I think we all talk to ourselves sometimes.

You’re trying to remember where you put your wallet, or you’re psyching yourself up for a meeting with the boss. You’re trying to work through some thorny problem, and if no one is there to bounce ideas off of, you’ll just have to use the inside of your own head to do it.

As long as you don’t start violently disagreeing with yourself, you should be all right.

And if you do? Well, that’s the first sign that you might be an Ettin.

Ettins are a variety of Giant in D&D, and there’s a lot of ways you can use them in your game. If you need a big, meaty sack of hit points, of course, they’re not bad to throw at your players. In addition to having two attacks, they also have some notable resistances to mental interference. Since they have two heads, there are quite a few useful conditions that can’t affect them, so if your Monk relies on Stunning Strike, or your Wizard uses charm spells on the regular, they might have trouble with the Ettin.

But just using them as combat meatbags would be a waste. These are two minds stuck on one body, and two minds that aren’t very clever at that. If your table needs a bit of comedy or existential dread, an Ettin can provide.

For example, what happens if an Ettin has been born under a strange star? Their usual intelligence has been mystically boosted from 6 to, well, something much higher. Suddenly they’re a tactical genius, able to see paths to victory at all times!

However, the two heads disagree with each other in the violent, furious way that only two very smart people can disagree.

As an NPC, this unusually intelligent Ettin opens up some great opportunities. Perhaps they’re your Quest Giver, with a very important task for your party… but the two heads disagree on exactly what the quest is. Or it could be a local crime boss, having taken over through sheer strength and brains. Depending on which head is calling the shots, though their plans and strategies might shift quickly, making them – and their whole gang – wildly unpredictable.

An unexpected but fun Ettin could be the one that’s really externalized its self-loathing. There are two heads, but they can’t stand each other. They bicker constantly, to the point where, at least once a day, one of them threatens to saw the other off. Think of The Odd Couple or Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf for some examples of couples who can’t stand each other, and can’t leave.

For bonus anguish, the Ettin might only resolve their differences in their final moments — a last-minute reconciliation that casts your players’ victory in a darker light.

If you want to lean more into making your players very sad – and who doesn’t – you could try something like an Old Guard Ettin. They’ve been guarding a long-forgotten tomb or artefact for centuries, following the orders that have been passed to them. The trouble is, the lore of this place hasn’t come from another person in an age. Now, one head reminds the other what they’re doing.

“It’s your turn to remember today,” one head says, and depending on your tone, it can land as a punchline—or a gut punch. They’ve been passing orders between themselves for so long, the original mission may have been lost ages ago. All they know is that what they’re guarding mustn’t fall into the wrong hands

Which, of course, includes your Party.

In a similar, but even sadder way, what if one head of the Ettin is beginning to… fade? Your Party sneaks up on the Ettin as they’re arguing – maybe over loot or food, it doesn’t really matter. One head keeps losing track of the conversation, though. Forgetting what they were talking about.

The other head grows more frantic, confused, and protective, just as anyone would if their partner’s mind was slipping. This could easily transition your scene from funny to sadly tragic, and hopefully will encourage your party to make the choice between helping the creature or ending its suffering. If they choose to help, there’s no end to the narrative threads that might unravel. Maybe it’s a curse or an environmental effect. Maybe it’s just age or illness. The quest to cure the Ettin could bring an interesting new dimension to your game.

The best way to play an Ettin is to look at normal human relationships. Love, hate, indifference, confusion – there are so many ways people interact, and the Ettin doesn’t have to be an exception. The difference is that these two can’t escape each other. They’re bound until death, and that should give you ways to play with tragedy or humor, engaging with a range of human experience far wider than most other monsters in the Manual might manage.