Standard employees from the TB Corporation don’t venture into space. They dwell in their enormous glass-paned high rise calculating shipping routes, mining trips, and round trips for the highest possible profit margin.
The Goblins have tried a variety of tactics to get the local quasi-humanity on board with their presence. They’ve tried granting (exploding) presents to the local townspeople. They’ve tried a Hug a Goblin marketing campaign.
Skill challenges were the best kept secret of 4e D&D. They were awesome, but they were so poorly explained that it caused a lot of confusion.
The Underdark lends itself to game shows. Piles of gems embedded in walls! Evil, tentacally monsters! (And can we get more tentacles?) Best of all, a conga line of attractive contestants with their own little and hilarious personality quirks.
What does D&D mean to me? It’s an important question, because some might think after being laid off (twice) while working on D&D, I might have negative feelings about it. I don’t.
Time for everyone to make money regardless of alignment, God, or creed. The more unsavory, the better!
Out there, lurking in the deepest jungles, are things. Things waiting for the smart and adventurous to come around and pop them into their backpacks. Things customers pay enormous sacks of gold for.
No newspaper circulates with evil want-ads in the back. No Quest Givers sit around in taverns trying to get evil to go on evil missions and join Evil Empires.
Why do you suppose the PCs win nearly every D&D battle they have? There’s an illusion of threat, but how often does the party really lose a fight?
A household evil name is more than a brand. It’s a stamp of evil quality. Murder Hobos know what they’re getting when they run with that brand.