Monsters may only be supporting
actors in the unfolding of events in a
role-playing campaign — but the DM
and the player characters aren’t going to
win Oscars for their performances if the
supporting cast isn’t any good. Handled
well, monsters can make an adventure or
a campaign unforgettable. Handled poorly, they can drain it of its lifeblood.
Monsters should be treated by the DM
with almost as much care as he treats
players — perhaps, sometimes, more
care. Monsters cannot argue about unfairness or misuse, as players can (and
do). The best DM’s never lose sight of the
fact that monsters are people, too. Like
players and player characters, they cannot be ignored or mistreated without this
causing serious consequences. A balance must be maintained between players and monsters for a campaign to
maintain its challenge.

One of the problem encountered by
some player-groups after a number of
journeys in a campaign is monster polarity.
After a time, creatures become divided into two groups:
the slow-witted
and the ultra-cunning.

The former attack on sight,
disregarding all else and slaying until they are slain.

The latter seldom endanger themselves, usually setting up
elaborate traps in which to snare any possible enemies.

In a campaign which
is polarized like this, few monsters show
evidence of any original thought on the
part of the DM, and the result is that the
most popular adventures are those which
become intricate (and artificial) DM
traps. This causes monsters to be relegated to the status of second-class dungeon denizen.
Any DM would find it difficult and
tedious to create a special monster for
every situation. But effort of that scope is
unnecessary anyway; with just a bit of
time and thought, a DM can easily add
that precious element of uncertainty that
makes an adventure more than just an
exercise in monster trashing.

If the DM keeps players and their characters guessing,
all participants will get more out of the campaign, both in terms of enjoyment and intrigue.

A matter of intelligence
Intelligence is a major consideration
in any monster’s design, but possibly
also the most abused characteristic. Intelligence suffers most from the onset of
“monster polarity” in a campaign. The
results are supremely stupid, or unbearably cunning, competitors for the players. Both types become predictable and
dull after the first few confrontations.
Who says that orcs attack mindlessly
and to the last “man”? They are undoubtedly smarter than tigers, so why
can they not use the same amount of
guile (at least)? Even animals flee when
confronted by an opponent they sense
they cannot defeat — yet orcs and goblins habitually throw themselves headlong into battle.
Intelligence is a reflection of how
clearly a creature can understand the
world around it. This pertains to facts
(only), while decisions involving those
facts fall into the realm of wisdom. So,
while a creature of low intelligence sees
only a man with a sword, a creature of
genius-level intelligence will see that
man as a seasoned warrior, and will perceive that the sword seems to have a
mind of its own. (Yes, magic weapons
can be detected in this fashion.) These
two minds see the same form, but one
perceives it more clearly and more completely. This does not mean that a highly
intelligent creature will know as much
about the party as the DM does (only a
god-like mind would know nearly as
much), but it will act on what it does see
(or senses in other ways) much more
rapidly than a creature of relatively lower
intelligence.

The more intelligent a creature is, the
more likely it is to recognize and attempt
to neutralize the stronger members of
the party.
Conversely, the least intelligent monsters will tend to pick on what they see as
the easiest target in the party — either
the closest member, or the one who is
obviously (sleeping, wounded, being
carried, etc.) the least able to protect
himself.

A somewhat more intelligent creature
(perhaps as high as low/average) will do
essentially the same thing, but will be
more particular (perhaps realizing that
unarmored people — magic-users and
thieves — are the most vulnerable).
Above this level of intelligence (average or higher), creatures will usually
attack stronger (at least, those they think
are stronger) party members first, leaving the weaker for later.
Animals will attack the easiest “kill,”
while ogres will probably take out the
less armored types because it is relatively easier (to them) to do so, but even
orcs will usually try to drag down the
fighters, knowing that doing so makes
beating the rest of the group much easier. Something as smart as an efreet will
probably hit a magic-user first, since it
would see that character as more of a
threat, intending to deal with the physically stronger fighters later.
Intelligence determines what a monster will do initially when confronted by a
group of players. When surprised, any
creature less than very intelligent will
instinctively flee (at least until, it has a
better idea of what it is confronting). In
such a case, a creature of high intelligence will be able to adjust more quickly
after being surprised, and will react more
rationally. Rule: Orcs flee, elves react.
No creature, unless it is cornered or otherwise forced to fight, is likely to fight an
unknown enemy, and will probably flee
at first opportunity.
In a situation where monster surprise

is not a factor, creatures will usually
observe an enemy before they decide
whether to attack or not. This axiom applies to all intelligent creatures, including those of animal intelligence. Lions
will stalk their prey, as will kobolds,
given half a chance. As higher intelligences are considered, the time needed
for observation decreases, until a creature of genius intelligence needs but a
moment to evaluate a situation. But no
creature attacks on sight — except
maybe player characters.

