What I Like About Orc Babies

This is a touchy subject, and I'll try my best to discuss it with care, but I want to talk about children in D&D - human children, halfling children, orc children, giant children, beaver children, and everything in between. 

This has been kicking around in my mind since reading Lonely Star's post on the absence of pregnant women in TTRPGs, which sparked a related conversation about children in TTRPGs. This of course brought to mind the AD&D Monster Manual and its very thorough inclusion of children of all kinds. The implications are grim, and this is infamously brought to the forefront in Gygax's own Dungeon Module B2: The Keep on the Borderlands and its use of "monstrous" humanoid children.

I will also be talking about noncombatant adults (in the AD&D Monster Manual these are referred to universally as "females", but I will be using my preferred nomenclature because I believe that anyone can fight or not fight regardless of their gender). These adults go hand in hand with children, as they are often found in lairs and either don't have combat statistics or fight as lesser combatants compared to their "male" counterparts. In the case of those that do not fight at all, they pose the same thorny questions as do children. That is, once you've slashed and burned your way through the warriors guarding the Caves of Chaos, what do you do with the humanoid civilians?

So, let's talk about children and noncombatants in the fantasy colonial violence game.

Interestingly, there are no demihuman or humanoid children in OD&D's Monsters and Treasure. There are young dragons, lycanthropes, centaurs, and rocs, but no orc babies. The closest thing to children of people in the booklet are the lycanthropes and centaurs (lycanthropes being basically people most of the time, and centaurs being people from the waist up). Likewise, dragons, lycanthropes, and centaurs are the only entries in which female members of the species are mentioned (and only the female centaurs are noncombatants). 

AD&D's Monster Manual is vastly different. Here is a list of every (?) Monster Manual entry which mentions gender or children:

• A bugbear lair will have female and young bugbears each equal to 50% the number of male bugbears. In a life or death situation, the former fight as hobgoblins and the latter as kobolds.
• A centaur lair will have females equal to 200% the number of male centaurs and 5-30 young. In a life and death situation, the former will fight with hooves only (unlike the male centaurs, they do not wield weapons). Centaurs are 90% likely to ransom their threatened women and young using their treasure hoard - an even more grim implication than usual.
• A dwarf lair will have female and young dwarves equal to 50% and 25% the number of male dwarves, respectively. Presumably, neither fights (from here on, I will presume female and young monsters do not fight unless mentioned otherwise).
• An elf lair will have female and young elves equal to 100% and 5% the number of male elves, respectively. 5% of the time there will be 10-30 warrior elfmaids mounted on unicorns (cool).
• If more than one cloud giant is encountered in its lair there is a 75% chance that the second is a giantess (which fights as a fire giant), while the rest are young giants. Percentile dice are rolled to determine the young giants' maturity, and they have hit points and inflict damage equal to that percentage of an adult giant's hit points and damage. This same rule of thumb is more or less repeated with all giant types, except the storm giant for some reason.
• A gnoll lair will have female and young gnolls equal to 50% and 200% the number of male gnolls, respectively.
• A gnome lair will have female and young gnomes equal to 50% and 25% the number of male gnomes, respectively.
• A goblin lair will have female and young goblins equal to 60% and 100% the number of male gnomes, respectively. Here the Monster Manual explicitly states, "As is usual with creatures of this sort, the females and young do not fight," which is why I am presuming that female and young monsters listed in other entries do not fight unless mentioned otherwise.
• A halfling lair will have female and young halflings equal to 100% and 60% the number of male halflings, respectively.
• A hobgoblin lair will have female and young hobgoblins equal to 150% and 300% the number of male hobgoblins, respectively.
• A kobold lair will have female and young kobolds equal to 50% and 10% the number of male kobolds, respectively, as well as 30-300 eggs (worth mentioning as deciding what to do about the eggs is similar enough to the decision made about the females and young).
• Werewolf packs are typically a male and female werewolf and 3 to 6 young of 60% to 90% growth. Male and female werewolves fight the same, except the male werewolf gets +2 to hit and does full damage if the female werewolf is attacked, and the female werewolf gets +3 to hit and does full damage if the young werewolves are attacked. The young fight at -4 to -1 to hit depending on their maturity and do 2-5 points of damage (versus the adult werewolf's 2-8).
• A caveman lair will have female and young cavepeople equal to 100% and 50% the number of male cavemen, respectively.
• A tribesman village will have female and young tribespeople each equal to 100% the number of male tribesmen.
• A nomad lair will have female and young nomads equal to 200% and 100% the number of male nomads, respectively.
• A mermen lair will have merwomen and merchildren each equal to the number of mermen.
• An ogre lair will have 2-12 female ogres and 2-8 young ogres. The female ogres do 2-8 damage with a weapon (compared to the male ogre's 2-12 damage) and have a maximum of 6 hit points per hit die. The young ogres fight as goblins.
• An orc lair will have female and young orcs equal to 50% and 100% the number of male orcs, respectively.
• A sahuagin lair will have 30-120 female sahuagin and 10-40 hatchlings. Female sahuagin have 2 hit dice and hatchlings have 1 (compared to the standard 2+2 hit dice). It is worth noting that "the religious life of [sahuagin] is dominated by the females." There is a 10% chance for every 10 male sahuagin that there will be a 5th to 8th level priestess with 1-4 3rd or 4th level assistant priestesses. Female sahuagin are only slightly smaller than male sahuagin, and otherwise indistinguishable.
• A triton lair will have female and young tritons each equal to the number of male tritons.
• A troglodyte lair will have female troglodytes equal to the number of male troglodytes. Female troglodytes have 1+1 hit dice (versus the male troglodyte's 2 hit dice). "There will also be hatchlings and eggs, but these are of no importance."
• A yeti lair will have a 30% chance to have 1-3 female yetis and, if female yetis are present, a 15% chance to have 2-5 young.

This was compiled with a PDF of the Monster Manual and Ctrl + F (search terms "female" and "young"), not an eagle-eyed readthrough of the book in its entirety. Sometimes words like "hatchling" or "fledgling" are used in place of "young", so there may be some occurrences I've missed. I think you get the idea, though.

For the sake of brevity, I included only human-shaped monsters like demihumans, humanoids, giants, and the like - no animals or animal-like monsters such as giant beavers, pegasi, or owlbears. I already went into a great deal of detail as to how these other monsters' young are handled in my post on AD&D's monster economy, so it felt redundant to retread the same ground here. I've excluded dragons for similar reasons.

I also did not include "female-coded" monsters for whom biology is not really a thing - mostly demons and devils like the succubus, marilith, and erinyes, but also the banshee, which is always the spirit of a female elf, or the lamia, which has the upper body of a human woman but no explicit biology.

AD&D's presentation of "demihumans" (dwarves, elves, halflings, etc.) versus "humanoids" (goblins, kobolds, orcs, etc.) is very similar. That is, the Monster Manual's description of these different types of people (and they are all people in my eyes) is relatively consistent. They all have "lairs", treasure, combat statistics, leader-types, pets, an implied society, and, of course, noncombatants. They are all treated the same, which is as "monsters".

From high enough up, looking down, they are all simply "game pieces" with which to populate your world. They all show up on the encounter tables. They are in the Monster Manual because they exist in the milieu, not necessarily because they exist to be killed. The players will encounter elves and they will encounter orcs. Sure, the elves are Chaotic Good and the orcs are Lawful Evil, and one can imagine that you will fight the orcs more often than you fight the elves, but that doesn't mean you can't fight the elves and befriend the orcs.

This stands in contrast with modern D&D's approach to the issue of personhood. In the original 5e Monster Manual, you do not find any statblocks for halflings. There are technically statblocks for dwarves and elves, but these are Drow and Duergar, the dwarves and elves who live underground, who it is okay to kill because they are Evil. Dwarves, elves, halflings, dragonborn, tieflings, and the like have societies (described in the Player's Handbook), but they are not monsters. You can fight a bandit who the DM decides is an elf, but you cannot fight a regular elf. These races are broadly, as a people, "off-limits".

Compare that to goblins, kobolds, and orcs. All are in the Monster Manual and have generic statblocks. You could decide that your bandit is an orc, but you can also fight a regular orc using the orc statblock. Unlike the dwarves and elves and halflings, they're combat fodder. However, they also have the "humanoid" creature type - the same type used by player characters (before supplements introduced playable races with different creature types), suggesting that while they are low level combat fodder, they're also people.

In the new version of the 5e Monster Manual, orcs were elevated from the rank of monster fodder to off-limits personhood alongside dwarves, elves, and halflings. This is presumably because they became one of the core player character races (half-orcs were understandably removed as a player option and replaced with regular orcs). 

On the other hand, goblins are now fey type creatures. Kobolds are now dragon type creatures. You can see this same pattern with other formerly humanoid monsters. Aarakocra are elementals. Bullywugs are fey. Gnolls are fiends. While orcs were made "off-limits", the remaining humanoids were not, and in fact are no longer humanoid type monsters at all. The game seemed to double down on the distinction between human-shaped creatures that are people and human-shaped creatures that are not, right down to their game categorization.

