The Buggo: a clumsy, bumbly, bottom-heavy creature that features eyes which point in different directions and dwells in swamplike environments. At an average of 10 pounds and 2 feet tall, they are light for their size. Buggo will charge in the light and glow in the dark as a way to attract predators, which seems like a terrible idea - except that this is the only way for Buggo to reproduce. This is Buggo's chief desire. While being digested, Buggo transforms into a fungus that sustains itself on the digestive juices of their host. This process rapidly reproduces the Buggo spores, and thus the next generation of Buggo are born. To help ensure that the process is less likely to be interrupted, any creature that consumes a Buggo becomes more actively inclined toward its own death.

The Wumbus is a simple creature, often mistaken for a mushroom in its natural environment. They spend most of their lives in a state of hibernation, drawing sustenance from the soil they stand in while enriching it. Very occasionally, when seasonal temperatures reach a specific degree of warmth, they become much easier to spot as they begin to "wumbus". What begins as an ungainly gait soon launches them into a spiralling dance, twirling as they wander. They expel spores with every heavy step, and a cacophony of airy flatulence erupts from a culture of Wumbus wumbusing.

Once they have collided with sufficient quantities of spores from another Wumbus, their path suddenly reverses course and they return to their original position to gestate. Given the chaotic nature of their movements, it is unclear how Wumbus manage to retrace their steps - or even find each other in the first place. One must be cognizant of the shifting seasons when in the domain of the Wumbus, as inhaling the miasma of their spores causes the rapid rupture of internal blood vessels. Prefers areas with few rocks and softer soil.

Frolicking in grassy meadows among the flowers and the butterflies is an unparalelled predator: the Abomination. Let not its colorful appearance draw you in. Should you catch sight of it for more than a brief moment, you will quickly become enthralled by its shuffling feathers and the endlessly shifting colors. It is unclear whether its wings give it flight; it is clear, however, that the frequency of their fluttering dampens all sound around it. This creates a pocket of uncomfortable silence. Some say they felt its presence in the shifting air; others recall a comforting scent washing over an inherent sense of impending doom.

Despite numerous attempts to study the Abomination, no one has managed to document how exactly it consumes its victims. Regardless, the psychological effects are apparent, as those who have physically escaped its predation are left lacking... something.

If you hear the cackling of The Tickler, it's probably too late. It's also probably not a big deal. The Tickler will tickle you relentlessly. It's goal is to distract you so it can get what it wants: your trash. Though its teeth may look threatening, they'll only bite if you fight back - or if you startle it. This thing is about the size of a coyote, with six omnidirectional appendages, so fending it off can be a challenge and often isn't worth it. Just give it your garbage.

The Tickler's primary strategy is to drool all over its meal to break it down for easier digestion. It is most commonly encountered in trash-filled alleyways, dilapidated buildings, or the downtown bus depot. Solitary but not especially territorial, they nest in garbage cans and dumpsters and scavenge opportunistically.

Fwugwigs find themselves at home in woodland settings, burrowing into fallen trees to carve out dens for their large families. For fwugwigs, family comes first. They mate for life and raise broods of up to 20 fwugwig pups at a time. The pups start out completely pink and slowly grow their thick blue hide as they mature to about the size of an owl. You can identify fully mature fwugwig by its characteristic pincer tail, which may look threatening but is actually a helpful appendage that serves them well in feeding, cleaning, and wrangling their large broods. Fwugwig munch on insects and small rodents, which disappear quickly when there are many mouths to feed.

In volcanic environments where the air is thick with gaseous fumes, swarms of tiny pricklezip form. They land on the rocks, scuttle about on short crab-like legs, and lap up the mineral residue that gives them their characteristic green coloration. Although their harsh biome leaves them with few predators, pricklezip are protected by a tough carapace that is covered in tiny hairs like the pins of a cactus. These can become painfully lodged in one's skin and are quite difficult to remove.

The grank'n are timid yet curious creatures, highly sought after for their aromatic and iridescent pelts. Grank'n naturally keep their distance at first, watching other beings with great interest. Their heads can swivel nearly all the way around, akin to owls, and their tiny wings carry them swiftly from perch to perch. Their curiosity can be exploited, however: at about the size of a baby seal, and at least twice as soft, the grank'n are aggressively hunted in the wild.