Recognizing magic and men
A monster’s ability to recognize magic
use and magic items varies with intelligence. Creatures of low intelligence
recognize magic only in its most overt
forms — glowing weapons and other
items that have strange effects.
Animals, and others of animal intelligence, will not recognize magic at all,
reacting only to the effects (bright light,
fire, etc.); thus, they cannot use magic,
since they simply do not understand
what it is.

Creatures of average intelligence will
suspect magic more often than they
actually encounter it — knowing that
there is magic in the world, they “see” it
everywhere — and so will blame magic
even for mundane events. Goblins, for
example, blame natural events on magic,
as do many simple humans.

Somewhat brighter creatures recognize the signs of the magic-user (no
armor, few weapons, odd items) and can
act accordingly upon such signals. The
most clever of creatures will be able to
perceive magic items simply by noting
how party members hold or protect them.
For example, while a manticore sees a
man with a stick in one hand and a twig in
another, an average dwarf may see a
magic-user with a staff and a wand, while
a ki-rin sees a low-level magic-user with
a (mundane) walking stick and a wand
which he seems rather proud of — probably something fairly powerful.
A monster’s ability to determine the
character classes of party members is
dependent on intelligence. A creature of
low intelligence sees “man,” one of average sees “cleric,” while one of genius
intelligence sees “high level cleric with a
magic staff.” A monster’s understanding
and interpretation of what it sees will
affect how the creature reacts to the
group, as well as affecting its decision on
who it will attack first, should it do so

Other effects of intelligence
In a creature’s bargaining with groups,
intelligence is the factor which influences all others. Knowledge tells a creature
when it is possible to deal, how good a
deal is, and with whom it should deal.
The most stupid creatures may either
not bargain at all, or “chaotically” make a

deal which is ridiculously simple — or
difficult — for the party to meet. Such
creatures may feel like a snack, and will
ask for something to eat as plain as ordinary food, or as absurd as three group
members. The more intelligent a being
is, the more likely it can determine just
what the limits are on any deals it can
make.

Likewise, only the most dull-witted
creature will deal in good faith with an
evil chaotic, or expect such response
from others if the creature itself is an evil
chaotic. (Gollum and the riddle-game is
an example that leaps to mind.)
Another characteristic of monsters
that corresponds to intelligence is how
well a creature can use its natural abilities. Obviously, DMs should keep in
mind that all creatures can use those
abilities mentioned in the Monster Manual to full effect.
Demons’ spells and abilities are always ready at hand, and should
be clear in the DM’s mind; the same goes
for the djinni and efreeti, and any other
creatures with special abilities. This does
not mean that creatures will always use
their abilities to best effect, however. A
DM should be ready to employ any special abilities, but always in a “natural”
manner — dependent on the monster’s
intelligence. For example, a fairly bright
red dragon is likely to save its breath
weapon for the more vital use than the
odd halfling who wanders into its lair.
Similarly, a dim-witted type IV demon
may be less likely to gate in other demons, because of overconfidence or fear
of appearing to be weak to others of its
kind, than would a smarter one who
decides that help may be welcome or
more expedient in eliminating the party.
The average troll is unlikely to use a
weapon, but a genius of its race just
might have the presence of mind to start
swinging with that magical sword, or
wear that “cloak of protection from fire.”
It’s all in the brain, so who can tell when
the party might meet up with the Rhodes
Scholar of otyughs?
Another effect of intellect on the average monster is evidenced in how it prepares its lair. A less intelligent minotaur
who does not want to be disturbed may
spread havoc in the area around its
home in hopes of scaring off intruders
(which has, of course, the opposite effect
on player characters). The considerably
smarter mind flayer, however, will probably conceal its lair and take care of
trespassers quietly.

