Land of the Lost Monsters

Continuing with The Land of the Lost theme this month, I thought I’d convert some of The Land’s more iconic beasties to Chimera. Now, despite the fact that I’m providing stats, I’m not suggesting you actually have to run a campaign in LotL to use these monsters. The goal here is to consider the roles these creatures play in the overall setting; stats are provided for the sake of completeness.

UPDATE (11/7/2019): Revised stats below for Chimera Core Rules.

Dinosaurs

“Lost World” equals dinosaurs. Period. There are two kinds of dinosaurs: cool (which is any dino that eats meat) and boring (all the others). Cool dinosaurs are scary foes that can be cunning, hunt in packs, and deal out devastating attacks. Boring dinosaurs cluster in herds and eat plants, mostly to fatten themselves up for the cool dinosaurs. I strongly suggest you maintain this simple dichotomy in your campaign—as a rule, any concept universally accepted by 2nd-graders should not be tweaked in your roleplaying game.

All that said, what you can do is inject personality into your dinos. While we snicker at the cute nicknames Holly gives to each dinosaur, giving a proper name to a common creature is a good storytelling way to encapsulate a monster’s role in the setting, either as an antagonist, a foil, or an ally. For example:

Grumpy (Animal / Tyrannosaurus Rex)
Lvl 5; MR 15″; WL 8 (L); DF 4 (+2); AT 1 bite (1d10); AB Athletics, Sense, Sneak +1; SP Charge, Fearless, Grip (1d10), Home Field Advantage (AR +1 in home territory), Night Vision

An old and cunning T-Rex, Grumpy is one of two “alpha” predators in The Land. He is constantly on the prowl, roaring and stomping about for prey of opportunity, regardless of size or type (basically, he’ll go after anything that crosses his path). He is intimately familiar with The Land’s forests (apply +1 bonus to all ARs made in jungle terrain), and has the uncanny ability to run down and “box” prey into corners, using local terrain to his advantage. While he never checks morale, Grumpy has the discretion to withdraw from an uneven match, and this has saved him from death on a few occasions (he’ll withdraw after sustaining 6 wounds).

Grumpy is a T-Rex like any other T-Rex: big, toothy, hungry, and dangerous. But as the only T-Rex in LotL, he’s got a lot of story value. Outside of the fact that he attacks pylons, roars at tar pits, and has a brain the size of a nectarine, he actually fits the role of Recurring Villain quite well. Plus his name is Grumpy, so you pretty much know how he’ll respond in any given situation.

Alice (Animal / Allosaurus)
Lvl 5; MR 20″; WL 6 (L); DF 4 (+3); AT 1 bite (1d8); AB Athletics, Sense [smell], Sneak; SP Alert, Home Field Advantage (AR +1 in home territory), Night Vision, Pounce (2d10)

Alice is the second “alpha” predator in The Land, and her home territory consists of the Lost City ruins. She’s given deference (and a wide berth) by the sleestacks there, who consider her the guardian of their egg clutch within the Lost City. It’s unlikely that Alice is aware of this role—she has simply chosen the Lost City for her hunting ground, and she knows the area quite well (apply +1 bonus to all ARs made in or around the Lost City). There is an 80% chance Alice is aware of visitors to the Lost City, though she may choose to let trespassers enter the ruins unchallenged, then ambush them when they try to leave.

I like Alice because she has a role beyond that of big scary monster. Never mind that she doesn’t care about sleestack eggs — the sleestacks do, and they have a vested interest in her well being. So they’ll do their best to protect her, maybe even get her food (like leaving live prey outside the Lost City for her, just to keep her in the area). It’s not clear if the sleestacks view Alice as a protector out of pragmatism or superstition. Of course, it’s possible that Alice actually is there to protect sleestack eggs — maybe she knows something the sleestacks don’t.

There are other dinosaurs in LotL, all of which I put in the boring category:

• Dopey: a baby brontosaurus, whose primary role is as an emotional draw for kids who would rather watch The Care Bears. Dopey is basically a cross between the “lovable screw-up” and the “adorable child.” As such, he’s a walking plot hook, and entire stories are written about getting him out of the trouble he blunders into. I’ll go on record as having a dim view of Dopey, but his antics do motivate the protagonists to take action and engage in their environment (and, by the way, I now realise that writing this blog has forced me to make critical assertions about animated clay dinosaurs…).
• Emily: an adult brontosaurus, implied to be Dopey’s mom. She has a small role, but saves the day in a couple of episodes, basically by being big and very strong.
• Spike: a triceratops, whose fight with Grumpy in episode #8 stalls Rick’s attempts to rescue his kids from being trapped in a pylon. All you need to take from this is that enemies of your characters’ enemies can create interesting game situations.
• Spot: a coelophysis who runs about aimlessly until Grumpy eats him in episode #8. Turns out to be OK, since there are plenty of other coelophysis around, and this leads me to believe that Spot’s role is to show how dangerous Grumpy is.

