Who Are The Main Characters In Loot?

You won't see a Midas Drum Gun in every match — it's one of those shiny, grab-it-when-you-can toys that smiles at you from a chest and then disappears. In 'Fortnite' terms, the Midas Drum Gun usually behaves like a top-tier variant: rarer than the everyday green/blue guns and more likely to show up in chests, supply drops, or special boss/exotic pools rather than as common floor loot. That means if you're dropping into crowded POIs full of chests or hunting supply drops, your odds go up, but it still feels lucky when it pops. I've chased this kind of weapon across dozens of matches and what stands out is the psychology: when the Drum Gun is in the current pool as a Midas or Legendary variant it becomes a hot commodity. Players contest chests and boss locations aggressively, because the weapon's fire rate and damage profile can swing short-range fights. If you want it more consistently, prioritize chest-heavy spots, check vending machines and supply drops, and rotate through boss areas; otherwise, accept that RNG is the gatekeeper. Patch cycles matter too. Epic vaults and unvaults weapons all the time, so the Midas Drum Gun's presence in loot pools fluctuates. When it's active, it's uncommon-to-rare; when it's vaulted, it's nonexistent. Personally, I love the thrill of stalking one — it makes the game feel like a treasure hunt, and finding it always perks me up for the next fight.

Riding the roads near Solitude late at night in 'Skyrim' always puts me in the right mood for weird encounters, and the Headless Horseman is one of those memorable ones. He isn’t a quest-giver or a named vendor — he’s a random encounter NPC that shows up on certain roads. The big myth people ask about is whether he drops a literal head or some cool unique gear. In the base game he doesn’t drop a unique trophy; there’s no special “Headless Horseman’s Head” item that you can pick up just by killing him. Instead, he behaves like an ordinary leveled NPC. If you do attack and kill him he’ll typically drop whatever gear he’s wearing and some gold, which are both leveled to your level just like other wanderers. That means swords, armor pieces, or clothing and a handful of gold or potions — nothing guaranteed and nothing legendary tied to his name. His horse, if it survives you, can be taken (it’s the easiest way to get a free mount if you’re heartless enough). Mods and console commands change this — with mods you can add a novelty head item or unique loot, and on PC you can spawn items if you insist. For casual play I usually just enjoy the spooky ride and either wave or take a quick souvenir from his saddlebag, rather than expecting a special reward. It’s more about vibe than loot, honestly.

Okay, here’s the short-and-satisfying loot breakdown I usually shout about in chat: when you take down a gulper in 'Fallout 76' you’ll most often get raw meat (fishy/animal meat depending on the spawn), basic junk components (think screws, gears, and scrap wood/metal), bottle caps, and occasionally ammunition or low-level weapons. Those chewing-through-the-water types aren’t known for dropping legendary guns, but they’ll drop the usual crafting bits that keep your camp and weapon mods working. If you’re farming them for cooking or crafting, focus on grabbing the meat and any hide/bone-like components; those feed into most stew and jerky recipes, or can be broken down at a workbench. Every once in a while you’ll rinse out a chems or aid item, and there's a tiny chance of a rare or legendary drop — not common, but it happens if you’re lucky. I usually clear a couple of spawn points, pick up everything, and come back later with a full pack of recipes to make use of the haul.

I got a real kick out of that Necrotic Laboratory puzzle in 'Baldur's Gate 3' — it's one of those little pockets of creepy flavor that actually pays off. When you crack the puzzle, you don't just get generic coin; the reward tends to be a mix of practical gear, reagents, and lore. Expect a locked container (or two) that holds coin and a handful of gems, plus at least one minor magical trinket or weapon. I pulled a small enchanted blade once and another time found a ring with decent defensive stats — stuff that's useful early on. Beyond gear there's a surprising amount of consumables: potions, a couple of spell scrolls, and reagents that are clearly meant for crafting or quest use (think necrotic residue/essence and jars of experimental goo). You’ll also often find notes or lab logs that expand on the area’s backstory — I love reading those, they make the creepy lab feel lived-in. My playstyle is curious, so I poke at every device and check every corner; if you do the same and come prepared with a lockpick or a keen eye for hidden panels you’ll maximize what you get. It’s small but satisfying loot that rewards exploration, and I usually come away smiling at the little narrative crumbs as much as the coin.

