Starting today, we'll be holding a Monster contest with three different categories. To participate, you can post a submissions to one category, or all three. You are not required to participate in all three categories, but you can if you want to. It's very straight forward, design your own monster!
Draw what your monster looks like. You can use any tools to draw your monster that you'd like. Photoshop, Pencil & Paper (& Scanner), anything. With this, submit your picture and a name for your monster, as well as a description if you feel it necessary.
Give your monster a back story. How and when was your monster born/created? Where did they come from? How old are they? What's happened over their life? How did they get to where they are currently?
How does the monster move, attack, die. What skills do they have? Any immunities? Special powers? Implement your monster into the game (any game in the series), talk about how they'd work in regards to game balance, what their purpose in the game would be, etc. Your best bet here would be to look at a monster wiki article and check out the different fields of data that go into monster development.
1. One entry per category.
2. You do not have to enter every category
3. Winners chosen by the Staff. If a Staff member chooses to participate in the contest, s/he will not be eligible to be in the judging.
4. There will be a first, second, and third place winner for each category.
If you wish to talk about the contest itself, head over to the newspost. Entries can be posted in this thread. The first reply below is an example submission.
You will have one month to do this, the deadline is August 25th, Midnight PST.
First place: D3 T-Shirt, Special Custom User Title (depending on the category), One year Curse Premium
Second place: 6-month Curse Premium
Third place: 3-month Curse Premium
Everyone else who participates will receive a one month Curse Premium.
THIS IS AN EXAMPLE SUBMISSION
Courtesy of Zhar (Art) and ScyberDragon (Lore and Mechanics).
Art The Voiceless
The stuff on his face is like... a fleshy growth, basically covering his mouth. Bunch of writing tentacles for legs, and hands that just change into stuff, hence the sword n' spike.
The Kurast docks are no safe passage. Since the abandonment of this water-side territory, fewer and fewer boats venture this way. The few of us who remain here rely on tradesmen for supplies but we see fewer of them every day. It has been two weeks now since the last boat reached our docks.
The night came quickly as I patrolled the docks, hoping for a supplies ship. That is when I saw a light off in the distance. I eagerly ran up the stairs to the top of the coast tower. I lit the coast beacon fire signaling their port. The boat seemed to waver however. The boats course remained towards our docks but the boat seemed to travel in an unconventional path. First it veered towards the port side and then back to the starboard side. The boat came rushing out our docks and no sound of the anchor's chain could be heard.
The boat slammed into the docks, breaking the wooden planks all the way up to the shore line. I hoped down the steps of the tower and rushed to see what had caused this captain to steer his boat so recklessly. I managed to get up onto the boat when I saw a horrible sight. Sailors pierced through their chests, blood dripped off of the deck into the murky waters. Heads of seaman rolled back and forth on the deck with the waves of the sea. Mixed in with the human carnage were a few slimy tentacles and a thick, oily black ichor. It was then that I knew there were no survivors aboard this ship.
My father told me stories of a sea-bound creature. He told me that these Silenced, as he refereed to them, would crawl up onto ships with their tentacles that could suck the eyes straight from your skull. Once on board, the monsters two arms could change into any form they wished. Spears, swords, hammers, clubs, any weapon they willed to use. Plunging their own arms into the sailors chest, piercing their hearts, the sailors had no chance. If one were lucky to inflict damage upon the silenced, a sticky black ichor would ooze out from the wound.
Up until now, I had always taken these stories as just that, stories. However, I know see first-hand the carnage that these monsters are capable of. Crushed skulls and severed limbs were too much for me. I heaved over the side of the boat as I watched my vomit mix with the blood that had fallen free of their bodies. After regaining me countenance, I realized that this massacre had been recent. The warmth had not left the victim's blood yet.
I jumped off the boat as my boots sank into the sand on the shore. I ran towards my village to warn them of any chance of these beasts, the Silenced, emerging from their murky homes into our village. As I neared the town, I could not hear a single sound. The tavern was silent as well as the newly forming church.
I reached the the edge of town when I realized I was too late. I ran to my home to find my wife and daughter slaughtered. Before I could even hold their bodies in my arms, one of them appeared at my front door. Their flesh looked as though melted over their face. His tentacles writhed on the ground as he made his way towards me.
