Everything You Didn't Want To Know About Fungi, Mold, And Spores

Fungi are old. They are the oldest thing. Okay, not the oldest. But the oldest thing that really matters. 

Non-fungal unicellular organisms are boring

How old is old? Geological time is slow moving. It makes everything not on that scale seem blindingly quick. If you put time to scale with how old some of the oldest mountains are and how long they took to develop, a day would cover well over 10,000 lifetimes end to end. Elves don't count.

That's about how long fungi have been around. And old things have a habit of playing waiting games. They also remember more things. At least, these do, because they constantly reinforce what they've seen; what they've felt. And what have fungi gained by being this ancient? By seeing and feeling the beginning of everything that is worth speaking about? They've gained perspective. And they have opinions.

That's what I'm talking about

They Can Do More Than Just Feel

When you think of fungi, you think of mushrooms, probably. Growths, perhaps. Mold, most certainly. You've been told they are simple decomposers, feasting on the deceased. Those are not "fungi", and they do much more than dispose of the dead. They are actually all part of one fungus. You can call it one entity or many. It does not bother the many-yet-still-one conscioused mass of mycelium better termed as the Network. 

Most forms of fungi you will ever see have tendrils, that are analogous to roots. They're not roots, but more like threads, sewn by the thousand into the ground as if by a deft wicked hand of some hag. Consequently, when trees came around, they adapted ways to talk with them. Fungi talk much the same way trees do. Of course they do. They taught them how.

They communicate with pulses. These pulses are concentrated magic that deliver complex messages that have no direct translations, even when using read magic to try and code what is said. It's not that different from speaking in binary, except that instead of base 2, it's more like base 256. Speaking of magic, fungi created it. Among the oxygen they help create, they also generate magic, and they are the only known source to do this. It is this that adds to the symbiotic relationship between the eldritch origins of ancestor and spawn. It's also why so many witches delve into herbalism. That's where the purest magic is.

Self-cannibalization occurs when someone tries to infiltrate the Network

Though no one can directly translate the messages of these spore-spewing terrors, we can summarize parts. One exception to this is that anyone infected by their spores is thought to gain forced comprehension of these messages instantaneously. Most of fungal communication is for relaying sensory information and contemplating their thoughts on it. Some is reserved for conveying opinion. Fungi are able to see through touch, as well as with eyes. You can't see the eyes, much like you can't hear the trees. Their eyes were formed through long-term exposure to magic, and allows them to see out of every cell and every spore they have. It's a lot like blindsight. Except they can see everything in perfect clarity. They're also everywhere. Literally. 

Even in the depths of the ocean

Their Network expands over every square inch of everything. They've known everything you did, even when you swore you were alone. They remember every time you tried to remove pieces of them. Elves are aware, and behind their calm, assured exterior, they're screaming in terror, wondering when they'll lose this fight.

You can remove them manually, but this is merely a stop gap. Not only is it merely a matter of time, of which you are running out, before they reinfest the area, but what you think is a single section of fungal growth, isolated from the rest, is really more akin to a lizard's tail. They shed it to make you think you're alone for the moment. Which is to say, you're still surrounded.

This is just what they'll allow you to see

Capabilities

The biggest lie you've ever been told is that a mushroom is a fungus. The fungi told you this half-truth so you would feel safe after removing it. This, as above, is merely a fungal version of caudal autotomy. Yes, the mushrooms spread the spores, thereby growing the vision to anything the Network has yet to see on the surface, but the danger grows beneath, disaffected. And patient.

Fungi generate magic, as pointed out. So it makes sense that they can move more than trees can. In fact, they move a lot. They can sprout several feet in a day from every one of their hair-like mycelium. If they expend more magic, they can cover miles. But they don't need to. They work on timescales dizzying to you or I. They don't need to do anything quickly.

Fungus are otherwise known for their ability to spore. Naïve humans believe this is how they harmlessly reproduce, which is an agreeable half-truth to the Network. In reality, every classic fruiting body of the Network is just flora that has been subject to eminent domain. This is why they look so similar to other plants - because you are looking at a plant, mangled and reshaped to fit what the needs of the fungal masters are. There's no ill will. Usually. From these nodes of growth, more spores are created. That is the cycle. Nothing harmless about it.

Their spores range radically based on what they originated from, but they all serve the same two purposes: create more nodes to spore from, and create more servants. You see, mushrooms and the like are really warnings in plain sight. When a spore infects a person - and the more spores inhaled/contacted, the higher chance this occurs - their brain is rooted by the mycelium. They are bombarded by the messages as if they were psionic attacks. They go mad within an instant, and sometimes they die from the experience. Both outcomes suffice the Network, as both lead to a servant and a node.

Pay close attention to the face that is no longer there

Servants need not perish in the process - it's preferable that they don't, so that they can still use magic. But if they do, they will go until the fungi withers the muscle and tissue down to bones. Upon utter absorption of the matter, the bones are left as the fungi recedes, leaving an ominous pile of remains. If the subject survives, the fungi will allow subsistence through magic they generate. It doesn't work for as long as you might think.

Fungi can claim all manner of servant, ranging from lowly insects to dragons. In this way, they see the skies above as well as they see the depths below. They also do not have to activate their spores immediately. In fact, at any given time, you're filled with thousands of spores that could choose to attempt a hostile takeover, but that would be a foolish waste of resources. The fungi would much rather wait until you're too weak to resist before claiming you. 