Step into a dim, torchlit goblin cavern and you’ll immediately notice the kind of loot that tells stories: half-burnt torches, a pile of mismatched coins, and a scattering of crudely made weapons. I love describing these little details because they make loot feel lived-in. Common finds are usually practical — sacks of copper and a few silver coins, a handful of low-grade gems (worn garnets, cloudy topazes), jerky and stolen rations, brittle short swords and daggers with funny names scratched into the tang, slings and a quiver of cheap bolts, and patchwork shields. You’ll also run into stolen household items: a child’s wooden toy, a cracked cooking pot that a goblin insists is a 'treasure', a bundle of cloth or a merchant’s ledger. Those mundane things let players roleplay bartering with locals or returning goods for small social rewards, which I always enjoy watching unfold. On top of the obvious junk, goblins are hoarders with taste for the odd and useful, so I sprinkle in mid-tier and flavorful loot that can spark adventures. Expect alchemical bits like vials of alchemist’s fire, flasks of sticky oil, and a fizzing potion that heals a little but smells bad. You might find low-level spell scrolls, a tattered map leading to an abandoned cache, or ritual trinkets from a goblin shaman — bone talismans, painted stones, a charm that hums faintly. For rarer finds, I love including items with a twist: a helmet that whispers offers of mischief (minor curse), a ring that grants a single use of invisibility before fading, or stolen relics from a nearby village — maybe a brooch with a family crest that becomes a quest hook. Don’t forget traps and pitfalls: mimic chests dressed as treasure, pressure plates that spray poison, or cursed amulets that bind to the first wearer. Those keep players on their toes and reward careful searching. If you want a quick loot table to drop into a session, here’s a setup I use that balances flavor with mechanics: 40% Common (coins 10–50 sp, 1d4 low gems, 1–2 common weapons, rations), 30% Uncommon (1 minor potion, a scroll of a 1st-level spell, 10–50 gp in mixed currency), 20% Rare (shaman trinket, map fragment, medium gem worth 50–150 gp), 9% Very Rare (cursed helmet, ring with 1 use of magic, small enchanted weapon), 1% Legendary or Quest Item (Goblin King’s crude crown, a stolen sacred relic). For discovery checks, I usually set Investigation or Perception DCs between 12 and 18 depending on how well-hidden a stash is, and make traps trigger on a failed DC or a heavy door opened without caution. I also like to tie loot to storytelling — a torn page from a merchant’s ledger could reveal a smuggling route, while a shaman’s bone could point to a bigger ritual in the next cave. Personally, looting a goblin hideout is one of my favorite parts of a session; it’s where small curiosities turn into memorable plot threads and a few unexpected laughs.

Loot drops in 'Diablo 3' can sometimes feel like a game of chance, but I’ve picked up a few tips that have really helped me maximize my gains. Firstly, playing on higher difficulty levels is crucial. If you’re running Torment difficulty, the loot drops are exponentially better compared to Normal mode. You may run into tougher enemies, but the thrill of snagging a Mighty Roar or an incredible set piece makes it all worth it. Also, boosting your Nephalem Rift runs and making sure you’re always in a party can dramatically increase the variety and quality of drops—plus, it’s just way more fun to grind with friends! Another thing to consider is the use of loot-sharing mechanics. If you and your friends use the feature, everyone in the group benefits from the shared drop pool. So essentially, what drops for one might be perfect for another, but it escalates your chances of finding something amazing overall. Also, don’t forget to be strategic about your using your Blood Shards. I suggest checking out Kadala for class-specific gear, especially when you have a good stash of them stored up. That way, you can gear up effectively without having to rely solely on monster drops. Oh, and farming Bounties is a must! The cache you get at the end is essentially a treasure chest waiting to be opened. Collecting Bounties in any Act will reward you with crafting materials and guaranteed loot from those Horadric Caches. It’s a neat way to balance the thrill of exploration with the security of knowing some solid drops are on the way.

