Design Thoughts: Returning to Alignment

Like any big-headed Dungeons & Dragons player, I have spent my fair share of time debating with people regarding the merits of an alignment system within the game framework. After the Head Wizard of D&D R&D addressed the issue of alignment in the current iteration of the D&D Next, debating the merits of an alignment system became the topic du jour in the twitter-verse. Everybody had an opinion to argue or defend on the issue. During one of these heated discussions, I ended up tweeting some things from the hip that got me thinking:

My problem with alignment comes when people disagree on what is good, evil, or otherwise. If the game is not morally ambiguous enough to raise the question, then you don't need alignment. If it is morally ambiguous enough, then the alignment system is more burdensome than not.

Of course, this is just my current viewpoint on the issue. As I thought of it, I thought it would be important to explain my stance on this a little bit better.

Alignment through the Ages

There are many different versions of
the alignment chart but I went for this one.

In one context, alignment gives every character a sort of quick summary of a character's moral compass. Does she abide by the law whenever possible, or is she a free spirit? Does she put the needs of others before her own, or is she selfish to the core? For decades, players in AD&D have had the pleasure (or frustration) of pinning their character on the nine-point alignment chart.

Of course, how alignment applies to a character depends a great deal on the ruleset and the players. In the Third Edition, alignment was considered a guideline for how a character views the world. "Alignment is a tool for developing your character’s identity. It is not a straitjacket for restricting your character." Hypertext d20 SRD, Alignment. The rules even go further, stating that two characters of the same alignment can have very different perspectives.

The modern rendition of AD&D (First Edition) captured in the Old School Reference and Index Compilation (OSRIC) has a more firm stance on alignment. "Alignment is more than a philosophy; evil and good are palpably real in the game world." OSRIC, pg 42. It is a bit heavier handed than the presentation given in the Third Edition, but there are generally no particular consequences given for characters that deviate from their chosen alignment. To that end, it's primary purpose is to provide a guideline for character roleplay.

As simply a guideline for roleplaying, alignment does not present any major issues because it is a wide field. "Each alignment represents a broad range of personality types or personal philosophies, so two characters of the same alignment can still be quite different from each other." Hypertext d20 SRD, Alignment. If one person things interprets "Good" to have one meaning while another interprets it to mean another, it does not really matter because at the end of the day alignment has no in-game ramification. Alignment does not create any issues in this context because it does not matter.

Where Alignment Matters: The Paladin's Dilemma

Older editions of Dungeons & Dragons have a few situations where alignment does make a big deal. There are a number of iconic examples, such as spells that detect specific alignments or deal extra damage to specific alignments, but many of the best examples come from a single source: the Paladin. From abilities that specifically target evil to the restriction of not being able to associate with characters of Evil alignment, the Paladin is replete with alignment-heavy concerns.

Who would have guessed such an iconic
class would have so many problems?

The best example is that of the Paladin's alignment restriction. The holy warrior has the restriction that he be of Lawful Good alignment. "A paladin is a paragon of righteousness sworn to be, and always to remain, Lawful Good. If this vow is ever breached, the paladin must atone and perform penance to be decided by a powerful NPC cleric of the same alignment—unless the breach was intentional, in which case the paladin instantly loses his or her enhanced status as a paladin and may never regain it." OSRIC, p34. Suddenly, what constitutes Good or Evil is fundamentally important and not just a matter of roleplaying. Was that act Good enough, or does Sir Paladin suddenly become Sir Fighter?

There are plenty of iconic examples of "Which is the Good choice?" in the Dungeons & Dragons community. Many a message board post has been spent debating the moral value of saving orc children in a nursery or killing people overcome by evil curses. What is a Paladin to do when faced with these difficult moral choices? Which is the Good and which is the Evil? Or, perhaps, are they all different shades of grey?

What is a Paladin to do in this situation?

I have found that a lot of players do not want to have this debate at the game table. It can often be a personal discussion, as most players will base their decision on their own personal views. As a former student of philosophy, I actually appreciate moral dilemmas. I like the idea that a player would be concerned about the ramifications of his character's actions beyond that of "did it get me more XP?"

As both a player and DM, I find it easier to consider the Paladin's Dilemma in the context of the Paladin's vows and the concerns of his god instead of an arbitrary alignment. The choice of a Dwarf Paladin of Moradin regarding orc babies would likely differ greatly than that of a Human Paladin of Ilmater. Despite that both Paladins are Good servants of Good gods, it is likely that they will choose opposed actions. Neither case really focused on the concept of Good as much as it did the views of each respective god.

But Does Alignment Matter?

It is interesting to me to contrast these two different perspectives on alignment in-game. On one hand, alignment does not really matter because its merely a guide to role-playing. Furthermore, there is a great deal of flexibility within each specific alignment, so a player has a lot of latitude in playing to his character's alignment. This is the simple way to address alignment. Each player is simply using the words to his or her best understanding but that those words have no meaning outside of a player's mind. It seems to me that in this context, it would be just as fair to say your alignment is "Awesome Nice" as it would be to say "Neutral Good." If alignment is going to have such expansive definitions and no ramifications, it actually serves no purpose.

On the other hand, where specific game effects are tied to alignment and require explanation, it can become difficult. Did the Paladin maintain his Lawful Good values? Did the Monk maintain a Lawful perspective? Was the Assassin sufficiently Evil? What choices constitute the Good choices? In these kind of situations, such as the question of the orc babies, alignment suddenly feels more burdensome to play than anything. Spending time questioning the moral value of choices within the context of specific alignments can be difficult, frustrating, or even game-breaking. Usually, the best answers involve disregarding the Alignment system and considering a character's faith, belief, or social history. If alignment is going to have such constrained yet nebulous function as to require leaving it behind in favor of alternatives, it actually serves no purpose.

