Leeches!

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

One of my favorite parts of being an editor at Paizo is getting to read about the new monsters in each bestiary before they come out. My favorites are the ones whose descriptions make me shiver with a delicious sense of horror and disgust. If the players facing these foul beasts make the same expression that I do reading about them, GMs will be richly rewarded for including them!

Last week, James Sutter was casually describing some of the nasties in Heart of the Jungle as he handed over a copy of one of the chapters: "You know, giant botflies, giant leeches, and [...]" Oh sorry, could you repeat the rest of that sentence? I couldn't hear you over the sound of my inner child screaming in fear.

Illustration by Andrew Hou

You see, when I was about 10, I was reading my dad's Dragon magazine back issues while en route to a week of camping in northern Minnesota, and I came across an article called "Ecology of the Giant Leech." The description of foot-long ribbons of muscle whose bite you can't even feel slowly fattening as they fill with your blood horrified me—suddenly I was terrified to be spending a week canoeing and swimming in leech-infested waters. ("Leech-infested" is not an exaggeration; the water along the shore of every beach and campsite was thick with six-inch-long leeches.)

I studied over the article again and again, poring over the stats and descriptions of their attacks and vulnerabilities, so I'd know how to defend myself when the time came. (You can laugh, but clearly, it worked!)

Now giant leeches are back—and I can't wait to read about them again! Partly because I love being creeped out by things that go bump in the water, and okay, I confess, partly to learn whether leech-fighting methods have evolved over the years.

GMs, you're going to love these wriggly critters: monsters based on one of nature's actual horrors, and whose attack is so insidious that victims may not even notice until it's almost too late. The only thing more priceless than the expression on your players' faces when they find a couple giant leeches draining one of their comrades—and wonder about that crawling sensation on their own backs—will be the look on their faces when they realize they have to cross that swamp again on the way back.

Yours shudderingly,

Judy Bauer
Editor