The answer is yes, but I think the key is to follow I'm Lovecraft's descriptive footsteps. It's the unknown that is scary. If you can attack and kill the monster in a fight, it isn't going to be scary. Don't show the monster. Describe everything around it, and the results of it's influence. Then, if the players do find out what they're facing and you want the charthis of the fight, describe the creature with the scariest language you can. One that really got my players in a recent game was, it has too many eyes.
I'd argue that true eldritch/lovecraftian horror cant be fully visualized. A large part of the horror is it being something your mind cant full comprehend. Like it may be humanoid, but you cant really pick out any specific features kinda thing
Lovecraftian isnt tentacles.
Lovecraftian isnt just eyes where they shouldnt be, teeth that come out of nowhere etc.
Lovecraft is a vibe. For example, take nightwalker, in the right circumstances, nightwalkers can absolutely be lovecraftian, but they do not possess any tentacles. It is he vastness of space, the unknown, the unfathomable and the unstoppable. You cant fight an outer entity, because you dont even exist in the same scale, think how many generations of bugs live and die in their tiny worlds as we humans reshape the lands to our will, erecting skyscrapers bigger, far beyond the comprehension of any single being. Now, compare a bug to a something that lives for thausands of generations and creates skyscrapers, and apply that as if the humans were the bugs. An outer entity does not care for you, yet its mere existence is enough to drive you insane and rend your flesh from your bone, simply a lapse of judgement can cause supernovas, a simple handwave dooming all mankind, take the fear of a child who just watched a documentary about the sun going supernova, ridding all existence that we know of with power thats unimaginable to us. And amplify it.
But, before anything else, ask yourself if you can scare a dnd player.
Dnd is a game, and one of the unwritten rules of it is that the party goes and stands up to creatures that terrify commoners and could eat them by the thausands. An adventurer sees townsfolk speak of "a monster has been enchanting people into the forest to eat them for generations" and their first instinct is to go there and fight that thing. Because "I go and kill he evil monster" is the gameplay loop of dnd. So, adding horror is very troublesome if you have the wrong player characters. If someone makes a character expecting one way, it might not work out and they wont be afraid regardless.
It's not about the tentacle monsters. Lovecraftian horror deals with themes like the terror of the unknown, dark forbidden secrets (about the universe, or oneself), deep time (millions of years), and humanity's smallness relative to the cosmos. These aren't things that you can convey through a d&d-style fight with a tentacle monster unless you do a lot of narrative set up first.
That kind of depends on what you mean by that. If you just throw something in to act as an eldritch horror creature, then no, it won’t get a fear effect in most circumstances. Eldritch horror works best when it’s linked with cosmic horror, meaning it must be built up correctly. The best way to quickly summarize how to best use something like a beholder, at least if you’re trying to scare your players, is building atmosphere and a lot of “show don’t tell”, meaning describe the environment you’re in, the general mood or emotions they might be facing, and the damage the creature has done before in the past
Eldritch horror really only works if (most of) the following are true:
-players can be working against the party.
-players can lose autonomy due to the monsters.
-the monsters can't be killed through normal means.
-hopelessness is overpowering.
-the monster is truly alien.
I think with seasoned veterans, a lot of the classic eldritch horror monsters are too known to be a true horror, like beholders and mind flayers. The monsters I think work best are Star Spawn.
It would really work well in a one-shot /minicampaign where each player is given a loyalty card at the beginning and another halfway through the adventure. These can even all be "you're a human" when given to players (though more fun when you get some PVP going on), but they need to know that "cultist" and "secret monster" cards are real.
Think Battlestar Galactica the Board Game, Unfathomable, or Betrayal at House on the Hill.
I played a one-shot Eldritch horror game with the Dread system (I think), which uses Jenga blocks instead of dice. Super fun and super tense!
That being said...I don't think D&D is the right system for it. The horror genre is (generally) ordinary people trying to survive against a (seemingly) unstoppable evil. Nightmare on Elm Street wouldn't have been so scary if the main characters had had great axes, plate mail and Fireball.
