What makes a powerful raid boss monster?

“Well, it’s got to be high stats, right? Attack power, health, defense—things like that.”

“A mob that summons tons of minions.”

“Debuffs all over the place. That can be tricky.”

“Spamming AoE attacks.”

The answers may vary, but usually, people talk about the boss’s abilities.

Things like stats or mechanics.

So, what makes a well-designed boss monster?

“A good backstory makes it more interesting.”

“Concept is more important than that.”

“A level of difficulty that challenges you.”

“No matter how well-made it is, if the design’s off, it’s kind of a letdown, right?”

“A pattern that’s tough but makes sense.”

You’d probably get more varied responses when asking about a ‘well-designed boss monster’ than a ‘powerful one.’ That’s because a well-designed boss means it has some sort of charm, and what people find charming varies from person to person.

Some might be drawn to the boss’s appearance, while others might be captivated by its backstory.

These elements come together—sometimes harmonizing, sometimes clashing—to create a more appealing (or well-designed) character.

That’s why when someone asks, “Isn’t this boss well-made?” the response might be, “Hmm... is it though?”

And then you’d get someone saying, “Honestly, I could make a better one myself.”

That’s just someone who likes to stir things up.

But in MMORPGs, especially in raids where many players work together to defeat a boss, the standard for a well-designed raid boss monster is somewhat established.

Appearance, story, concept.

Of course, those things are important.

If players find a boss compelling, their immersion in the game increases, and the more immersed they are, the more likely they are to stick with the game.

However, just because those elements are absent doesn’t mean all players will be disappointed and leave the game.

Different people enjoy games in different ways, and some don’t care about that kind of stuff. They’re just in it to grind the raid for gear, making their characters stronger.

So, what’s truly needed for a well-designed raid boss?

According to a man with about five years of MMORPG experience, the most important thing was whether the players thought it made sense.

Let’s take an example.

While it varies depending on mechanics, most raids usually revolve around enduring the boss’s attacks and whittling down its health without dying.

That’s why most RPGs have a way to heal.

In some games, it’s potions. In others, it’s a specific role—known as a healer.

In essence, the healer is like the logistical support, playing a crucial role in keeping the fight going.

In other words, if you take out the healer, it’s easy to wipe out the party.

So, wouldn’t it make sense for a raid boss to ignore everyone else and go straight for the healer?

But would the players find that reasonable?

The reason a boss doesn’t go straight for the healer or spam instant-kill moves isn’t because it’s dumb—it’s because the game developers designed it that way.

Nobody’s going to enjoy a game where the boss just kills everyone in the backline and ends the game right away.

Or imagine a boss with the concept of a general, summoning hundreds of minions to fight for him. You can’t appreciate the boss’s charm if you can’t even play because of unfair mechanics.

In this man’s opinion, a well-designed raid boss has to be fair before it can be appealing.

A well-made boss might be strong and attractive, but being strong and attractive doesn’t necessarily mean it’s well-made.

“Ah, damn it!”

*Bang!*

By his standards, the boss monster he was challenging fell into the category of ‘poorly made.’

No, worse—it could even be considered ‘badly made’ or ‘why on earth would they make it like this?’

A boss room? Sure, if you could call a room where the boss could show up at any moment a boss room.

The boss wandered all over the place, making it hard even to get a chance to fight.

“Died again?”

“No, but does this make sense?! It ignores my taunt and runs straight at me—how am I supposed to survive that?!”

“Who forced you to play a healer with a sword to your throat?”

“You raised your healer and now you’re blaming others?”

The typical aggro system in monster battles—where monsters attack the player with the highest threat level based on damage dealt or skills used—was in play.

In most cases, tank classes have skills that significantly increase their threat level or can pull aggro.

But this boss ignored the ‘taunt’ skill, which is supposed to force aggro, and went straight for the healer.

And with its high attack power, a single hit sent you to the afterlife.

On top of that, it was filled with unfair mechanics, like only allowing one party to challenge it at a time.

“Okay, from now on, take another healer with you on raids. I’m going to another party.”

“Aww, come on. Without you, it’ll take forever to find a healer.”

“Not my problem.”

“I didn’t say anything. Just kick out the ones causing trouble, or take me on raids instead. Hehe.”

“Traitor!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t abandon us…”

The man let out a bitter smile as he watched his party members quickly switch stances, joking in a playful atmosphere. But in contrast, the party was steadily marching toward a full wipe.

After he died, the other healer soon followed, taken down by the boss’s next swing.

At the same time, the boss turned around and sent three attacking DPS players flying with a single strike.

With the next move, it shoved aside a tank and sent a sword beam at the last distant DPS, taking them out.

The boss ignored the sturdier tanks and went straight for the squishy healers and DPS.

What remained were two tough but useless punching bags with no healing or damage-dealing ability.

Soon, the tanks fell, and the only thing left on the battlefield was the boss, cloaked in its tattered hooded cape.

As a familiar glow surrounded his fallen party members, the man muttered.

“This game is trash. I can’t take it anymore.”

---

One, two, three... seven.

“And the eighth.”

Is there some unwritten rule that says you should always attack in groups of eight?

Once again, I dispatched eight people—or maybe I should say eight moths flying into the flame—and staggered over to a decently sized rock to sit down.

It wasn’t tiring.

What kind of stamina does it take to cut down people who fall with one swing of a sword?

But still, dealing with all these moths gets a bit annoying...

I mean, these moths wield swords and magic, you know?

So yeah, it gets a little exhausting.

I pressed my fingers against my sore eyes and let out a long sigh.

It’s been… how many years since I started living in this world?

I started counting on my fingers, folding and unfolding them twice, then gave up.

It’s been more than ten years, I guess. But what does it matter?

“I could really go for some fried chicken…”

I swallowed, craving something I knew I wouldn’t have today either.