#109
When the doorbell rings, the hero’s kind of hoping it’s the pizza delivery guy.
They open the door to find, tragically, not the pizza delivery guy.
“Uh,” the villain says, “hi.”
The hero isn’t entirely sure what sequence of words would best fit this scenario. “Hi?” is the best they can do.
The villain shuffles on their feet awkwardly. A pause hangs between them, filled by the distant roar of the city beyond. “I thought you’d ask why I’m here,” they say eventually.
“I’m more concerned about how you’re here.”
A smile threatens the corners of the villain’s mouth. “We know where all you heroes live.” The smile fades into nothing again. “Or just I know, now, I guess.”
“Okay.” The hero squints at the villain uncertainly. “I’ll entertain you. Why the hell are you standing outside my door?”
“No one wants to be a villain anymore. Everyone quit.” The villain’s face contorts into some unreadable expression. “It’s just me.”
That doesn’t sound right. From the villain’s slight grimace, they know it too. “Everyone… quit villainy,” the hero repeats.
“There’s nothing to gain from it anymore. We had a vote and I was the only one who wanted to keep going.” The villain’s gaze dips to their hands as if they hold answers. “They left me everything, but… I can’t do it all on my own. So I’m turning myself in.”
The hero stares at the villain for a long moment. “Even [Supervillain].”
“Especially [Supervillain].”
The hero steps aside with a sigh. The villain looks like they’re being invited into a pit of wolves. “You want me to come into your house?”
“My handcuffs are in my living room cabinet and I don’t trust you standing out there. It’s cold, anyway.”
The villain closes the door behind them in an uncharacteristic show of politeness as the hero digs through their drawers. They’re wiping their shoes on the mat when the hero gets back, cuffs in hand.
The villain holds their hands out and the hero clicks the cuffs around their wrists. It’s almost too easy. The question is sitting on the tip of their tongue.
“What’s the catch?”
The villain doesn’t seem surprised by the question. They shrug halfheartedly. “Dunno.” They glance about for inspiration. “All the others have gone into hiding, I guess. You have me, but everyone else will probably evade you for the rest of time.”
“Much like they already do.” The hero manoeuvres them to the sofa in the living room, giving them a nudge to make them actually sit down. “You make it sound like you’ve been left in charge of the entire criminal organisation.”
The barking laugh the villain lets out is entirely fake. Too sharp, too short. “I have.”
“So villany will collapse without you.”
The villain shrugs again, the motion laden with effort. “Not like anyone else was willing to carry that burden—and I’m not either, hence why I’m, y’know…” They gesture vaguely at themself, in cuffs, in the hero’s living room.
The villain goes, villainy is defeated. No more villains, no more big crimes, no more heroes. Everything the agency has worked to be would collapse. The hero would be out of a job. It'd be over.
Yet here the villain is, giving everything up, taking the entirety of villainy down with them. The sole survivor of a shipwreck and wishing they’d gone down with the ship. A ship they don’t seem to realise the hero is on too.
The doorbell rings again, and the hero leaves the villain carefully settling on the sofa to answer it. They return with a giant grin on their face and a giant pizza box in their hands.
“Let’s worry about all this afterwards,” the hero says brightly. They brandish the box at the villain in the hopes of tempting them. “Want some?”
The tempting works; the villain reaches for a slice. “What a last meal.”
The hero sets the box on the coffee table as they flop back on the sofa. “I don’t know, [Villain],” they say with a smile, “I don’t think it has to be.”
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So like. Everyone typically agrees that like Michael Myers or Freddy Kruger or Mr. Voorhees dying are like good things to happen in their respective horror films right?
So tell me why Joker is any different? Michael only broke out of prison once (I think, I don't go here) and has only killed 98 people (excluding the Rob Zombie movies)? Those are rookie numbers compared to Joker.
We, the audience, are supposed to feel catharsis and joy when Jaime Lee Curtis like brutally murders him and then parades his body through town (and all of the people in town are like Hell Yeah this is morally correct because our town has been repeatedly victimized by this man) before tossing that crusty man through a human sized paper shredder. Additionally, this killing was necessary for the character to move on and heal from her past.
All I'm saying is that like, the people of that town experienced wayyy less horror than what Gothamites have gone through just from the Joker. And there is no "self-defense" against Joker, these poor people just have to hope a caped guy shows up in time to save their asses. And most of the time, there is already a heavy body count before that caped guy gets there and gives some speech about the sanctity of life or some shit.
This killing would similarly be healing for Jason. I agree with the other post floating around right now about how his healing journey would not be realizing killing is wrong or whatever the fuck.
In this essay, I will explain why Jason would be lauded as a hero and given a parade for killing Joker and the parade ending with Joker's corpse being thrown into a fucking wood chipper. As well as how even within the fictional context, the moral debate surrounding killing Joker is so fucking stupid if you think about it for longer than two seconds.
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I don’t have Creative Campaigning — I like these books, but not enough to pay more than twice the cover price. Ridiculous. So, on to The Complete Book of Villains. Like the Catacomb Guide, this one is an advice book geared toward making really good villains.
There is little by way of mechanics here. Author Kirk Botula rather keeps most of the process very much conceptual. There are work sheets and flow charts. He asks lots of questions about motivation and state of mind. It is easy to throw cackling madmen at players over and over again, but a great villain makes things hard, tests players, keeps them unsure. Not just in terms of “can we defeat this guy?” but also “should we defeat this guy?” Two of the most popular D&D villains — Strahd and Lord Soth — are a tangle of contradictory motivations. You often feel sympathy for them even as you’re trying to destroy them. The Complete Book of Villains aims to create characters like that.
Because there are no real mechanics at play, Villains really transcends D&D. You can use it for any RPG. Or anything that requires a villain, really. I’d be shocked, considering the number of folks who’ve used RPG campaigns as test runs for novels, if no one had used this book to assemble a villain for a piece of fiction. If not, someone should! TTRPGs are actually very good at breaking complex things down into easier to understand systems, so it makes sense that this (and lots of other RPG products) would be a great tool for broader creativity.
There’s other stuff jammed in here too. Tables of motivations, suggestions for monstrous villains (love the idea of medusae as arch-villains), a small rogues gallery of examples. It’s endlessly useful. Along with the Campaign Sourcebook, it should probably have a spot on every GM’s shelf.
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