Saturday, 30 July 2022

DW Monsters: Peladon

The next story that we come to is The Curse of Peladon, which features no fewer than four different kinds of alien. Chief among them are the Ice Warriors, which I have already covered. Of the three new introductions, Arcturus’ abilities are more a product of the device he is using to move around, which must be customisable, so I’ll leave him out. That leaves Alpha Centauri and Aggedor.

Both reappear a couple of seasons later in The Monster of Peladon, and Alpha Centauri also has a cameo appearance (voiced by the same actress, no less) in the Twelfth Doctor story Empress of Mars. To date, Alpha Centauri has also appeared in five audios and one original novel, all set on Peladon, and the race has been referenced in a number of other novels. Aggedor is slightly less popular, appearing in two novels and one audio – although in their case, it’s different members of the same species rather than the same individual.

Tuesday, 26 July 2022

D&D Monsters: Mimics

The 1E Monster Manual includes several monsters that are essentially animate traps of one kind or another - floors that try to eat you, ceilings that try to eat you, stalactites that try to eat you, and so on. All of them with bland descriptive names rather than even an attempt at something atmospheric. The only one of these to remain consistently in the core rulebooks, however, is the mimic. Which is essentially a treasure chest that tries to eat you. It's certainly a contender for "silliest monster in D&D" (although it has some pretty stiff opposition) and it should come as no surprise that it's original to the game. Indeed, it's tailor-made for the "dungeon crawl" genre that D&D basically invented, since it makes even less sense in any other context than it does in that one.

So... yup, time for the mimic.


1E

As originally described, the mimic is a living creature that, for no particular reason, can disguise itself as anything made from wood or stone. Or, given that the picture clearly shows one pretending to be a treasure chest with rivets and a lock in it, presumably anything made from metal as well. It's possible that the fact that they're only encountered in pitch-dark dungeons occasionally illuminated by flickering torch-light means that they don't need to be terribly effective at imitating things to get away with it, but the implication is that they're pretty skilled - there's no indication given of a potential victim having any chance at all of realising they're fake.

They're probably less convincing to the touch, given that they have a hide equivalent to tough leather, which is hardly going to trick you into thinking it's solid stone. But, of course, they don't need to be, because, by the time you touch them, it's too late. We're told that they attack by extruding a pseudopod, which is exactly what we see in the picture, so there's evidently some flexibility to their body. The mimic in the illustration also lacks any visible eyes, mouth, or other evident bodily features because that would rather defeat the disguise, but presumably, it can form them as and when it needs them. After all, if it doesn't have eyes at all, it isn't going to be frightened of light, which (like some real-world subterranean creatures) it apparently is.

We're also told that there are two different kinds of creature referred to as mimics. One is comparatively large and has about the same intelligence as a dog. The smaller one is as intelligent as a regular human, and can speak its own language. Why it bothers when it's entirely solitary and will therefore never, under any circumstances, have anyone else to speak the language with, is a bit of a mystery, as is how it manages to learn all the other languages it can supposedly converse in.

2E

The illustration in 2E shows a more sophisticated form of pseudopod, ending in a pair of clawed tentacles, and has gone far enough into its attack mode to reveal a large mouth, lined with sharp carnivorous teeth and possessing a vertebrate-like tongue. On the other hand, it specifically lacks eyes, having photosensitive skin that can also sense body heat.

We're told that its hide is, in fact, stone-like and has a natural grey colour (this implies it must have a natural, resting, shape as well... but what it is we don't know). The armour class remains equivalent to tough leather, though, which may partly be because the thing can't really move about very much, but also seems to imply that the stony hide... isn't a very thick stony hide. Or perhaps it's brittle, like slate.

We're told that the non-sentient mimics are actively evil, which arguably raises some philosophical questions about the nature of evil. Oh, and mimics are immune to puddings. Which makes more sense in context than it sounds.