Of course, you can just do what you want with the game and say your goblins are humanoids or your dwarves are elementals and your elves are fey, but it troubles me. In 5e, you can kill a goblin, because it's in the Monster Manual. You can kill a bandit who your DM has decided is an elf, but you can't kill a plain old elf. Dwarves and elves and halflings and orcs are off-limits. Goblins and kobolds and gnolls are not.

Returning to AD&D, you could call out the demihuman/humanoid distinction as being similar to the one I've pointed out in modern D&D (one is a Good not-human and one is an Evil not-human), but in terms of game mechanics, they're presented exactly the same. They are all there in the Monster Manual. One is presented as being more villainous, but they're all creatures living in the world. Here are their game statistics in case you have to kill them, dwarves and elves and halflings included. Everyone is on the encounter table, and they all bleed if you stab them. And they all have children.

Of course, you don't have to kill anyone. Just as the DM can use the entries on dwarves, elves, and halflings to create a "lifelike" demihuman enclave with which the players can interact, the same can be said of the entries on goblins, kobolds, orcs, and other humanoids. When I see how similarly AD&D presents the societies of demihumans and humanoids, my impression is that this is a game where all of these creatures are people, even if some are vilified while others are not.

This is, of course, not the default assumption in D&D - especially not the D&D of Gygax, who once famously asserted that it is both Lawful and Good to kill orc babies, going so far as to cite an infamous perpetrator of Native American genocide. AD&D's domain game requires that a player character who wishes to build a stronghold must first clear the land of any monster lairs present - i.e., those very same goblin, kobold, and orc lairs which contain so many noncombatants and children. Gygax's Keep on the Borderlands is one of the most foundational of D&D's early adventure modules, with the objective of clearing out the Caves of Chaos and their humanoid residents - including their noncombatants - so that the march of human civilization can push ever onward.

It is also worth mentioning that AD&D's section on CONSTRUCTION & SIEGE details the time it takes to excavate rock for the construction of dungeons beneath the player character's stronghold. This section includes rules for the cubic volume of rock excavated by different types of human-like creatures, including humans, dwarves, gnomes, and halflings, but also gnolls, goblins, hobgoblins, kobolds, orcs, ogres, and several types of giants:

The use of humanoid and giant laborers is somewhat discouraged by this section, which describes these workers as generally unwilling and difficult, but here any notion of subtext becomes text. The player character can use these people to construct their stronghold dungeons, but they will be slaves, and will have to be heavily guarded to ensure peak efficiency:

When you consider this in combination with the prevalence of noncombatants in these monsters' lairs, it paints a bleak picture.

It's obvious that Gygax's idea of Law and Good is deeply flawed. It is certainly not the definition of Lawful Good I use in my games. Alignment in my games is more an ideological or cultural predilection or bent, not a cosmic or ontological truth. Orcs are not naturally Evil creatures born of shadow and sorcery. They might culturally tend towards Evil because their ideology espouses strength and mercilessness (likely because they have been done wrong time and again by their more powerful neighbors), but they are not universally or irredeemably Evil in any way. 

Even if the particular group of orcs in a scenario is Evil, that does not mean they are actively doing Evil. I use reaction rolls to determine how such people might interact with the world around them (generally, I find these older mechanics super helpful in making these scenarios more complex and engaging). The classically Chaotic or Evil orcs might be more likely to be unfriendly or hostile to their neighbors, but there is also a chance they are simply keeping to themselves, or even attempting to establish friendly relations or trade. Any character whose first course of action when dealing with such a people (even those who are Chaotic or Evil and hostile towards their neighbors) is to go to their home and kill them and their children is not Lawful Good in my eyes.

While AD&D's domain game may insist that player characters use violence to colonize their sphere of influence, I see no reason why this should be required. A detailed reading of the domain game rules suggests that player characters can eventually assimilate monster populations into their realm. This is dependent on the player character's and the monsters' respective alignments, but in a game where alignment is less prescriptive, why shouldn't the Lawful Good paladin be allowed to negotiate terms with the orcs, make them vassals, and attempt to change their ways? It is still colonialism, but with less bloodshed, and I don't see much of a way around it without excising the domain game entirely (or building your stronghold someplace where there is somehow both good land and also no one already living there).

Similarly, while AD&D requires that humanoid and giant workers be enslaved and heavily guarded in order to construct stronghold dungeons, there is no need for the individual DM to cling fiercely to this rule of thumb. Why must all goblins, ogres, and giants be loathe to do labor (any more than the average person loathes work)? Why can't they be recruited in good faith and compensated for their time the same as any other laborer? 

The Keep on the Borderlands is also an interesting case. Just as in the Monster Manual elves are detailed in much the same way as orcs, in B2 the Keep is given nearly as much description as the Caves of Chaos. It is not just a nondescript bastion of human civilization and home base for forays into the untamed wilderness, but a richly detailed play environment in which every defender, civilian, and treasure is placed with care. Do with it what you will.

The inhabitants of the Caves of Chaos may be Evil (or Chaotic, in this case), but they aren't actually doing anything besides fighting amongst each other. The rich detail of the Keep itself suggests that it is intended as another play environment which the players might need to "solve". The players might be able to unite the factions of the Caves against their common enemy. Better yet, why not lead them against the Cult of Chaos and negotiate terms for them with the Keep's Castellan? It's a bit of a stretch, certainly not Gygax's intention, and maybe not the most adventurous way to play out the module, but TTRPGs are all about tactical infinity. It's an option, is all I'm saying.

When human-like monsters are portrayed as inherently, irredeemably Evil or adversarial, the players' agency in interacting with them becomes extremely limited, lest they be forced to engage in "Lawful Stupid" behaviors. That is, when the orcs are Evil no matter what, the players have no choice but to thwart them in some way. If the players allow them retreat or surrender, they are presumably only leaving human civilization vulnerable to renewed offensives in the future.

The big problem with orc babies (here I'm using this as a catchall term for noncombatant monsters) is that if these monsters are irredeemably Evil or adversarial, it is easy to dismiss the wanton slaughter of their civilians as an act of "greater Good" - after all, the young will grow up to be Evil warriors, and the adult noncombatants will only exist to facilitate their Evil and to bring more Evil into the world. Genocide becomes permissible - even optimal - for a "Good" character to partake in.

Another problem with orc babies is when they're wielded against the players as a gotcha. "Aha! I, the DM, have created/am running a scenario in which the default mode of play is to go to the monsters' houses and kill them. You've done what you were intended to do, but you did not consider that at the end of the line you would encounter these helpless civilians. Now you have a moral dilemma, which I have given you no means of avoiding!"

For some groups, this dilemma might be fun to engage with. I think it sucks, at least when it's setup this way. Even if we decide that human-like monsters are not ontologically Evil, but must nonetheless be thwarted, and violence is somehow the only way, let's say the players decide that the threat has been neutralized and they allow the noncombatants to live. They are probably condemning the remainder to starvation or predation by some stronger foe, but they get to feel good about doing the "right thing", I guess.

The Keep on the Borderlands is such an infamous example because - while other approaches do exist - the default objective of play is to clear out the Caves of Chaos. Many DMs have and will run this module assuming that the player characters will go kill every humanoid combatant in those Caves, and many players have gone/will go along with the path of least resistance, only to encounter the gotcha once their grisly task is done. They are mostly not at fault because they were just going along with the quest hook, which is often considered the courteous thing to do when the DM is running a module.

A proper sandbox needn't have any assumed objectives, however. Sure, when I design a sandbox, I assume that the players will try to establish themselves in town, that they will explore the nearby dungeon, hunt down the owlbears, roust the brigands from the castle, clear the ogres from their lair, and overthrow the town's Evil overlords, more or less in that order. But they might also make common cause with the town's rulers, subdue the owlbears for the wizard's menagerie, become brigands themselves, and recruit the ogres to their side rather than run them off or slaughter them.

If there is an orc lair in my sandbox, there will probably be propaganda about how the orcs are uncouth, inimical to civilization and impossible to reason with. The only good orc is a dead orc and all that. Again, because of the way alignment works in my games, the orcs may not even be Chaotic or Evil. Even if they are, they may not prey upon their neighbors. They may be isolationist, or even cautiously friendly. Perhaps their mere presence is an inconvenience to the powers that be, who want to run them off their land, put down a parking lot for their dragons, and build a magic Walmart in place of the orcs' lair.

If the players dig into it, they may uncover the truth. They may in fact find a straightforward den of orcs with sinister intentions. Even this scenario is not exclusionary of less violent means of settling the dispute, however. Perhaps the players will find that the orcs do have some sort of ancestral claim to that territory, or they learn that the orcs can be appeased in some way which does not involve plundering all of human civilization. Perhaps there are factions of orcs, some less warlike than others, and negotiations can take place if the orcs have a change of leadership. Perhaps the human ruler is Good and is willing to make certain concessions, or perhaps the human ruler is the greater Evil and it is they who must be overthrown to ensure a lasting peace.