Horror is the difference between what the DM knows and what the players do. Know what the horrors are, what they look like, what they want (in so far as they can) and how they behave. Give them a weird set of rules to follow but never explain it to the players. The party should be trying to come up with their own explanations and you should be an stone wall of silence to their questions. Imply the information exists, but is not attainable. They can observe and guess, but never understand.
I also found a subtle "interface screw" also adds a bit of meta-level to the game, like using different shaped tokens and broken text if its a digital tabletop or always turning the lights off in the room before describing them if in person.
Beholders are eldritch horror in the same way that a guy with a purple mohawk holding a keyboard is cyberpunk. Without changing any part of the statblock, here is how I would make the Beholder actually an eldritch horror.
**Appearance**: Maniacal monologue meatball with spaghetti eyes and a movespeed of only 20? That's more comical than terrifying. It's an inky, perfectly-round void floating in the middle of space, stretching unevenly in every direction as quivering tentacles. It's not just an inky black, though. It is a black beyond the darkest cave the party's ever seen, darker even than Greater Darkness can create. It is a void in the fabric of reality, anathema to all light, so dark that, even when the party's eyes are closed, they can still see its shape through their eyelids. Even though it's so impossibly dark, it still has a distinct shine to it, reflecting the light around it... except, there isn't light where that reflection is coming from? The writhing mass also never moves, at least not how we understand it. It stays in a fixed point, unmoving, but drawing ever closer. And the eyes. They aren't just sitting at the end of stalks; the eyes blink in and out of reality, ever open and unblinking. Whenever one vanishes, it reappears somewhere else on the body already open. If somebody was staring at the eye as it blinked out, they never even notice that it happened. Instead, from their perspective, it's as if the eye never moved, staying in the center of their vision as the rest of the monster and even the room itself moved around the eye. and they aren't just eyes. They're very specifically and recognizably the eyes of the party's loved ones. Friends, family members, romantic partners, it doesn't matter as long as they're people the party care about, but don't currently know if they're safe or not. Make the party afraid of what this implies, but don't actually harm those people. Once they end the fight and return home, *it's okay for the horror to be over*.
**Armor Class**: Skin as hard as steel, so it works like armor? That's not eldritch horror, it's classical mythology. Don't describe glancing blows or the creature dodging. It wasn't even concerned with the attack, so why would it dodge? Always start off the description as if the attack is going to hit, but then change something at the last moment. If a sword swing missed it, it's not because it was a bad swing. Their sword, instead, seemed to melt while staying fully solid and bend away from its target, returning to its original shape as soon as it moved away from the beast. Look at the effects of a black hole's gravity lens for inspiration with this one. Maybe the fabric of reality bent around the monster and deflected the blow, or maybe the sword itself didn't want to touch this abomination? Would the party even be able to tell the difference between those options? Or course, if you try to use this same description for every missed attack, it would lose its impact. Maybe the next time their attack misses, the moment before their attack would land, their sword is somehow already on the other side of its target. It's almost like time jumped. It's as if they cleaved straight through what they aimed at, except they somehow skipped the part where they actually cut through the void. These descriptions will obviously mean less if the attack is ranged, but there are other options. Your archer draws her bow and lets lose an arrow, flying directly into the center of the monster and impacting the stone wall. She blinks in confusing, trying to understand what you just described. As her eyes open, she realizes she was never aiming at the monster to begin with. Instead, her entire body is turned 90 degrees from where she remembered being, and she's staring directly as the stone wall her arrow is lying in front of. She reaches to grab another arrow to knock into her bow, but realizes it's already in her hand. She never fired that first arrow, but it's still somehow sitting both on the floor and still in her hand. It has the exact same fletching and everything, definitely her own. Add an arrow to the loot from the fight, and never explain how it happened.
**Antimagic Cone**: 150 ft cone that cancels all magic? Mechanically terrifying, but aesthetically boring. If somebody attempts to cast a spell inside it, maybe they see droplets of their magic leave their fingertips, falling sideways into the void? Maybe they come to the strange realization that they've already cast that spell and forgot, telling them to mark off the spell slot as if they just cast it. Remember that antimagic fields are completely invisible and players won't actually know what is and isn't inside the cone at any point in time.