3E

In 3E, the unintelligent mimics have disappeared, and the physical size stated for the creature matches that given for the smaller, brighter ones in the earlier edition. They weigh about two tons, which may sound a lot, but actually isn't when you consider that they have a volume of 150 cubic feet (4,250 litres). This works out to a density of just under 0.5 which is much less than we would expect for something made of flesh and blood... presumably, there are substantial air gaps inside it.

Their hide is tougher than before; it's hardly equivalent to plate steel, but it's on a par with mail armour, which is at least reasonably effective at warding off weapons. The text continues to describe their limbs as pseudopods, but the one in the picture is imitating humanoid arms, complete with fingers and thumbs and what appear to be claws. Indeed, the limbs look as if they have an internal skeleton... they probably don't, though, so they are likely much more flexible than they appear. Mimics are incredibly strong and physically resilient and their movement rate, while still dismal, is slightly better than it was before. They now speak Common, which at least allows some chance that somebody might be able to hold a conversation with one in its native language.

5E

The mimic in the picture here is still pretending to be a treasure chest (we're assured they can disguise themselves as other things, but pictures of them doing so are comparatively rare). It still has pseudopods, although it isn't extruding them in the illustration, unless that's what the incredibly long tongue is supposed to be. It has far more teeth than in 2E, although, given that the form is mutable, that may not mean much. Oddly, though, it does have eyes - they must be concealed when they're closed, but that they're there at all is a change from 2E. 

The hide has dropped down to being equivalent to thick leather again, and the speed has significantly increased, even if it still can't catch a running human. (Not having legs can't be a boon there). More importantly, the intelligence rating has dropped down to somewhere close to that of a gorilla - higher than the dog-like rating of the larger mimics in the first two editions, but well below that of the smart ones. There are apparently a few exceptions that are just about able to speak with humans, but they're rare, implying quite a downturn in the braininess stakes.

While it's just about possible to speculate as to what, say, a roper might be, a mimic, as described, is too weird to make any real stab at it. It's pretty clear that it doesn't resemble, even loosely, and real-world creature. Yet it is clearly meant to be a biological being of some kind, rather than a construct or demonic entity or whatever. In 5E, it isn't even an aberration, but merely a "monstrosity", a general term for living beings that aren't exceptionally alien.

In 2E, we're told that mimics have identifiable internal organs, so they aren't simply amorphous blobs that can take on other shapes. The fact that they're so mutable, and that their limbs are "pseudopods" counts strongly against the idea that they have an internal skeleton, and, in most editions, their outer hide isn't hard enough to be the short chitinous exoskeleton of an arthropod or calcareous shell of a mollusc, either. Not all molluscs have a shell, of course, and there are many other kinds of invertebrate in existence, some of which do, indeed, have a sort of leathery outer surface - although they don't have a habit of morphing into treasure chests or otherwise easily changing their shape.

The fact is, however, that we have nothing much to go on when considering what those internal organs might be, let alone how they might be arranged. There's a mouth, with teeth and a tongue, so there's going to be a digestive tube of some kind, although the mouth is so large that a stomach seems unnecessary. By the same logic, in addition to the orifices we know of, there must surely be an anus concealed somewhere on the body. This also implies excretory organs of some kind, although they don't necessarily need a separate opening.

The thing must breathe, and its size suggests lungs and a circulatory system with some kind of pump - although neither would have to look like the vertebrate versions. The nostrils appear to be concealed, so it's likely that the animal can hold its breath for extensive periods of time while it's inactive - something that's quite plausible when you consider that whales can do so for hours on end while swimming and actively searching for food, rather than just sitting motionless waiting for it come past.

The mimic's intelligence may vary, but it's high enough for it to require a brain and a nervous system, whether or not it also has eyes. Other organs are certainly possible, but the arrangement and/or shape may be alien enough to make some of them hard to identify.

