goblins, we thought about them in comparison to the typical member of a village militia. An orc can easily defeat that member of the militia, while a goblin is an equal fight. Bugbears, orcs, and other humanoids are much tougher now, but we felt that fit in with the lore of D&D, where a rampaging horde of orcs or gnolls is a real terror. We didn’t want those humanoids to become disposable mobs.
Will we be seeing any more Monster Manuals? What about a new Fiend Folio? When we last spoke you said that the team wanted every new book release to be an “event.” How will this affect the publishing schedule for new books like these?
When it comes to new monsters, we’re looking to tie them into campaigns and adventures. When we think about the storylines we want to present, we always give a lot of thought to the key monsters and enemies that the characters might encounter or that a DM might find useful. Giving a creature context is important. It’s the difference between reading about what a zombie is like and watching Dawn of the Dead. In my experience as a DM, seeing that fleshed out story helps me connect the dots and come up with ideas of my own. It also means that if we invent new monsters or reintroduce classics, we’re forcing ourselves to flesh them out with interesting story hooks and an identity that can really inspire DMs.