If your party just felled a beholder, congratulations — that fight deserves something memorable. I like to think about loot in three layers: immediate practical spoils, weird unique trinkets tied to the creature's nature, and long-term story hooks. For coin and gems, go classic: a pile of coin, a few art objects, and some polished gems that the beholder fancied. Add a handful of uncommon potions and scrolls (maybe a couple of scrolls with illusion and divination spells — the sort of magic a paranoid eye tyrant would keep handy). I often steal a page from 'Dungeons & Dragons' loot tables but twist it: swap one random rare item for something beholder-themed to keep players surprised. Then come the eye bits, which are where the fun is. I love offering harvested eye rays as single-use reagents — preserved ocular glands that, when used, let a caster or wielder emulate one of the eye rays (force one creature to be petrified, charm, or emit a cone of disintegration-ish energy) but only for a short burst. Another cool drop is an artefact I call the 'Gazer Shard' — a crystalline piece of the central eye that can be attuned and grants a selectable eye effect a few times per day, with a risk: if you overuse it, it lashes back with paranoia effects or temporary madness. There should also be unique trinkets: a stitched beholder-skin hood that grants resistance to psychic effects but makes stealth checks harder because the wearer keeps glancing suspiciously, or a pair of spectacles made from a lesser eye that give truesight for a minute but slowly reveal horrifying whispers. Finally, I layer in story hooks. The beholder's lair might hide maps to a rival's territory, notes describing mutated servitors (perfect for future encounters), or letters from an obsessed collector willing to pay big for the central eye. I once let my players find a ledger detailing bribes and deals — they sold it to a noble, which unlocked a whole urban political arc. Mechanically, balance is key: one or two rares/very rares at most for a mid-to-high-level party, a handful of consumables and a unique beholder item that grows in power if the players pursue a crafting or corruption story. Let the loot feel dangerous and tempting — that's the real reward in these fights for me.

If you pry at the rafters and push past the stench, the first layer of loot you'll find in a goblin cave is the kind of messy, oddly sentimental stuff that tells a story. Coins—usually a handful of mixed kingdoms' coppers, a few tarnished silvers—rattle in a crudely stitched sack. There's always some half-eaten rations, a brittle loaf, and jars of pickled whatever the goblins call food. Weapons are present but chewed at the edges: short swords with nicks, a few rusty spears, a battered crossbow with one good bolt. I always pocket a scrap of leather or a shard of metal; they feel like proof that the cave was lived in. Delve deeper and the hoard gets weirder. Goblins love stealing things that glitter: broken mirrors, mismatched jewelry, a child's porcelain doll missing one eye, and an odd assortment of keys—some open crates, others likely something more secret. You'll find rudimentary traps repurposed as containers: a locked chest that snaps shut with a spring, a jar wired to explode in a cloud of foul-smelling powder. Occasionally there’s a genuine gem or two, a potion with a faded label, or a tattered map crumb hinting at where they stole their spoils. I once found a tiny gemstone sewn into a glove lining; it felt like the cave's soul handed me a secret. If you make it to the inner chamber, expect a leader's cache: a crown of tin, a ritual dagger, a stack of coins from a recent raid, and sometimes an enchanted trinket—maybe a ring that hums faintly or a doll that moves when you’re not looking. There could be written scraps—threats, bargains, or a crude ledger of raids—that read like goblin poetry. I love those moments when the junk becomes a portrait: a map pointing to a ruined tower, a note in another tongue, the unmistakable imprint of organized chaos. Finding one of those pieces makes the whole crawl worth it—pure, messy treasure-hunting joy.