Monsters with Mommy Issues: A Therapist’s Notes

Monsters with Mommy Issues: A Therapist’s Notes

Disclaimer: These notes are strictly confidential and have been obtained through highly unorthodox methods (read: a well-timed Invisibility spell and a very sneaky rogue). If you are a Dungeon Master, please use this information responsibly—and with a sense of humor.


Patient: Beholder (aka "The Floating Eye of Paranoia")

Session Notes:

The Beholder floated into my office today, all ten eye stalks darting around suspiciously. After an awkward silence—during which it nearly disintegrated my potted plant with a random Disintegrate ray—I finally coaxed it into talking about its childhood. Unsurprisingly, the Beholder had a very overbearing mother, known for constantly watching over it. Literally.

"It's not easy growing up when your mom has True Seeing," it muttered. "I couldn't get away with anything! The one time I tried to sneak out to the Underdark Rave, she knew before I even left the lair."

The Beholder’s deep-seated trust issues are clearly linked to this constant surveillance. It's also why it insists on lairing alone and why it vaporized its last three therapists. Note to self: keep Shield spell ready at all times.


Patient: Mind Flayer (aka "The Brain Sucker")

Session Notes:

Today’s session with the Mind Flayer was as draining as ever—figuratively, thankfully. It started by lamenting that it never had a typical upbringing. No bedtime stories, no hugs—just constant pressure to eat brains and control the underlings.

"I never even got to experience a traditional Illithid coming-of-age ritual," it sighed. "They just threw me into the Elder Brain pool and expected me to know how to handle it. Do you know how stressful that is? All those voices in my head!"

The Mind Flayer’s relationship with its mother—or rather, the Elder Brain that birthed it—is understandably complex. With every mind it devours, there’s a lingering fear that it’s not doing enough to impress the Hive Mind. It’s a classic case of not living up to maternal expectations, except with more tentacles and less holiday card guilt.


Patient: Gelatinous Cube (aka "The Clean-Up Crew")

Session Notes:

The Gelatinous Cube oozed in today, leaving a trail of acid behind it (remind me to hire a new janitor). It’s a surprisingly introspective creature, considering it has no brain or, well, anything resembling a nervous system.

"My mom always told me I wasn’t transparent enough," it gurgled, clearly distressed. "But what does she expect? I’m literally see-through!"

This session revealed that the Cube has deep insecurities about its purpose in life. Its mother was the biggest, most respected ooze in the dungeon, and it constantly felt overshadowed—literally and metaphorically. It wants to clean up the dungeon, but it also craves a life beyond just devouring intruders’ boots and half-eaten rations.

"I could have been more," it quivered, before dissolving my office chair. "Maybe a pudding, or even a black pudding… but here I am, just a cube."


Patient: Dragon (Red, aka "The Walking Ego with Wings")

Session Notes:

Today’s session with the Red Dragon was less of a therapy session and more of a monologue. The dragon, lying across several sofas (why do I even bother keeping them separate?), talked about how its mother was always the most feared in the land.

"I was born into greatness," it bellowed, flames flickering at the edges of its mouth. "But do you know how hard it is to live up to the legacy of a dragon that defeated an entire adventuring party solo? I've been trying to burn down more villages, but it’s just not enough for her. She keeps comparing me to her, saying, 'When I was your age, I was already a legend!'"

The dragon’s need to hoard treasure isn’t just about wealth—it’s about compensating for a mother who never seemed satisfied, no matter how many mountains of gold or terrified peasants it amassed. A classic overcompensating narcissist, with scales.


Patient: Mimic (aka "The Trust Issues in a Box")

Session Notes:

The Mimic came in disguised as an armchair, which made for an awkward start to our session. After it revealed itself (and I managed to avoid being bitten), we got down to the heart of the matter.

"My mom was a Chest," it began, sounding rather wistful. "She always wanted me to be just like her—sturdy, reliable, full of loot. But I’ve always wanted to be more than that. Why be a boring old chest when I could be a door, a sword, or even a dragon hoard? But no, she always said, ‘Stick to what you know, dear. No one likes a shapeshifter who can't make up their mind.’”

The Mimic’s identity crisis is deeply tied to its mother’s rigid expectations. It’s stuck between wanting to please its mother by sticking to the classic "chest" form and exploring new and exciting shapes, like a chaise lounge or a treasure map. Note to self: consider exposure therapy—maybe let it impersonate a few non-threatening objects, like a fruit bowl.


Patient: Owlbear (aka "The Feathered Freudian Nightmare")

Session Notes:

The Owlbear lumbered into the office, knocking over a lamp with its wing-claw. It’s not the most articulate of creatures, but its feelings of inadequacy are clear.

"My mom always told me to embrace both sides of my heritage," it growled, feathers ruffled. "But it’s hard being part owl, part bear, and all confused. Am I supposed to hoot or growl? Fly or maul? It’s exhausting!"

The Owlbear’s struggle is a classic case of identity confusion, compounded by its mother’s unrealistic expectations. Being half-bird and half-beast comes with its challenges, especially when trying to live up to a mother who expected it to be both the perfect predator and a wise, nocturnal creature. The poor thing’s hoot-growl combo is more tragic than terrifying.


Closing Thoughts:

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from these sessions, it’s that monsters are just like us—only with more teeth, claws, and deeply ingrained psychological issues. Maybe the next time your adventuring party encounters a Beholder or Mind Flayer, consider offering a little empathy (after rolling for initiative, of course). They might just need a good therapist as much as they need that +3 sword through the eye.

End of Session Notes

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