The Ultimate Alignment Chart.

There are other ways to get around the issue that can be satisfying and entertaining. I have heard of at least one group where the Paladin decided how his actions fell on the alignment spectrum, allowing him some measure of control over the narrative. Of course, if that's the solution, it sounds like that group has essentially disregarded the alignment system in favor of an alternative. Some groups have adopted a belief system comparable to the Mouseguard RPG. The Distinction system used in the Cortex Plus ruleset (comparable to the Fate system's Aspects) is another interesting way to promote role-playing.

There are many interesting ways to find motivations for your character and help promote role-playing. Although the classic D&D alignment system is a way to do it, I reiterate my original statement regarding alignment:

My problem with alignment comes when people disagree on what is good, evil, or otherwise. If the game is not morally ambiguous enough to raise the question, then you don't need alignment. If it is morally ambiguous enough, then the alignment system is more burdensome than not.

But now I ask the question: How has alignment served at your game table? Is it something that people disregard or do players strictly adhere to their alignment? Do questions of alignment come up, or are issues of alignment not the kind of thing your group cares about?

On the Horizon: D&D Next Adventure Design

I recently had an opportunity to participate in a playtest of the upcoming iteration of Dungeons & Dragons. It took me this long to get it to it because I had previously participated in a "Friends & Family" playtest back in March that left me very disillusioned with the future of Dungeons & Dragons. I thought I should organize my thoughts and impressions and put them up on the blog. Despite my misgivings about the legitimacy of the playtest Non-Discloure Agreement, I still feel the need to avoid discussing non-public content. Some of this may get slightly vague as I describe my thoughts and impressions of D&D Next.

After writing a great deal about my playtest experience, I realize it would be more useful if I broke it up into different posts. This post focuses on the adventure content included with the playtest. Future posts will address other aspects of my playtest experience.

The Adventure's the Thing

I have come to appreciate that the usefulness of introductory adventures. Oftentimes, the first adventure you play through sets the tone for all future interactions with that game system. When I got my first Dungeons & Dragons Red Box in 1988, the introductory solo adventure was explicitly a room-by-room dungeon crawl. That set the tone for how many people, myself included, interacted with Dungeons & Dragons. In contrast, tthe upcoming RPG 13th Age features an introductory adventure Blood and Lightning that is very loosely organized and emphasizes a lot of the improvisational qualities of the game. Although these introductory adventures are not definitive, as many players will ignore them, they are important as a starting-off point for many players of the game. They are important in shaping how players see the game and, to that extent, how it is played.

One of the things I really came to appreciate in late-era Fourth Edition was that published adventure content provided a variety of interesting characters and scenarios for groups to build adventures around, with focus more on particular events and scenarios than maps of a dungeon are the promise of vast treasures. The Neverwinter Campaign Setting or The Shadowfell: Gloomwrought and Beyond were both interesting collections of encounters, characters, plots, and schemes that a party could slowly poke their way around and from it build a unique story. They targeted a very different style of gameplay, one that takes advantage of the fact that Dungeons & Dragon is a creative social game. I find this kind of sandbox content very evocative because it provides a wide array of options in which players and DM alike can develop their own narrative.

Lord Neverember doesn't care about exploring dungeons.
He wants you to rebuild Neverwinter with (or for) him.

Given my fondness for this kind of gaming content, it is no surprise that the adventures currently included with the Dungeons & Dragons public playtest worry me. When they included remakes of classic modules (dungeon crawls) like Caves of Chaos and Isle of Dread, I had assumed they did this for purely nostalgic reasons. As I played through portions of Reclaiming Blingdenstone, however, I really got the sense that this classic style of play was the intended direction of the newest Dungeons & Dragons. A direction that, given my own play style, is a disconcerting sign of the future of the game.

The Unfortunate Adventures in Blingdenstone

This guy lives in Blingdenstone
and he probably wants you to gather
ten Kobold scalps or something.

The playtest group I was with had already been playing for two or three sessions prior to my arrival. They were well into the included module Reclaiming Blingdenstone and, as I understood, were quite satisfied with it. With my trusty character in hand, I joined the table in hopes of finding the joy that my old comrades from long ago had found with this new D&D.

I will quickly say that I found the entire session of Dungeons & Dragons (roughly six hours of play throughout the afternoon/evening) to be surprisingly not fun. A significant part of my experience stemmed from my immense dissatisfaction over the adventure, Reclaiming Blingdenstone. It seemed to be steeped in pointless combat with a lot of mundane "quests" to tie it together. To be blunt, it had the feel of something like Diablo or World of Warcraft. "Warden Cardigan wants you to bring back 10 crystals from the Crystal Cave." When you repeat the activity a sufficient number of times and return them to the quest giver, you get a reward and something changes (potentially unlocking another important quest!).

It can be said that I am generalizing the adventure, but as somebody who has taken his Dungeons & Dragons game and influenced it heavily with story games, indie RPG ideology, and other recent ideas within the tabletop RPG scene, I could not help but feel that the adventure was regressive. It felt like the kind of D&D my friends and I played back in 1992, before we had sophisticated dungeon-crawling computer games. The reason I bring this up is that this heavily colored my playtest experience.

[Note: It is worthy of note that the other adventures provided, The Caves of Chaos and The Isle of Dread, are classic adventures from the early days of Dungeons & Dragons. They are even more historical in focus, emphasizing the "dungeon crawl" aspect of the game. From my perspective, I am lucky not to have played that.]