What I like about orc babies (again using this as a general term to encapsulate noncombatant monsters) is that they signal to the players that these monsters are people. When the players find out that there are hundreds of noncombatants in the orc lair, it should give them pause about how exactly to handle whatever conflict exists. Their first course of action shouldn't be to find a way to kill everyone inside. If they wrote "Good" on their character sheet, they have to find another way.

It complicates the scenario, but only if the orcs themselves have a level of complexity. In a proper sandbox, the presence of humanoid civilians shouldn't be a "gotcha". The players have the means to acquire whatever information they need, to make a choice based on that info, and to have their choice make an impact.

This all assumes that the player characters are basically Good and care about the wellbeing of civilians. If they are instead Evil, the result of including civilians in your monster populations can again be quite grim. 

I've already discussed this in the aforementioned post on AD&D's monster economy and in my post on subduing dragons. Generally, I feel that the assumption that player characters will want to subdue dragons and auction them off in the nearest town or city (and that most such places will usually have buyers eager to acquire them) is a fun bit of worldbuilding. Similarly, there are all sorts of animal-like creatures which the players are incentivized to kill, butcher for their hides, and steal their eggs and young to sell to the highest bidder.

I am not shy about referring to these practices as slavery, which they very plainly are. Many of these animal-like monsters are intelligent, peaceful, and even lean towards Goodness. All of the dragons are intelligent, half of them are Good, and all of them explicitly loathe their imprisonment and seek to break free of their masters at the earliest opportunity. Skinning giant beavers and kidnapping the children of monsters to be enslaved are clearly Evil acts, even if the monsters themselves are designated as "Evil".

Still, I argue that players should be able to play Evil characters, and that there should be opportunities for them to do Evil. Even if they are not Evil, they must still have the opportunity (and, even better, an incentive) to do Evil for their choice to be Good to matter:

Being Good is hard. It should be. It should be easier (or at least more profitable) to be Evil. Players can write "Good" on their character sheet all they want, but they have to actually do Good for that to mean anything. And for doing Good to actually mean something, it has to be a choice. For doing Good to be a choice, the players must also have the choice to do Evil. 

If they spend the whole game doing little quests for the dirt farmers of the local thorp out of the Goodness of their hearts with little wealth to show for it, they may start rethinking what they wrote on their character sheet once they hear that their (Evil) rivals just earned 80,000 gold from skinning giant beavers and selling their children into slavery. Maybe it just reaffirms their commitment to Goodness, and the existence of such Evil in the world instead serves to distinguish them from those sorts, and they vow to put an end to such injustices at any cost. But the (potential for) Evil deeds must exist to create that contrast.

You might have players who choose to play Evil characters, and that's okay too! A campaign of poaching monsters and selling their children into slavery is definitely not for everyone, so you might restrict these options, but I personally enjoy portraying a fantasy world in all its ugliness. If there are giant beavers nearby, the village may be negotiating with them to construct a dam, while simultaneously, outlaw poachers may be conspiring to prey upon them. The pegasi nesting nearby may be valuable allies to Good characters, but if there's a Chaotic Evil wizard in the area, they're likely to desire the creatures' eggs for nefarious purposes, and are willing to pay good money for them. The players get to choose how to engage with those dynamics one way or the other.

This is exactly the kind of thing session 0s and safety tools are for. If someone at the table is not comfortable with being a part of Evil acts, or with poaching or slavery specifically, then players should not play Evil characters, or those acts should be forbidden, or the person who's uncomfortable should consider playing in a different game. Violence against children and the enslavement of people is obviously an even thornier issue and should be handled with even more care. I totally understand why many or even most people don't want orc babies in their games.

But I like a bit of thorniness in my games. If the players decide that their best course of action is to carry out a genocide, then they should have to deal with the moral and spiritual toll of that. I am not going to trick them into it or force them into a situation where it's their only option, then inflict the dilemma on them as some sort of inane "twist", but if they make no attempt to gather more information or pursue less absolute avenues then that is their choice, and they must deal with the consequences. 

At the same time, if they have chosen to play Evil characters and all involved are interested in playing out the implications of that choice, then it is up to me to decide how much opportunity I'm willing to give them to engage in that sort of play and explore its consequences. If I know that my players are interested in exploring Evil, I have a choice as to whether or not to include orc babies in my sandbox, knowing exactly what the outcome might be. If the players decide to slay the orc civilians, then that is their choice, and it's also my choice because I put them there, knowing that this might happen.

And even if the player characters are not themselves Evil, just as with the subdual of dragons and participation in the monster economy, anything the player characters can do, NPCs can do too. The player characters might treat the orcs as people, but the NPCs might not. The player characters might seek to treat with the orcs as equals while the local Evil ruler is carrying out a genocide and enslaving their victims' civilians to excavate their subterranean dungeons (this is even represented in the background section of Dungeon Module B1: In Search of the Unknown).

Again, whether you choose to include this sort of thing will depend entirely on your and your players' sensibilities. Just as players will have different levels of comfort with carrying out Evil acts, they will have different levels of comfort in dealing with NPCs doing the same. Thwarting an Evil wizard who is doing cartoonish wizard villainy is one thing - thwarting a tyrannical slaver is another. Some players may relish the opportunity, while others will become despondent when forced to confront real world parallels in their leisure time.

I'm focusing on humanoid civilians because there is already so much baggage there with parallels to real world racism, colonialism, slavery, genocide, and so on, but it's important to again remember that AD&D's Monster Manual presents demihuman noncombatants the same way. Dwarves, elves, and halflings can present conflict in your setting as well, and players of Good characters who wish to resolve these conflicts will have to reckon with the fact that they're also people, just as you as the DM will have to consider whether to include noncombatant members of these people if you know your players are interested in exploring Evil deeds. The default assumption in many cases may be that the player characters are Good and that the orcs will be potential enemies and the elves potential allies, but this isn't always the case.

This is not to say that human-like monsters can never be fodder. This is a game, after all, and going toe-to-toe with thinking enemies with capabilities similar to yours is a fun scenario to play out. Remember that noncombatants only appear in lairs, so human-like monsters encountered in dungeons and outdoors are fair game (though again, that is not to say they are inherently Chaotic or Evil or even doing anything nefarious). Just as it is "okay" to kill a human brigand (that has its own baggage, as brigands are people too and probably have a good reason for turning to brigandry), it is okay to kill an elf or a goblin in an imaginary violence game.

All that being said...I think there is something very funny about an Evil child. My Hexmas sandbox, the Jinglebell Barrens includes a Chaotic Evil frost giant toddler:

• Kolvi: Hrothvar's only son. He is the frost giant equivalent of a toddler - as large as an ogre, but doughy and badly proportioned. He is always accompanied and protected by his pet winter wolf, Hoarfang. He is lazy and cowardly, has a child's temper and petulance, and wants nothing more than to see adventurers slain, roasted, and served up at a feast. He hates both his father and grandmother, but adores Rimehilda. He will run to her and make up any lie about adventurers which might get them into trouble. One adventurer, before being killed and eaten, spoke of a talking wishing well. Kolvi begs Rimehilda to take him there so that he might wish for all adventurers to be killed and eaten by him.

My recent post on halflings and their dogs includes this Lawful Evil halfling child:

Corin Thistlethorn (LE): 3 hp. A male Hairfoot child (AC 9). Thin and sharp-featured, with dark brown curls and keen grey eyes. His clothes are surprisingly tidy for a child. Although young, he is more intelligent than the average halfling (Int 14). He quietly observes conversations before joining in, and adults sometimes find his questions uncomfortably perceptive. He is selfish and manipulative and enjoys bending rules, knowing secrets, keeping score of favors, and figuring out how to gain advantages over his peers. He is tight-lipped around strangers, evaluating them carefully before deciding whether they are allies or people to avoid (neutral). Treasure: A carefully organized collection of bird feathers, insects, and unusual stones, a slate tablet and chalk used for keeping lists, small wooden tokens representing debts and favors owed by other children, and a pocketknife (no value). Corin has 2 dogs:

1. Bracken: A tan rabbit hound. Curious about everything, he has a habit of bringing interesting trinkets to Corin. Terrified by storms.
2. Soot: A black terrier with mismatched eyes. He distrusts strangers and watches them with the same suspicious scrutiny as his master.

Now, I'm not saying these children should be murdered because they're Evil. Once again, alignment is a mutable cultural tendency in my games, not an ontological truth about who a person is (the halfling child above, for example, is Lawful Evil despite halfling culture leaning towards Lawful Good). These are children, meaning they are even more malleable than most people, if gotten to early. Murdering a child, regardless of their fantasy race, personality, alignment, or whatever, is one of the most Evil things you can do.

Just because the frost giant child wants to eat you and will hide behind the Evil witch's skirts and tell lies about you to achieve that end does not mean he can be killed in good conscience. However, if you're trying to infiltrate the frost giants' home without ending up on a skewer yourself, maybe lock the child in a closet or trick them into drinking a sleeping potion or something. You probably don't have to do anything about the off-putting halfling child hanging around the shire, but it gives the place a little flavor for one of the children to be a bit unnerving.

