Their outlines were human, semi-human, fractionally human, and not human at all -- the horde was grotesquely heterogeneous. - H.P.Lovecraft
I've reached the stage of non-playable monsters in the world I am currently designing and started looking into fleshing them out as believably as possible. In-game "mobs" and their implementation is often undervalued, so I thought I'd delve into that subject a little bit.
Of course every game that involves antagonists or combat needs its share of things to kill, ranging from common beasts to fantastic creatures and sentient monsters with lore and culture. But I don't want to populate my world with monsters that, in essence, are the same set of mechanics with varying levels of difficulty and appearance. The wolves my level 1 character defeats are really no different than the sabretooth tigers he takes on at level 15, for example. It's all the same, and it gets old. Of course these are necessary. If you are creating a world of diversity you need to fill it with lots of things that look very different, and making each and every one of them stand out just might make none of them very special. To keep your world from becoming just another mindless grindfest, and to provide quest-ammo that is more than "go kill 20 of these", you need monsters that grab attention, something that stands out and forces visitors to your world to think about and remember the monster rather than just put a sword, fireball, or laserbolt through it and move on.
What sets monsters apart from the masses?
One way is to illicit emotional response. Just making your creature look gross or disturbing is old and these days we are a little too sophisticated for that kind of shock approach if that's all there is to it. Something about the behavior of the creature, or what it represents needs to strike a nerve. For this example I'm going to reveal a little about my big project that I have been working on for the last eight years. I wanted a creature that was tragic and helpless, but definitely a very real threat to players. I created, among others, the drowning man, the burning man, and the worm man. Each of them are victims in their own way, locked in torment which they violently pass on to others out of fear or desperation, not out of malice or hostility.
The drowning man, for example, is a mob you would find standing at the bottom of a lake or river, any body of water deep enough to fully submerse a grown man will do. They stand with their feet anchored in muck, their lungs and every available space in their bodies filled with foul water, always drowning, but never dying. Drowning men know they are dying, they are fear-stricken, hysterical, and in panicked frenzy, grabbing frantically at anything and anyone that comes close enough, a real danger to swimmers who are dragged under at first contact. Because of their bloated bodies, drowning men are very difficult to dislodge and next to impossible to drag out of the water. Even on dry land the water in them replenishes itself faster than the suffering drowning man can vomit the vile liquid, which is extremely toxic to anyone touching it. In his hysterical desperation the drowning man, even on dry land, will stagger around and cling desperately to anyone who comes close, in hopes of being saved from his state.
The burning man suffers a similar fate. He is engulfed by a fire that burns painfully but does not consume him. He is gripped by the same panicked hysteria and staggers about screaming for help, alighting anything flammable he touches. Water or vacuum will not douse the fire that finds constant nourishment in its host.
The worm man might be my favorite of the bunch. He is victim to a swarm of parasitic worms that eat and writhe through him constantly. Their skin secretes a regenerative fluid that closes wounds and holes just after they pass through them. The host suffers a constant devouring of his skin and organs, the wriggling mass of his brain is only barely able to comprehend the agony of his existance. He runs about grabbing at others forcefully begging for help. Touching the worm man might mean becoming host to some of his worms.
None of these pitiful creatures wants to die, none of them want to intentionally cause anyone harm, but they are a threat. The idea is to confront players with an uncomfortable choice, commit a mercy killing in self defense or flee and condemn the creature to unbearable agony.
This kind of monster is a bit extreme, and difficult to portray accurately in a digital setting where first impression decides what a player knows about his opponent. These should not be overused to the point where players are dulled to the experience, just used enough to make them well-known. Emotional mob response doesn't necessarily have to be horror. Any emotion can trigger memory, play with what response your monsters can provoke.
Monster ecology is a good way to give them weight. What part do they play in your local ecosystem, and how do they interact with other creatures? In the world I am currently working on, brain leeches inhabit some swamps. These critters latch on to the base of the skull at the back of the neck and burrow through to the brain, where they grow longer and begin a growing process of mental domination. Straightforward enough, but why do they do this? Leeches are hermaphroditic and reproduce by growing cocoons for their offspring. In my world, brainleech cocoons do not gestate outside of the brain of a host. When fully grown, the hatched leeches are ejected through the eyes, ears, nose and mouth of the parent host. Now we have necessity for the monster's actions, in this case the one thing most creatures boil down to: the need to reproduce. It's a good start, but I'd like to see more depth.
Independantly I had already started fleshing out the fairyfolk, in this world a cannibalistic and bloodthirsty bunch. Redcaps are a subrace of elf that lives in the swamps and gathered their name from their red scalps and upper face, the only parts of them not submersed in water as they lay in wait for prey. It made sense to connect the two monsters, and as such, redcaps are common hosts to brain leeches and small sub-communities of leech-controlled elves have appeared. This won't make a big difference to powerlevelers or hack-n-slashers, but it is an important component of believable atmosphere. Even the most insignificant inhabitants of your world eat, sleep and reproduce. Especially creatures of instinct have a reason for every single thing that they do. When creating a monster, ask yourself what these reasons are.
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