Much of the internal body is likely composed of muscle, in addition to any air spaces to lighten its body as the 3E weight implies. But one of the things that's most notable about the mimic is its ability to change its shape, so whatever organs it possesses must be able to be compressed and re-arranged to suit its needs. There must be some limitations on a mimic's ability to, well, mimic, but we know that it can't change its overall volume or body mass, and this is significant when we consider that, supposedly, its favourite form other than a treasure chest is as a door.

Since the door doesn't need to actually open, it's probably much thicker than an actual door, extruding itself into whichever space it assumes potential prey won't be advancing from. But even so, it's surely flatter than a trunk, meaning that it can squeeze its organs into a new shape and arrangement when it needs to. Quite how far it can do isn't stated in the core rules, although something like a very long and narrow rope is probably beyond it without giving itself the equivalent of a hernia.

Mimics are said to be completely solitary - even in 1E, which often has creatures living in small groups. So they're probably asexual. 2E confirms this, and says that they reproduce by fission, which is a bit unlikely for anything so large and internally complex. However, some kind of asexual budding is a possibility, with the offspring being concealed inside the body until it is large enough to be extruded and wander off on its own.

The ecology of the mimic is, of course, completely bonkers given its extreme artificial specificity. 2E states that mimics were originally created by wizards and so were specifically designed as organic traps to place in the subterranean complexes that such people always feel the need to construct. What the heck they created them from is a bit of a mystery, but that they aren't constructs even to the extent that a flesh golem is implies that it must have been something (or several somethings merged). 

If we're willing to accept that wizards go around building dungeons and that they assume that treasure-seekers will break into them at some point and be distracted by a fake chest then... sure, making one that eats people isn't totally unreasonable. You can imagine that the Ancient Egyptians who put traps in their tombs to stop robbers might have done something like this if they thought they could get away with it... and if they could supply enough food for the mimic to survive on during the long waits between break-ins. (5E says that, looking as they do, mimics can be assured of  "a steady stream of prey". Dude, if your home is getting broken into that frequently, you should move to a lower-crime neighbourhood. We know you can afford it).

But how do mimics get from one dungeon to another? They don't seem to have the ability to pretend to be anything other than furniture, which is decidedly limiting as a form of camouflage. Yet if the things live worldwide, and aren't being created all the time, as golems and undead are (and even 5E, which is normally quite keen on this sort of explanation, doesn't go there for mimics) then travel they must. And know where to go.

Perhaps some dungeons-are-us delivery service is shipping them across the world to their clients.

Tuesday, 19 July 2022

D&D Monsters: Shambling Mounds

The most obvious inspiration for the shambling mound is the DC horror character Swamp Thing, a plant-based monster popular enough to appear in a rather naff '80s film and a far superior '20s television mini-series. Swamp Thing first appeared in 1971, well before the shambling mound's debut in 0E, so the timing works, although that doesn't necessarily mean it isn't a coincidence. Notably, for instance, the shambling mound is literally a mass of vegetation, which is a fair description of Swamp Thing... but only following the characters' reinvention by Alan Moore, five years after the Monster Manual. Since there isn't much further resemblance between the two, it seems likely that the shambling mound is an original creation, with no apparent antecedents in myth or legend.

Saturday, 9 July 2022

DW Monsters: Ogrons


The remaining two stories of season 8 are:

  •          The Colony in Space – apart from their leader, the aliens here do not seem very different from humans in their basic biology, although they do have specific skill sets
  •          The Daemons – so far as we can tell, most, perhaps all, of the Daemons’ special abilities come from their near-magical technology, so I will pass on them

This brings us to season 9 and Day of the Daleks which, apart from including the obvious (albeit only briefly), introduces the Ogrons. These appear in two more stories during the Third Doctor’s era but have not been seen since then in the TV series. They have, however, often been mentioned or made brief appearances in other media, with significant roles in at least five novels and six audio plays to date. They mostly appear as mercenaries, but the audio Planet of the Ogrons does give us a brief look at their homeworld and native culture adding a little to what we already see in Frontier in Space.