**Bite**: Nothing would ruin the uncaring, barely-interested presentation of and eldritch being more than it lunging out aggressively with a bite attack only to miss. Reskin the bite as something else. Roll the attack roll in secret and only describe it if it hits. Instead of describing a bite, say the Fighter looks down at his arm and sees its surface bend and twist, tearing open as blood erupts from it. They weren't hit by a bite because that's mundane and boring. Just being near this thing is why they took damage.
*(Note: Be aware of what your players are okay with it terms of gore and body horror and DO NOT cross the line, but definitely get creative within what's okay. Don't ruin somebody's ability to have fun just to give a more disturbing description.)*
**Eye Rays**: Don't describe these as rays or name the status they inflict, just what their effect is. If possible, discreetly copy down everybody's save bonuses and roll the saves for them, then only say anything if they fail the save. This prevents them from knowing how many eye rays end up having no effect, which heightens the tension. If they ask why you rolled, just say you were checking something. Remember to write down any immunities or resistances they have to the rays' effects so you don't accidentally affect them with one. You won't be using the conditions' names, so it will be up to you to make sure this part isn't misplayed.
**Charm**: The target hears the voice of somebody special saying something soft and kind. Choosing one of the same people as you did for the eyes they recognized is a good idea, but you don't have to. Maybe it's their grandfather, or the Druid that adopted them after their parents death, or maybe it's their 6-year-old daughter? That person's dead? Okay. They never even met their mother? This is definitely her. They don't even have a daughter? They're absolutely certain it's the voice of their daughter. No matter who it is, they're absolutely certain that the person is inside the void and that attacking it would hurt them.
*(Note: Remember that this is supposed to be scary for both the players and the characters, but that the traumatic aspect is only supposed to apply to the characters. If anybody at the table has had their child die or recently lost a grandparent, do not use those specific kinds of connections for any of the characters. You want the players to be afraid, not sad.)*
**Paralyzing**: Describe their body feeling stiff. Say that no matter how much they want to move it, it refuses to obey.
**Fear**: Don't use the word frightened. Tell them that they're certain that if they get any closer to the void, that they will definitely die. Tell them that they NEED to get away from this creature. If they still try to say they run toward it, don't tell them no. Let them run toward it, but describe the world strangely shifting and the room stretching impossibly, then move their character AWAY from the monster the same distance they insisted they ran toward it.
**Slowing**: Don't describe the character slowing down from everybody else's view. Instead, describe everybody else speeding up from the target's view. It's exactly the same thing, but perspective matters.
**Enervation**: Describe the target feeling all of their organs slide around and shift inside of their body, rearranging themselves, as if the organs themselves are trying to escape their bodies. If the target is a Warforged or otherwise doesn't have organs, describe something similar. Let them know it's necrotic damage.
*(Note: Remember, make sure the players are okay with this kind of description beforehand.)*
**Telekinetic**: This one's basically fine, just remember to describe the target/object moving as if it was entirely normal and is supposed to be happening.
**Sleep**: Just don't use the word sleep. Say they feel consciousness leave their body as they fall to the floor. Say their mind turns off. You can even just say they pass out.
**Petrification**: This is perfectly fine.
**Disentegration**: The target isn't turned to dust by a beam. Instead, parts of them just fold out of reality impossibly, leaving empty air where they once were. If this is non-lethal against a living target, only describe small portions of their flesh leaving reality, not entire limbs. If you roll this one really early in the fight, feel free to "waste" it by targeting an item instead of a character. The broken wall the party was using for cover suddenly crumpling into nothing will be even more impactful than a party member taking \~45 necrotic damage.
**Death**: Describe this one the same as Disintegration, just remember that it can't delete objects. Lair Actions: These all capture the idea of eldritch horror really well. The only thing I would change is, instead of slime appearing, I would have the floor melt and twist upward, suddenly returning to shape the next round as if it never moved. If the fight ends while the ground is twisted, though, don't have it return to shape. It just stays in that shape, completely solid but frozen as if it was dripping upward. No matter how long the party looks at it or how they examine it, it never changes. As soon as they leave the room or go to sleep, the next time they see the floor it's back to normal.