If one cultivates a relationship with a grank'n, it makes for a luxurious and rewarding housepet - one that won't chew on anything, loves to be stroked, and and releases pleasantly scented and relaxing pheromones. They subsist on fruits and flowers. A steady diet of foods with pleasant scents will improve the quality and potency of their aromas.

Lazy or smart? Known to many as "lazy Pete", this laid-back predator spends most of its days lounging in the swamplands, completely motionless, with its mouth open wide. The zorg patiently dines on fish too foolish to avoid swimming into its mouth - or anything that gets too close. Zorg has jaws like a vice grip. One bite is enough to detain most anything, even if the creature would otherwise be large enough to escape or fight back. Its abnormal density gives it a serious edge in any tug of war. The oldest and most bad-ass of the zorg can be recognized by the size and quantity of the flies that perch on it.

Found only on moons, and unable to thrive anywhere else, is a mysteriously musical creature called dagrothah. Its rigid antennae are attuned to the vibrations of moon energy, which it conducts with sweeping movements into deep and rich arrangements of sound. This energy emanates most strongly in the equatorial twilight zone between the dark and light sides of a moon. There, dagrothah dwells in caves.

Dagrothah are notorious empaths. They can sense the moods of living creatures as vibrational feedback, and are drawn to intense emotions and ecstatic experiences. When visiting their moons, you can hear their songs ring far and wide. Sightings are exceedingly rare, however, and you'll ruin the song if you try to pursue them.

Standing only a few feet tall, the fuzzwuzzle still manages a bit of a mopey slouch. They are known to be somewhat emotional little creatures who spend their time scribbling in a diary with a heavy sigh. Though sentient enough to feel angst, the concerns of the fuzzwuzzles don't go far beyond the day-to-day of looking for food and dreading their next social encounter.

Their wool is incredibly water-resistant, so that not even the heaviest little raincloud could soak them. This makes it quite valuable. Fortunately, fuzzwuzzles are easy to herd since they are inclined to maintain a bit of an awkward distance from one another and yet not get too far away for comfort. Besides, they don't even care about being shaved anymore... it's whatever.

Left to their own devices, the fuzzwuzzles will keep to the shadows and forage for food at odd hours of the night. They can be spotted in the darkness, hop-galloping in short bursts from place to place. Have no fear; the fuzzwuzzle is no danger to anyone. Except perhaps itself.

You'll hear it coming, but you won't likely be able to stop it. With eyes that can see in all directions, the zweeb deftly dodges any attempt to swat it away. Its bladelike wings spin in a helicopter motion, creating a thrumming buzz that raises the hairs on the back of your neck - and you should be afraid, because that's where it plans to lodge its fangs. The zweeb thirsts for your spinal fluid.

As terrible as that sounds, the painful and life-threatening bite of the zweeb comes with a silver lining: the ability to see through its eyes, giving the victim the gift of omnidirectional vision! Some have gone to great lengths to catch a zweeb, desiring to walk the line between a superpower and imminent death. Few succeed.

Few Royal Winged G'zak exist, and those that do have lived long enough to earn some respect. Preferring to be addressed by their full title, they are easily offended and look down their long necks at those who approach them. Those who dare to disrespect the Royal Winged G'zak have earned themselves a trampling.

The Royal Winged G'zak does not fly as one might expect. Instead, it galumphs. It gathers speed with long, heavy, yet graceful strides, allowing it to become airborne and glide over long distances. Though they are fully capable of giving other creatures a ride, they like to remain aloof. Royal Winged G'zak will take their time thoroughly judging those who ask before they acquiesce. They will not be rushed.

Dwelling on mountain-tops high above other beings, the Royal Winged G'zak will occasionally make a show of gliding all the way down to the lowlands (especially if there is a gorgeous sunrise on display). Gliding back up is out of the question, of course. Head held high, it will determinedly trudge all the way back to the top and wait for the next opportunity to impress.