My one major concern with Blingdenstone was that it had such a strong emphasis on wandering through caverns collecting things and killing monsters for experience points and treasure. I suppose my concern rises out of the fact that Blingdenstone was, from all I can tell, written recently. The only writer credits given were Robert J. Schwalb and James Wyatt, both contemporary D&D writers. Given that, it was disconcerting that the provided module would emphasize a dungeon-crawl monster killing style of play.

More or less how I felt after six hours of Blingdenstone.

I do not mean to suggest that there is anything inherently wrong with having a dungeon crawl style play experience. Clearly, there are many people that value that gameplay experience. However, the included playtest adventure says more about the design philosophy of the game than any mechanical considerations. As I see it, this is the style of play that they want at the core of the product. And that's what really got me thinking.

Having played games like Descent: Journeys in The Dark and the D&D Adventure System board games, I can appreciate a tabletop dungeon crawl. Both games (and the many related games out there) do well at capturing the dungeon crawl experience in a concise yet sufficient manner. But, in light of the growth in the tabletop role-playing and story gaming industry of the past ten years (including the Indie RPG scene, D&D 3.5 and Pathfinder, story gaming, Fantasy Flight's RPG lines, and even the developments of D&D 4E), it seems strange to me that the new D&D would be actively targeting a style of role-playing game that has become somewhat niche.

What's Old is New Again (Whether You Wanted It Or Not)

The Dungeons & Dragons game has been slowly moving away from its old school origins since its early days. Much credit could be given to the work of Tracy and Laura Hickman for making story and plot central to the adventure, elevating it beyond a mere dungeon crawl. To that end, the game has come a far way from its origins as a medieval battle simulator with heavy doses of cartography.

Who needs a story when I have a gridded map
to sketch based on vague DM description alone!

By the Fourth Edition of Dungeons & Dragons, the game openly addressed different styles of play and welcomed story and narrative based play in the introductory chapters of the Dungeon Master's Guide. Even more interesting in the progression was the less popular Dungeon Master's Guide 2, co-written by RPG design guru Robin D. Laws. Although a bulk of the book focused on more mechanical considerations, from monster themes to trap designs, it featured several sections providing guidance and suggestions for DMs new and old. Among other things, it discusses the ideas of collaborative campaign design, having encounters matter, cooperative world building, and other interesting ideas that felt more like they came from the indie RPG community than ivory tower of the D&D Old School.

The reason I mention this, in light of Blingdenstone and its potential progeny, is to highlight how big a step away from those ideas this new material seems to be. For example, consider this paragraph on how to use encounters in a D&D game:

A well-crafted encounter is a key scene in the story of your adventure and in the overarching story of the characters in your campaign. If you build your adventure like a structured fantasy story, sharing a similar dramatic structure with novels, movies, and plays, then an encounter equals a scene in that story. The encounter acts as a discrete element in which tension builds in steady increments toward the climax of the adventure.

That is guidance taken from the second page of the DMG2 chapter on building encounters. Now, contrast the with these two excerpts taken from Chapter 6 of Reclaiming Blingdenstone:

The trip [to Mantol-Derith] takes twenty hours of travel. Every eight hours, whether the adventurers are traveling or resting, roll 1d10. On a result of 1 or 2, consult the “Underdark Encounters” table in appendix 1.

The return from Mantol-Derith takes as much time and has the same potential for random encounters as the trek to the trading post. 

Having a collection of random encounters with trolls, orcs, and giant centipedes seemed anything but relevant to the plight of the deep gnomes. As a player, the only relevance the random encounter served was to waste time and resources. I honestly cannot imagine a legitimate reason why running into a grey ooze or a pack of centipedes would be especially important in advancing the situation in Blingdenstone. Granted, a more astute DM could have implemented a more interesting, engaging encounter that somehow tied to the story and purpose of the adventure, but the fact that the adventure as written suggests a flurry of random encounters as bookends to an essential chapter of the adventure says a lot to me about what the new Dungeons & Dragons is going to be about.

The end of my D&D Next playtest experience, as
presented by the Frost Wizards of Irvine.

Adventure Design: Conclusion

Reclaiming Blingdenstone is not necessarily representative of the new direction of Dungeons & Dragons. However, when you consider that all three adventures provided for testers to use follow a similar format, it does suggest that it might very well be the new (old) direction of the game. I can only hope that future iterations of the playtest begin to include adventures more geared towards an engaging and interesting storytelling experience and less on the amount of treasure and experience a player can amass in a four hour period. To that end, only time will tell.

Luckily, as with any tabletop RPG, what you get out of it depends a lot on what you put into it. Designing a game that is focused on trolling through dungeons looking for monsters to slay and treasures to gather will not impact my ability to play the game I want to play. But, as several friends continue to remind me, the new D&D is not being designed for people like me. That only raises the question of what motivation do I have to stick it through to the end?

On the Horizon: D&D Next Character Creation

I recently had an opportunity to participate in a playtest of the upcoming iteration of Dungeons & Dragons. It took me this long to get it to it because I had previously participated in a "Friends & Family" playtest back in March that left me very disillusioned with the future of Dungeons & Dragons. I thought I should organize my thoughts and impressions and put them up on the blog. Despite my misgivings about the legitimacy of the playtest Non-Discloure Agreement, I still feel the need to avoid discussing non-public content. Some of this may get slightly vague as I describe my thoughts and impressions of D&D Next.

After writing a great deal about my playtest experience, I realize it would be more useful if I broke it up into different posts. This post addresses my experience with creating a character. Future posts will address other aspects of my playtest experience.