And that's what I really like about orc babies. The fact that the Monster Manual tells me that 60% of the orcs in the lair will be children and noncombatant adults primes me to include those orcs as NPCs as well. If the orc lair has a certain number of warriors, 50% as many noncombatant adults, and 100% as many young orcs, then I know that 40% of the orcs in the lair are warriors, 40% are young, and 20% are noncombatant adults, and I can use that to give some variety to the NPCs encountered there.

If the player characters are hanging out in the orc lair, they should have a chance to encounter an orc child. Not "encounter" as in "fight" of course, but like...I don't know. Roleplaying an interaction with a orc toddler sounds fun to me. Make the child annoying to deal with just like you would any NPC. That doesn't give the players an excuse to murder them, no more than it gives them an excuse to kill a corrupt city official or a wizard's meddlesome henchman. 

In some cases, violence against children will be advantageous (yes, this is a weird sentence to write, but bear with me). In Dungeon Module G1: Steading of the Hill Giant Chief, there's an opportunity to murder or subdue some hill giant children in order to take their clothes so that the player characters can pass as giant children themselves:

Again, the assumption of this module is that the giants are Evil and anything goes, which has its drawbacks, but in a more nuanced game I think the dilemma is somewhat interesting. Are the players willing to do this wretched thing for a slight upper hand, or is it too distasteful, so now they have to go about things the hard way? Is the moral calculus at all altered by the fact that those giant children are actually a significant threat with 13 to 26 hit points and armed with weapons with which they fight as ogres? For some groups it will be, for others not so much.

These types of NPCs make a place feel lifelike. I want to portray these as real places, not video game levels to be cleared. The elves and orcs are simply "game pieces" to the DM, but they should feel like people to the players. The presence of noncombatants reinforces that the lair can be a place where people live, not just where monsters wait to be slain. I don't want to exclude these NPCs out of fear for what the players might do to them, no more than I want my hamlets and thorps to be stuffed to the brim with guards and 1st level fighters, with nary a peasant farmer or meddlesome child in sight.

If you don't want to risk it, don't put noncombatants in your game. Or, simply tell your players up front that those NPCs are off-limits and you won't tolerate any violence against them. You could go the Bethesda RPG route and either have children be conspicuously absent from your world or else immune to harm. It's also okay to have your orcs or whatever just be monsters birthed from sorcery with no explicit biology, if you want violence against them to be totally free of consequence.

Personally, I like having orc babies in my games. I like weird, annoying, funny NPCs, and no person is weirder, more annoying, or funnier than a child. So much of the legacy of children and noncombatant monsters in D&D is tied up in the rancid worldview of Gygax and the baggage of classic modules, which assume that it is unambiguously okay to kill these creatures and which punish the players with unfair forced moral dilemmas for doing what the modules intend for them to do.

It's because of those same modules that we never talk about the children of dwarves, elves, and halflings, or the fact that every village, hamlet, and thorp is populated by many civilians and children. Not many modules feature demihuman lairs or detailed settlements. In the case of Dungeon Module N1: Against the Cult of the Reptile God, in which the village of Orlane is detailed, the proportion of detailed men, women, and children is way off.

But the player characters can raid an elf village just as much as they can an orc lair (the elves have treasure too!), and the elves will have noncombatants and children just as the orcs do. Every time a village is attacked by a monster, we must imagine that noncombatants and children are being killed, eaten, burned by dragon fire, carried off into slavery, or whatever. It's not super fun to imagine, which is part of the reason it isn't talked about more, but it's there, happening in the background.

Fortunately, there isn't much (not really any that I can recall) violence against children or noncombatants happening "on screen" in my D&D games, but I've thought about running modules like B2 and G1. My villages, hamlets, and thorps have children in them. My sandboxes have orc lairs and elf lairs with all the usual noncombatants. There are petulant frost giant toddlers and unnerving halfling children. There are dragons that can be subdued. There are giant beavers that can be poached and enslaved. There is opportunity to do Evil. There are Evil NPCs pursuing their own goals in the sandbox, many of whom are willing to do these wretched things even if the player characters are not.

So, the potential is always there. It's something I'm comfortable with. I trust my players to engage with that material thoughtfully, and I trust that we can have a conversation about it if it becomes a problem. Not every table has the same luxury, so you will have to adjust to taste. 

D&D is a game where violence happens...a lot, whether the player characters initiate it or not. If you're trying to portray a lifelike world, it might also be a game where children are prevalent. You have to calibrate how much those two facets interface with one another, what happens on screen versus off, and how much opportunity to give your players to interact with those elements.

I don't begrudge anyone for preferring not to engage with it, but it's worth considering. Don't throw the orc babies out with the bathwater!

1d10 Halflings and their 1d4 Dogs

My goblin post was fun, and it gave me a hankering to do something similar with halflings. Why halflings? Well, mostly because I like that in AD&D, every halfling has 1d4 dogs:

I have long been fascinated with halflings' penchant for having lots of dogs. In AD&D, a halfling lair has 30-300 adult combatants, the same number of adult noncombatants, and 60% as many noncombatant children. Depending on how you interpret the above, a halfling village will have from 30 to 3,120 dogs (average either ~412 to ~1,072 dogs). That's a lot of dogs!

My sandbox for Dungeon Module B3: Palace of the Silver Princess describes Mere, a halfling village of some 300 halflings with a like number of dogs (the famous Dogs of Mere) who serve as scouts, trackers, sentries, pack animals, messengers, and mounts, and are integral to the village's role in the anti-Gulluvian resistance network. The halfling dogs are essential companions to the halfling lifestyle!

Typically, these dogs are only found in the halflings' lair (their shire or whatever), but I don't see why a pair of halflings wandering the wilderness couldn't also be accompanied by their six dogs. And since these dogs are so important to the halfling way of life, I see no reason not to give them a little loving detail as well.

Now, the Monster Manual says that all halfling dogs have the statistics of a "wild dog", suggesting lean, workmanlike mutts, but this seems a bit boring to me, so my halfling dogs are going to have a bit more variety.

Something I did differently this time was to roll to determine whether a halfling was an adult combatant, an adult noncombatant, or a child. Per the AD&D Monster Manual:

Now, this does say "in their lair", suggesting halfling children never leave the place, but I personally feel that there should be a chance of encountering a halfling child wandering the countryside with their dogs in tow. I also interpreted the Gygaxian "females" (the implication being that they are not warriors) to instead mean "noncombatant adults", because I'm woke.

For each halfling, I rolled d100. A result of 01 to 38 would be an adult warrior, 39 to 76 would be a noncombatant adult, and 77 to 100 would be a child. Include more children in your games! That's one of many things that Gygax was really thorough about doing, even if the implication of their inclusion in Gygaxian AD&D is rather grim. It's especially funny when the children are Evil.

I also rolled for the relative age of each adult halfling (01 to 65: Young adult, 66-85: Middle-aged, 86-95: Old, and 96-100: Venerable) and for "subrace" (according to this 75% are Hairfoot, 15% are Stout, and 10% are Tallfellow), although this doesn't add much except to make them more like Elves or more like Dwarves and to change up their preferred weaponry a bit.

I eased up a bit on randomizing mechanical elements like movement rate, but continued to randomize alignment, intelligence, and morale as those are meatier statistics that give the individual halflings more unique personalities.

Without further adieu, here are 1d10 halflings and their 1d4 dogs:

