Not All Monsters Are Villains—Some May Be Misunderstood Heroes

You can flip through any edition of the Dungeons & Dragons “Monster Manual” and find a parade of horrors: gelatinous cubes, red dragons, banshees, liches, and of course, the trusty goblin. Monsters. Bad guys. 

But what makes them monsters? That they’re ugly? That they live in caves? That they’re standing in the way of your level-up?

Or maybe… they just had bad PR.

We love our binaries in games and stories—light vs. dark, hero vs. villain, red vs. blue. They’re clean. Simple. Easy to track on a battle map. 

But the real world? It’s rarely that tidy. And sometimes, the scariest-looking character is the one carrying the most pain, the deepest wisdom, or even the last ounce of hope.

Take Frankenstein’s monster. Born of science, cursed by fear, he’s not a villain by default. He’s a victim of abandonment, a mirror to humanity’s flaws. Same goes for the Creature from the Black Lagoon, lashing out at a world that never asked if he belonged.

This theme bubbles up again in stories like The Last Man on Earth, The Omega Man, and I Am Legend. The twist? Maybe we were the monsters all along. The infected, the altered, the outsiders—they weren’t broken. They just weren’t us. And maybe that’s scarier than anything undead.

Back to games: Early D&D kept things simple. Players were good. Monsters were bad. Dice rolled. Stories unfolded. 

In the earliest editions of Dungeons & Dragons circa 1974, the alignment system focused on a single axis: Law, Neutrality, and Chaos. There was an implicit understanding that players would generally oppose evil creatures and act heroically. In this context, lawful was often associated with good and heroism, while chaotic was often associated with evil.

But if you look deeper—if you ask why that goblin raiding party is so desperate, or how that lich got to be a lich—you may find stories. Tragedies. Unfinished hero’s journeys.

Maybe that ogre was once a protector of a sacred grove before humans took it over. Maybe the banshee is still waiting for someone to avenge the wrong done to her family. Maybe that ancient red dragon remembers the day it was betrayed by the very kingdom it defended.

Not all hero’s journeys begin at the same time. And not all villains are done telling their side.

I’ve written before about red players and blue players—how we interpret games and stories differently depending on how we see the world. But maybe it’s not about red vs. blue. Maybe it’s purple. Maybe the monster isn’t blocking your path… maybe they are the path.

So next time you crack open a “Monster Manual,” or cue up your next story, ask yourself: What if the “monster” is just another player on their own journey?

And maybe—just maybe—they’re the real hero of the story; they’ve just been misunderstood.