The latest in lair decor
What’s “in” in interior design for the
fashionable monster who hopes to live to
terrorize its next village? Here are several rules of thumb:
Any creature of at least measurable
intelligence will have an emergency exit
in its cave/den/lair. Even animals are
smart enough to do this — why not a
dragon? This escape hatch may be anything from a simple hidden tunnel to a

magically concealed passage or a teleport spell.
Creatures of average or higher intelligence will place a trap or two along the
approach(es) to their lairs. These may be
outside the tunnels proper, or they may
involve traps or mazes within the lair
itself. Such traps will not be constructed
so cleverly that the creature itself cannot
pass them — if it is smart enough to
create traps, it is smart enough not to
trap itself in. Particularly involved traps
will usually be constructed in blind side
tunnels, so the creature won’t have to
worry about stumbling upon one of them.
Smarter creatures will probably have
counter-measures in their lairs to compensate for any weakness they might
have. Michelangelo Troll may reside in a
particularly damp cave, or even one with
a pool, to lessen the threat of fire-using
invaders. Vinnie Vampire’s crypt may
have a permanent darkness spell permeating it, to counteract clerical light. A
pet rust monster, pressed into service
when plate-armored fighters invade, no
doubt has been the salvation of many
creatures bright enough to know their
usefulness.
Any creature, no matter how stupid,
will provide itself with some method of
obtaining food: If it cannot get food to
come to it, it will have to get to the food.
By this reasoning, a dragon will seldom
inhabit a dungeon, unless there is a usable escape tunnel out, or it is reliably
provided with food by a third party.
And finally, if the creature is a foodgatherer, any pets or guards it uses will
usually not be of any type that might
threaten its source of food. If a creature
is smart enough to have guards or pets,
it is bright enough to know the consequences of a poor choice.

Personality doesn’t go by the book
The personality of a particular creature depends a lot on a monster’s or
NPC’s mental faculties, and is somewhat
shaped by the creature’s alignment —
but well-developed monsters have distinctiveness above and beyond these
characteristics. The personality of a
creature also includes the ways in which
a DM breathes life into that individual
monster or NPC — making it different
from the standard “book variety” version
of that monster.
For purposes of definition, a creature’s
personality is considered to be the way
in which its intelligence and wisdom
mesh to form its particular outlook on
life and modes of living. Personality
affects what goals a monster might have,
as well as helping to describe quirks in
its nature.
A monster’s personality usually helps
determines the circumstances under
which it will meet the party, and will certainly also affect what it does when an
encounter takes place. The presence or
absence of caution on the monster’s

part, favored residences it might prefer
to inhabit, and quirks of “character” are
all monster characteristics that can affect how, when, and where the players
will encounter that creature or creature
type.
Adjusting a monster’s goals based on
its personality may take some thought
on the part of the DM, even after the
nature of the creature’s personality has
been decided or determined. But the
payoff for such work will be “one of a
kind” encounters for the players — because no two monsters will ever be
exactly the same.
To determine the nature of a monster’s
personality, the “Personae of Non-player
Characters” section of the Dungeon
Masters Guide is very helpful. Consider
the “quirks” therein, which can be chosen or generated randomly to assign to
monsters and NPCs alike. If a monster
has paranoia, it might attack on sight
— even if the intruder is of the same race.
If a creature is formidable and greedy,
but faint-hearted, it may ask for a bribe in
return for not attacking the party. A
dragon hungry for wealth and power
(beyond that which is normal for dragons) may try to take over an area and
demand tribute and deference on the
part of the other inhabitants. A lazy but
vengeful NPC magic-user might not
pursue a group himself, but would rather
hire assassins or just put a price on the
heads of his enemies.
Especially in a large-scale, wide-scope
campaign, it’s probably not worth it to
make every monster different; just put a
little variety into the overall mix, so the
flavor of your world is one where the
monsters live, not just reside. Assigning
distinctive personalities to even just
some monsters tells players that they
can no longer afford to treat any monster
as typical, or similar to another. Players
will learn — sometimes the hard way —
that the beings in your world are individuals, and they will enjoy the challenges
this offers them.
Below are offered some suggestions
for “quirks.” The use of these particular
personality traits should be relatively
limited, since most of them are major
personality twists. They are described
here as examples of what can be done in
the extreme to change a monster according to its personality:

1. A creature who prefers eating to any
other activity, and may also be greedy
for wealth. (Such a creature would probably be grossly overweight.) Dealing
with a demon with such preferences, for
instance, would certainly be interesting,
particularly if it decided that a member of
the adventuring group suited its “tastes.”