1. Corin Thistlethorn (LE): 3 hp. A male Hairfoot child (AC 9). Thin and sharp-featured, with dark brown curls and keen grey eyes. His clothes are surprisingly tidy for a child. Although young, he is more intelligent than the average halfling (Int 14). He quietly observes conversations before joining in, and adults sometimes find his questions uncomfortably perceptive. He is selfish and manipulative and enjoys bending rules, knowing secrets, keeping score of favors, and figuring out how to gain advantages over his peers. He is tight-lipped around strangers, evaluating them carefully before deciding whether they are allies or people to avoid (neutral). Treasure: A carefully organized collection of bird feathers, insects, and unusual stones, a slate tablet and chalk used for keeping lists, small wooden tokens representing debts and favors owed by other children, and a pocketknife (no value). Corin has 2 dogs:
1. Bracken: A tan rabbit hound. Curious about everything, he has a habit of bringing interesting trinkets to Corin. Terrified by storms.
2. Soot: A black terrier with mismatched eyes. He distrusts strangers and watches them with the same suspicious scrutiny as his master.
2. Della Copperpot (LN): 3 hp. A middle-aged female Stout. Sturdy and broad-hipped, with weathered tan skin and dark auburn hair streaked with gray. Thick eyebrows and deep-set brown eyes. Simple, durable clothing with no armor (AC 9). Wields a hammer and short bow (+3 to hit). She will defend herself and the village if need be, but is more prone to flight than the average halfling, preferring to retreat and regroup rather than stand her ground (Morale 8). Believes strongly in duty, tradition, and minding one's business. Direct. Dislikes unnecessary chatter. Judges by actions rather than first impressions (neutral). Treasure: A leather roll of woodworking tools (3 sp), a carved wooden mallet (1 sp), a tin box containing spare bowstrings, wax, and fletching supplies (2 sp), and a belt pouch containing 2 silver pieces. Della has 4 dogs:
1. Copper: Black and white farm dog with a crooked tail. Very excitable and has to be leashed at all times.
2. Flintlock: A gray sheepdog. Normally calm and dependable, but becomes anxious and seeks company when storms approach.
3. Nettles: A brown terrier who barks constantly, announcing every visitor, squirrel, passing wagon, and fallen leaf.
4. Pansy: A white spaniel, always covered in mud. Loves swimming to wash it off, then rolls in the muddy banks once she's finished.
3. Hilda Ironkettle (LE): 2 hp. A young adult female Stout. Compact and broad-shouldered, with dark chestnut hair worn in braids. Square-jawed with a small scar beneath her chin. Studded leather and shield (AC 5), morning star, and short bow (+3 to hit). Believes in order, discipline, and looking after her own interests. Not as quick as most halflings (Int 10), but extraordinarily difficult to intimidate or discourage (Morale 16). Greets strangers with a firm handshake and direct questions, quickly determining whether she can use them to her advantage (friendly). Treasure: A whetstone and weapon maintenance kit (3 sp), a sturdy iron lock and key (3 sp), a brass whistle (1 sp), a pair of rabbit fur gloves (2 sp), and a belt pouch containing 3 silver pieces. Hilda has 1 dog:
1. Flint: A large and muscular black and tan mastiff with a deep growl. Shadows Hilda constantly and is big enough for her to ride.
4. Marigold Brambletoe (LG): 5 hp. A young adult female Hairfoot. Lean and athletic with tan skin. She wears practical country clothing and keeps her curly brown hair tied back with a strip of green cloth. Shield (AC 8), hand axe, and short bow (+3 to hit). A shepherd and rabbit hunter who will defend herself and the village if needed, but prefers avoiding danger (Morale 10). Polite but cautious. She prefers to observe a stranger's actions before judging their character (neutral). Treasure: A leather pouch containing 30 silver sling bullets (3 sp), a rabbit fur-lined waterskin strap decorated with smooth and shiny river stones (2 sp), a carved wooden whistle (1 sp), a 20' length of hempen rope (2 sp), and a belt pouch containing 3 silver pieces. Marigold has 4 dogs:
1. Cricket: A fearless brown terrier missing an ear. Will charge barking at animals several times his size. 
2. Digger: A stubborn tan farm dog who refuses to relinquish a bone and often buries them to save for later, quickly forgetting where he put them.
3. Fern: A black and white sheepdog with an adept understanding of whistles and hand signals.
4. Willow: An excessively friendly white spaniel who is quick to show her belly to strangers.
5. Milo Greenbottle (LG): 1 hp. A young adult male Hairfoot. Broad-shouldered and sunburned. Dark brown hair cropped short. Leather armor (AC 7) and hand axe. A part-time woodsman and trapper who will defend himself and the village if needed. He readily offers directions, local gossip, or a meal to adventurers (friendly). Treasure: A well-maintained sharpening stone in a leather pouch (3 sp), a set of three iron rabbit snares (4 sp), a carved wooden militia badge (2 sp), and a small belt pouch containing 4 silver pieces. Milo has 2 dogs:
1. Patch: A clever black and white sheepdog. Loves wagon rides. Fiercely protective of Milo.
2. Thistle: A tan rabbit hound that eagerly follows scents but is easily distracted by squirrels. Howls at the full moon.
6. Myrtle Goodbarrel (LG): 5 hp. An old adult female Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Short and round-faced, with a mass of white curls bursting from her bonnet. Kindly but unfocused blue eyes. Laugh lines and rough hands. She has a habit of forgetting what she was saying halfway through a conversation, forgetting names, and repeating stories. and is confused by complicated explanation of unfamiliar ideas (Int 5). She has a warm heart and generous spirit and is eager to help and quick to trust those who behave kindly (helpful). Treasure: A hand-knitted wool shawl with simple floral patterns (3 sp), a wll-used silver cooking spoon (2 sp), a basket containing several jars of berry preserves (3 sp), and a cloth purse containing 3 silver pieces. Myrtle has 1 dog:
1. Buttercup: A brown lap dog that greets nearly everyone as though they were a long-lost friend. Blind and always underfoot.
7. Neddo Burrows (N): 2 hp. A male Hairfoot child (AC 9). Small and wiry with unruly chestnut hair and a scatter of freckles. Grass stains on clothing. Curious and adventurous around friends, he becomes shy, suspicious, and rude in the presence of strangers (unfriendly). He may hide behind a fence or in bushes, refuse to answer questions, or insist on being left alone. Treasure: A homemade wooden toy boat, a toy sling, and a collection of interesting stones and bird feathers (no value). Neddo has 1 dog:
1. Snap: A scruffy black terrier pup that barks constantly at strangers and chases anything that moves. More noisy than useful. Digs holes constantly - a source of frustration for Neddo's parents.
8. Odo Tealeaf (N): 5 hp. A middle-aged male Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Stocky and weathered, with a broad nose, rosy cheeks, and a thick mop of curly black hair graying at the temples. Wears a comfortable faded green vest, loose linen shirt, and sturdy trousers with patches. Gathers herbs, mushrooms, and berries to sell in nearby settlements. He enjoys meeting new people and is usually willing to share gossip, directions, or advice (friendly). Treasure: A wicker basket containing bundles of dried herbs (3 sp), a well-made knife with a curved iron blade (3 sp), a small jar of blackberry preserves (2 sp), and a leather pouch containing 4 silver pieces. Odo has 4 dogs:
1. Old Bran: A gray farm dog with arthritis. Moves slowly on cold mornings and walks with a limp.
2. Poppy: A brown and white spaniel that investigates every unfamiliar scent, object, and visitor. No concept of personal space.
3. Rascal: A black terrier that begs constantly and is prone to stealing food.
4. Tumble: A tan rabbit hound unable to distinguish cats from dogs.
9. Rosie Hayfoot (LG): 3 hp. A middle-aged female Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Plump and cheerful, with graying auburn curls in a loose braid. Wears a patched dress beneath a sturdy apron with pockets for sewing supplies, dog treats, and other odds and ends. Known for raising dogs, mending clothing, and helping travelers in need of food or directions. She gladly shares local information and offers any hospitality she can (helpful). Treasure: A basket of fine sewing supplies (3 sp), a hand-carved wooden dog comb decorated with simple floral patterns (2 sp), a small tin box containing dried medicinal herbs (2 sp), and a leather purse containing 3 silver pieces. Rosie has 4 dogs:
1. Button: A gray lap dog which fetches dropped items and warns Rosie of visitors. Seems to understand far more speech than most dogs.
2. Cloud: A white farm dog which spends most of its day napping in the sun, requiring considerable encouragement to move.
3. Hazel: A brown spaniel that accompanies Rosie on walks and fetches sticks from ponds. Happily tolerates having her ears pulled, and often follows along with halfling youngsters.
4. Tinker: A sharp black and tan terrier that keeps vermin out of Rosie's pantry and woodshed. Chases squirrels obsessively.
10. Tobin Underbough (LG): 4 hp. A highly intelligent (Int 13) young adult male Hairfoot noncombatant (AC 9). Slim, with sandy-brown curls, hazel eyes, and a thoughtful expression. Dressed in a neat brown waistcoat with pockets for notebooks and pencils. Ink- and soil-stained hands. Enjoys reading almanacs, keeping careful records of planting dates, and breeding dogs. Politely cautious towards adventurers until proven trustworthy (neutral). Cowardly (Morale 5). Treasure: A well-used leather-bound planting journal filled with notes on crop rotations and weather observations (4 sp), a carved wooden whistle (2 sp), a brass-rimmed magnifying lens (3 sp), and a wool coin purse contain 2 silver pieces. Tobin has 3 dogs:
1. Brindle: A black and tan spaniel who always has a stick in his mouth. Greets guests with the stick, eager for them to throw it.
2. Moss: A tan mixed-breed farm dog, quiet and watchful. Sleeps belly-up.
3. Pip: A brown and white terrier trained to keep rats and mice away from granaries. Missing the tip of one ear from an encounter with a particularly fearsome barn rat. Distrusts strangers, barking furiously until Tobin assures him they're welcome.

1d10 Randomized Goblins

If you've been following along with the play reports for my B1 campaign, you probably know all about the goblins of Quasqueton with which the player characters have allied themselves. They were, until recently, led by Grilk, their tight-lipped leader, who traded information and bare minimum friendship in exchange for goods and services. Grilk's squire is Viss. The ratcatcher is Narka, the cook is Rekk, and the scout is Tobb.

There are also the goblins which fell under the sway of the Stonespeaker clan of orcs - Pigmug, the sentry captured and brought back to Grilk, Numbnuts, the cowardly mapmaker, Lumpknuckles, who is good at listening, and Slug, who is good at counting.

In a recent session, the party united with their goblin allies to fend off an attack from the orcs into goblin territory. During the battle, one of their goblin allies was slain. Normally, that would be the extent of information known about the loss. One less goblin. However, since I had named each goblin and was keeping track of which goblin was where and who was taking wounds, I knew that it was Grilk, the goblins' leader, who had fallen. 