Description and Biology

The Ogrons are tall and heavily muscled humanoid aliens with ape-like faces.  Given that they are alien, we don’t know how distinct they may be from humans biologically, although the implication would be “not by much”, at least to anyone that isn’t, say, trying to perform abdominal surgery on one. At least on TV, we haven’t seen any females of the species, so technically we don’t know that they’re mammalian, although they certainly seem to be and the likelihood is that here, too, they are little different from humans.

Game Attributes

The most obvious distinction between Ogrons and humans in terms of their statistics is that the former are much stronger. Given their builds and basic biology, it seems unlikely that their typical strength exceeds the human maximum, although some exceptional individuals clearly might. Nonetheless, even the average Ogron is clearly much stronger than the average human. There is some evidence that they are physically resilient, too – one would certainly expect them to have high endurance and they seem to be quite difficult to hurt. On the other hand, they are not inherently armoured, although they are usually seen wearing something that’s probably equivalent to leather armour. (Going from looks alone, it could also be some sort of Kevlar, but they don’t seem to be bullet-proof, so probably not).

It's also clear that Ogrons are relatively unintelligent. Nor do they seem especially strong-willed, given that they’re mostly seen working as grunts for the Daleks, implying a rather pliable mindset. Quite how stupid Ogrons are is difficult to say; they are clearly capable of using high-tech equipment provided to them by others, although this may require a fair bit of training. Even so, while it’s low, it’s probably not dramatically so, with the main limitation being their lack of native technology.

All the Ogrons we see are mercenaries (in a manner of speaking; it’s hard to imagine that the Daleks are actually paying them). They clearly have good combat skills, including with weapons beyond their native technology – after all, it doesn’t require tremendous smarts and understanding to point and fire a gun. They may have some other basic military skills, but otherwise they must be geared towards what’s essentially a tribal life on their home planet.


5E - Ogron

Medium humanoid, neutral

Armour Class: 11 (light armour)

Hit Points: 34 (4d8+16)

Speed: 30 ft.

STR 16 (+3)

DEX 10 (+0)

CON 18 (+4)

INT 8 (-1)

WIS 8 (-1)

CHA 8 (-1)

Saving Throws: Strength +5, Constitution +6

Skills: Athletics +5, Intimidation +1, Perception +1

Combat Skills: Ranged Attack +2, Melee Attack +5

Senses: Passive Perception 11

Challenge: ¼ (50 XP)


BRP - Ogron


STR 3D6+6 (16-17)

CON 3D6+9 (19-20)

SIZ 2D6+9 (16)

INT 2D6+3 (10)

POW 3D6 (10-11)

 

DEX 3D6 (10-11)

CHA 2D6 (7)

 

Hit Points: 18

Move: 10

 

Base SR: 4

Damage Bonus: +1D6

 

Armour: 1-point light armour

Skills: Throw 40%

Combat Skills: Brawl 70%, Energy Pistol 60%


GURPS - Ogron

ST 16

DX 10

IQ 8

HT 16

Thrust: 1d+1

 

Swing: 2d+2

 

Speed: 6.5

 

Move: 5

 

Advantages: Extra Hit Points +2, Fit

Disadvantages: Status -1 (mercenary)

Skills: Beam Weapons (energy pistol)/TL10-12, Brawling-14, Intimidation-10, Knife-11, Soldier-10, Survival (quarry-like planets)-12, Throwing-10


Savage Worlds - Ogron

Agility: d6

Smarts: d4

Spirit: d6

Strength: d10

Vigour: d12

 

Skills: Fighting d8, Shooting d8, Survival d6

Edges: Brawny, Brute

Pace: 6                  Parry: 6                Toughness: 10 (1)                   Size: 1