Ability Scores: Cast the Dice

The first step in creating a character is rolling dice to determine ability scores. The default rule for D&D Next, at least for now, is to roll 4d6 and drop the lowest. The rules provide both a point buy method and a "default array" for those not interested in entrusting a campaign-long decision to a single roll of dice. I find it puzzling that the default would be random rolling (as this is generally prohibited in organized play anyway) but at least they made it clear point buy methods were acceptable.

Go ahead. Trust the rest of the game to the a few
simple dice rolls. What's the worst that could happen?

The biggest surprise for me with determining ability scores was that the point buy method did not allow a 16 or higher in any ability score. Using point buy, you could only get an ability score of 15. This seemed strange. I suppose this was meant to disincentivize the point buy method or the standard array, but I cannot imagine why they would want to do that. It seemed to make no sense. This was the my first sign that there was something amiss in this ruleset. However, I pressed on.

The Section of the Great Race

I do not have a whole lot to say about the race section. Although there are only the "standard" races available at this time, the Wizards of Renton have tried to present options for each race by dividing certain abilities and bonuses across separate "sub-races." Hill dwarves are better at different things than Mountain dwarves but they both share some features as well that Halflings and Elves do not have. It is an interesting way to do it and I wonder if they will continue to do this as more races are added to the collection.

There are a few strange issues that are likely to be fixed after a few iterations. For example, where previous editions gave certain races certain proficiencies to weapons, this current edition only gives a bonus to damage if the character already has proficiency. The net result is that non-Fighters tend to gain no benefit from the racial weapon training while Fighters get a statistical +1 to damage. I suspect that will be changed in future iterations. But the issues present in this version of the playtest seem minor. Unlike my pass with the ability score system, nothing here seemed to irk me.

Choose Your Character!

Choosing a class was a difficult endeavor for me. As of the current playtest document, there are only five classes available. This version of the playtest materials had the "standard" D&D classes of Fighter, Rogue, Cleric, and Wizard. Although I realize that these are iconic classes in the game, I wonder why they did not focus more on a set of classes with fundamentally different game mechanics. As I see it, There were really only two classes to choose from here: the Maneuver class and the Gygaxian Caster. The biggest difference between the Cleric and Wizard was spell selection and weapon/armor proficiencies, so it does make me wonder why those two classes would not fall under one class, leaving an opening for a class with a fundamentally different mechanic (Sorcerer? Psionic?). But, I digress.

"Choose your Character!" This is roughly how I felt
when I started the Character Creation process.

[Note: I reference Gygaxian magic in lieu of Vancian magic. For those unfamiliar with my view on the classic D&D Magic system and how it relates to the writings of Jack Vance, I recommend reading my earlier examination of Vancian magic as it compares to Dungeons & Dragons. I use the term Gygaxian Caster or Gygaxian magic to represent the kind of magic system prevalent in most every edition of Dungeons & Dragons.]

Monk was my natural guess for
"next class to include" as well. Right?

This version of the playtest also included the Monk. I will admit that I consider the Monk to be a strange choice for fifth class to choose from, but they made it clear on the Dungeons & Dragons website that the Monk was included simply because it seemed to fit well with the Maneuver mechanics. To a certain extent, the Monk felt more like a variant of the Fighter and Rogue to me than it did a different class. Maybe I've gotten too deep into game design myself, but when I looked at the Monk I immediately think, "Having a Ki power must be near mechanically equivalent to a higher damage die, slightly higher armor class, and having an additional maneuver by level 10 that the Fighter gets." At least that's how I see it.

Some of you may look at my previous comment and think I am a bit crazy. "But Monks don't have the weapon and armor proficiencies that a Fighter has!" That's true, but I noticed that at our table the Monk rolled a d6 for damage (instead of d10 or d12) and had an Armor Class that was one lower than the Fighter. As I saw it, the "proficiencies or powers" mattered less than how it played at the table. Fighters had a larger damage die and slightly higher Armor Class. Monks, in exchange, got a quasi-magical power. "Guy who fights with Weapons" did not seem that much different to me than "Guy who fights with fists."

Despite only participating in a "one off" playtest session, I still had the urge to create a character that was more than just a named piece of equipment (like "Jax the Fighter"). Unfortunately, every interesting idea I had did not fit within the classes and races provided by the playtest packet without modification. Sometimes serious modification. My first impression was that this was a game that wanted you to conform to it and not a game that would conform to you. This was not surprising, though. Classically, D&D always starts with a limited set of options and gains more options, allowing more freedom in character creation, as the edition progress. I think my frustration came from the fact that I am used to having a wide pallet to work with (with Fourth Edition), so the restricted selection of choices is frustrating. Either way, I would have to find something to play.

Where Beer and D&D Collide

Frustrated, I started to look through the packet for some feature to inspire me. I decided that as none of the other players had made a Monk, it would be appropriate for me to test out. That being said, I'm not one for the typical Quasi-Asian monk. It usually felt surprisingly out of place in an otherwise very Tolkien setting. I tried to think how I could torque the Monk class to feel more in place in a standard fantasy setting. Somehow, I immediately thought of a Franciscan Monk with a surprisingly violent streak. Between prayer and brewing, this Monk would take time out of his day to smash in the face of villainous monsters. From that idea, Brother Sheltem of the Monastic Order of Helm was born.

The Monastic Order of Helm is best
known for brewing the legendary
beverage known as Helmsbier.

So, yes. For my D&D Next playtest I made the monk from the Franziskaner beer logo. It seemed to go together with little trouble, the Priest Background giving me mechanical description for the thing that I normally would have just made up on my own: he could call on temples and shrines of his faith for aid.  The Priest background with the Monk class that had a very Eastern theme was peculiar at first, but I imagined a half-drunk monk smashing people with his beer stein. It suspect his fighting style has a very sumo look to it. I added the Divine Magic Specialist to give him a bit more of a priestly vibe. In the end, I made a few choices and forced them together in a very peculiar way. In the end I felt good about it.

