Useful Accessories: The Monster Card

When I started designing my own monsters for Dungeons & Dragons, I would write them up in the standard monster block format. The Fourth Edition monster block is one of the best presentations of monster "crunch" I had seen in my history of playing Dungeons & Dragons. It gave the Dungeon Master everything mechanically necessary to run the monster in and out of combat. With the introduction of the revised stat block in Monster Manual 3, which arranged abilities by action type, it became an even easier experience.

Despite the 4E monster block being the best presentation I had seen for monster information, I still found it less than optimal. I would often "lose" powers as a Dungeon Master, forgetting that certain creatures did certain things. Granted, some of that would be alleviated if only I prepared better, but I felt that the monster block becomes less useful the more complicated the monster is. Since layout and design has become one of my things, I thought I would take a stab at it.

Because who doesn't love a bugbear! I think
I shall refer to them as hugbears!

Designing the Card

When I started, I compared the information in the monster block and compared it to what was on the character card. Some of the information was not necessary to retain, such as the extensive skill list, healing surges, or anything that is player specific. This freed up space on the front of the card. Of course, for some monsters, I began to realize that it freed up too much space. Monsters without any special quirks or traits end up with quite a bit of empty space. In contrast, monsters with lots of traits have to fit them into a tight space.

I realize that an Ogre does not have a lot going on,
but this presentation just feels vacant.

After some consideration, I realized that it would be a good idea to shrink the card from 8.5x5.5 to something more manageable. I originally hoped to go with 3x5 size because a lot of good D&D work is done on 3x5 cards. Unfortunately, it was just too small for what I wanted to do. I went to the next natural card size, 4x6, and tried to see if it worked. As it ends up, the power blocks I use on character cards are 2.5 inches wide which meant that they fit pretty well on a 6 inch card without a lot of extra fuss.

Simple layout, easy to read. So simple that
even an orc could use it!

Of course, monsters with only a few powers fit just fine. In some cases, I found myself making up new powers just to fill space on the card. For example, the Bugbear Thug seemed a bit bare as written so I threw in an encounter power that allowed him to get combat advantage against an isolated foe. Generally, monsters have two or three powers so it leaves a lot of space to marvel at whatever art I have selected.

Solo monsters have a lot going on.

Organizing the powers posed a question. This probably only came up because the first card I did was for the Iaijutsu Master. I had initially considered organizing powers by when they could be used (Katana sheathed or Katana drawn). However, after experimenting around, I decided to keep the organization akin to the monster block format. Powers were separated by what type of action they required (Standard, Move, Minor) or if they were a triggered action.

Recharge powers work well in this format. Just ask Duulgrin!

In the end, the layout proved to be pretty simple and not all that different than the layout of the typical D&D monster stat block. The one feature I really liked was the presence of check blocks for encounter powers and recharge powers. As a Dungeon Master, I often forger to properly track that. Truthfully, this is another one of those cases where I just do something badly and I have created a fancy way to compensate for it but, either way, it works out better.

Field Testing the Monster Card

My first use of the newly created monster cards was on a weekend in which I had both my Neverwinter campaign and my Waterdeep campaign, back-to-back. I created Duulgrin the Warchief and chose a few simple monsters to back him up as part of his gang. I had monster cards for each of the enemies the Neverwinter party would face. One warchief, one bugbear thug, and three orc raiders fought the player characters and I tracked it all using three laminated 4x6 cards.

From my perspective, the card was easier to reference than printed monster blocks or referencing a digital device, the methods I had used previously. I feel that as I have more, different types of monsters in battle, the monster card becomes more useful as they are easily identifiable from one another, unlike a monster block. Flipping through two or three sheets of paper can be a bit confusing at times so having it laid out in a fancy 4x6 format was nice. That being said, I would not say that the advantage of using the monster card surpassed the time, effort, and resources required in creating the card for a single battle.

Monstrous gangers ready for action!

Of course, my opinion changed the next day when the Waterdeep adventuring group ran into a group of monstrous thugs employed by the Xanathar. Using the same three monster cards, I was able to quickly throw together an encounter and I had cards at the ready. Granted, re-using material is not a new concept. What I liked was the idea of having a larger set of cards and being able to pull out particular monsters as necessary. I can imagine having a deck of some 50 to 100 cards and choosing monsters much more "on the fly" then would be possible in the current format.

Honestly, the whole deck of monsters reminds me a bit of some old DM'ing tricks I remember reading about back in the 1980s. Keeping a set of 3x5 cards with NPCs, pre-set encounters, and so forth was a tip I remember getting out of some Dungeon Masters guide or another. Some companies, like Paizo, have even tried that sort of thing with various decks of cards and things.