STA - Ogron

Control: 8

Fitness: 11

Presence: 8

Daring: 9

Insight: 7

Reason: 7

Command: 0

Security: 2

Science: 0

Conn: 0

Engineering: 0

Medicine: 0

Stress: 13

Resistance: 1

 


Tuesday, 5 July 2022

D&D Monsters: Treants

Although the idea of magical and possibly animate trees does exist in mythology and folklore, the idea of a race of such beings, in the form of ents, seems to be original to Tolkein. He took the name from a variant form of  "ettin", the original English word for what we now call a "giant", and not from any pre-existing tree-person. (Other giants exist in Tolkien's world, but they are very much bit players unlike, say, the giants of Narnia). D&D 0E included ents in its original rulebook, but legal problems led to them being renamed as "treants" from 1E onwards. For similar copyright reasons, it's this newer name that has stuck in fantasy games in general, even though, really, there isn't much difference between the D&D version and their entish inspiration.


1E

We're told that the 1E treant is indistinguishable from a tree until it moves, but this is hard to credit from the picture. Granted, if you're not looking too closely at the trees you're passing, and you're in a heavily forested environment, perhaps even in dim light... I mean, sure, you might not notice, because they're certainly camouflaged. But "indistinguishable" is a stretch, and more so for this version than any other.

Rather than having a single trunk, for instance, the lower part of the treant's body is divided into two sturdy legs, each ending in three long and splayed toes. The arms are positioned roughly where they would be on a humanoid, and of a similar shape, with clear elbows, wrists and so on. The hands have three fingers and a thumb. There is no neck, but the region above the "shoulders" includes a pair of human-like eyes and a long nose. It's unclear if there's intended to be a mouth, and no explicit statement that treants can speak, although it's what we'd expect if they're based on ents. 

All of this indicates a certain fixity of form, the sort of defined shape that (most) animals have and that trees and most other plants tend not to. The only semi-random, plantlike, part of the body form is the collection of short leafy branches arising from the upper body, creating a far smaller and shorter crown than we'd expect for a tree with a "trunk" so thick. A leafy sheet also covers the body below the nose, presumably as an allusion to Treebeard in Lord of the Rings.

Treants are remarkably tough and, while we can't compare their strength with that of giants in this edition, they're clearly intended to be in the same range. The fact that we're specifically told they can destroy buildings is surely another nod to their literary inspiration. Their armour class is better than steel, which bark and even the hardest of woods aren't. This may be intended to reflect their lack of vital organs and the general thickness of the wood compared to steel armour. Still, you'd think it would be easier to hack a branch off with an axe than it would be to damage an iron golem - and it isn't.

Whether or not they can speak, treants are as intelligent as humans. They live in groups of up to twenty, but there's no indication of any social structure, implying a very egalitarian and loose society, which fits with their stated alignment. Oddly, we're told that they live in caves - albeit caves in woodland - which is a rather un-treelike thing to do.

While the treant in 2E is still distinguishable from the average tree, it's notably less so than its predecessor. It doesn't seem to have legs at all, although there are feet projecting from the base of the trunk, with woody rootlike toes. The arms don't seem to arise opposite each other, instead taking the form of a pair of lower branches that happen to end in a splayed set of elongated finger-like twigs. These, and the toes, have the sort of irregular shape we'd expect of the branches of a tree, and the creature is entirely treelike above the face. 

The face is much lower down on the body, proportionately speaking, enhancing the non-humanoid look. The eyes are less obviously humanlike, too, and the "nose" is actually a branch, complete with twigs and leaves. They obviously do have a mouth this time, and we're told that they have their own language and have some ability to converse in others. There is also considerably more information about their biology and lifecycle... and no mention that they lair in caves.

3E

The 3E version is intermediate between the two previous ones in form. The body is more humanoid than in 2E, with identifiable legs and hands with short, leafless, fingers, rather than twiggy branches. On the other hand, the limbs do have a more plantlike appearance, with an irregular number of joints and digits, and the "toes" being particularly twisted and rootlike. There are narrow branches jutting off from the arms a well as the larger ones on the crown, but nothing like the leaf-bearing "nose" of 2E. Most significantly, however, this treant has a neck and an approximately human-like head and face - although it does seem to lack visible ears.