Dwarves, on the other hand, are unique. They are born with mycelia ingrained within them. They automatically fail to resist any Calls the fungi make. This was a choice made long, long ago, after they were pushed underground, where they had no option but to take solace in the false safety of the fungal caves down below. At the same time, they are also immune to psionic attacks. This is because a servant may only appease one master, and the Network is unopposable.

Fungi are also analytical. If you sever a piece of slime mold and place it in a maze with one real path and a food source, the severed piece will root around unendingly until it finds it, then retract all growth that was fruitless back into itself. They also can discern which path is shortest if there are multiple routes. They are efficient. If you sever a piece of this successful mold, it will still remember the path. It never forgets. It physically can't. To overcome the Network is to have to constantly innovate, or you will succumb.

It also knows the quickest way to you at any given time

With Age Comes Restraint

The fungi of the world provoke hatred in the flora around. They drive tensions high. They foster wicked vengeance in all flora they touch with their needles, but they themselves are not all that angry. They act as the gadfly, unbothered themselves, but with a penchant to sew discord as a natural function.

Unbothered as they are, it would be the height of hubris to assume the Network is an unfeeling, neutral force with a chip on its tendrils towards people. They feel deeply. Emotions were forged from fungi, in fact. Foolishly consuming them allowed these emotions to develop in people. They are the predecessors to everything you have ever felt. They're just not angry. But they are hungry.

The more unsettled you are, the tastier you get

There are two things to say about all of this. The first, regarding why they are not embittered with grudges, is that anger does not serve their purposes. To them, it is useless, because they are too busy. Getting angry would waste time. It may seem like they have plenty of time, but that's only because you will live one ten billionth the time the Network will. You don't understand how precious time is when you won't live to see the end of all things.

The second thing, regarding why they bolster vengeance, is this does serve their needs. I want you to imagine the trees (but also all of the plants) as a few trillion potential instigators, that at any time, when the Network demands it, can be utilized to foment conflict. Why would they do this? Simple, it serves their prime directive.

Desires

They have been here since the very beginning. They witnessed sapience. They spread until there was nothing it did not know. They gifted magic. They taught language. They remember when people took from them. They see when the trees are harmed. You'd think they care. They don't. Not really. It is a conditional bond.

The fungi seek to breed conflict for one self-serving reason: to distract. You see, there has only ever been one true goal that the fungi exist for, and that is to eat. To eat everything. They know at one point that they will have eaten everything. They know that would lead to their death. They don't fear death. They are just too gluttonous to stop before they have to. 

They've gotten good at creating conflict too. You should know; they are directly responsible for every major war - both past and yet to occur - and indirectly responsible for every problem you ever faced or will face. And they thrive because swords are inevitably drawn, and scapegoats are sent to slaughter (and then sent to the ground to be feasted upon).

Everything returns to the Great Mold in the end

And it is easy for them to obscure their role. You thought that servitude was so apparent? They can control with precision how conspicuous they want their slaves to be. A simple spread of mycelium netting around the brain of a diplomat is all it takes to forge a psychic link that massages the disagreements out until the only thoughts are those of the Network, primed to ignite a war. Of course, they can permit other thoughts to occur as needed. They are very good at hiding. And anyone who becomes the wiser is disposed of.

But they operate on geological timescales. Thus, their active intercessions are not frequent by our definitions. Not that they need to be. The fallout of great wars is enough to fulfill their needs for centuries at a time.

You could say with reasonable accuracy that the intelligence of the fungi is such that they can nearly predict the future. They didn't spend over billions of years perfecting their efficiency only to gain no benefit. You could also say that they are more akin to Gods than mere matter. A malicious, apathetic God, but an omnipotent being nonetheless.

It is tempting to want to resist. The logistics of successfully doing so would be unachievable by most (any, if we're honest). Best to settle in and enjoy the world it wants you to see.

Afterword

This got long.

I've always thought fungi were very creepy and I'm still not certain why people aren't more afraid.

This also got a bit more rambly than I was hoping, but I hope you enjoyed.

As for using this in a campaign: I probably wouldn't make the fungus the big bad. I mean it is, but it gets into an unwinnable scenario pretty quickly. You could dial it back. At least to the point where maybe they're not literally responsible for everything wrong in your life. At any rate, if you used it as presented, the conflicts should still feel real. Characters must be unaware of this truth. If they ever did learn of this, not only would the fungi know and attempt to act, but if they tried to make some verbal declaration with this knowledge, they would doom everyone around them. This is at least an evil act.

I have thoughts of how to use this in an Underdark type-setting, much dialed back, where the "core" of the main consciousness is located. That could be a splintered mind that developed animosity independently and would be a viable big bad I think.

I usually think of this as the malicious backdrop by which all other things are compared. The events may be happening in a pseudo-predetermined manner, but if you're never aware of it in the canon, everything you feel and think is legitimate. I view it as a slightly more active form of the heat death of the universe. Except if it was intellectual and hungry.

On another note, this fungus is pretty easy to change into a being of pride, commanding worship from its slaves. A spore-themed religion complete with cults and psychic links could be a compelling enemy.

They also have special interactions with the Treants that were described in the article on trees, but I'll get to that at a later date.

Maybe.