Last year, I was disappointed in the official D&D advent calendar, which didn't have any actual game content. So I decided to make my own.
Clockwork Toy
Sturdy Materials. The toy's AC equals 13 + its Dexterity modifier + its Constitution modifier, if it isn't higher already.
Damage Resistances. The toy is immune to poison and psychic damage, and resistant to piercing and slashing damage from nonmagical, non-adamantine weapons.
Lightning Attraction. The toy has disadvantage on saving throws against lightning.
Predictable Movements. If another creature succeeds on an Intelligence + Insight check against the toy's Intelligence score (no action required), then the toy has disadvantage on attacks against it on its next turn.
Gingerbread Monster
Soggy. When exposed to water, the creature begins to dissolve, and its current and maximum hit points go down: if water is splashed on it, 1d4 for each gallon; if submerged at least halfway, 1d8 per round in still water, or 1d12 in running water.
Going Stale. The creature's AC increases by 1 each time it takes fire damage. If it takes 10 or more fire damage at once, its AC increases by an additional 1 for each 10 points taken (e.g. 28 points from a fireball spell would bake it for +3 AC; 31 points would bake it for +4).
Sugar Rush (recharges on a short or long rest). The creature can take an extra action on its turn.
I like monster templates. You can take a boring bag of hit points, and with just a couple carefully-chosen traits, turn it into something unique and memorable. You can take a small handful of monsters and a few templates, and combine them to make exponentially more variety. You can stack templates on top of each other to get real weird. You can express a huge range of creatures without having to make individual stat blocks for all of them, and players can use their knowledge of one creature to figure out advantages against a similar one. And who doesn't like the idea of fighting a gingerbread tarrasque?
They're underexplored though, at least in 5e. The only ones that come to mind are the Half-Dragon, Shadow Dragon, and Myconid Spore Servant in the Monster Manual, and the cultist templates in Mordenkainen's Tome of Foes. Skeletons and zombies would have been great candidates for templates, since almost anything could be turned into one, but we get several example stat blocks instead. The cultist ones are well-designed, I just don't care about the lore behind them. The draconic ones are little more than a palette-swap of damage types, and some largely irrelevant or passive bonuses like languages and special senses. The spore servant is all about stripping away anything that might potentially be interesting, and leaving only the most boring features behind. I want something more active, that's almost guaranteed to come up in an encounter and really make an impact.
I really fell into that trap with earlier iterations of the clockwork template, including things like not needing to eat and sleep, and a long list of boring condition immunities, and I'm not sure I entirely shook it off for this version either. Sure, a clockwork creature probably has all that, but I trust myself (and other DMs) to figure that stuff out on the fly, if it ever comes up in game. I would rather keep the template short and impactful, easier to apply and remember, and really tell the story of the monster in the way that matters: mechanically.
I'm pleased with the way these templates turn encounters into a bit of a puzzle. Each of them offers an effective strategy, that can be figured out through trial and error, or by thinking about the monster logically in the context of the world. For a creature made of metal, of course cutting it won't be very effective, but electricity will. And the predictable movements should be described in narration as robotic or stilted, but the trait itself should not be shared with the players unless they think to ask - realizing they're mindless automata is an "a-ha" moment that suddenly makes the toys permanently a lot less threatening, as long as the players and characters are paying attention.
Likewise, soaking a gingerbread man in water is an obvious and logical weakness for a thing made out of crumbly dough. It turns the encounter from combat into a puzzle: sure, you might be able to throw a few pints of ale on it, but what then? Where can we find a large body of water? How can we lure it there? How can we keep it there long enough to dissolve? It encourages players to think about the environment and the game world as a real place that supports creative solutions.
Also, the Decanter of Endless Water can produce a jet of 30 gallons at a time - that 30d4, an average of 75 damage, the same as a disintegrate spell. How much fun would it be to blast through hordes of sugary berzerkers with a fire hose?
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