2. Creatures prejudiced against certain other creatures, above and beyond
the racial preferences lists given in the
rules. This prejudice could take the form
of anything from simple disdain to active
hatred, and might produce an encounter
result totally unexpected by the party
members.

3. Creatures who have a phobia. Fear
of silver in any form would be common
among werewolves and other monster
types susceptible to silvered weapons.
Trolls would probably have a phobia
involving fire, considering their situation. But these are obvious and common.
What happens when a group meets a
griffon with hydrophobia (fear of water),
or a cleric with a fear of flying, or a
demon afraid of the dark (nyctophobia)?

4. A creature who hoards “odd” materials (books, artwork, etc.) in preference
to monetary wealth or valuables that
could be used for cash (gems, jewelry,
etc.), or who actually prefers “money” of
lesser value over higher denominations.
All such hoarded items will invariably
have some significant monetary value —
no boot collectors or beer-can hoarders
— but will be of much greater intrinsic
value to the creature than their monetary
worth might indicate. A rather odd
dragon, for example, may prefer items of
copper above all other wealth, and be
willing to trade gold or magic items for
the group’s “collection” of copper pieces.

5. Catatonic creatures may seem like
statues, or under some spell, unless disturbed, at which point they attack in a
berserk manner.

Goals, ambitions, and motivations
Just like player characters, monsters
have certain goals and ambitions, as well
as everyday needs. Most of these goals,
wants, and needs would be recognizable
as some form of human drive — but
monsters are not human (seldom even
humanoid), and cannot be treated by the
DM as if they were. Creatures in the
AD&D world are products of strange
environments, backgrounds, and genetics, and must be played vastly different
from human(oid)s.

In some aspects of life, monsters are
similar to humans. However, their ideas
of what is comfortable, pleasant, and/or
beautiful are at odds with our own. Some
monsters are born with specific tendencies toward good, evil, law, or chaos.
Some enjoy (and even require) living in
filth. Others think that murder, mayhem,
and destruction are wonderful occupations, and they cannot be convinced
otherwise. Others will find joy and beauty
in what we consider ugliness. It is this
difference in viewpoint which the DM
must always be aware of in order to
decide how a certain creature will react
to any given situation.

Think of what life is like, for instance,
for a vampire. What would it find interesting, especially since it is undead and
therefore (potentially) immortal? One
can hardly sleep forever in one’s crypt,
no matter how homey it may be. Didn’t it
seem as though Dracula enjoyed those
mental duels with his pursuers in old
London? In a similar vein, an AD&D
vampire’s boredom could easily be relieved by any passing group.
The challenge to a vampire would be in misleading the group, and tempting his own
destruction — or at least endangering
himself — before artfully destroying
them. On perhaps a lesser scale, the
same thought holds for dragons, since
the only opportunity for them to relieve
the tedium of hoard-guarding would be
in elegantly outwitting potential robbers.
Typically, all creatures of relatively high
intelligence will be on the lookout for
ways to make life interesting and occupy
their time.

Less intelligent creatures do things in
their spare (non-fighting) time, too.
Often their activity at such times is a
search for some necessity: food, home,
or a mate. If such a being finds time on its
hands (claws?) once it has gathered the
necessities of life, it would probably then
set about prowling the neighborhood.
(Curiosity seems to be a common trait
among animals and creatures of low
intelligence.) A group of adventurers
could meet such a creature as a wandering monster at either time — when it is
gathering food (or whatever), or when
it’s out for a snoopy stroll.

