Imagine if Dungeons & Dragons had its own Avengers: Endgame—a grand, time-traveling finale that tied together years of mysteries and left players in awe. It almost happened, but we’ll never see it. Instead, what could have been 5th edition’s crowning achievement became its biggest missed opportunity. Here’s the story of how D&D’s grand time-travel epic vanished into thin air—and why it still haunts fans today.
If you’ve delved into the published adventures of D&D 5th edition, you’ve likely stumbled upon a recurring enigma: mysterious black obelisks scattered across iconic locations like Chult, Icewind Dale, and Phandalin. These weren’t just throwaway details or nods to 2001: A Space Odyssey—they were breadcrumbs leading to a monumental finale that never materialized. But why? The answer lies in a shift behind the scenes, as revealed in a candid interview with former D&D creative director Chris Perkins.
During a discussion about Rime of the Frostmaiden, one of 5e’s most beloved adventures, Perkins shed light on the obelisks’ purpose. Crafted by an ancient, enigmatic species called the Weavers, these structures were infused with time magic—a failsafe to reverse catastrophic events. The long-extinct Netherese Empire had discovered them but failed to activate them in time to save their civilization. Rime of the Frostmaiden hinted that Vecna, the lich-god, had stolen one of these obelisks, teasing their role in his ultimate bid for power. But here’s where it gets controversial: When Vecna: Eve of Ruin arrived in 2024 as 5e’s final adventure before the D&D 2024 revamp, the obelisks were nowhere to be found. Instead, Vecna’s grand plan was replaced by a generic multiverse plot, leaving fans scratching their heads.
When asked about the obelisks’ disappearance, Perkins’ explanation was straightforward: “Different people were in charge of the adventure design,” he said. As he stepped back from hands-on product work to focus on other areas of the business, the narrative thread unraveled. “We sort of lost the plot,” he admitted. While Perkins was specifically referring to the obelisks, his words carry a deeper irony. What was meant to be 5e’s triumphant finale became its most glaring disappointment.
And this is the part most people miss: Perkins’ original vision was nothing short of epic. “We would culminate the story by going back in time to fight the Netherese Empire,” he revealed. This idea was teased at the end of Rime of the Frostmaiden, where players could activate an obelisk and travel to Netheril’s heyday. What I saw as a shocking twist was actually the seed of a much larger project—a time-travel adventure unlike anything D&D had done before.
Perkins was particularly excited about this concept, envisioning a campaign that felt fresh and distinct. “We could explore a style of magic that felt different from contemporary magic,” he said, drawing parallels to Expedition to the Barrier Peaks, a classic adventure where players encounter a crashed spaceship and futuristic technology. Imagine a D&D version of Avengers: Endgame, where heroes restore the timeline after Vecna’s victory by journeying back to Netheril’s golden age. It would have been the ultimate payoff for a mystery that had captivated players since the first obelisk appeared in Princes of the Apocalypse in 2015.
Instead, we got Vecna: Eve of Ruin—a lackluster sequence of fetch quests that failed to capture the imagination. Even worse, the obelisks’ story was left unresolved, despite concept art being created for a Netheril-focused finale. Perkins’ departure from Wizards of the Coast for Darrington Press marked a paradigm shift, and while D&D revisited Netheril in 2025’s Netheril’s Fall, it was a far cry from the time-travel epic he had envisioned.
In the end, the black obelisks didn’t just vanish from D&D—they symbolized the end of an era. What started as a slow-burn mystery meant to reward dedicated players became a stark reminder of how fragile shared storytelling can be within a corporate structure. But what do you think? Was the time-travel finale a pipe dream, or did D&D miss its chance at a truly legendary conclusion? Let’s debate in the comments—and maybe, just maybe, we can keep the spirit of that lost adventure alive.