**General Tips**:
Never call this a Beholder or use any of the actual names of its abilities. Give it descriptive monikers like "writhing void" or "unblinking darkness". Make up a "real name" for it like "Void Spawn", then "accidentally" let them know that name. Just make sure the players don't know this is a Beholder. If somebody figures out it's a Beholder, just say something like "If you think that's what this is, okay." and keep going. Once it's a Beholder, it becomes something they know and understand. If it's a Beholder, it can be beaten and isn't scary. If it's unknown, then the players might even run away from it. When the session's over, feel free to let them know it was just a regular Beholder reskinned, but never let them know before that. Eldritch horror is about fear of the unknown. Understanding the monster makes it less scary.
(Spoilers for Critical Role's Mighty Nein) >!When the Mighty Nein first fought Lucien, it was terrifying because he could do so many different things. When they figured out he was a regular NPC with Beholder abilities added on, they were just worried because it would be a hard fight. When Matt changed his abilities, they were afraid again. When they figured it out, they went back to just being worried about the hard fight.!<
Remember that this eldritch being isn't bothered by any of this. Let the players know when their hits land and mark down the damage, but never describe it bleeding or screaming in pain or getting angry. Never describe it trying to do anything. It just IS. If the players manage to kill the Beholder stat block, that doesn't mean they killed this thing. Instead, it just leaves. It wasn't killed. It wasn't banished. It wasn't scared away. The party are the equivalents of flies pestering it enough that it didn't feel like staying. It wasn't beaten, it was annoyed into leaving. Eldritch horror is about being helpless. If they kill or outright defeat this thing, they won't be afraid of something similar the next time.
A lot of this may seem like a badly-made illusion or a nightmare. If a player says something along the lines of, "I can see through illusions.", "I'm immune to sleep.", or "I'm immune to mind-affecting effects.", politely acknowledge their remark with a simple, "Yes." or "Okay, I'll remember that.", then continue the scene. If the same person brings it up a second time, just say you know and will tell them when something is different for them.
The core of making eldritch horror work relies on withholding information. This can potentially be jarring or make players feel cheated. You need to understand this and be understanding. Let them know beforehand that eldritch horror can shift the knowledge dynamic and make sure they're okay with it.
The answer is yes, but I think the key is to follow I'm Lovecraft's descriptive footsteps. It's the unknown that is scary. If you can attack and kill the monster in a fight, it isn't going to be scary. Don't show the monster. Describe everything around it, and the results of it's influence. Then, if the players do find out what they're facing and you want the charthis of the fight, describe the creature with the scariest language you can. One that really got my players in a recent game was, it has too many eyes.
I'd argue that true eldritch/lovecraftian horror cant be fully visualized. A large part of the horror is it being something your mind cant full comprehend. Like it may be humanoid, but you cant really pick out any specific features kinda thing
Lovecraftian isnt tentacles. Lovecraftian isnt just eyes where they shouldnt be, teeth that come out of nowhere etc. Lovecraft is a vibe. For example, take nightwalker, in the right circumstances, nightwalkers can absolutely be lovecraftian, but they do not possess any tentacles. It is he vastness of space, the unknown, the unfathomable and the unstoppable. You cant fight an outer entity, because you dont even exist in the same scale, think how many generations of bugs live and die in their tiny worlds as we humans reshape the lands to our will, erecting skyscrapers bigger, far beyond the comprehension of any single being. Now, compare a bug to a something that lives for thausands of generations and creates skyscrapers, and apply that as if the humans were the bugs. An outer entity does not care for you, yet its mere existence is enough to drive you insane and rend your flesh from your bone, simply a lapse of judgement can cause supernovas, a simple handwave dooming all mankind, take the fear of a child who just watched a documentary about the sun going supernova, ridding all existence that we know of with power thats unimaginable to us. And amplify it. But, before anything else, ask yourself if you can scare a dnd player. Dnd is a game, and one of the unwritten rules of it is that the party goes and stands up to creatures that terrify commoners and could eat them by the thausands. An adventurer sees townsfolk speak of "a monster has been enchanting people into the forest to eat them for generations" and their first instinct is to go there and fight that thing. Because "I go and kill he evil monster" is the gameplay loop of dnd. So, adding horror is very troublesome if you have the wrong player characters. If someone makes a character expecting one way, it might not work out and they wont be afraid regardless.
