The plasma ooze should be boring. But it’s not. In
fact, it could make for a fantastic campaign-ending climax. Here’s why.
Actually, let’s get the basics out of the way first. Plasma oozes are “extraterrestrial beings made of
superheated electromagnetic sludge,” according to the Bestiary 3—not quite elementals, but something more basic. They live deep in the Plane of Fire
(one assumes where it borders the Positive Energy Plane) and in the stars
themselves. So if you’ve got a
planet-hopping campaign and your players want to visit the sun, you’ve got a
ready made-hazard waiting for them.
Back to oozes.
Oozes (excepting the Lovecraftian shoggoths and gibbering mouthers,
which we’ll excuse from this conversation) are either terrifying and boring. They don’t exactly converse much, they
don’t have deep psyches, and either you have the tools to fight them, or you
don’t and you (hopefully) run from them.
Pretty much all the interest they generate at the game table involves
the above: 1) Did the ooze surprise the party? 2) Can the party fight the ooze? 3) Can the party escape the ooze? And 4) what obstacles has the GM thrown the party’s way to
make #2 and #3 more difficult? No
matter how big and scary you make a black pudding, that dynamic doesn’t change.
What makes the plasma ooze different? The magnetic pulse.
Here’s that link again, in case you want to see what it
does.
Great, you say, it’s an ooze with a tractor beam. Who cares?
But here’s what the plasma ooze made me do. It made me think back to anime. There was a period where basically
every anime movie or series ended with a gigantic blast. (Not surprising, given Japan’s history
with such things). Whether
nuclear, magical, or whatever, the screen would go white. The sound would drop out. And then there would be the aftermath,
for good or ill.
Now picture this.
You’re a decently high level: 14, 15, 16. You’re about to finish the campaign. You’re facing off against the Big Bad
Guy. Maybe you’ve struck the killing blow. Or maybe you haven’t sealed the deal in time. Either way, something goes wrong. A spell is cast. A rite is finished. A reactor boils over. A gate opens. And a plasma ooze pops out.
This is your anime climax moment. It’s that silent white nuclear explosion, Gargantuan in
size, and 20 ft. across. Worse
yet, it fights back—lashing out with slam attacks and plasma rays. You are battered and bruised already
down on resources. Your potions
are consumed, your spell slots long spent. Electricity and fire attacks you’d ordinarily shrug off
suddenly become real threats. It’s
a battle.
And then, as if that weren’t enough, it pulses…and draws you
toward itself…thanks to the very weapons and armor you meant to fight it with!
That’s a hell of a set piece. That’s a reason to bust out the minis, even if you’re not a
big fan—just to see the tug of war between PC and ooze, player and GM.
And you have to stop it, because otherwise, it will grow,
consuming every living thing in its path…and it will be your fault. At the right level, in the right
circumstances, the plasma ooze is the Horrendous Space Kablooie—and stopping it
(or dying trying) will be the most important thing your characters do.
The next time you end a campaign and your friends ask you
about the final battle, tell them you fought an ooze. And if they look at you funny, send them here. We’ll straighten them out.
On a year-long quest
to return a phoenix to her home in the sun, spacefaring adventurers face
two challenges: finding a ship that will get them there, and escaping the
plasma oozes that refuse to let them leave.
An efreeti malik of
surpassing power has a palace that includes a fantastic dome—part pleasure
palace, part museum, and part treasure vault. Central to the structure is a bound plasma ooze that serves
as the dome’s dynamo and its penultimate guardian (the electricity damage meant
as a nasty surprise for the efreeti’s mostly fire-immune enemies). Interestingly, the malik stole the ooze
from a lich (now a demilich) who wants the insult answered.
In the last battle
against the Ardeth Technomancy, the elven admiral pulled his Spear Hawks
from the sky. Lacking the
firepower to go on alone, the Aeronavy of Lyon was forced to let the
Technomancy’s Dreadnaughts flee—for which the humans have never forgiven the
elves. When adventurers rupture a
rogue Dreadnaught power core, they find out why the elves held back as a plasma
ooze bursts forth.
—Pathfinder Bestiary 3
220
Or, to but it another way: Do not taunt Happy Fun Ball.
Koboldbard asked (not surprisingly):
Do you have anything
about kobolds?
Heck yeah. But
to save you the trouble of scrolling all the way back to October 2012, here it is.
Music! Since
about 25 of you are new here in the last week alone, let me fill you in: On Saturdays
I take a break from being a monster nerd so I can be an indie rock nerd
instead. That means on Mondays you
get a radio show from me that you can listen to the whole week long or download and keep forever. Highlights from
this week’s show include some Coachella tracks and a Sean Nelson set. Enjoy!
(Sometimes the feed skips, so for best results let the file load
in Firefox or Chrome, Save As an mp3, and enjoy in iTunes. Link good till
Friday, 4/19, at midnight.)
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