Alignment: The Point Where the Game Tells Me How to Act

Back when I played Dungeons & Dragons in the early 1990s, I remember getting really wrapped up in the idea of "Alignment." It did not take long for me to start to have issues with the two axis alignment system. Ideologies like "Lawful Evil" or "Neutral Good" began to make less and less sense to me as I got older and tried to decipher what it meant for something to be good or evil. Over time, I would come to disregard it entirely, leaving it out of games as it appeared. The Fourth Edition of Dungeons & Dragons had a relatively light treatment of it so it was not hard for me to not pay attention to it. Since the new D&D Next playtest arrived on the scene, the old alignment system is back!

This bothered me a little bit at first but it did not take much for me to realize I did not care all that much. I would ignore it, just as I had before. What did bother me, though, was the alignment restrictions attached to the new Monk class. It was not a new restriction, being a mirror of previous editions, but it still bothered me. Monks had to be lawful. They could be lawful evil, but chaotic good was off the table. As I thought about it, the whole thing felt like a missed opportunity.

Chaotic "Monk" vs. Lawful "Monk"
Seriously? Nobody thought of this before me?

Alignment and the Monk class could easily fall into a sort of system like the Jedi and the Sith. The lawful Monk is similar to the Jedi, devoted to order and rigid code. The chaotic Monk is like a Sith Lord, gaining his power not from rigid discipline and training but from his own passions and force of will. The Ki power could even be somehow tied to the alignment of the Monk, granting different powers depending on the alignment. With that in mind, seeing the alignment restriction on the Monk class just seemed like a really unfortunate choice.

Skills and Things

Dungeoneering. Covering every skill
adventurers need since 2008.

This was an interesting area for me. I had originally been a big fan of Third Edition skills because that system gave you the freedom to invest skill points where you wanted. Your character would be trained in things that you wanted to the level that you wanted. So, in theory, I should be sort of into what they've done with the new iteration of Dungeons & Dragons because it models the diversity of skills in the same way.

But I don't.

Despite being very much against the "big umbrella" skills of Fourth Edition at first, I've actually grown to like them quite a bit because they allow players to accomplish similar tasks using different skills. Need to climb a cliff? I've had players make arguments for Athletics, Nature, Acrobatics, and Dungeoneering. Need to smooth talk the head of the Wizard's Guild? Try Diplomacy, Bluff, Arcana, or Streetwise. So, when I see a skill like "Rope Use" or "Spot," I feel that although there are a lot more skills to choose from, they are all a lot less useful. That being said, I would have to see how these seven or eight skills worked out in actual play before I made any judgment on their effectiveness.

With 13th Age due to be released in the next few months, I think about how they utilize Backgrounds to fill the space of Skills instead of specific named skills. To a certain extent, they took the generalization of skills seen in 4E and moved it to the realm of character background. This makes a simple skill roll an exercise in role-playing and collaborative storytelling as player's explain why a Centurion of the 501st Legion would have experience crocheting. I have grown to really like that method, so the fact that D&D Next has gone back to extremely specific, discrete skills is disheartening, to say the least. But, as I keep reminding myself, time will tell.

A Fully Loaded Killing Machine

The playtest rules have rules for purchasing equipment. Anybody who has read my stance on tracking things like character equipment will know that I really do not care at all about it. There was a big list of weapons. I cannot imagine why the list needed to be that big. Furthermore, as a Monk, I did not really care about that list of weapons. To that end, I cannot say a whole lot about equipment in D&D Next as it applies to character creation.

Equipment! There's nothing more thrilling in a role-playing game
than worrying about how many feet of rope you remembered to bring.

Looking over the list of weapons, I did find a few things that seemed odd to me. The Spear and Trident appear next to each other on the list. They are mechanically identical except for price and weight. The Trident both costs more and weighs more. It seems a strange thing to pay extra for more weight. The Rapier, Scimitar, and Short Sword are also very similar to one another except that the Scimitar does slashing damage.

I am surprised that they so quickly disregarded the weapons rules from Gamma World, where the player would choose a basic category and create what weapon they had from that category. I thought the guy who chose a heavy, two-handed ranged weapon that was a Microwave that shot radiation at people was pretty great. I suppose that is a style for a different kind of game.

Creating Characters: Conclusion

Right now, character creation in D&D Next feels very limited. Ideally, most of that will change over time. On the good side, character creation was relatively simple and I was able to finish it in less than a half hour. To a great extent, I feel like the quickness had a lot to do with the lack of options and less with any sort of clever design. As more races, classes, backgrounds, and specialities are added, I suspect character creation will begin to slow down a bit.

As I completed my character, I started to feel a little skeptical about the lack of options my character had. It seemed like he had one or two things to do in battle and a strange arrangement of skills. However, that concern mostly came from my perspective as a Fourth Edition player. I would reserve my judgment until I witnessed how it all panned out in play.

On the Horizon: The Next Step for a D&D Player

As a D&D Encounters organizer/participant, I have a lot of new people show up and ask about the future of Dungeons & Dragons. Honestly, as a D&D Encounter organizer, I know just as much about the future of the game as anybody else. That being said, I thought I would highlight a few developments in the RPG hobby that might be interesting for people to look at.

Pathfinder Roleplaying Game by Paizo Publishing, LLC

Pathfinder is not a new development within the tabletop RPG community. However, it is currently the market leader and continues to make big steps into the market. Right now, with very few other people really vying for the Dungeons & Dragons player base, Pathfinder has done well in "converting" people to their game. But what game is it?