Craving the crisp green crunch of your cabbages, the pond-dwelling chrawn depart their watery homes at night to chow down. Though it might clamp onto a finger or toe, the chrawn is much more interested in your garden greens. They aren't quiet about it, either. You could easily be awoken by the clumsy clomping and chomping of a chrawn enthusiastically discovering your crops.

Although gardeners may mourn the loss of their vegetables to hungry chrawn, there's a silver lining: their eggs. Chrawn eggs are coveted delicacies that can be retrieved from the silty floor of lakes and ponds at only minimal risk to your digits.

A herble, standing still, looks mighty ridiculous. However, rarely will you see one standing still. With blazing speed, they traverse the rocky plains on their two hind legs. Then, at a moment's notice, they dive into the ground and burrow. Their useless-looking forelegs churn the hard ground and make a paste of it as the herble digs.

Its teeth, few but large, are incredibly hard, which is key to its hunting strategy: rapidly approaching its prey from behind and slamming itself down over it, face-first. Herble feed on small creatures such as rodents and lizards. They are fiercely territorial and will defend their burrow at the slightest provocation, even against creatures many times their size.

Sloymee is living proof that a large enough accretion of slime could form a complex multicellular organism. It comes from slime. It dwells in slime. It is slime. Sloymee develop where slime naturally occurs. Capable of metabolizing in various ways, they can surive nearly any condition as long as it can stay moist.

If you found one of these, your slime has gotten out of hand. How bad is it? For reference, they populate quite rapidly. The largest known sloymee was about the size of a bear, but you could also end up with hundreds of tiny ones under the right conditions. They way they hop around is kind of cute, though. Up to you whether this qualifies as a problem.

Among the most ornery of creatures, the grumple is infinitely irritable. In fact, things going favorably for the grumple only serve to make it grumpier. To an outsider, this might seem strange. What is hard to understand is that the grumple operates on a different spectrum of satisfaction - one that necessitates a steady supply of things to grumble on about.

A grumple's prehensile moustache flexes and stretches to grab clusters of foliage and fold them into its mouth. Herds of grumple shuffle about in loose migratory patterns, munching on shrubs and tree leaves as they go. Despite their apparent disposition toward one another, they are fairly cooperative. Traveling in large numbers enables them to work together to accomplish simple tasks that would otherwise be quite difficult without arms, and to defend themselves when threatened. A grumple may complain about receiving affection, but given that they also love complaining, we can only assume they love hugs.

Being taller than the average human, quite heavy on the bottom and light on the top, they are difficult to knock over. As such, their most effective defense strategy is to put their heads down and ram their target en masse. Compliment an entire herd of grumple at your own risk.

Night falls in the desert. Your mind becomes clear and you prepare yourself to receive a revalation. In the distance, slowly waddling, the Zwiff approaches. You realize you are, in fact, ready - for those who seek the zwiff rarely find it.

Strongly attuned to psychedelic vibrations, the zwiff brings deep revalatory truths to those who are in the proper state of mind to receive them. For those who are not, these experiences can be incredibly damaging to the psyche. Some do not make it back. One who gets close enough to lick the zwiff will become covered in its vibrant, shifting stripes - and experience a grand hallucination. This leaves predators incapacitated, but ironically encourages chasing it down for other reasons.

Have you heard of the friend-shaped man? The unicorn troll? The King of the Crystal Caves? At the top of a mountain, snacking on mineral-rich rocks, lives the Whomst. Though large and robust, it is a peaceful, docile creature. It keeps to itself, happy in its own world. Despite its reclusive nature, it welcomes the occasional visitor. Those who spend a day or three by its side are invited to enjoy breathtaking views and nightly retreats to the sparkling crystal caves in which it sleeps.

The whomst cultivates crystals meticulously, efficiently mining and consuming the rock that surrounds them. In fact, the rocks consumed by the whomst are digested such that its waste is the perfect substrate for crystal nucleation.

It wants to bite. It wants to cuddle. Neither of which is good for you. Flarknipper has terrible impulse control and a mouth large enough to fit your entire head - and if that wasn't enough, its teeth rotate within its maw like a garbage disposal. Keep your distance. If you see flarknipper in the wild, run.