His arm began forming in the shape of a spiked mace. He lunged it forward as his arm came crashing down on a table. He raised his arm up again and swung towards me. I fell to the ground, avoiding a killing blow. I scampered my way towards my chest where I had kept my sword. I faced the monster, this time armed, and prepared to fight for my life. I swung the sword viciously, not concerning myself about aim. Foolishly, I got to close to the beast. One of his tentacles reached out and grabbed my foot, anchoring it in place. I could not move. I used all of my strength but the tentacle was too strong. I thrusted my sword into the beast's face repeatedly. The sticky ichor shot out with each stab, coating my sword and myself. Just as my strength was about to give up, the beast's grip loosened. I jumped backwards as soon as my foot was released. I watched as the monster's body fell to the floor. Its tentacles lashed about before it finally ceasing.
Mechanics Movement -
The silenced only occur when near water. The monsters emerge from the environment to attack your character. They move slowly on land due to them having tentacles for feet. If your character gets too close to the silenced, the monster can hold your character in place with its tentacles.
The silenced's arm can change into any weapon shape. they use their weapon-formed arms to attack your character. The shape of their weapon makes no difference attack-wise, it is just for aesthetics. They are bound to only melee attacks which is helped when they root you with their tentacles. They continue their barrage until dead once latched on to you.
Monster - When the Silenced is damaged, tentacles fall off and onto the ground. Upon their death, a black ichor explodes from their bodies.
Character - If the Silenced kills you, their tentacles wrap completely around your character as it continues its assault with its arms.
*Special Death/monster - If you kill the silenced with fire, its "blood" ignites on fire and leaves a pool of fire on the ground.
* Special Death/Character - On rare occasions, the Silenced will rip off the arms of your player as you fall to the ground and die.
Art The Ogre Jailer
Basically this monster "swallows" the victim for what would be his left arm, those tentacles, trapping it between his ribs and bowel.
Mechanics This monster is solo, and would work as follows:
He always walks slow and sluggish even when running.
The Jailer attacks the player with their chains of the right hand, taking a small chance of stun.
With the player stunned by your primary attack, the Ogre makes a move to grab w/ his tentacles.
If he is successful in grabbing, the player is swallowed up by the tentacles inside the Ogre.
Trapped inside the Ogre, the player is consumed gradually. Lost (x) vitality per second.
The player can still beat stuck in Ogre (it's the only thing you can do), but with reduction in the attack and damage.
You can only get out of there when the Ogre is dead...
The Grand Vessel
This greater Dark Cultist has three "Teeth of Diablo" planted into his arm instead of his spine, allowing him mental control over the possessive demon. The demon that is summoned into his arm, instead of corrupting and twisting his flesh like those of the lesser Cultists, actually bursts forth from his arm leaving a bloody mess behind.
The arm is based off of an iguana's hind leg, and the robes are a mix between a bishop's and a Dark Cultist's.
This monster is among four or five others, all unmorphed. Upon entering combat, one Vessel becomes possessed, morphs, and charges the player. The others stand back chanting.
When this monster dies, if there are any non-possessed Vessels still around, the demon spirit will hop into the next Vessel and continue to fight. This teaches the player that it would be strategically advantages to kill the non-possessed Vessels first, ending the fight more quickly.
When this monster dies, it has a 15% chance for the demon's lizard head to continue bursting forth from the Vessel. If this happens, the new demon lizard man continues to fight as a separate monster in the same way that a Zombie's torso may become detached and also continue to fight. If this special death happens, the spirit will not continue jump into the next Vessel.
Its primary attack is a very long range stab attack in which its arm extends in full and it lunges forward, dealing single target damage.
Its secondary attack is a long range slash in which the monster swings so forcefully that its body does a 360º spin. This does multi-target damage. This attack does not draw a broad circle as a Whirlwind does, but is rather a long ranged Barbarian Cleave.
If a player is killed by the secondary slash attack, their torso is severed from their legs, Darth Maul style.
I wish I were good at Photoshop. I'd clean it up and color it. Nonetheless, this was a lot of fun to make. I had about a dozen different versions of this guy, most of them with just a big red, standard-looking demon arm. The posture was most difficult for me to grasp, especially in the earlier versions. I had the idea that the arm was really heavy and made the cultist hunch and limp. At one point, the arm was literally dragging on the ground because of its size! I did lots of Googling and even went so far as to act out the creature a few times to get a feel for it. Alas, this sketchy little piece is what I came up with at the end of the week. I hope you guys think it's as awesome as I do!
If someone would like to do Lore or Mechanics for the Goblin Overlord, go for it. You could do a first person story of the Overlord growing up for the Lore but i have no initiative to write, but that's only a suggestion.