In addition, Narka was seriously wounded. Rekk distinguished himself with his deadly meat tenderizer mace. Lumpknuckles, who had killed the party's mage, Malkara, was killed in revenge. Numbnuts, who was a known coward, was offered the opportunity to surrender. In the following session, it was Grilk's squire, Viss, who first agreed to join the party in their counterattack, echoing their battle cry "For Grilk!"

Because each of them has a name, the individual goblins have begun to develop personalities and reputations, which will come into play when they hold a Goblins' Moot to determine who their next leader will be. Because they have names, it's actually meaningful when one of them takes a wound or falls in battle. Instead of five goblins inhabiting a few rooms in the dungeon, it feels like a community. They're NPCs, not just monsters. It's really enriched the play experience.

Because of that, I started thinking about how else to distinguish a handful of goblins. I looked at the AD&D Monster Manual entry for goblins, which looks like this:

Here's what I did: For each of Armor Class, Move, weapon, Intelligence, Size, and Morale I rolled 2d6. A result of 6 to 8 indicates that the individual goblin has the values typical of a goblin. A result of 4 to 5 or 9 to 10 means they have slightly below or above average values, and a result of 2 to 3 or 11 to 12 means they have significantly below or above average values. That is, they have better or worse armor or weapon quality than normal, they move faster or slower, they are more or less intelligent, and so on.

Hit points and individual treasure are determined as usual. For alignment, roll 2d20. A result of 18, 19, or 20 means the goblin has the opposite alignment (Chaotic or Good). Then roll 2d4. A 1 changes Lawful or Good to Neutral, and a 4 changes Chaotic or Evil to Neutral. 

I also made a reaction roll for each to determine their attitude towards the party (+1 if they are Lawful, -1 if they are Chaotic, +2 if they are Good, and -2 if they are Evil - so the typical Lawful Evil goblin has a -1 modifier to the reaction roll).

Then, try to make sense of the results.

Here are my ten randomized goblins:

1. Brukket (LE): 1 hp. Stocky with ash-gray skin and a perpetually runny nose. Snot-crusted padded armor and a wooden shield painted with a black handprint (AC 6). Dagger with a horn grip (1d4 damage). Hip injury and an abundance of caution (MV 3). Believes that everyone should know their place. Merciless but dependable. Does not panic easily (Morale 12). Reaction: Adventurers have proved to be staunch allies in the past. Perhaps these are the same (friendly). Quote: "Brukket has met worse people than you." Treasure: In a leather tobacco pouch inside his gambeson, 5 silver coins, a silver needle (1 sp), a silver buckle from a child's shoe (2 sp), a pair of silver cuff fasteners (2 sp), and a tiny silver saint's token (1 sp).
2. Gorrik (LG): 4 hp. Three and a half feet tall. Broad-faced, with russet-brown skin and a twice-broken nose. Quiet confidence makes him seem larger than he is. Quilted suit of padded armor stitched with red thread, no shield (AC 7). Injured his leg defending younglings from a cave bear (MV 4). Shortened halberd reinforced with copper bands (1d10 damage). Prefers resolving disputes through compromise. Little patience for bullies. Does not abandon allies lightly and places himself at risk (Morale 12). Reaction: Readily offers directions, assistance, and warnings (helpful). Quote: "Gorrik will stand in the front!" Treasure: In a patched satchel, 2 silver coins, a silver whistle (2 sp), a pair of silver boot buckles (3 sp), and a small silver acorn charm (1 sp).
3. Grikka (CE): 2 hp. Mottled green-gray, scarred, gaunt, stooped, and mangy, with a mouth full of jagged, uneven teeth. Battered wooden shield with crude red handprints, no armor (AC 8). Cleaver-like hand axe (1d6 damage). Nervous, jerky movements (MV 8). Impatient, with difficulty planning or grasping consequences beyond the immediate future (low intelligence). Resent authority, enjoys causing fear, and indulges her impulses whenever possible. Steals from allies, ignores instructions she dislikes, and delights in petty cruelty. Reaction: Sees strangers as opportunities for violence. Insults, threatens, and accuses, regardless of whether it makes sense (hostile). Quote: "Nobody tells Grikka what to do!" Treasure: Stuffed in a stinky, grimy pouch, 4 silver coins, a bent silver spoon with bite marks (2 sp), a tiny silver bell (1 sp), and a silver button engraved with a flowering vine (1 sp).
4. Nizbit (LE): 1 hp. Scarcely three feet tall. Perpetually tangled hair. Bright eyes that miss little. Childhood illness left her with a tremor and limp (MV 3). Patched leather, no shield (AC 7). A small knife for cutting purses (1d4 damage). Very intelligent and capable of reading and writing. Corrects others' mistakes under her breath. Honors chains of command and written agreements. Aware of her own fragility and among the first to abandon a hopeless situation (Morale 7). Reaction: Adventurers are disruptive forces that complicated arranged plans (unfriendly). Quote: "What does Nizbit stand to gain?" Treasure: Carefully concealed within clothing, 3 silver coins, am engraved silver thimble (4 sp), a small silver letter opener with ivory grip (3 sp), a tarnished silver ink pot (2 sp), and a pair of mismatched silver cuff links (3 sp).
5. Sazhka (NE): 2 hp. Four and a quarter feet tall, whip-thin, with sharp cheekbones and copper-colored eyes. Fitted padded armor beneath a dark wool cloak, no shield (AC 7). Broad-bladed short sword, grip wrapped in dyed leather (1d6 damage). Never hurries into melee (MV 4). Very intelligent, remembering names, debts, and slights, but only shows it after others have underestimated her. An excellent conversationalist, though she always learns more than she reveals. Her foremost loyalty is to herself. Determined, composed, and calculating even in dire circumstances (Morale 14). Reaction: Does not assume goodwill, but neither does she seek conflict without reason (neutral). Quote: "Sazhka has no quarrel with you. Let's keep it that way." Treasure: In a hidden pocket sewn into her cloak, 6 silver coins, a silver signet ring (4 sp), a pair of silver feather hairpins (3 sp), and a small silver vial stopper on a fine chain (2 sp).
6. Skritch (CN): 7 hp. Mottled gray-green skin and a greasy smile. A crooked left leg forces him to limp (MV 4). Ill-fitting scraps of leather, no shield (AC 7). Warped short spear with a rust-speckled head (1d4 damage). Insists it is "perfectly balanced" and becomes defensive if anyone suggests otherwise. An individualist uninterested in politics. Unreliable. Collects candle wax and kneads it together into a single lumpy mass. Reaction: Regards adventurers as he would a stray dog - a friend, a foe, or food (neutral). Quote: *shrug* "Not Skritch's problem." Treasure: A fist-sized gob of wax formed around 5 silver coins, a flattened silver thimble (3 sp), and two silver-plated cufflinks (4 sp).
7. Tazren (NG): 1 hp. A little over four feet tall and lanky, with a fox-like face. Moves quickly on his long legs (MV 9). Dull iron and bronze scale mail, no shield (AC 5). Short sword (1d6 damage). Very intelligent, with an interest in maps, languages, and other cultures. Enjoys solving problems through planning rather than force. Wishes to make the world a little better, and tries to lead by example. Reaction: Cautious curiosity. Actions speak louder than words (neutral). Quote: "Tazren will judge you by your deeds, not your words." Treasure: Wrapped in waxcloth beneath his armor, 4 silver coins, a silver compass case (3 sp), an engraved silver spoon (2 sp), a pair of silver collar studs (2 sp), and a silver fishhook (1 sp).
8. Vezra (CE): 6 hp. Lean. Deep charcoal skin and large amber eyes. Black hair braided into thin cords with beads of bone, shell, and stone. Quilted padded armor and hide-covered shield (AC 6). Notch-edged short sword (1d6 damage). Very intelligent and adept at identifying and manipulating others' insecurities. Resists rules, traditions, and attempts at control in favor of personal power, amusement, and self-interest. Courage depends heavily on circumstance (Morale 7). Reaction: Adventurers threaten her independence and power. Lashes out with sarcasm, intimidation, and provocation (hostile). Quote: "Careful, Vezra bites back." Treasure: In a leather purse stitched inside her armor, 2 silver coins, a silver ring engraved with crude lightning bolts (2 sp), a silver cloak clasp shaped like a bat (1 sp), and a silver whistle (1 sp).
9. Vrizka (LE): 3 hp. At nearly five feet tall, she towers above most goblins. Carries herself with confidence, shoulders back and chin lifted. Dark hair braided tightly against her scalp. Chain mail, no shield (AC 5). Hand axe (1d6 damage). Very intelligent - notices inconsistencies in stories and is a skilled negotiator. Prioritizes the strength and prosperity of the group, especially if she benefits. Reaction: Adventurers are neither enemies nor allies until circumstances dictate otherwise (neutral). Quote: "So Vrizka is understood, then?" Treasure: Carefully wrapped in cloth, 4 silver coins, a silver-handled sewing needle (3 sp), a pair of engraved silver rings (4 sp), and a polished silver brooch missing its pin (3 sp).
10. Zharka (LE): 2 hp. Wiry. Sharp features. Doesn't blink enough. Sickly olive skin with roughly cropped hair. Moves with an awkward stiffness and limp (MV 4). Reacts poorly to comments about it or offers of assistance. Studded leather and shield (AC 5). Nicked short sword (1d6 damage). Obeys those strong enough to deserve it.  Reaction: Adventurers are thieves, murderers, and conquerors. Advocates violence and watches constantly for betrayal (hostile). Quote: "Zharka doesn't like you!" Treasure: A tightly knotted belt pouch containing 6 silver coins, an engraved silver needle (3 sp), and a pair of silver earrings missing their clasps (2 sp).

