DMing with Charisma

Yeenoghu is savagery incarnate. He divides all things into two categories, predators and prey, and he is the alpha predator. He has no love for the trappings of civilization, and his perfect world is one in which everything succumbs to its bestial nature. He seems like a boring, one-note monster, but oh wait we already did this.

Yeenoghu is what you get if you start with Baphomet and take away everything that makes him interesting. There’s no cunning behind his actions, just mindless destruction. There’s no subtlety in his worldview, just malice. There’s no interesting race associated with him, just near-mindless creatures for PCs to kill without thinking. Everything about him is somehow both effortless and tedious, and I see no way to turn such a basic, tired concept into a worthwhile element in a campaign. If you really like Yeenoghu, re-read the Baphomet post but substitute “gnoll” for “minotaur” and take out anything that suggests he has any sort of patience or cognition. I’m instead using this time to talk about a demon lord from a previous edition who I think deserved to be in 5E more than Yeenoghu did:

March of Madness: Pale Night

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Baphomet is savagery incarnate. He divides all things into two categories, predators and prey, and he is the alpha predator. He has no love for the trappings of civilization, and his perfect world is one in which everything succumbs to its bestial nature. He seems like a boring, one-note monster, but his strength belies his cunning. He can be calm and patient, biding his time until the perfect opportunity arises, and only when his prey is weak or desperate will he fall on them with all the fury he can muster.

As such, Baphomet seems like the type of villain who waits in the background until he suddenly doesn’t. When he moves, it’s with alacrity and disproportionate force, and he intends to have sufficient power or minions to score a decisive victory the first time he makes any attempt. This bleeds down to his minions. Baphomet’s followers must think themselves better than their opponents, both stronger and smarter, slowly drawing their prey into an inescapable trap. Continue reading →

Zuggtmoy is the queen of fungus. Her inhumanity rivals that of any demon lord, an amorphous mass that only occasionally deigns to present itself as somewhat humanoid. She has no set form, no race who pledges its undying loyalty, no meaningful creatures on the Material Plane because creatures mean nothing to her. She seeks a world cleansed of all animal life, leaving only plants and fungi as part of a single universe-spanning organism.

Her methods are even more insidious than those of other demon lords. She does not intentionally attract worshippers, because anything capable of worship is probably anathema to her. Instead she uses spores to infect, destroy, and control anything and everything she can. The bodies themselves are just a useful tool, spreading her sickness far and wide, increasing her reach until nobody can escape her authority. Continue reading →

Fraz-Urb’luu is the smartest creature alive. He sees the nature of all things and manipulates them to his own end, disguising himself and his intentions with myriad layers of lies, tricks, and promises. His cult is larger than it appears because it mostly comprises people who don’t know they’re working for him, and his favorite trick is convincing somebody that they’re part of the forces of good when they’re really furthering his plots.

From his description in the books, it seems like he’s surprisingly active, making personal appearances whenever he feels it appropriate. He doesn’t sit back and let his followers work for him as much as he instigates situations and lets them play out exactly as he expected. It’s entirely possible for a party to meet him very early in a campaign and not realize it until much later, when it’s almost too late to stop him. Continue reading →

Orcus is lord of the undead. He’s a curious sort of demon who resents chaos, preferring a universe in which only dead things thrive. Unlike deities of death who see it as part of the natural order, Orcus bucks the order itself. Hurting living things only somewhat pleases him, a shallow joy that pales against ending life entirely.

I couldn’t find any demon lord connected to more creatures than Orcus, and all of them are undead. In some iterations he tolerates necromancy, but in 5E it’s just a means to an end. He wants his followers to reject existence itself and the merciless gods who imposed life upon it. Unlike most demon lords he doesn’t appear only to the insane or thoroughly evil. Anybody who wants to end their suffering can find their way to him, and he doesn’t hide his solution. Continue reading →

Demons lords are, to be blunt, gods you can punch. They’re top-tier monsters whose tendrils work their way into every part of a campaign. They’re impossibly strong, able to pervert the environment around them for miles just by existing. They’re nearly immortal, with lives long enough to have influenced centuries of history and texts, prompting myriad cultists to huddle in darkened caves and basements appealing to them for power. They’re capstones, the perfect way to end long-running campaigns with a satisfying villain whose shadow has loomed large over the story since the first minute. All stories are about conflict, and conflict with a demon lord guarantees an epic story.

Or, at least, that’s how they’re advertised. It’s a shame they rarely have the impact the designers clearly intended. Continue reading →