It took many different stages of drawing to get to this one, i had different posses for the overlord and a few different weapons in some of the other drawings. One of my favorite weapons, apart from this club with a bunch of nails driven through it, was a massive scimitar with a serrated cutting edge. When i drew this final copy i didn't plan it out really so i drew it on art paper that was almost twice the size of my scanner so i had to piece it together in photo-shop and it lost some of the quality when it was scanned.
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Youth and skill will always be eventually overcome by old age and treachery.
Having once manage to kill the demon that lurked in the swamps of Kurast, the man resist its final blow as it drown in its own green blood and acid. The villangers praised the man, not being a warrior but a simple fellow. He won a battle - as what he thought, but in the end got hurt in one of the demons claws, making its strike on his stomach lightly but gruesome infected some hours later.
The villangers heard stories from travellers that saw outside of their beloved and sacred village. Stories that would make kings shiver.
Being just an animal, small or large would make drastic changes if it survived an attack from some kind of monster in the deep waists of the swamp. "Making the skinn peel off like layers of leaves on a cold winter", the wise man said in the village, "to those who seeked its knowlage".
A fleshwound will surley kill its pray in a matter of days. And when the time came, the simple fellow proved he killed it, having a scar and survived. But days went by, and the man got ill, not even the wise magicians could save him. In his final breath something cracked inside of him.. The story can be told in many shapes, but the nightmarish fact was always the same.
An illness like no other, changing his neck and tail several meters longer and become grey matter over time with dead flesh, a scream so high in frequence that his face melted into a mould of blood and dead meat as he cryed out for mercy in his last breath.
Still having two arms and two legs, the man had it's worst change, making his limbs, arm and leg, cracked misshaped and walked on all four like a giant crab in a matter of seconds, playing in blood and with shocking apperance. Lingering around into furnatures of his once beloved home and frightened his children. The men of the village finally got the children safe while his transformation of the cursed demon took hold and burnt down the fellow man's house to the ground.
But in the shadows, the freak of nature walking sideways, searching the swamp with four feets instead of two. Whipping its two long bonefilled new arms with dripping acid from its thorns and claws that once where a neck and a small tail of an simple man with curage to fight.
Having grown up in the swamps, this creature was no more a human, reborn with demonsblood in its vains. The lesson can be tought. An eternal struggle from madness with a high price to pay.. Not even a great warrior could withstand.
• Walk like crab, 4 feet (Before 2 arms, 2 legs).
•Head gone (destroyed, melted), having two tentacles as arms with thorns and claws, dripping acid, once being neck and human tail outgrown in a matter of seconds.
• Acid blood, mutating ability.
• Original idea by me, Enkeria. I actually am writing short stories for myself, but in my own language (Swedish). They are not Diablo based, only Fantasy / Sci-Fi in general. Little like The Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits.
• Sorry once again for my bad english.
• Hope you liked my idea and I hope it measure up to what DiabloFans: Lore wanted!
Pelekys Getter is a super unique monster. Legendary, ancient creature. Loving mother to a pack of Infants, with which she hunts for reckless animals and unlucky travelers.
Name etymology and some interesting things (based on Wikipedia) –
“A pelican, derived from the Greek word pelekys (meaning “ax” and applied to birds that cut wood with their bills or beaks)”
“In medieval Europe, the pelican was thought to be particularly attentive to her young, to the point of providing her own blood when no other food was available. As a result, the pelican became a symbol of the Passion of Jesus and of the Eucharist (see for example the hymn "Adoro te devote", or "Humbly We Adore Thee", by Saint Thomas Aquinas, where in the second to last verse he makes reference to Christ, the loving divine pelican). It also became a symbol in bestiaries for self-sacrifice, and was used in heraldry ("a pelican in her piety" or "a pelican vulning (wounding) herself"). Another version of this is that the pelican used to kill its young and then resurrect them with its blood, this being analogous to the sacrifice of Jesus.”
Isn’t it touching?
Pelekys Getter moves lazily in her spooky nest, looking after her brawling children. In case of danger, she loudly clicks her beak, calling Infants to enter her widely opened mouth. Pelekys Getter is very resistant to physical damage, and gets furious more and more and attacks faster with every hit she takes. She attacks by pecking the intruder with her long pointed beak, like stabbing with a massive pike. Just before her death she goes berserking, and releases all her rabid Infants, then making extremely loud, horrifying squeek, heard from far, far away. With a final hit she impales an enemy with her beak and rises high, a second after unfortunate person’s flesh is quickly torn off from bones by emerging Infants’ heads. Pelekys killed by big fire damage loses all her remaining feathers and gets brown like not-so-tasty-looking roasted chicken.