Here's a simplified list:

1. Brukket: LE. 1 hp. Padded armor and shield (AC 6). Dagger (1d4). MV 3. Int 10. Morale 12. Friendly. 11 sp.
2. Gorrik: LG. 4 hp. Padded armor (AC 7). Halberd (1d10). MV 4. Int 8. Morale 12. Helpful. 8 sp.
3. Grikka: CE. 2 hp. Shield (AC 8). Hand axe (1d6). MV 8. Int 6. Morale 8. Hostile. 8 sp.
4. Nizbit: LE. 1 hp. Leather armor (AC 7). Knife (1d4). MV 3. Int 12. Morale 7. Unfriendly. 15 sp.
5. Sazhka: NE. 2 hp. Padded armor (AC 7). Short sword (1d6). MV 4. Int 8. Morale 14. Neutral. 15 sp.
6. Skritch: CN. 7 hp. Leather armor (AC 7). Short spear (1d4). MV 4. Int 8. Morale 9. Neutral. 12 sp.
7. Tazren: NG. 1 hp. Scale mail (AC 5). Short sword (1d6). MV 9. Int 11. Morale 10. Neutral. 12 sp.
8. Vezra: CE. 6 hp. Padded armor and shield (AC 6). Short sword (1d6). MV 6. Int 11. Morale 7. Hostile. 6 sp.
9. Vrizka: LE. 3 hp. Chain mail (AC 5). Hand axe (1d6). MV 6. Int 11. Morale 10. Neutral. 14 sp.
10. Zharka: LE. 2 hp. Studded leather and shield (AC 5). Short sword (1d6). MV 4. Int 9. Morale 9. Hostile. 11 sp.

Now, this is a lot to keep track of. It's hard enough on a DM to keep track of ten goblins at a time, let alone their individual personalities, values, motivations, intellects, and - when combat is joined - who has what AC and which weapon, how fast they move, and how brave they are. It's not exactly practical, and it's for this reason that monsters have standardized stat arrays. Ten individual goblins tend to quickly become a blob of ten goblins when the DM is using their processing power on other things, and that's okay.

There are degrees of complexity to engage with, and you can pick the one that works best for you. If you have a room with 10 goblins in it, maybe you don't want to write a paragraph for each one, and that's fine. You could just flesh out their leader and leave the rest non-descript until you need to breathe more life into them at the table. The leader speaks for them all, and their reaction is colored by their leader's.

If the goblins control more territory than just a single room, you can spread them out a bit, so that just a few are encountered at a time. That gives you more room to individually describe them in your key. At bare minimum, you could give each of them a name and one distinguishing feature. This could be how they look, a personality trait, something that they're doing, or a mechanical exception. This goblin is a liar. That goblin is a chef. The other one has an overbite. That one moves quickly. This is what I did with the goblins in Quasqueton, and it has paid dividends for my game.

Too often, "faceless" monsters are the default. The goblins are just goblins. D&D is often criticized for making its humanoid monsters "people-like" but not fully realized people, and that is largely because doing so is hard. The point of this post is to show that these monsters are what the DM makes of them.

Developing the Sandbox: Monster Lairs

This post is part of my series on developing the sandbox. You can read other posts in the series here. The series will, when necessary, go into detail on the development of my sandbox for Dungeon Module B1: In Search of the Unknown, but will also discuss sandbox development more generally. You can read play reports from my B1 campaign here.

"Wilderness" monster lairs (really "outdoor" monster lairs, since they can appear in inhabited as well as wilderness areas) have much in common with other location types in the sandbox. They're kind of like dungeons, and kind of like strongholds. Monsters can have lairs in dungeons. A stronghold is essentially the lair of its ruler or occupants. The Caves of Chaos is the quintessential monster lair in classic D&D, but it looks very much like a dungeon and plays very similarly to a stronghold, the difference being mainly one of aesthetics and the "personhood" of its inhabitants (i.e., whether or not it is socially acceptable to kill them). The Hall of the Fire Giant King is a monster lair but is also literally a stronghold.

Lairs look different depending on who lives there. A monster lair might just be a room in a dungeon. Outdoors, it could be a cave full of owlbears, which is very obviously a lair, or it could be a leprechaun's burrow, which is visually almost indistinguishable from a hobbit hole. Your character might be a hobbit. To them, that's just a home! Orcs sometimes live in villages, and an enclave of elves is probably like a village too, albeit with a different aesthetic and inhabitants. Giants and vampires and such live in castles. All sorts of monsters can inhabit deserted strongholds.

Despite their similarity to other locations, monster lairs serve their own gameplay purpose and satisfy a unique niche in the sandbox. They vary in complexity. The cave which is home to a small pack of dumb beasts is simpler than the ruin where a dragon slumbers, surrounded by a few dozen sycophantic humanoid worshipers, which in turn is simpler than the underground city inhabited by hundreds of highly intelligent, organized Drow. 

In my own musings on the subject, I argue that monster lairs of lesser or greater complexity serve as "stepping stones" from one level or tier of gameplay to the next. Using my B1 sandbox as an example, the owlbear den offers something for the players to do after they finish exploring Quasqueton, but before they're prepared to infiltrate or lay siege to Fayette's Hold. The ogre den similarly offers a transition from that stronghold - with just a meagre garrison and a relatively less powerful fighter ruling it - to the strongholds of Lambrecht and Blachefleur, the Evil wizard and cleric who hold dominion over the town of Timbershore. If there were also a lair of, say, 300 orcs out there in the wilderness, that would likewise offer some "endgame" content for the players, perhaps after they've liberated the town from its sinister rulers.

Keeping in mind the relative complexity and challenge level of your monster lairs, you can make an educated guess as to which will be easiest to detail and which your players are likely to explore first, which will in turn inform the sequence you should follow when developing these locations. Going by complexity alone, I might first detail the giant eagle nest, Jinglepuff's Burrow, and the owlbear den first, for example.

You can also anticipate your players' likely actions based on the locations' proximity to inhabited lands. Going by this metric, I might first choose to detail any monster lairs found in Timbershore, then take on Zerelda's Camp (yes, a camp of adventurer NPCs is a "monster lair") and the ogre den because they are close to inhabited lands and relatively easy to get to. The giant eagle nest, Jinglepuff's Burrow, and the owlbear den are comparatively remote, so they could wait for later.

In reality, none of these locations should take long to detail, and any of them might become relevant sooner or later depending on the players' interests, so they all end up being developed during the same "phase" of my process. I just kind of jump around from one to the other depending on whichever one interests me next. 

The owlbear den seemed really straightforward, so I knocked that out right away. I had never keyed a leprechaun burrow before, so I did that next because it seemed fun. There was also a monster lair in Timbershore which really caught me by surprise (and which I won't spoil here), and was so delightful that I simply had to do it next. Have fun with it! Keep the momentum going however you see fit.

As usual, I will start with a minimalist sketch of the location. For monster lairs, this includes what type of monsters live there, who their leader is (if they have one), and how the monsters as a group react to adventurers (or the outside world more generally). 

Are the bandits led by a fighter? A wizard? A cleric? Are they actively riding around the countryside, killing, looting, and burning, or are they simply threatening and demanding tribute? They might be Robinhood types, stealing from the rich to give to the needy. Are the orcs causing problems, or just keeping to themselves? Are the elves reclusive, or interested in trading with the human population? Just because the "monsters" are not hostile "enemies" doesn't mean the place where they live isn't worth detailing!

Next, I'll hammer out specifics, like the number of monsters present and what treasures they possess. If you're using something like AD&D, the Monster Manual will simply tell you these things, which is awesome (keep in mind that the actual number of monsters appearing compared to the total possible number will affect the amount of treasure they have). X number of goblins appear in dungeons, Y wandering the wilderness, and Z in their wilderness lair. If they're in their lair, they have so and so leaders and a such and such percent chance to have this or these monsters as guards. It's great stuff.

You might be using some other resource depending on your system of choice, in which case you might have to fill in the specifics with your imagination. The thorough procedural structure of AD&D is one of the many reasons I find myself coming back to it when wanting to run a game.

Honestly, if you're running something like modern D&D, the AD&D numbers work just fine. Even if you're running 5e, try having a bandit camp with 200 bandits in it. That will throw your players for a nasty loop when they hear about the bandits plaguing travelers on the road and assume it's a quest hook for 1st level characters with a carefully balanced combat encounter designed for them to easily defeat, only to find that they need a small army to root the bandits out. The number of monsters suggested by AD&D is less about adhering to some esoteric underlying math and more about creating a lifelike world.