Most of the time, an undeveloped
monster’s motivations and goals are only
made vaguely known, if at all. For instance, why do dragons hoard treasure?
For pure greed, or for status among their
fellows, or because they like lumpy beds?
Why are sphinxes interested in riddles?
Why do unicorns care about treasure?
This sort of question is one that every
DM must ask and answer individually.
Deciding how to play the appeasement of monsters, reflecting the goals
and desires of each creature type, is
often a problem for both players and
DMs. What is proper to offer a lamia, for
example, as a bribe or a payment for
some service — and what might she consider acceptable? General guidelines
might read like this: Creatures of lower
intelligence want food, and will often be
satisfied by something that will fill their
tummies. Those of somewhat higher intelligence may also want a mate, or
companionship of some type, as preferred compensation. As a monster’s
intelligence increases, so does its interest in wealth and security. (“Will it pay
me to take their money, let these guys
go, and have them advertising my lair?“)
Rising still higher on the intelligence
scale are those monsters with desires for
power and magic.

One motivation common to all monsters (and characters as well), except
those of the lowest intelligence, is revenge — which can take a multitude of
different forms.

Environment and enemies
Individualizing monsters is the best
way to make each of them unusual and
realistic — but a DM must be careful not

to go too far in this direction, ignoring
the general characteristics of a creature
type that also help shape that creature’s
actions. Consider a creature’s environment and its biological or psychological
nature and ask: What is common to all
creatures of this type? In this regard, the
Monster Manual is particularly helpful
because of its descriptions of behavior.
To augment those guidelines, here are
other ideas:

A creature living in a particular climate
or environment will have certain natural
enemies. A troll’s enemies might be
salamanders; a lammasu’s foremost adversaries might be manticores. Any time
two creature types may be competitors,
they will probably be enemies as well.
Living a life in one environment tends
to cause fear of, or discomfort in, another. Thus, cave-dwellers may not actually fear light, but its brightness makes
them uncomfortable. Many winged types
will have claustrophobia and probably a
fear of darkness, since flying is hazardous in cramped spaces or in the absence
of light. A bullette may not like crossing
rocky ground, since it is a burrowing
creature and would be unable to flee in
its accustomed manner if attacked on
that terrain.

Weaker hunting-type monsters will be
correspondingly more cunning, or will
usually mass in large numbers (kobolds
and orcs are examples). Also, such types
will be more dangerous in their lairs,
since they are more likely to prepare
traps in order to survive in a world of
stronger enemies.

Most monsters are not solitary creatures, and those that are able and willing
will form some sort of society. The natural alignment of a creature type comes
into play here, since few monsters of
chaotic alignment can cooperate to the
extent of forming a solid, stable society.
This is a rationale, in AD&D game terms,
for how those of lawful good alignment
can survive and persevere against the
more numerous and more powerful
chaotic and evil types — the “good guys”
tend to band together, finding strength
and safety in cooperation. A society of
vampires, though an interesting thought,
would be very fragile — held together
only by the most important of their
common goals.

By keeping “the mind of the monster”
in mind, a DM can make every adventure
more fun and more fulfilling. The creation of monsters with challenging personalities gives the DM a proper measure of control over — and a greater
responsibility for — what happens in his
or her world. From this effort, the players
receive a greater feeling of involvement
and satisfaction when they defeat not
“just another monster,” but an individual. And if the player characters are
defeated instead, then at least they have
been beaten by a worthy opponent, not a
“paper golem” with no mind of its own.

OUT ON  A LIMB

Smart monsters

Dear Editor:
Gary Gygax’s “Sorcerer’s Scroll” in issue
#42 strikes at the heart of a problem that hurts
many campaigns. Monsters are frequently
thrown at the players in a simple hack-andslash
suicide mission without regard to their
intelligence or secondary abilities. Like player
characters, monsters do not want to die and
they are going to use every bit of cunning and
resouces available to them to prevent it.

Mr. Gygax gives many excellent ideas to
make monsters more realistic. Home defenses
such as escape routes, special traps, and battle
deployment should always be considered. 

Magic items will be used by monsters
if possible; even a bugbear is smart enough to
use a glowing +1 sword over a normal one.

The DM is at an initial disadvantage due to
his/her singular creativity compared to the
combined thinking power of the players. Preplanning
how encounters might be run if the
party takes some special action, such as
throwing oil, can even things up. Taking time
to have monsters use their own intelligence
forces the players to to use their own intelligence
more effectively, leading to a more
challenging and fun game for everyone.


Forrest C.M. Pape
Houghton, Mich.
(Dragon #47)