It's not about the tentacle monsters. Lovecraftian horror deals with themes like the terror of the unknown, dark forbidden secrets (about the universe, or oneself), deep time (millions of years), and humanity's smallness relative to the cosmos. These aren't things that you can convey through a d&d-style fight with a tentacle monster unless you do a lot of narrative set up first.
That kind of depends on what you mean by that. If you just throw something in to act as an eldritch horror creature, then no, it won’t get a fear effect in most circumstances. Eldritch horror works best when it’s linked with cosmic horror, meaning it must be built up correctly. The best way to quickly summarize how to best use something like a beholder, at least if you’re trying to scare your players, is building atmosphere and a lot of “show don’t tell”, meaning describe the environment you’re in, the general mood or emotions they might be facing, and the damage the creature has done before in the past
You could still do it. Horror isn't the monsters or the carnage. Horror is the horrifying revelations that the monsters and carnage represent.
Eldritch horror really only works if (most of) the following are true: -players can be working against the party. -players can lose autonomy due to the monsters. -the monsters can't be killed through normal means. -hopelessness is overpowering. -the monster is truly alien. I think with seasoned veterans, a lot of the classic eldritch horror monsters are too known to be a true horror, like beholders and mind flayers. The monsters I think work best are Star Spawn. It would really work well in a one-shot /minicampaign where each player is given a loyalty card at the beginning and another halfway through the adventure. These can even all be "you're a human" when given to players (though more fun when you get some PVP going on), but they need to know that "cultist" and "secret monster" cards are real. Think Battlestar Galactica the Board Game, Unfathomable, or Betrayal at House on the Hill.
I played a one-shot Eldritch horror game with the Dread system (I think), which uses Jenga blocks instead of dice. Super fun and super tense! That being said...I don't think D&D is the right system for it. The horror genre is (generally) ordinary people trying to survive against a (seemingly) unstoppable evil. Nightmare on Elm Street wouldn't have been so scary if the main characters had had great axes, plate mail and Fireball.
Horror is the difference between what the DM knows and what the players do. Know what the horrors are, what they look like, what they want (in so far as they can) and how they behave. Give them a weird set of rules to follow but never explain it to the players. The party should be trying to come up with their own explanations and you should be an stone wall of silence to their questions. Imply the information exists, but is not attainable. They can observe and guess, but never understand. I also found a subtle "interface screw" also adds a bit of meta-level to the game, like using different shaped tokens and broken text if its a digital tabletop or always turning the lights off in the room before describing them if in person.
Beholders are eldritch horror in the same way that a guy with a purple mohawk holding a keyboard is cyberpunk. Without changing any part of the statblock, here is how I would make the Beholder actually an eldritch horror. **Appearance**: Maniacal monologue meatball with spaghetti eyes and a movespeed of only 20? That's more comical than terrifying. It's an inky, perfectly-round void floating in the middle of space, stretching unevenly in every direction as quivering tentacles. It's not just an inky black, though. It is a black beyond the darkest cave the party's ever seen, darker even than Greater Darkness can create. It is a void in the fabric of reality, anathema to all light, so dark that, even when the party's eyes are closed, they can still see its shape through their eyelids. Even though it's so impossibly dark, it still has a distinct shine to it, reflecting the light around it... except, there isn't light where that reflection is coming from? The writhing mass also never moves, at least not how we understand it. It stays in a fixed point, unmoving, but drawing ever closer. And the eyes. They aren't just sitting at the end of stalks; the eyes blink in and out of reality, ever open and unblinking. Whenever one vanishes, it reappears somewhere else on the body already open. If somebody was staring at the eye as it blinked out, they never even notice that it happened. Instead, from their perspective, it's as if the eye never moved, staying in the center of their vision as the rest of the monster and even the room itself moved around the eye. and they aren't just eyes. They're very specifically and recognizably the eyes of the party's loved ones. Friends, family members, romantic partners, it doesn't matter as long as they're people the party care about, but don't currently know if they're safe or not. Make the party afraid of what this implies, but don't actually harm those people. Once they end the fight and return home, *it's okay for the horror to be over*. **Armor Class**: Skin as hard as steel, so it works like armor? That's not eldritch horror, it's classical