Like the dragons on Game of Thrones? That's a good way to go if you don't feel like stressing over genius plot arcs and inscrutable motivations. Many dragons are statted as genius level minds, but they don't have to be played as such, or be as chatty as ol' Smaug. In Dragon Wing (first book of the Death Gate Cycle), most of the dragons of Arianus are bestial, and the setting doesn't suffer for it one bit.
That’s totally fair, and I can see why that portrayal wouldn’t sit right with everyone. The “Smaug in a study” vibe definitely became a kind of D&D shorthand, especially once dragons started showing up with 20-point vocabularies and long-winded backstories. I think there’s real value in the “force of nature” take. When a dragon hits the table and the first thought isn’t “let’s negotiate,” but rather “we might die before initiative even hits round two,” that changes the energy in a huge way. It recenters the awe. That said, I do enjoy dipping into both ends of that spectrum depending on the world. Sometimes the beast should just burn the city down. Other times, the dragon wants to chat about metaphysics over tea… before burning the city down. Do you ever give your Mithgar-style dragons hidden goals beyond “guard hoard, kill threats”? Or is their sheer presence usually the challenge?
Totally get that! If a monster doesn’t spark anything for me, it’s hard to bring it to life at the table, especially when it’s just “burrow, grab, chomp.” No shame in passing on the ankheg if it doesn’t excite. I’ve had to rework more than a few bland module baddies just to make them worth the spotlight.
Ah, the noble Flumph! I love those little weirdos. Telepathic, glowy, good-aligned jellyfish who just want to warn the world about psionic threats. There’s something so endearingly out of place about them. That said, I get it. Between the name, the look, and the general awkwardness, they can be tough to drop into a campaign with a straight face if the tone’s even remotely serious. But when they work, they really work. Especially when they're tragic.
Ah, the noble Flumph! I love those little weirdos. Telepathic, glowy, good-aligned jellyfish who just want to warn the world about psionic threats. There’s something so endearingly out of place about them. That said, I get it. Between the name, the look, and the general awkwardness, they can be tough to drop into a campaign with a straight face if the tone’s even remotely serious. But when they work, they really work. Especially when they're tragic.