Find your Path.

At its base, Pathfinder is just a reprint of Dungeons & Dragons v3.5. As a friend once put it, it is D&D3.5 with a number of notable house-rules. Pathfinder was born from a community of D&D3.5 players and developers who did not like the changes made with the fourth edition. Since its release, there has been more growth within the ruleset, adding additional character options, combat options, player races, and other things that differentiate it from where it started.

As an option for fantasy role-playing, Pathfinder is a viable choice because it has a developer who continues to support the game with adventure paths, additional game features, and a host of other novel products. The organized play organization, the Pathfinder Society, feels a lot more like the old D&D organizations (Living Greyhawk, Living Forgotten Realms), a system that can be intimidating for new players. Luckily, the Pathfinder community grew out of the remnants of the D&D3.5 player base, so finding a group is usually not that hard.

13th Age by Fire Opal Media

13th Age is an upcoming role-playing game developed by two "veterans" of the D&D scene, Jonathan Tweet and Rob Heinsoo. People may recognize those two names (or, comically, radical D&D fans may only recognize one of them). Jonathan Tweet was one of the three principal author/designers of the Third Edition core rulebooks while Rob Heinsoo was one of the lead author/designers of the Fourth Edition core rulebooks. In addition, Keith Baker (of Eberron fame) helped with some of the original design concepts.

What does this mean for 13th Age? People who backed it (either via the Escalation Edition pre-order or via the expansion Kickstarter) already have a glimpse of what to expect. 13th Age sits in a space that would likely make parts of both the 3/3.5 community and 4E community content. However, it's not the 3/4E pedigree that is most interesting about 13th Age. What makes 13th Age interesting is a lot of the things that are NOT 3/4E that is most compelling.

Jonathan Tweet and Rob Heinsoo have taken a lot of inspiration from the indie RPG community in developing 13th Age. Although it still has its roots very much in the D&D bloodline, some of the little things make it really stand out. Characters build ties, both good and bad, to the 13 "icons" of the world, with mechanical considerations for how that can relate to specific situations. Characters spend points on different backgrounds that are used instead of specific skills. Every character has "one unique thing" that sets them apart from the rest of the world. There are a lot of little things about 13th Age that set it apart from its predecessors in a very good way.

All of these features help shape 13th Age as a game that intends to sit somewhere between the classic world of D&D and the indie RPG community. Some elements of the game have already made it into my D&D campaigns at home. I expect to see 13th Age as the game for fans of D&D who are willing to try out some interesting variations to the game but who still want to keep some of the basic core of the D&D game. Expect it somewhere at the end of the year.

Other Games (Dungeon World, Dungeon Crawl Classics, and more)

There are other games out there worth taking a look at. Dungeon World, by Sage Kobold Productions, uses the rules developed in Apocalypse World and tailors them for a fantasy world akin to Dungeons & Dragons. It is a "indie RPG" insomuch that it deviates from the accepted norm of fantasy RPGs. That does not mean it is not a great idea. I suspect a game like Dungeon World accomplishes a lot of the things that the big public playtest for D&D is trying to do. Dungeon World is a game with some solid game mechanics that emphasizes exploration, role-playing, and combat in a powerful way. For those that are unfamiliar with it, I recommend asking your local game store to order it when it becomes available.

Now, with 40% more tables!

Dungeon Crawl Classic is another game that is currently available. After reading through the early parts of the introduction, I realized that although DCC is not a game for me, it brings a lot to the table for people who want a very specific kind of tabletop RPG. This is a game that emphasizes high-fatality, old school dungeon crawling adventure. The fact that character creation has each player make six level zero characters, only to have five of them die horribly in the first adventure speaks a lot to the kind of play session this game is going for. It's brutal. It's rough. But, like games such as Hackmaster, this game really captures the feel of AD&D or Second edition but with a lot of thought put into the game design.

There are other games, of course. Old classics like Steve Jackson's GURPS or Pinnacle's Savage Worlds can do a fantasy setting just fine. Those interested in reliving the less pleasant aspects of the 1980s could investigate Palladium Fantasy Roleplay. Even old editions of Dungeons & Dragons can be found at used bookstores and game shops (or, as Wizards of the Coast permits, reprinted at your local gamestore). So, as Dungeons & Dragons heads into "the year with no new D&D," there are a lot of options available for people looking to play something different.

The Elements of a Classy RPG: Introduction

My class is Wizard. Or Magic-User.
Or Illusionist. Or Enchanter.

Many role-playing games, both tabletop and electronic, have some concept of class to define a player's character.  It has become such an iconic concept that sometimes it appears even when it does not really matter.  However, despite the prevalence of class within the gaming context, the basic notion of class seems to have no definitive meaning.  Many games seem to use it different.  So, in the great adventure that is designing the optimal role-playing game, the question of class is an important one.  What is a class?  What encompasses a character’s class?  Should it be different than a career, or a job?  What about a background or personal history?  These are questions that need to be addressed.

I thought I would start considering how class is treated in different systems and write a thing or two about it.  From there, I hoped to think about what class could mean and, in the context of the new Dungeons & Dragons, what I think it should mean.  That being said, when I began this project, it was intended to be a single article.  Quickly, it grew into two.  From there, I realized that nobody really wants to read a 10,000 word treatise on class and felt it would best be broken up into individual articles.  To begin with, I have decided to examine various games, both tabletop, console, and computer, and look at how they handle the concept of class.  Specifically, I want to look at what the class encompasses, what it means within the context of the game, how much freedom a character has within that class, and what other features exist to further flesh out a character within that system.

Go ahead and guess what class this is...