This is my entry!
I'll be adding the mechanics soon..
Hope you guys like it :]
Long ago, before Tristram felt the strength of the three brothers fall on its shoulder, a small tribe existed in the forest of Kurast. Ancient people lived there, forgotten. They knew the magic of life, an energy that emanates from the living beings. This knowledge was passed only between the women, and these in turn only left the village when the wise men predicted that the world was in need.
With the fall of Tristram and the ruin of the world by demonic hordes, the women went out, searching Kurast city to offer the help through healing magic. The people were scared. Hralti, Ormus and Alkor had traveled to Lut Gholeim to speak about the closure of shipping lanes. Asheara was in charge.
When the healers approached, dressed and painted, the Asheara’s Iron Wolves thought that they were evil because they did not know those ancient people.
The village women didn’t emerge from the forest for centuries to help men and the language they spoke was too old to be recognized by the fools defending the city. Thus, the Iron Wolves captured them, tortured and massacred, believing that they were demons infiltrating the city.
The bodies were thrown into the swamp, away from fishermen's nets.
Only one of them was still alive in the pile of bodies. The young Kish'va was delirious and trying to stay awake, feeling the forest and the smell of rot. A man wearing a hood found her and rescued her from the pile, starting to cure her wounds with a spell she did not know. While treating Kish'va, the man said he had come in search of his brother and that could help her if she wanted.
The mere presence of the hooded man near her heart, full of hatred and thirst for revenge caused the young lady to dive completely in the dark. When the time came Diablo revealed his identity and made Kish'va a tool for his use, handing her the knowledge of death, which together with its magic of life, made her more powerful than any witch, able to control even demons and the dead.
Kish'va remained in Kurast when Diablo left, devastating the villages that survived in the heart of the forest, feeding her demons and raising her army of the dead. When the brothers fell, she remained in the silence of the forest awaiting the command of her Master to rise and take her revenge on the city of Kurast.
Heres my lore
it could use some editing, but if im up for it il do it later.
You wont see them until their horrid faces are glaring at you,
you will not hear them until they are screatching at you with their death scream,
at that point its too late, they attack first, they always get first strike, and very few people survive to tell about it.
They can send the bravest of men running in terror, make the strongest of warriors knees buckle,
and the wisest of sages babble in confusion. Once thought to be legends, stories told by travelers looking
to draw a crowd, but too many stories match up, too many dead bodies found, who's description only matches those
of a man killed by a Wretched Shadow.
Wretched shadows are said to be the spirits of some other horrid creature that once walked
these lands, perhaps even people, who's shadows refused to move on to the next world after death.
You can tell if a man has been killed by a Wretched Shadow from the marks on his body, partially burned, yet left with a permanent cold aura about them.
A Wretched Shadow can be everywhere, and no where at once, rumor has it that you can never tell how many you are fighting,
they can merge, become stronger, bigger, and meaner, or blend in. Gildus, a once famous warrior, one of the few to have survived such an attack,
has never been able to talk about it without going into a trance, with a look of distinct fear in his eyes, to this day they haunt him.
Killing a Wretched Shadow only makes things harder
for yourself, according to Gildus, you feel, heavy, cold, and dazed, but that's nothing compared to what you feel watching your comrades die in vain, Gildus was one of fifty who set out to end these vile creatures on a raid one brutal day, he watched the lives of fourty nine men, and women, end pointlessly against these unstoppable hell-spawn,
a normal hero would boast about being the only survivor in such a slaughter, but Gildus's career, and reputation were struck down that day,
he wonders how he got out alive, he wonders if he is alive at all some days.
Wretched Shadows were believed to live deep within the forests, but other rumors suggest they can be found any where, from the driest of sands, to the wettest of marshes, to the highest of mountain tops.
Mk...Putting my best foot forward on this one. Sonneillon Hatred's Left Hand
Background: After Mephisto was bested by the heroes of sanctuary his ethereal form returned once again to hell. Upon realizing that chaos was ensuing between man, demon, and angel, Mephisto decided it desirable to escape back to the mortal plain once the Worldstone was destroyed by the hands of Tyrael. He needed to once more formulate a plan to regain power. His last attempt had been too bold making him a clear target not only for angels but for mortals as well.
Once during the SinWar he had formed an organization of followers in the guise of a religious sect. Once more the temple of Mephis would rise.
This time however, his followers wouldn't be of the average type. This time, the Lord of Hatred sought to manipulate those with formidable power...The Vizjeri.