In environments where most other living things would fry to a crisp, the drayzee thrive on a diet of molten slime that powers their thermal energy core. Their fluffy, delicate-looking feathers are in fact crystal formations that act as insulation to maintain internal temperatures as hot as liquid magma. A drayzee must maintain this temperature or quickly perish, solidifying into a crystalline mass rich in heavy metals.

Drayzee have few predators, but are adapted to evade detection in volcanic environments, and release large clouds of smoke from their mouths to act as a screen that gives them time to escape. This is critical, because drayzee move rather slowly. Their tail-appendage is actually a large foot, which pushes against the ground to scoot the drayzee in an inchworm motion (mostly backward).

Behold, the most delicious creature in all of existence: the Eggbear. Steeped in an essence of pure deliciousness, eggbears hatch with an indescribable flavor profile that is universally enjoyed. Both flesh and fruit, it pleases herbivores and carnivores alike.

In cool, moist environments with plenty of foliage to hide in, an eggbear lays copious piles of round eggs the size of golf balls, colored green with spots of purple. The eggs are so densely sweet and rich that, if foolishly consumed, the pleasure is quickly offset by the resulting stomach-ache. Mature eggbears, however, are well worth the wait.

Eggbear hatchlings begin their lives as fuzzy green balls with eyes. Their purple face, ears, and hands emerge as they develop. They grow very rapidly, reaching two or three feet tall in just a week. When their growth has peaked, so has their flavor, and the hunt is on for creatures in the know. Eggbears aren't hard to hunt, either. They flee into the bushes to hide, close their eyes tightly, and hope they won't be spotted.

Short, broad and fuzzy, this creature stands in for the classic livestock of many worlds. At about the size of an adolescent pig, Pearoogie's flesh is fatty and flavorful. Its hair is thick, soft, and quick to regrow. It even provides milk, which tastes something like the common strawberry. It might take a lot of feed to keep a herd of ""oogie"" satisfied, but their value is unmatched.

Besides providing milk, meat and wool, the pearoogie has a special talent in its acute sense of smell. It is naturally attuned to the scent of secrets. What was thought for a long time to be a wives' tale has time and again been the undoing of the duplicitous. If an oogie is paying special attention to your business or romantic partner, tread carefully.

In any biome crowded with vegetation, a floringuz is easily camouflaged despite its enormous size. With its eyes and mouth closed, it resembles any common cluster of plant matter. But in an instant, its wide, flat mouth stretches open and snaps down over unsuspecting prey. Its meal may wriggle and writhe, but the rootlike tentacles of the floringuz burrow deep into the ground, keeping it firmly entrenched. The hapless creature will surely become exhausted and dissolve in viscous saliva before it can escape. The floringuz's rubbery neck can stretch up to 12 feet in the air, and its head can swivel 360 degrees, letting it catch and consume creatures large and small.

Prefer a tropical vacation destination? So does your new pal, the durdle. The friendliest of creatures, nocturnal durdles venture out at night in search of snacks and friends. They're attracted to firelight, so your roaring beach bonfire is a surefire way to have a tail-wagging companion by your side at the party. A durdle typically munches on local vegetation, but they would prefer any treats you have on offer. They're basically just a chill hang.

A sloop fits in the palm of your hand, which is where it would prefer to be. Sloop crave salt and absorb it through their skin. They have a pleasantly smooth skin texture, and their bodies vibrate soothingly when they are touched. A warm, happy sloop presents its characteristic golden orange color. A sloop gone cold turns various shades of blue, which might inspire a sympathetic salty creature to snuggle it.

Sloop like to stay moist, and spend dry seasons buried in the muck. They burrow by vibrating intensely, liquefying the surrounding earth. Should a predator attempt to dig one up, they can use this ability to quickly escape deeper underground. Sloop have been known to vibrate so intensely that, when held for too long, they become molecularly bonded to the hand of their unfortunate friend. Neither party enjoys this experience. Fortunately, "sloop hand" is rare.