The more detailed stats in this edition allow us to see that the treant is as strong as a frost giant - although it's twice as tall, and almost twice as heavy. The fact that it now has a damage reduction rating (except against things like axes) makes it harder to argue that the bark isn't really as strong as steel, since any lack of vital organs is surely covered by the reduction. One can only assume that the bark is in some way magical, at least so long as it is part of the living treant.

Treants live in much smaller communities than before, but their alignment has shifted towards something we'd expect to imply more of a social structure. Perhaps because of those smaller communities, however, we don't see that - possibly a low reproduction rate may force this on them, or their biology otherwise makes it difficult for too many of them to survive in a given area of forest.

5E

There's something a further shift back towards the 1E look in this edition. The limbs and body are more regular in form, and the neck has disappeared again. The most notable difference is perhaps the number of arms; it has four, but they're irregularly arranged, with the implication that a specific number might not be standard. The fingers are claw-like, rather than the blunt structures of 1E and 3E or the slender twigs of 2E. Small leafy branches also seem to project from the trunk, although the main leaf-bearing branches sprout from above and behind the head as before.

The strength remains on a par with a frost giant, but the bark is no longer more impressive than steel - if probably still rather tougher than we might expect regular bark to be. The alignment has changed back to its original descriptor and, if anything, it's implied that treant society is even more nebulous and solitary than it was before. Treants speak a number of languages in this edition, but we're not told which is the one that they use amongst themselves - either Druidic or Sylvan seems likely but would presumably have to be instinctive since it's not obvious how they would be taught it, given the changes in their lifecycle from 2E.

Whereas even demons and efreet appear to be, at least superficial, members of the Animal Kingdom, the treant is indisputably a plant. This has significant implications for how it might work biologically, although the answer to this is largely that, in the real world, it wouldn't. 

The primary issue here is that real plants lack the ability to be fully active to the extent that treants are supposed to be. It's not that they can't move, since creepers and so on can feel their way about - albeit very slowly. Some plants can even move rapidly, with the Venus flytrap probably being the next known example, but sustained motion and complex coordinated movement are a different matter. Even then, the movement is achieved in soft tissue whereas the treant is largely composed of wood. Presumably, the xylem vessels contract like muscle fibres, which would require some rather radical molecular and biochemical rearrangement of their structure to be at all plausible if it's more than just "magic". However it's done, it's likely that these woody fibres form structures similar to humanoid muscles, since they have to move in the same way, and most illustrations show some hint of joints in the appropriate places.

Getting the energy and metabolism to move these pseudo-muscles is also difficult to resolve. Treants have noses, so it's at least possible that they have lungs, composed of some soft spongy plant material full of air spaces, with which to absorb appropriate quantities of oxygen. But it's perhaps more likely that they breathe, as plants do, through their leaves, probably with some magical boosting of the effectiveness of their chlorophyll. This would leave the nose as a purely sensory organ. 
There's nothing to say that treants don't have a sense of smell, and it seems reasonable that the nose isn't purely aesthetic. The idea of the nose as a chemosensory pit with no connection to a respiratory system isn't even a unique one, since it's pretty much how fish work and, for that matter, some invertebrates.

3E states that vegetable creatures, such as treants, "eat" and if that's literally true, there has to be a digestive system of some kind. But this is more ambiguous in other systems; while the tendriculos of 3E undoubtedly eats, it's less clear that treants do so, unless we count merely absorbing nutrients from the soil. If this is so, the treant's mouth must be purely used for communication, perhaps attached to a simple set of bellows in the trunk to allow air to form sounds, but no stomach or intestines. Additional nutrients are obtained from the soil, since at least 2E and 5E agree that treants can temporarily let down roots and anchor themselves to the ground. 