Why look at all of these different systems?  The hope is to come to an idea of what the concept of class should entail.  A lot of game systems have abandoned the system of class because it is considered far too constraining.  Yet, many games continue to employ a class system because it provides a player with a pre-built archetype with which to interact with the game world.  On the other hand, some game systems try to make very broad, highly encompassing classes intending to capture every possible permutation that of character that could exist.    Although I admit that every rule system is different, the hope is that there is a sort of optimal place for class within a RPG system.  Thus, I go on this journey under the assumption that there are a few basic principles that every game should potentially apply to its class system.  Whether that is true remains to be seen.

Hopefully, this will be a useful adventure.  Although I have read and played a wide variety of game systems, my experience is limited and I hope I can reach all of the relevant different rulesets out there.  If there are particular systems worthy of consideration, I hope that readers will recommend them to me so I can consider them further before I conclude.  In the history of gaming, it is likely that every reasonable idea has been explored by some game at some point, so hopefully I can find them all with a careful examination of the genre.

The Elements of a Classy RPG, Part 1: Rifts

The Elements of a Classy RPG, Part 2: Final Fantasy

The Elements of a Classy RPG, Part 3: Dungeons & Dragons (BECMI)
The Elements of a Classy RPG, Part 4: Dungeons & Dragons (Third Edition)

Design Thoughts: Beyond Good and Evil

It's a good tonic, altruism.  Nothing
helps one put problems in perspective
like allegiance to a higher cause.

First, I would like to preface this by saying this does not intend to be nearly as big-headed as the title may suggest.  It is not my intent to rewrite the works of Friedrich Nietzsche or even discuss them.  This is centered completely on the place of good and evil within the context of Dungeons & Dragons.  It comes up a lot in the discussions of the next iteration of Dungeons & Dragons and also in a lot of classic D&D debates.

It has been made public that the next iteration of Dungeons & Dragons will see a return to the nine-point alignment system.  Most importantly, the spectrum of good and evil first introduced in Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (1977) would see a return.  This has left me somewhat frustrated, mostly because I have never been able to rationalize how an objective conceptualization of good and evil could ever fit into the framework of a fantasy world like Dungeons & Dragons.

Who else would kick a man for
eating ice cream?

I want to focus this on the place of the gods within the construction of objective good and evil.  There are many gods within any D&D pantheon that are labeled as some sort of Good.  In fact, most settings have a host of good gods, whether they be Lawful Good, Neutral Good, or Chaotic Good.  Yet every good god has some different folio, some different set of goals and interests.  When people talk about what it means to be good within the setting, I cannot help but wonder where that definition is supposed to come from.  Normally, I would expect the gods to aid in the definition of good and evil, but D&D deities have taught me to think otherwise.

At the end of the day, it is quite easy to end up with two gods of good conflicting over some major issue.  So often, it seems that two definitionally good gods disagree over some sort of major issue with ethical ramifications.  My question, then, is: Which choice is the good?  Which good god do I follow to assure that I am following the good choice?  If I support Tyr's pursuit of justice, am I acting in conflict with Ilmater's pursuit of mercy?  Is there no "good" option, or does that fall under a different god's folio?  How do I know, as a character in the fantasy world, what good really is?

I think I'm starting to sound more like
Moriarty than Sherlock Holmes.

I do not want to sound like the guy that is trying to shut down on everybody's notion of good in the fantasy world.  I feel like objective good has a place within a monotheism if the one god is a god of good.  But when gods have folios composed of arts, crafts, or abstract ideas like vengeance and strategy, it is difficult to see where good falls.  Honestly, it is the same issue I have when popular video games try to integrate notions of good and evil into the narrative.  Sometimes, I do something that seems pretty good and I get an evil point.  Or, in the reverse, I do something that feels pretty evil but get good credit for it.  Very rarely do these games go out of their way to tell you what is meant by good.  It is only by guessing can you intuit what the scenario developer really meant when he or she used the word "good" within the game.

(Note:  All of the images on this post were taken from the Batman Alignment Chart)

On Monsters Most Ridiculous

As a Dungeon Master, I always try to think about how the adventure, encounter, or situation would look if it were a work of fiction.  How would the story read?  How would it look on television?  How would it sound in a movie? If it would seem absurd or unbelievable in that context, I have to ask: why would I expect my players to buy off on it?  This kind of thought process really drives my development of adventure material.

Here is a brief illustration of what I mean:

*   *   *

As the Fellowship descended deeper into the Mines of Moria, they came upon a large chamber.  Frodo looked in awe at the cavern but quickly noticed a distinct odor.  He drew a deep breath, trying to identify the smell.  "Is that ... blood?"

Gimli shook his head.  "No.  It's rust."  He pulled his axe close, shaking his head slowly.  "I have heard legends of something like this, but..."  From the darkness, a high pitched hiss erupted, interrupting the stout dwarf.  He pointed towards the dark corner of the chamber.  "There!"

A peculiar, reddish beast stepped out of the shadows.  Gandalf stepped forward, holding his staff out defensively.  "Be cautious!  It is a rust monster!  It will consume the very metal off your bodies."  The wizened man looked towards Frodo.  "Be careful, Frodo.  Although the Ring's dark power protects it from the creature's attack, the beast will make quick work of Sting."

Frodo looked to Gandalf, concerned.  "But, Gandalf!  I thought Sting was a magical blade?"

Gandalf shook his head.  "It does not matter.  The rust monster destroys magical metals as readily as normal metals.  Be on your guard."

