Death Metal Berserkers

I have always liked berserkers, all the way back to Moldvay. It’s a great shame that third edition never did a satisfactory job of modeling these warriors—part of the problem is the system’s philosophy of having interchangeable mechanics for monsters and PCs. Berserking conveys a hefty mechanical advantage in exchange for what are essentially role-playing disadvantages: lack of armor, unwillingness to withdraw from combat, occasionally hacking friends, etc.

You could use the barbarian PC class, of course, but in previous editions berserkers were low-level opponents that could be encountered in numbers, while just two 1st-level barbarians would be an EL 3 encounter, and a potentially dangerous one if they got a chance to rage. A template doesn't quite seem right, and a prestige class wouldn’t work. A feat could be created, but it’s a circuitous and not wholly satisfactory route.

Fifth edition, fortunately, doesn’t have that baggage and uses advantage and disadvantage to create the most elegantly simple mechanic for berserkers yet. And as I was filling out the 5e roster for one of the Dungeon’s factions, it occurred to me that berserkers would be a great addition to this group.

The Thralls to Orcus are a rather powerful group of chaotic evil cultists and vampires sworn to the Demon Prince of the Undead. In older versions of D&D berserkers were neutral in alignment, a tradition I brought forward to the Great Dungeon. But I began to imagine berserkers as death metal enthusiasts. (Given the overlap in fandom between gamers and metalheads, I'm sure this idea has already been thoroughly mined—but it’s new to me.) Perhaps it’s the political moment, but somehow the notion of demon-worshiping, nihilistic, and thoroughly violent thugs seems vastly scarier than bearded viking dudes pretending to be bears.

During one of the last forays in the Dungeon, the PCs came across a group of berserkers carrying a strange magic item: an Urn of Abyssal Cacophony. This is a small lead vessel with a stopper, decorated with skulls. When unstopped, a demonic song piped straight from the lower planes blares forth: thunderous drums beating faster than a locust’s wings, trilling strings that sound like the agonized wails of children, obscene howls, grunts, and chants in Abyssal. Lawful and good creatures hearing this din feel uneasy and irritable, while chaotic and evil creatures feel their blood quicken and their hearts leap with joy.

The berserkers opened the urn and began head-banging and thrashing as they worked themselves into a frenzy. The players, at first amused, quickly realized they weren’t talking their way out of this encounter. After a good, bloody fight they slew the cultists and seized the urn. It has no real mechanical effect but I’m sure some collector of degenerate art objects would pay a sizeable sum for a true Abyssal piece.

Postscript: It occurred to me only after the fact, in a terrible bit of dungeon l’esprit de l’escalier, that I should have described the Berserkers for Orcus as having shaved heads and bodies painted bone white, like the War Boys from Fury Road. The parallels are just too obvious not to exploit: fanatical naïfs, serving a cruel and distant tyrant in the hope of serving him in the afterlife? “Witness! I am Awaited in the Abyss, where I shall fight forever, Shady and Bone!”