Monster Cards for the Future

As somebody who runs multiple Dungeons & Dragons games, I like the idea of slowly building up a deck of monster cards. Being able to quickly throw together a battle with monster tracking tools that I can continue to use and re-use is convenient. As a DM who has re-used monsters two or three times, having these kind of accessories around just makes sense.

The biggest problem I see with doing this is the inevitable problem of Fourth Edition scaling. After a few levels, a 4th or 5th level monster will not be particularly useful anymore. I suppose, in that regard, I have to complain about Fourth Edition power scaling. There are ways around it but it really is too bad that it's something that needs to be dealt with at all.

On Playing D&D

Recently, somebody told me that I clearly just play Dungeons & Dragons wrong.  It was something of a peculiar experience, since so much of the discussion recently has been "How you play D&D is the right way."  To have somebody so handedly dismiss me and my idea of the game was disturbing, to say the least, insomuch that it left me rattled for at least a day and I considered canceling all of my D&D games in response.  For whatever reason, I took it very seriously.

In resolving the issue, I had to spend a lot of time thinking about why my D&D experience was different than the apparent norm.  My experience with D&D, and tabletop role-playing, followed a slightly different course from some but I do not think it was such as to be considered "wrong."  I thought it would be appropriate to write a little bit about it here to provide some prospective.

Red Box Awesome!

I picked up my first D&D set, the Red Box Basic Set, in 1988, shortly after moving away from Los Angeles.  At the time, I was eight years old.  I was familiar with the idea of D&D as some family friends in Los Angeles played AD&D every now and then and I got to watch.  I knew what the idea was but I never got to play.  Now, armed with my own set, I could build the kinds of adventures and whatnot that I had seen and heard of from my friends and older brother.  Or, so goes the plan.

Years passed without me ever finding a group to play with.  I had kept up, getting books and sets here and there, even exploring the bowels of AD&D 2nd Edition.  My brother got involved with a group in high school and I would hear exciting tales of his games.  It was not until late 1992 or early 1993 that I finally cobbled together a group of people to play with.  For five years, all I could do was read and hear about how great a game this was without ever getting a real chance to play.

Gargoyles. They look evil.

Why is any of this relevant to how I learned to play D&D?  It is important because before I ever really played D&D, my perspective had already been colored.  From 1987 to 1991, I spent a fair amount of time playing the Ultima series on my home computer.  By the time I played Dungeons & Dragons, I already had fixed ideas about what a role-playing game would entail.  Most significantly, Ultima IV, V, and VI had impressed upon me the idea of what a fantasy world would be.

As to how this relates to the idea of me playing D&D wrong relates to the notion of monsters, alignment, and sentience.  By the time I played D&D for the first time, Ultima had already affected my perspective.  Ultima VI: The False Prophet taught me the importance of considering and understanding alternative perspectives.  The gargoyles, who appear to be a race of monstrous humanoids at first glance, are a legitimate race of sentient creatures with just as meaningful a claim on survival as humans.

Only evil monsters sacrifice the Avatar, right?

The gargoyles of Ultima VI are monsters when you begin the game, pure and simple.  They are Chaotic Evil (or, perhaps, Lawful Evil) monsters that seize holy sites across the world and kill people with reckless abandon.  They even try to sacrifice you in the introduction sequence.  As you play, you soon determine that these monsters are in fact civilized and have a developed culture.  However, they see you as the ruthless monster.  You, the hero, tore into their world, stripped them of their holiest artifact, and left their world to deteriorate slowly into nothing.  In D&D terms, you were the Chaotic Evil champion and humans were nothing more than monsters to kill or be killed by.  The importance of understanding perspective was huge in completing the game.  By the end, you have created a world where humans and gargoyles must work together to share in the wisdom of the holiest artifact (the aptly named Codex of Ultimate Wisdom).

But Meepo is friend!

When I finally got to playing D&D, the lessons of "The False Prophet" still resonated.  Goblins, orcs, and the rest of the intelligent races of D&D Land had just as valid a claim to civilization as any other.  So, when I read that a monstrous race was "always Evil," it bothered me.  It seemed very small minded, very ignorant to assume that a race was "always Evil."  The idea that Goblins or Kobolds were something you killed on sight, not because they attacked you first but because they're an evil race, did not correlate with my worldview.  I could not help but try to rationalize it in a modern view: "Yeah, we kill those goddamned <your_least_favorite_race_or_nationality> because they're evil!"  It did not settle well with me.  It bothered me that people would want a fantasy setting where killing people because of their race was acceptable (or, to a certain extent, desirable).

This... is... D&D!

So how am I playing D&D wrong?  Because goblins and orcs are there to be killed.  They are an evil race and they are there to be defeated.  That is how D&D has always been.  To try and apply big-headed philosophical notions of good and evil to a game about exploring dungeons, killing monsters, and getting treasure is just ridiculous.  In short, D&D has always been the original Munchkin.  It is nothing other than that.  To play it otherwise, in the opinion of this person I spoke to, was to play it wrong.