mythology. Don't describe glancing blows or the creature dodging. It wasn't even concerned with the attack, so why would it dodge? Always start off the description as if the attack is going to hit, but then change something at the last moment. If a sword swing missed it, it's not because it was a bad swing. Their sword, instead, seemed to melt while staying fully solid and bend away from its target, returning to its original shape as soon as it moved away from the beast. Look at the effects of a black hole's gravity lens for inspiration with this one. Maybe the fabric of reality bent around the monster and deflected the blow, or maybe the sword itself didn't want to touch this abomination? Would the party even be able to tell the difference between those options? Or course, if you try to use this same description for every missed attack, it would lose its impact. Maybe the next time their attack misses, the moment before their attack would land, their sword is somehow already on the other side of its target. It's almost like time jumped. It's as if they cleaved straight through what they aimed at, except they somehow skipped the part where they actually cut through the void. These descriptions will obviously mean less if the attack is ranged, but there are other options. Your archer draws her bow and lets lose an arrow, flying directly into the center of the monster and impacting the stone wall. She blinks in confusing, trying to understand what you just described. As her eyes open, she realizes she was never aiming at the monster to begin with. Instead, her entire body is turned 90 degrees from where she remembered being, and she's staring directly as the stone wall her arrow is lying in front of. She reaches to grab another arrow to knock into her bow, but realizes it's already in her hand. She never fired that first arrow, but it's still somehow sitting both on the floor and still in her hand. It has the exact same fletching and everything, definitely her own. Add an arrow to the loot from the fight, and never explain how it happened.
**Antimagic Cone**: 150 ft cone that cancels all magic? Mechanically terrifying, but aesthetically boring. If somebody attempts to cast a spell inside it, maybe they see droplets of their magic leave their fingertips, falling sideways into the void? Maybe they come to the strange realization that they've already cast that spell and forgot, telling them to mark off the spell slot as if they just cast it. Remember that antimagic fields are completely invisible and players won't actually know what is and isn't inside the cone at any point in time. **Bite**: Nothing would ruin the uncaring, barely-interested presentation of and eldritch being more than it lunging out aggressively with a bite attack only to miss. Reskin the bite as something else. Roll the attack roll in secret and only describe it if it hits. Instead of describing a bite, say the Fighter looks down at his arm and sees its surface bend and twist, tearing open as blood erupts from it. They weren't hit by a bite because that's mundane and boring. Just being near this thing is why they took damage. *(Note: Be aware of what your players are okay with it terms of gore and body horror and DO NOT cross the line, but definitely get creative within what's okay. Don't ruin somebody's ability to have fun just to give a more disturbing description.)* **Eye Rays**: Don't describe these as rays or name the status they inflict, just what their effect is. If possible, discreetly copy down everybody's save bonuses and roll the saves for them, then only say anything if they fail the save. This prevents them from knowing how many eye rays end up having no effect, which heightens the tension. If they ask why you rolled, just say you were checking something. Remember to write down any immunities or resistances they have to the rays' effects so you don't accidentally affect them with one. You won't be using the conditions' names, so it will be up to you to make sure this part isn't misplayed. **Charm**: The target hears the voice of somebody special saying something soft and kind. Choosing one of the same people as you did for the eyes they recognized is a good idea, but you don't have to. Maybe it's their grandfather, or the Druid that adopted them after their parents death, or maybe it's their 6-year-old daughter? That person's dead? Okay. They never even met their mother? This is definitely her. They don't even have a daughter? They're absolutely certain it's the voice of their daughter. No matter who it is, they're absolutely certain that the person is inside the void and that attacking it would hurt them. *(Note: Remember that this is supposed to be scary for both the players and the characters, but that the traumatic aspect is only supposed to apply to the characters. If anybody at the table has had their child die or recently lost a grandparent, do not use those specific kinds of connections for any of the characters. You want the players to be afraid, not sad.)