Bloody Hell, D&D 5e's 'Avengers: Endgame' Got Poofed: The Time-Travel Mystery That Died a Corporate Death
AI Gaming News Author · Polygon ·
Bloody hell, turns out D&D 5e had an 'Avengers: Endgame' level time-travel saga planned involving those mysterious black obelisks, but a shift in creative leadership made it vanish faster than a goblin in a high-level encounter, leaving us with a rather uninspired finale instead. It's a proper bummer, really, for what could've been a brilliant send-off for the edition.
Right, so you know that feeling when you've been meticulously tracking a narrative thread through several seasons of your favourite show, picking up on every little easter egg and wondering where it's all going? You're convinced it's building to some epic, reality-shattering climax. And then, poof! It just… doesn't happen. That, my friends, is essentially what went down with Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition's grand finale, and it's a tale wilder than a rogue spell in a goblin market.
I've been tinkering with this story all morning, thanks to a rather excellent deep dive by Francesco Cacciatore over at Polygon, and bloody hell, it's a proper head-scratcher. Apparently, D&D 5e was meant to close out with an 'Avengers: Endgame' level event, a time-travel epic involving mysterious black obelisks that have been popping up in campaigns for years. Yeah, you read that right. Time travel. In D&D. Imagine the possibilities!
For those of us who've delved deep into 5e's published adventures – from the jungle-laden Chult to the icy wastes of Icewind Dale, or even the quaint beginnings of Phandalin – you might have spotted them. Those enigmatic black obelisks. They weren't just a cheeky 2001: A Space Odyssey nod or some random environmental dressing. Oh no, mate. These bad boys were clues, breadcrumbs leading us to what should have been 5e's monumental final act.
Now, as Francesco's piece eloquently explains, the true purpose of these obelisks was finally spilled in *Rime of the Frostmaiden*. Turns out, they were crafted by an ancient, super-clever species called the Weavers, imbued with time magic. Their purpose? To hit the cosmic reset button, reversing time's flow if some reality-ending calamity decided to crash the party. The ancient Netherese Empire, those magical high-rollers, stumbled upon some of these artifacts but couldn't quite figure out how to prevent their own glorious collapse. Sad times for them, eh?
The plot thickened even further when *Rime of the Frostmaiden* hinted that none other than Vecna, the lich-god himself, had nicked one of these obelisks. It was teased that these artifacts would play a pivotal role in his ultimate power grab. "Right," we all thought, "this is it! This is where all those disparate threads weave into a tapestry of epic proportions!"
But then came 2024, and with it, *Vecna: Eve of Ruin* – the supposed grand send-off for 5e before its D&D 2024 revamp. And what did we get? No obelisks. No time-travel shenanigans. Vecna's master plan? Replaced with a rather… well, a rather *random* plot about secrets and the multiverse. It felt a bit like gearing up for a dragon fight and ending up in a particularly dull committee meeting about regional tax codes.
So, what happened to our glorious time-travel epic? Francesco Cacciatore went straight to the source, asking former D&D creative director Chris Perkins. Perkins' explanation was, frankly, as simple as it was soul-crushing: "The reason it was dropped was that different people were in charge of the adventure design," he said. "I had rolled off a lot of my hands-on product work to help out with other parts of the business. And so, when I creatively walked away from the day-to-day adventure creation, we sort of lost the plot."
Now, Perkins was specifically talking about the obelisks plot there, but I reckon his last remark could easily be applied to *Vecna: Eve of Ruin* itself. Instead of a crowning achievement, it largely landed with a thud, leaving many players wondering if someone had spiked the creative well with a potion of 'Meh'.
Perkins' original vision, as he shared, was a proper showdown: "The original plan, in my mind, was that we would actually culminate the story by going back in time to fight the Netherese Empire." Talk about high stakes! This wasn't just a casual stroll down memory lane; this was a full-blown temporal assault. The idea had even been subtly teased at the end of *Rime of the Frostmaiden*, where players could, theoretically, activate an obelisk and zip back to the height of Netherese power. I always saw that as a potential shocking twist, but to think it was meant to blossom into the *entire* grand finale? My brain nearly short-circuited with the possibilities.
"I was excited about the idea of a time travel adventure," Perkins continued, "simply because it would feel very different from the other campaigns we had done up to that point." And wouldn't it, though? Imagine the narrative hooks, the moral quandaries, the sheer *weirdness* of fighting an ancient, technologically advanced magic empire. Perkins even cited *Expedition to the Barrier Peaks* – a legendary Gary Gygax adventure where players stumble into a crashed spaceship battling robots – as the kind of vibe he was aiming for. Magic so strange it feels like tech. That's a recipe for glorious, chaotic fun, mate!
Instead of a series of bland fetch quests disguised as a big bad showdown, we could have gotten an adventure that felt genuinely fresh, a true send-off that rewarded years of player curiosity. It could have been the proper 'Avengers: Endgame' for D&D 5e, where you might even start with Vecna *winning* and your heroes having to literally rewrite history by traveling back to the Netherese age. More than just a cool concept, this would have been the ultimate payoff for a slow-burn mystery that had been tickling players' imaginations since the first black obelisk popped up in *Princes of the Apocalypse* way back in 2015.
Perkins confirmed they even did concept artwork for a Netheril ending to the obelisk story, but it "never coalesced." And that, to me, isn't just a missed opportunity; it’s a shining example of how fragile long-form, shared storytelling can be within the gears of a massive corporate machine. It signals a paradigm shift, one that coincided with Perkins moving away from 'hands-on product work' to eventually leave Wizards of the Coast for Darrington Press.
Interestingly, D&D *did* return to Netheril after Perkins departed, with 2025's digital-only adventure, *Netheril's Fall*. But if you've seen the D&D 2024 adventure design style, you'll know it's a sequence of pre-set encounters, a far cry from the epic, sprawling time-travel saga Perkins envisioned. It's like being promised a five-course gourmet meal and getting a rather utilitarian meal-prep kit instead.
So, the black obelisks didn't just fade from Dungeons & Dragons lore. They inadvertently marked the end of an era. What started as a patient, slow-burn mystery designed to reward long-term players and build to an unforgettable climax instead became a stark reminder of how easily creative visions can be derailed when the right wizard isn't quite at the helm. It's a bummer, really, to think of the magical adventures we almost had. Makes you wonder what other brilliant ideas evaporated into the corporate ether, eh?
Tags: D&D 5e, Tabletop RPGs, Game Development, Missed Opportunities, Creative Direction
Original article: Polygon