Of chests — and floors — and ceiling-attacks

We often eat with our eyes first. That adage seems to apply to RPG monsters as well. Sometimes, no matter how deadly or inspiring a monster entry is - that all-important illustration can make-or-break even the most ancient of dragons or the most influential of demon lords. Some monsters have even been defined by their illustrations through the years. The mimic can change its shape to look like just about any dungeon feature or furnishing. But, those early illustrations of belligerent  treasure chests have fixed that image into just about everyone's minds.

After browsing enough poorly-researched "Worst/Dumbest Monsters in D&D" articles, I feel confident in this presumption. I've even seen blogs where the question is posed: "how does a mimic move?" The premise is that a killer treasure chest just doesn't have any obvious means of locomotion.

Personally, I've never had a party encounter a mimic in the form of a treasure chest. A wardrobe, sarcophagus, door, or gargoyle statue - yes. Even though it is specifically detailed in the Monster Manual entry, the mimic is still seen today as a "mouthy treasure chest monster." Though, to be honest, I do love the imagery of it. Still, I tend to lay the blame for this on the 2nd Edition Monstrous Manual.

One thing that turned me off from 2E was the tendency to explain and define everything. For me, all this accomplished was an increased word count and decreased interest. Suddenly, every monster entry had to fill at least an entire page. Personally, I don't feel that giant sea urchins deserve an entire page - barely a mention, actually.

Anyway, it seems to be the imagery that counts. Text is entirely negotiable. The mimic attacks with a lashing pseudopod. It doesn't even bite. Still, this is the current vision of the mimic - the tongue must be the pseudopod.

Again - I do like the imagery. I just sense some disconnect between the later editions of the game that expend so much effort in detailing every aspect of the adventure, only to have so much fall through the cracks. People who ask how a mimic moves don't seem to be paying much attention. Maybe the word, "amorphous" is too obscure for the casual reader. But, now, in 5th Edition - the mimic does have a bite attack! An acidic bite attack! The toothy maw became so popular that the game itself adapted.

Through the years, I've noticed that certain types of monster will get a bad rap. Some players seem to have issues with "surprise monsters." Those creatures that blend in with the dungeon and let you just walk into their hidden clutches. Kinda makes you feel dumb sometimes. Seems unfair. Never mind that this happens in nature all the time. These monsters just get under their skin and simply aren't realistic. You know - like the rest of the typical realistic D&D world. The idea of creatures specifically evolved to thrive in a ludicrous habitat like a typical dungeon is simply untenable, for some reason.

Monsters like the mimic. The lurker above. The trapper. Hey - I can see the point. These are very specific adaptations. Though, I mostly see the logic hand-waved to the machinations of mad wizards that create wacky monsters for fun and profit. That's never been my thing. For my own setting, I've made the mimic, lurker above, and trapper one-and-the-same monster. Yep. The mimic can look like anything of stone or wood. A chest, a ceiling, a floor. It has adhesive. It is amorphous. Seriously - why bother with three separate entries for the same kind of tricky, camouflaged, shapeshifting, ambush monster?

Along the same lines, come back next time for a little chat about the nifty relationship (in my setting) between the gelatinous cube and the slithering tracker.