Mephisto guised himself as a sorcerer of light. A prophet of magik, if you will. He approached the Vizjeri and spoke of a time when the Vizjeri were to finally hone into far greater power than ever imagined. Giving them reigning dominion over Sanctuary. However, the wizards were no fools. They could not be so easily convinced of such a foolish tale. Mephisto in turn demonstrated his strength in a grand and horrifying display of carnage upon a village. Wherein he slaughtered more than 100 villagers within an instant. The Vizjeri knew this to be a force they should not attempt to conquer. However, Mephisto played with their hearts instilling and manifesting dormant emotions of greed and hatred. The wizards knew of the legendary Bartuc and the power he wielded. After the prophet's display, the Vizjeri agreed.
The prophet taught the Vizjeri what they thought to be powerful spells and incantations that they could use. Except, the prophet littered the spells with runes of possession. In time the Vizjeri had become nothing but mindless vessels in which Mephisto could use to evocate more evil magik.
Mephisto summoned his commander of hell to possess the body of the most talented Vizjeri. Thus began the terrifying and despicable existence of Sonneillon, Hatred's Left Hand.
Mechanics: Sonneillon is a spell casting demon able to use fire spells, cold spells, and powerful curses that drain life, drop resistance, and makes the target careless with rage and hatred giving the the target increased attack and substantially lowered defense.
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"I want to say something but I'll keep it to myself I guess and leave this useless post behind to make you aware that there WAS something... "
"We're like the downtown of the Diablo related internet lol"
“The Guardian” is a unique boss that’s half demon half beast. He uses his superior physical strength to inflict damage upon his enemies and he also possesses the ability to inject his victims with a very potent poison that slowly drains their life essence.
Deep within the tarnished landscapes of hell lies a place forgotten by time itself, a place only accessible to those with enough knowledge and will to navigate the complex system of underground caves. A place untouched by man or angel, revered and protected by most of our demonic kin.
The Halshyl, they call it, the central archives of hell. There lie the secrets of our demonic bloodlines, engraved in flesh and protected by our most feared brother.
Known simply as “The Guardian”, he is one of the four hellhounds forged in the flames of our beloved inferno. Unlike his blood brothers he is not a mindless beast, he was crafted from animal flesh which served as a soulcage for Khaldûr, one of the most powerful demonic mages in the history of hell. This twisted combination gave birth to the one who guards the archives, all of hells secrets rest beyond him.
- Very fast runner, as he moves on all four legs.
- Uses his claws and spike-filled tail to inflict heavy damage upon his enemies.
- When striking an enemy, the tentacles around his head release thousands of tiny hypodermic spikes that sink deep into the victims skin, releasing a deadly amount of poison.
- As the “The Guardian” is half demon, he also has the ability to curse his enemies with “Fear”, a curse that causes the player to loose control of his character, staying “frozen” for a small duration of time.
- “The Guardian” is magic resistant, extra fast, has stone skin and is immune to poison.
Skyshells are snails of an enormous scale that are both savior and bane to the dark wodes of the world. They travel randomly, albeit slowly and more than one soul has met their end by being enveloped in their gelatinous mass. With the recent taint in the world, the Skyshells have been seen more of a savior's outpost than a great beast. Skyshells befuddle many common horrors by being an a mobile, easily defended, and difficult to counter fortress. Skyshells themselves are all but invulnerable and it is very difficult to dislodge any inhabitants on one.
Skyshells will have lustrous blue shells that gleam like mother-of-pearl in bright sunlight. Their flesh is a lighter blue and very durable beneath a perpetual coat of slime. The thick coat of slime that cakes the trail of the larger snails dries very quickly and is known as a potent hallucinogenic if devoured. In sufficiently high doses it can be a poison if concentrated enough, which is known by the more knowledgeable witchdoctors. Skyshells have no predators and they are straight forward creatures who roam about munching on the fast-growing forests. It is said that they can not cross boundaries of salt, and some enterprising inhabitants can lead a Skyshell by diverting it with large salt rocks. Some say that entire villages have found their doom simply by wretched beings guiding a Skyshell, salt rock by salt-rock, to cross paths with their victims.
Skyshells have a wholly alien intellect and perhaps do not perceive smaller creatures in the slightest. No Skyshell is known to have died, but they have inadvertently slain many. Skyshells make prominent, but very rare outposts and settlements. Should a Skyshell ever be corrupted, it indeed would be a great woe to the world.
No Shyshell has ever perished by violence. Any being so foolish as to be in the path of a Skyshell as it travels is simply never heard from again.