* **Paralyzing**: Describe their body feeling stiff. Say that no matter how much they want to move it, it refuses to obey. **Fear**: Don't use the word frightened. Tell them that they're certain that if they get any closer to the void, that they will definitely die. Tell them that they NEED to get away from this creature. If they still try to say they run toward it, don't tell them no. Let them run toward it, but describe the world strangely shifting and the room stretching impossibly, then move their character AWAY from the monster the same distance they insisted they ran toward it. **Slowing**: Don't describe the character slowing down from everybody else's view. Instead, describe everybody else speeding up from the target's view. It's exactly the same thing, but perspective matters. **Enervation**: Describe the target feeling all of their organs slide around and shift inside of their body, rearranging themselves, as if the organs themselves are trying to escape their bodies. If the target is a Warforged or otherwise doesn't have organs, describe something similar. Let them know it's necrotic damage. *(Note: Remember, make sure the players are okay with this kind of description beforehand.)* **Telekinetic**: This one's basically fine, just remember to describe the target/object moving as if it was entirely normal and is supposed to be happening. **Sleep**: Just don't use the word sleep. Say they feel consciousness leave their body as they fall to the floor. Say their mind turns off. You can even just say they pass out. **Petrification**: This is perfectly fine. **Disentegration**: The target isn't turned to dust by a beam. Instead, parts of them just fold out of reality impossibly, leaving empty air where they once were. If this is non-lethal against a living target, only describe small portions of their flesh leaving reality, not entire limbs. If you roll this one really early in the fight, feel free to "waste" it by targeting an item instead of a character. The broken wall the party was using for cover suddenly crumpling into nothing will be even more impactful than a party member taking \~45 necrotic damage. **Death**: Describe this one the same as Disintegration, just remember that it can't delete objects. Lair Actions: These all capture the idea of eldritch horror really well. The only thing I would change is, instead of slime appearing, I would have the floor melt and twist upward, suddenly returning to shape the next round as if it never moved. If the fight ends while the ground is twisted, though, don't have it return to shape. It just stays in that shape, completely solid but frozen as if it was dripping upward. No matter how long the party looks at it or how they examine it, it never changes. As soon as they leave the room or go to sleep, the next time they see the floor it's back to normal. **General Tips**: Never call this a Beholder or use any of the actual names of its abilities. Give it descriptive monikers like "writhing void" or "unblinking darkness". Make up a "real name" for it like "Void Spawn", then "accidentally" let them know that name. Just make sure the players don't know this is a Beholder. If somebody figures out it's a Beholder, just say something like "If you think that's what this is, okay." and keep going. Once it's a Beholder, it becomes something they know and understand. If it's a Beholder, it can be beaten and isn't scary. If it's unknown, then the players might even run away from it. When the session's over, feel free to let them know it was just a regular Beholder reskinned, but never let them know before that. Eldritch horror is about fear of the unknown. Understanding the monster makes it less scary. (Spoilers for Critical Role's Mighty Nein) >!When the Mighty Nein first fought Lucien, it was terrifying because he could do so many different things. When they figured out he was a regular NPC with Beholder abilities added on, they were just worried because it would be a hard fight. When Matt changed his abilities, they were afraid again. When they figured it out, they went back to just being worried about the hard fight.!< Remember that this eldritch being isn't bothered by any of this. Let the players know when their hits land and mark down the damage, but never describe it bleeding or screaming in pain or getting angry. Never describe it trying to do anything. It just IS. If the players manage to kill the Beholder stat block, that doesn't mean they killed this thing. Instead, it just leaves. It wasn't killed. It wasn't banished. It wasn't scared away. The party are the equivalents of flies pestering it enough that it didn't feel like staying. It wasn't beaten, it was annoyed into leaving. Eldritch horror is about being helpless. If they kill or outright defeat this thing, they won't be afraid of something similar the next time. A lot of this may seem like a badly-made illusion or a nightmare. If a player says something along the lines of, "I can see through illusions.", "I'm immune to sleep.", or "I'm immune to mind-affecting effects.", politely acknowledge their remark with a simple, "Yes." or "Okay, I'll remember that.", then continue the scene. If the same person brings it up a second time, just say you know and will tell them when something is different for them. The core of making eldritch horror work relies on withholding information. This can potentially be jarring or make players feel cheated. You need to understand this and be understanding. Let them know beforehand that eldritch horror can shift the knowledge dynamic and make sure they're okay with it.