Once you know how many monsters there are and how much treasure they have, you will need to figure out how that's all distributed throughout the lair and convert it into a table-ready key. For small-scale lairs, I think it's quite easy. I use a variation of the same "chunking" method outlined in my post on developing dungeons. Let's revisit this table from the AD&D DMG:

In a dungeon, I treat a roll of 15-17 ("Monster and treasure") as a lair. In a 20-room chunk, there will be three of them. In this case, I really only need one. Since there are normally three, what if I just divide the whole table by three?

Since there are normally 12 "empty" rooms per three "monster and treasure" rooms, my smallest lair needs only four "empty" rooms. There is about a 67% chance of there being another room with just monsters, and about a 33% that there is a "special" room, a trick or trap room, and a treasure room, respectively. That means your smallest monster lair is most likely going to have about seven rooms (four "empty", one with the primary inhabitant and its treasure hoard, probably one with another monster, and probably at least one special, trick/trap, or treasure room).

This works pretty well for a single leprechaun's burrow or an owlbear den with just a mated pair and their cubs. If the lair contains 300 orcs, you'll obviously want to adjust it up so that there's room to breathe. You also don't need to take it too literally - just because there's only two "monster" rooms doesn't mean those are the only two rooms with monsters in them. There is probably an ogre monitoring the room with the hidden pit trap and another standing guard by the treasure den. This is where they live. Spread them out!

You will also want to loosely interpret the results, since this isn't a dungeon. The number of "monster" rooms isn't actually telling you how many monsters are there, since the Monster Manual (or whatever is available in your system) is probably providing that information. Those are just the rooms where the monsters congregate (i.e. where they eat or sleep). 

A "trick/trap" room isn't going to feature the same sorts of tricks and traps you'd find in a Mythic Underworld-style dungeon, but rather whatever sorts of devices the monsters in question might employ in their home, depending on the type of home they keep. These might be proper traps or simple obstacles, fortifications, wards, hazards, etc. Kobolds will set traps in their lair, but owlbears won't. A "trap" in an owlbear lair is going to look like something different. Similarly, the "special" room in the owlbear's lair might be a forgotten druid's shrine in the back of the den, accessible via a narrow tunnel, which offers some boon entirely unrelated to the owlbears themselves.

All this method is doing is providing the number of rooms and the proportion of gameplay features to include. For example, let's say I roll some dice and determine that, in addition to the requisite four empty rooms and the room where Jinglepuff is found with his treasure, his lair also contains an additional "monster only" room. 

Since Jinglepuff is the only leprechaun who lives here, and the Monster Manual doesn't suggest that leprechauns keep other monsters in their lair, I refer to my indexing of AD&D 2e monsters by level. According to that, leprechauns are a 5th level monster, so I go looking for something comparable that might reasonably be found there as well. Blink dogs are also 5th level monsters, and are associated with fey creatures, so I might decide that Jinglepuff keeps a mated pair and their litter of pups as pets (great for capturing and selling into slavery).

If I were to have the same rooms in my ogre den, however, I might say that the "monster only" room is just where the majority of the ogre rabble congregate to eat and sleep, while the "monster and treasure" room is where the chieftain and his favored consorts and bodyguards dwell. This is because the ogre lair contains more than a dozen ogres, while the leprechaun lair has just one leprechaun. In the former example, I'm spreading out a greater number of monsters across multiple rooms. In the latter example, I'm bolstering a single monster's numbers with additional pets and guardians which make sense for that monster to keep.

For a lair of 300 orcs, I could do a full 20-room chunk, with huge garrisons of orcs living in each of the "monster only" rooms, and the chief and sub-chiefs (or whatever) making their own individual "lairs" in the "monster and treasure" rooms. That's still 60 orcs in each room (or, more accurately, 60 orcs spread out across the rooms each group is responsible for protecting), so I might make it a lair with 40 or 60 keyed areas - as I said, these larger lairs can become very complex! 

This also prompts me to consider turning each of the sub-chiefs into their own factions within the larger orc band, since each has its own mini "lair" within the greater lair. This allows for more social gameplay and for turning one faction against the other to start an internecine war between them, not all that dissimilar from the Caves of Chaos. Might I suggest using opposing reaction rolls to determine how the different monster groups feel about one another?

Remember that just as strongholds and settlements assert their dominion via patrols, monsters will control their territory as well. Put some wandering monsters from the lair on your outdoor encounter tables. When monsters are found in a given area of the lair, note if who or what is there differs by time of day. If one cave is where the owlbears sleep, they're probably not there at all times. Perhaps one goes out to hunt for part of the day, while another stays behind to watch the cubs. Orcs hate sunlight, so you probably don't want to raid their lair during the day when everyone is home. If you go at night, some will be out hunting, which will make the raid that much easier.

Many of the same principles you might keep in mind when designing a dungeon apply to designing a monster lair. Jacquays it. Create a wandering monster table. Make sure the "empty" rooms still have interactable elements. If possible, include something to talk to, something to kill, something to be killed by, and a secret to find. 

You'll want the place to feel like what it's supposed to be - a place where monsters live. This is not the Mythic Underworld, impossibly old and inscrutable, with weird rules of its own, where the ancient and alien nature of the place can explain away a lot of the weirdness in layout or features. If your dungeon is filled with undead or fiends or elementals, you probably don't need to worry much about dungeon ecology, but a monster lair is usually home to a type of monster which is much more grounded in the physical world and its requirements - humanoids and beasts that need to eat, drink, sleep, procreate, raise young, go out and hunt, entertain themselves, make themselves comfortable, and the like.

Just as dungeon history informed the specific way in which I stocked my hypothetical dungeons in my previous post, the nature of the monsters that dwell in the lair (and the nature of the lair they dwell in) will inform the way in which I stock their lair. Elves will use magic and warp natural features to suit their needs, dwarves will use shifting stone and have lots of room for crafting, and halflings will keep cozy lairs with full larders. Orcs will decorate the place with the skulls of their enemies, kobolds will employ lots of traps, and cackling will echo through the gnolls' warrens.

Another key element is to ensure the lair suits the monster's strengths. This is probably less so the case in a dungeon, where the monster is more likely there by happenstance, and some other creature originally designed the space for their own ends. The monster chose its outdoor lair for a reason, or modified it to suit its needs. Giant spiders will carpet the floor with webbing to detect prey entering. Fire giants will carve channels for molten lava to form moats. Black dragons will flood some portion of their lair and keep their treasure on the far side of a submerged tunnel. A beholder carves tunnels using its disintegration ray, and it can levitate, so it isn't creating its lair to be easily navigable by pitiful grounded bipeds.

Not all lairs are dungeon-esque. An informal camp home to adventurers, bandits, berserkers, or the like it not going to play like a dungeon crawl at all, nor is a giant eagle nest situated in the branches of a tree atop a tall bluff. These are much simpler, and you can probably imagine easily enough what the place looks like once you have the specifics figured out.

Monster lairs are excellent sandbox fodder, which is great, because you'll probably have a good amount of them, depending on the method you use to stock the sandbox. I determine the number of monster lairs based on the terrain. They are less common in grasslands and desert, but more common in swamps and mountains. If my sandbox is in a more "rugged" "untamed" region, there will be more monster lairs.

They vary in complexity, but are not overly complex until you get to the huge humanoid warrens and villages. At the lower end of complexity, they're dungeonesque, offering turn-based exploration and heated skirmishes in narrow confines. These are not overly difficult to bring to fruition. At the higher end, they're akin to strongholds, forcing the player characters to accumulate power and bring real strength to bear to lay siege to them. These will require significantly more effort to design.

Because there are so many different types of monsters, and each monster will have its own unique version of a lair, they also offer a variety of thematic flavor which will keep your campaign interesting. Bear caves, elf villages, ruined giant strongholds, ankheg burrows, giant beehives, ghoulish graveyards, vampire castles - these are all lairs, and they're all wildly different because of who lives there.

Monster lairs are great because they affect the world around them. Most dungeons are kind of just there. The players will want to explore them because that's what the game is about, and because that's where the treasure is. Monster lairs also have treasure, but the game is also about dealing with monsters, and the lair is where you deal with them. 

That doesn't necessarily mean killing them. You might visit the goblin lair because the goblins have a powerful shaman who can cast a spell you need. You might wish to recruit them to attack the "civilized" frontier fortress where the really good treasure is kept. Maybe the local ruler wants to incorporate the goblins into their territory, the goblins are on the fence, and you're being sent to negotiate terms. Maybe the goblins are ruled over by the neighboring ogres, and they ask you to deal with them.

Be open minded about your monster lairs, what the monsters want, how they affect the world, and how the powers that be feel about them. That will color the way in which you expect the players to interact with these locations. Unlike dungeons, which monsters inhabit almost incidentally, lairs are where monsters choose to live. Why have they chosen to live there? How have they made the place their own? How has their choice to live there affected their neighbors? What, if anything, is to be done about it?