What carries a greater variety of diseases than any other vermin, and wants your chickens? It's the snarled gralf. Living in dens of 20 or more, they have strength in numbers. Their tiny teeth and claws deliver nasty little wounds that are liable to fester. They prey on pets and fowl alike. Notoriously resistant to poison and traps, they are difficult to eradicate.

Snarled gralf are fairly adaptable. In urban environments, they will grow to a smaller size, allowing them to better hide away in nooks and crannies. They can also easily adjust their diet to garbage and scavenged remains. A particular hazard to garbage collectors and alley cats, snarled gralf make for an unfortunate encounter.

This shy and reclusive creature rarely lets anyone get close. The hoopa, with its subtle blue glow and highly reflective eyes, is a friend to those who have lost their way. With a gentle rumbling hum, it approaches lone wanderers and guides them to safety. Groups of other creatures and high-energy activities drive the hoopa away. Though they are typically solitary, they will gather and commune in the light of a full moon. A hoopa troupe emits a harmonious hum that slowly elevates the land beneath them, raising ridges and mountains over time.

The crovampus is large, green, and a sorry excuse for what could have been an apex predator. It has a hereditary tendency to de-evolve any traits that are not expressly essential to keeping it alive. The resulting degredation of the crovampus as a species is simultaneously humiliating and incredible.

Behold: Teeth just sharp enough to pierce. Lazy eyes just capable enough to notice prey. Broad feet that barely keep it from slipping. Standing just four feet tall with a paunchy figure, crovampus pushes the evolutionary minimum. It hunts with a call that sounds just enough like the word "hug" to confuse some creatures into approaching it. If it's lucky enough to catch something, the crovampus thoroughly drains the blood of its victim, knowing it might be a while before it gets another meal.

Imagine: you are walking along a peaceful trail in the heart of a remote mountain range, when you find yourself suddenly overtaken by a swarm of skittering, squelching spider-like monsters flying overhead. You are witnessing the frenzied mating conglomerate of the vorkl. Seek cover immediately.

Vorkl ooze with corrosive saliva that can melt away rock as easily as flesh. This lets them bore into rocky terrain and establish a home for their brood and their life-mates. However, their saliva is notably ineffective against metals. Those who find themselves living in vorkl territory would do well to fortify structures with metal roofing and watch the skies during mating season.

Towering among the trunks of trees and tree-like things, the largest optolith on record had 50 eyes, 13 mouths, and stood a full 100 feet tall. The common optolith, however, rarely grows beyond 20 feet. Its flagrant blue color clashes with the typical shades of foliage, drawing the attention of curious critters that might wander right into one of its many mouths.

Though it spends most of its time in one place, the optolith may occasionally shamble about on the many tiny feet that carpet its underside. They reposition themselves periodically for more sun, better food, or the chance to get closer to a potential mate. The pursuit of a partner will carry them the farthest. Optolith rarely bite people, but be cautious in handling them, as their numerous eyes are easy to poke.

The voib, otherwise known as the "thinking cap", can be found wherever sentient minds are present. Lurking out of sight, and perhaps out of mind, solitary voib are drawn to those engaged in complex tasks. A voib will float high out of reach and follow its potential target until the time is right, with no regard for air or gravity. When the moment comes, and the victim is engrossed in a heady activity, the voib descends and settles neatly atop their head.

No one has seen in full what lies beneath the scruff that interfaces with so many creatures' brains. Looking at its expressionless red eyes, one can't help but imagine the horrors and wonders they have seen. The initial impression of a voib can be sinister.

However, there is a synergy to be exploited: you seek to utilize your mind at its highest potential, and it seeks to devour your brainwaves. This relationship can prove copascetic for a time. Once you have experienced the voib's stimulating effect on your mental performance, you'll likely find yourself feeling inadequate and wanting more. Indulge too frequently or too long, however, and the after-effects can be exhausting, deadly, or worse than death: voib madness.

With these creatures around, academia quickly becomes littered with voib burnouts and peppered with alumni who couldn't have cut it without a voib. Strict rules ban voib on campuses, especially during exams. Still, many schools quietly import these creatures as a short-term means to boost performance and thereby reputation.