Humanoids

“Lost World” can also mean caveman and, in some cases, hissing lizard-bug. Consider:

Pakuni (Humanoid)
Lvl 1; MR 15″; WL 1 (S); DF 1 (+2); AT 1 fist (1d4), 1 weapon (var.); AB Athletics, Attack, Burgle, Sense [smell], Sneak; SP Nimble

Pakuni are akin to cavemen, though smaller. They congregate in small family groups; dwellings are constructed of hide lean-tos or caves surrounded by lashed bamboo stockades. Pakuni have their own language and can make fire. They are quite superstitious, easily cowed by unfamiliar technology or strangers, but they gain confidence quickly once they realise what a given tool is used for or that a certain person is not dangerous. They are prone to bold trickery to get what they want (e.g., pretending to use magic to open a pylon’s door when in fact, the opening is caused by the alignment of The Land’s three moons). While their schemes are fairly transparent, they’re indignant when caught, suggesting a strong desire to control and manipulate their environment. Treated fairly and given trust, Pakuni can be loyal and helpful companions.

The pakuni are an interesting spin on the basic caveman. Sure, they’re primitive and hairy, but the pakuni’s superstition and sense of ritual replaces the brute strength we associate with the typical neanderthal. That provides depth and personality, and makes them the closest thing to a friend the Marshalls have in The Land. As such, pakuni fit the role of “alien race with immense cultural barriers who befriends protagonist,” which (eventually) will be necessary for a group of PCs thrust into a strange, lost world environment. Not unlike Jeriba in that wretched Enemy Mine story.

Sleestack (Humanoid)
Lvl 2; MR 10″; WL 3 (M); DF 2 (+1); AT 2 pincers (1d6), 1 weapon (var.); AB Athletics, Attack, Sneak; SP Night Vision, Photosensitive, Resistant (blunt)

Sleestacks are reptilian/insect humanoids with bulging pupiless eyes, pincers for hands, and a shambling gait. They are the devolved remnants of the Altrusians, an advanced race who had mastered modes of planar and dimensional travel. Now, sleestacks are little more than primitive predators dwelling the ruins of the Lost City. Sleestacks hatch from eggs and have an annual dormant period lasting several months. Occasionally, an advanced sleestack is born (1%), who has superiour intelligence and an innate memory of the “old ways.” Unfortunately, such specimens are invariably sacrificed to the unnamed deity the sleestacks worship. Sleestacks are invariably of unfriendly disposition, and always target the closest foe in combat. If both pincers hit, the target is held (as Grip, but no further damage) and dragged away for later sacrifice. Raiding parties and patrols also carry small crossbows (with which they are hopeless shots, but inflict 1d4 points on a successful hit). Sleestacks are averse to fire: When confronted with torches or an open flame, they are automatically stunned (AR -1, -5″ to MR) and must make a morale check each round.

Admit it: this is what you came here to read. I’ll state the obvious and assign sleestack to the role of “mysterious and repugnant foe.” They’re scary, not only in appearance, but also by what you don’t know about them. Are they lizards? Are they insects? What’s going on behind those unblinking eyes? What do they get up to in the Lost City? How is it they can make intricate hand crossbows but they can’t deal with someone carrying a flashlight? The perfection of the sleestack is in its role as undeniable opponent—like the relentless Borg, the cruel Sathar, or dreaded Saracens of the Christian Crusades, the sleestacks stand for everything the protagonists don’t. Best part of all is that they have a secret: they’re descended from a highly advanced race, so while the Lost City is just home to them, they’re the incidental guardians of their own past. Juicy dungeon crawls here, kids.

Final Words

The goal here wasn’t just to stat up some Land of the Lost creatures, but to show how the roles they play contribute to the setting. The trick here isn’t simply using monsters to populate your setting, but rather creating plots based on your setting’s monsters. Like characters, they have personality, goals, motivations, interests, and needs. Exploit them to compel your PCs into action, combine them to make things interesting, and don’t be afraid to use tried-and-true roles to convey the mood or flavour you want for your campaign.