Obviously, after some consideration, this opinion is neither true nor universally held.  If Eberron taught us anything, it's that a D&D game can be complex, interesting, and morally ambiguous while still fitting within the framework of Dungeons & Dragons.  D&D did not have to be the mindless hack-and-slash and treasure-gathering that Gary Gygax's original adventures back in the late 1970s and early 1980s seemed to be.  Although Dungeons & Dragons may have its roots in a tactical combat game that developed into an adventuring game, the modern D&D has become much more than its progenitor.  But it does not have to be, if the group wants it to be simple.  Really, it's the game you want it to be (as long as you want a primary method of conflict resolution to involve violence).

I acknowledge that D&D started within a certain framework.  I also acknowledge that every group, every player, shapes the game into the game they want to play.  For me, it was complex.  It was ambiguous.  "Good" and "Evil" are relative terms and practically meaningless.  Goblins and orcs held just as valid a title to life and society as elves and dwarves.  This is how I play and this is how I continue to play.  The words of one close-minded player will not change that.

On Monsters Most Ridiculous

As a Dungeon Master, I always try to think about how the adventure, encounter, or situation would look if it were a work of fiction.  How would the story read?  How would it look on television?  How would it sound in a movie? If it would seem absurd or unbelievable in that context, I have to ask: why would I expect my players to buy off on it?  This kind of thought process really drives my development of adventure material.

Here is a brief illustration of what I mean:

*   *   *

As the Fellowship descended deeper into the Mines of Moria, they came upon a large chamber.  Frodo looked in awe at the cavern but quickly noticed a distinct odor.  He drew a deep breath, trying to identify the smell.  "Is that ... blood?"

Gimli shook his head.  "No.  It's rust."  He pulled his axe close, shaking his head slowly.  "I have heard legends of something like this, but..."  From the darkness, a high pitched hiss erupted, interrupting the stout dwarf.  He pointed towards the dark corner of the chamber.  "There!"

A peculiar, reddish beast stepped out of the shadows.  Gandalf stepped forward, holding his staff out defensively.  "Be cautious!  It is a rust monster!  It will consume the very metal off your bodies."  The wizened man looked towards Frodo.  "Be careful, Frodo.  Although the Ring's dark power protects it from the creature's attack, the beast will make quick work of Sting."

Frodo looked to Gandalf, concerned.  "But, Gandalf!  I thought Sting was a magical blade?"

Gandalf shook his head.  "It does not matter.  The rust monster destroys magical metals as readily as normal metals.  Be on your guard."

*   *   *

Right.  Had I been reading that book, I suspect I would have put it down and never picked it up again.  It sounds like the kind of thing a child came up with.  Or, perhaps more appropriately, it sounds like the kind of thing a bad dungeon master would come up with to upset his players.  Honestly, a good chunk of old school D&D monsters feel exactly like that. 

• Displacer Beast? "Ooohh. It always appears a few feet from where it really is! That will confuse the players!"
• Beholder? "Super anti-wizard wizard! Shuts them down with an anti-magic raye and then shoots lots of magics at them! That'll show them!"
• Rust Monster? "I really regret letting Bob get that magic sword. This will solve the problem..."
• Mimic? "This will teach those players to go grabbing my treasure chests!"
• Trapper? "The floor as a monster!?! Super awesome!"

There is a really great series of articles written on the Internet that go through some of the ridiculous monsters and point out the inherent silliness of them, so I won't go through it.  In general, the design philosophy of that era appeared to be a competitive Player vs. DM style.  When considering the design style of some of those adventures (Tomb of Horrors, etc), it seems a consistent design philosophy.

As an adult role-playing gamer, I always focused on collaborative storytelling with some mechanical hurdles (combat, skill resolution, etc).  The enemies in the story should have some theme or organization.  They should feel like they're part of the story and they belong in the world.  Whether it be an undead army or a clan of ferocious orcs, I expect to use a lot of the same kinds of basic enemies but with different skills.  Honestly, I feel like an entire campaign could easily feature nothing but player races as enemies with basic animals for support.  No flying balls with eyes or monsters that jump out of the floor, as the floor.

The design style of those ridiculous, old-school monsters feels out of place in the kind of adventures and campaigns that I want to run.  In the kind of games I play, I find these kinds of ridiculous monsters jarring when they come up.  It's a strange thing to go from fighting undead foot soldiers or the cult of a dragon god to coming across a pair of rust monsters in a dungeon.  It takes away from what I enjoy in the game and it always concern me when people get excited about them.

This is my idea of Dungeons & Dragons.