The groggle is a highly adaptable creature that is suitable for nearly any biome. It ranges widely in size and color, but its core tactics remain the same: it will lure you in and swallow you whole. While it might not look so intimidating, the groggle is a patient and cunning predator. It won't pursue prey that runs away, but bump into it unexpectedly and you might be lunch.

When groggle is on the hunt, it lets ropes of its viscous drool hang out of its mouth, even dangling its drool in the water like a fishing lure. As revolting as it might sound, this drool is quite enticing to many creatures. It is sweetly scented with a pleasant taste and a jelly-like texture. The flavor profile takes on different qualities depending on a groggle's environment and habits. It always tastes great on toast!

The first thing one might notice about the snorferus are its eyes. Bulging and bright, the violet orbs of the snorferus process electromagnetic signals, granting these creatures sight in the electromagnetic spectrum. Striking lashes ring its eyes and act as antennae. This peculiar sense allows snorfs to detect subtle changes in atmostpheric activity and avoid dangerous weather patterns. It also gives them a unique strategy for hunting down what they really want: spores.

Floating in the air and wafting on the wind, delicious spores are carried far and wide by shifting weather. When a snorferus detects the right conditions, its renowned olfactory sense does the rest of the work in tracking down a meal. Its sensitive trunk can smell spores from an incredible distance - and quickly consume large quantities by vacuuming them up. Solitary and docile, snorferus are content to roam the land in pursuit of their favorite fungal food.

When walking where zuffar lurk, it is wise to look up. Dangling by its razor-sharp pincer, zuffar is a patient predator. It hunts opportunistically, snatching creatures out of the air or plunging from great heights to ambush an unsuspecting meal below.

Zuffar begin their lives very small, and grow as large as possible within the constraints of their environment. Should they outgrow their food supply, they will simply metabolize their own body mass and shrink until an equilibrium is reached. Tiny zuffar might live off of insects, while gargantuan specimens rule among megafauna. When a zuffar is well fed and comfortable, it will shed the bright green seeds from its body, from which new zuffar will grow.

In pursuit of the universally delicious eggbear, predators have developed various hunting strategies that involve stalking, startling, chasing and entrapping the creature. But the gruwald knows that eggbears love to eat one thing, and one thing only: berries.

The gruwald is a tiny creature which cleverly adapted to resemble a plump, ripe berry. It wraps its prehensile leaf-tipped tail around the foliage and bides its time until a hungry eggbear happens by. As the eggbear rummages for its usual snack, it inevitably brushes up against the toxic skin of the gruwald. Weakened and dazed, the eggbear becomes an easy target. Gruwald sinks its fangs into the eggbear's flesh and slurps its berry-flavored juices, leaving behind the withered husk of what once was a delicacy.

A trail of dessicated eggbears is a clue to hunt elsewhere. Brush up against a gruwald by accident and you'll be quickly incapacitated. You'll probably be fine if your juices aren't berry-flavored, though. Walk it off.

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A rolling stone gathers no moss, but rolling mouphs gather the beat. The leathery skin of these boulder-like creatures is sensitive to vibration, giving them the unified synaesthetic sense by which they navigate their world. To this effect, mouphs echolocate by producing rhythmic music in a wide variety of styles and tempos. Their unique style expresses their vibe, which other mouphs are listening for.

Lone mouphs will roll about with abandon, beat-boxing away, until they encounter other mouphs. Those with similar BPM will attract one another, blending styles to amass in ""polyrhythms"". If two polyrhythms meet, however, a beatbox competition ensues, and members of the losing team might follow the beat back to the winning troupe. Dissonance in a polyrhythm isn't unheard of, and if one of the mouphs isn't feeling the vibe, they may just split off and go their own way.

Mouphs are typically plant eaters, but it takes getting something in their mouth for them to recognize whether it's food or not. This means that they can do increasingly more passive damage to an environment with size and appetite. Their jaws are very strong. Some objects could be completely destroyed - so consider what you've left outside if you hear beat-boxing on the breeze. That said, all it takes to deter these things is a brief cacophony of loud, obnoxious, arrhythmic noises.

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