*   *   *

Right.  Had I been reading that book, I suspect I would have put it down and never picked it up again.  It sounds like the kind of thing a child came up with.  Or, perhaps more appropriately, it sounds like the kind of thing a bad dungeon master would come up with to upset his players.  Honestly, a good chunk of old school D&D monsters feel exactly like that. 

• Displacer Beast? "Ooohh. It always appears a few feet from where it really is! That will confuse the players!"
• Beholder? "Super anti-wizard wizard! Shuts them down with an anti-magic raye and then shoots lots of magics at them! That'll show them!"
• Rust Monster? "I really regret letting Bob get that magic sword. This will solve the problem..."
• Mimic? "This will teach those players to go grabbing my treasure chests!"
• Trapper? "The floor as a monster!?! Super awesome!"

There is a really great series of articles written on the Internet that go through some of the ridiculous monsters and point out the inherent silliness of them, so I won't go through it.  In general, the design philosophy of that era appeared to be a competitive Player vs. DM style.  When considering the design style of some of those adventures (Tomb of Horrors, etc), it seems a consistent design philosophy.

As an adult role-playing gamer, I always focused on collaborative storytelling with some mechanical hurdles (combat, skill resolution, etc).  The enemies in the story should have some theme or organization.  They should feel like they're part of the story and they belong in the world.  Whether it be an undead army or a clan of ferocious orcs, I expect to use a lot of the same kinds of basic enemies but with different skills.  Honestly, I feel like an entire campaign could easily feature nothing but player races as enemies with basic animals for support.  No flying balls with eyes or monsters that jump out of the floor, as the floor.

The design style of those ridiculous, old-school monsters feels out of place in the kind of adventures and campaigns that I want to run.  In the kind of games I play, I find these kinds of ridiculous monsters jarring when they come up.  It's a strange thing to go from fighting undead foot soldiers or the cult of a dragon god to coming across a pair of rust monsters in a dungeon.  It takes away from what I enjoy in the game and it always concern me when people get excited about them.

This is my idea of Dungeons & Dragons.

On Vancian Magic

These were volumes compiled by many wizards of the past, untidy folios collected by the Sage, leather-bound librams setting forth the syllables of a hundred powerful spells, so cogent that Turjan's brain could know but four at a time.
-Turjan of Miir

Today, the Dungeons & Dragons Legends & Lore column attempted to address the question of "Vancian Magic" in the world of D&D. As with everything Monte Cook writes, the Twitter-verse has been abuzz with discussion about it. After a lot of consideration, I thought it necessary to address my problem with the discussion and perhaps suggest a way for moving forward.

Jack Vance wrote a series of stories, beginning with Dying Earth. Although I have never read the story, I try my best to summarize the relevant features here. In this far-future setting, wizards spend time preparing a spell by preparing ritual components, gestures, words, and so forth. This prepared spell is magical and the discharge of that magical spell leaves the wizard without that power. He has expended it and the spell is gone from his memory. This process is so complicated that wizards can only prepare a handful of such spells every day. Say, perhaps four. Unlike the typical fantasy wizards, Vancian wizards' magical prowess was very limited. They had to rely on magical artifacts, combat prowess, and other skills to survive. It was a unique take on a fantastic concept, a take that inspired Gary Gygax when developing the Dungeons & Dragons system.

Although inspired by the writings of Vance, the D&D magic system began to become its own creature. Spells would be assigned to different "spell slots" based on power, so a wizard would have to choose to prepare a number of weaker spells despite his advanced knowledge and ability. Weaker spells would become more powerful (perhaps, as compensation for having to continue selecting them), but the overall direction was something different than the writings of Vance. Furthermore, wizards of high level would have 30 or 40 prepared spells, far beyond the "handful" envisioned by Jack Vance.

Eventually, Third Edition included the ability to augment or modify spells. A wizard could memorize his standard Fireball, or he could prepare a variant by using a "higher level spell slot." Where before, a wizard could only memorize a specific "formula" or version of the spell, the Third Edition wizard had the ability to move spells around to change their precision, power, and effect. Furthermore, certain magic-users had the ability to turn any previously prepared spell into a certain, basic magical effect (such as a cleric with his healing ability). Once again, the game moves away from Jack Vance's model and towards a uniquely D&D system of magic.

Fourth Edition changed the system again. Now, everybody had "utility belt" powers. Only the Wizard had any freedom to change what he loaded. Furthermore, even that ability was limited.  Every class had only a small handful of such abilities, generally no more than ten. Arguably, this limited scope puts them more in line with Vance's "handful" of magical spells. However, they lost the ability to choose from a wider selection of spells. In total, many consider this distinction too far from the Vance model to still bear the name "Vancian."

It is worth noting at this point that this does not capture the full extent of magic within the D&D tradition. Other methods have been presented in various sourcebooks or articles.  Furthermore, every group creates its own rules and variants that color the system. Through play, certain elements will become more iconic or important than others. This is perhaps the biggest wildcard in understanding what it means to be Vancian Magic.

The point of this brief survey is to attempt to determine it means to be a Vancian magic system. For some, it is the unique aspect that a wizard prepares his small handful of spells at the beginning of the day and, once used, they are unavailable. For others, it is the ability to look over a vast list of spells every morning and plan which to choose to have available. Some see the Vancian system as a means to limit the power of wizards, to keep them "balanced" with the other classes. Many see it as elements of all of these things.  At the end of the day, what makes a magical system Vancian will depend on the perspective of the viewer.

The words "Vancian Magic" invoke any varied number of memories, feelings, and emotions in anybody who has played Dungeons & Dragons in the past thirty years. Everybody has different understandings, different memories, and different expectations. To have an intellectual conversation about the benefits and perils of Vancian Magic requires establishment of a fundamental understanding of what Vancian Magic really is.