Once we've got rid of both the digestive and respiratory systems, many other organs also cease to be required. We can probably do without dedicated excretory organs, with the leaves, and possibly roots/toes, taking on this function too. We certainly don't need a liver or pancreas and there's clearly no skeleton.

Whether we'd need a circulatory system is perhaps more ambiguous, given the need to transport oxygen and so forth round the body rather more urgently than sessile plant needs to. The circulatory fluid would be sap, since that's largely what sap is for in plants. and to get it around such a large body rapidly, a proper system of arteries and veins would realistically be required, which, in turn, implies a woody heart somewhere inside the trunk. But, if this is the case, sap would spray out of a treant like blood from an artery when it is cut, which just seems odd. So, again, we may have to rely on magic to explain the level of effectiveness that the sap has, and, if there's no high "blood" pressure then we can also do without the heart.

One thing we probably do need is a nervous system. We can say this mainly because treants are consistently shown as having eyes, and even if these aren't composed of what we'd expect at a cellular level, they are complex structures that it's hard to imagine aren't attached to something. These would have to be modified xylem or (perhaps more likely) phloem cells and spread throughout the body. Somewhere there must be a dense mass of such cells forming the treant's brain, and it's probably just behind the eyes. On the other hand, this need not be at all structured like an animal brain, and it could be somewhat decentralised, emphasising the general lack of vital organs that make a treant so difficult to kill with spears or maces.

The treant's signature power is the ability to animate other trees, rather like the huorns of Lord of the Rings. This is clearly a magical power, so there isn't much to say about it specifically. But we are left with the issue of treant reproduction.

We're given two different versions of this, in 2E and 5E. The latter states that treants are literally born as trees, and only later transform into the mobile, thinking, version - retaining the ability to revert if necessary.  Although it's not explicitly states, the obvious implication is that reproduction occurs when they are in tree form, using buds, flowers, seeds, and so on and that, until they begin to transform, there isn't any real difference between them and other trees.

This limits the need for "entwives" since the great majority of tree species produce both pollen and seeds and are thus (from an animal perspective) hermaphrodites. Nonetheless, some trees, such as willow and teak do have separate sexes - a given plant is either male or female - so this might be true of the relevant kinds of treant, too.

Indeed, if they are originally regular trees, it follows that all treants have an identifiable species; there are oak-treants, beech-treants, and so on. There does seem to be some limitation here as to which species are able to become treants. All the examples we see in the core rulebooks are broadleaved hardwoods and not, say, conifers. (Saying a tree is "hardwood", incidentally, really just means that it uses flowers for reproduction; the wood is usually harder than "softwood"... but it doesn't have to be and there are some notable exceptions). There's also, perhaps unsurprisingly, an apparent minimum size, since there's no indication of woody shrub treants (azaleas, say) but the typical stats imply a maximum as well. A sequoia-treant would surely be different from what's described!

2E, however, states that treants are a distinct type of being that may end their lives by transforming into a  regular tree but don't start out that way. Distinct males and females exist, with the latter bearing young by forming a stalk from the side of their trunk which eventually splits away - something not unlike pregnancy. We don't know how they mate, although pollination seems the most likely explanation. 

This means that a treant does not necessarily have to mirror a particular tree species, although they may well do so anyway. The fact that they are all broadleaved trees here may therefore be less significant, just a description of how they look. We're told that, at least in temperate climes, their leaves turn golden in the autumn, but that they don't fall out - or, if they do, they're replaced as they go, rather like a mammal moulting. If these are the organs through which a treant obtains its oxygen and most of its nutrition, it makes sense that it wouldn't lose them, although turning yellow does rather imply a lack of chlorophyll which, by rights, should have the same effect as losing the leaf. This should force the treant into hibernation through the winter, which is effectively what real-world deciduous trees are doing... but apparently, it doesn't.

So, magic again.