On The Dungeon Master Experience

Chris Perkin’s penultimate article came down last week, which bothers me. As soon as I find an article on Wizard’s site that’s worth reading, it goes away. It’s like Leverage all over again.

I was going to link to his top ten pieces of advice for DMs last week, but at the bottom of the article he posted a poll asking readers which piece was the most important, and it took a week for the poll to close:

It’s things like this that finally restore my faith in the game. After all the excitement in the comments section of these articles for racial prerequisites (“You were born wrong, so no options for you!”), campaign settings (“I’m tired of having a unique, dynamic world. I want the same one everybody else has.”) and so forth, I’m pleased to see that D&D players (or at least the ones that read this article) find these as their top priorities:

  1. Don’t be a jerk.
  2. Make it fun.
  3. Be awesome about it.
  4. Screw with the rules when the rules don’t do what you want.
  5. Have a character, not a box of stats.

Or, in other words:

  1. Law #0
  2. Law #0
  3. Law #0, but louder
  4. Law #0 mixed with Law #1
  5. Role-play more. (…that should be a law, actually)

I was actually prepared to write some vitriolic response to the poll (in the same way that I’m prepared for my players ditching the campaign story to have their characters create an underwater utopia, or losing my shoes in a tornado), so it’s nice to see that all I had to do was write an “I told you so.”

Posted in Commentary, DMing | 3 Comments

Arbitrary Attack Bonuses in 4E

Somebody asked about the correct values for the arbitrary attack bonus that accompanies racial attack powers, item powers, and so forth. I put this together to see exactly how they stack up:

This chart assumes the following:

  • A character gets their new weapon the level after they become eligible. For example, a +1 orb at L2, a +2 at L7, etc. For every level that this is not true, adjust the chart accordingly. When a bonus like this increases, the comparison becomes worse, so shift the chart down, and vice versa.
  • A character’s weapon proficiency bonus is 2.5. If it’s +3, shift the line down .5. If it’s +2, shift it up .5.
  • A character takes their Expertise feat at L1. For every level they put it off, move the chart up 1.
  • No extra situational bonuses, like a +1 to attacking undead with a given weapon.

The exact ability scores are irrelevant because they affect all bonuses equally.

On average, the arbitrary bonus of 3/tier vs. AC lags behind weapon attack bonus by 1.8, and the arbitrary bonus of 2/tier vs. other defenses lags behind implement attack bonus by 1.3. The only times such attack bonuses are as good as implement bonuses are at L1-6, before the character gets a +2 implement, and L11, because of the discrete tier increase. The only times they’re as good as weapon bonuses are L1, L11, and L21 (that is, levels before you increase your enhancement bonus to attacks in a tier) for powers that target AC, and even then only if the character normally uses a weapon with a +2 proficiency bonus.

So if you have a paragon-tier magic item that you really want to attack at Str+5 vs Will, you’re fine. It’s still less likely to hit than any other power.

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Underpowered: Duergar (4E)

Generally I’m not the kind of person who ranks things by power level. I tend to leave that to the experts. But I do talk with people and I see a lot of gameplay. One of the big benefits of running D&D Delve Night for a couple of years was that I got to see literally hundreds of character builds, and I’ve noticed some trends that more powerful characters follow.

As I understand it, the power level of racial powers can be ranked roughly like this:

  • The dwarf
  • Minor action encounter powers that attack enemies
  • Immediate-speed powers
  • Minor action encounter powers that affect enemies without an attack roll
  • Minor action at-will powers
  • Powers that help the character using them
  • Standard action powers

So it’s a little weird that the duergar, with a minor-action encounter power that attacks enemies, is so underpowered. But let’s compare it to two other races with similar powers that get a lot of play, one older than the duergar and one newer:

Duergar (MM2) Dragonborn (PHB) Thri-kreen (DSCS)
Stats +2 to two +2 to two (errated to +2 to one, +2 to choice) +2 to one, +2 to choice
Speed 6 6 7
Vision Darkvision Normal Low-light
Languages Three Two Two (one uncommon)
Skills +2 to one +2 to two +2 to two
Traits None Two (attack bonus, healing bonus) Three (action bonus, jump bonus, doesn’t sleep)

Without traits, the duergar’s power level is largely reliant on its racial power. And how does it measure up?

Duergar (MM2) Dragonborn (PHB) Thri-kreen (DSCS)
Range Ranged 3 Close burst 3 (5 with feat) Melee 1 (targets three creatures)
Attack Con +2/tier vs. AC Choice of ability +2/tier vs. Reflex Choice of ability +3/tier vs. AC
Damage d8/tier + Con d6/tier + Con (d10 with feat) d8/tier + choice of ability
Damage Type None Choose at character creation None
Effect -2 to attacks, ongoing poison None (various with feats) None (reliable with feat)

The racial power only targets one creature, and that creature must be within 3 squares (but not adjacent, or that’s an opportunity attack). It has an attack bonus as though it was targeting a secondary defense, but it actually targets AC. It relies on Con, which is only a primary attack stat for battleminds and certain warlocks (hint: infernal warlocks are the expected build for duergars). With all these penalties to hitting, its damage should be serious. But instead it’s just on par with other racial powers, and it deals small ongoing damage of the most-resisted damage type.

So literally the only things that the duergar has going for it are darkvision and an encounter power that usually misses but deals -2 to attack rolls (save ends) when it hits. That’s nothing to sneeze at but it’s not enough to make anybody actually want to play the race. So let’s try to make it viable.

As before, let’s look at the monsters. Interestingly, every one of them has speed 5, like the dwarves on which the race is based. As much as I hate to lower a race’s power while trying to increase it, this fits too much to ignore. But every duergar also has resistance to fire and poison. Now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s add that in. PC resistances tend to be 5 + half-level and the deva has two, so that works without being too unbalanced.

We also need to update their build to be in line with current design. There are eight duergar in the MM2: two Con-primary, two Wis-primary, three Str-primary, and one Cha-primary. The Cha-primary and Con-primary have secondary Dex, and the Wis-primary have secondary Int. So Cha and Int are rare, but Con and Wis both make sense as the mandatory ability, and Str and Dex can make both strong cases as the new third stat. When monster precedent fails, I’m inclined to earn toward race precedent. Their attack power uses Con, and duergar are basically evil dwarves. So let’s use the same stat line as dwarves, and we’ll modify the power to fit. And since many of the monsters are trained in Religion (the knowledge skill that tells players about devils), we’ll use that.

These changes pretty much bring them back up to competitive, especially since fire and poison are such common damage types. But I want to give them one more trait, something small and flavorful. I’d love to give them the devil keyword, but PC don’t have keywords, so that’s out. Since they’re hardy creatures who were enslaved by devils, let’s give them something to resist the attacks of devils.

Which leaves us with:

DUERGAR
Average Height: 4′ 2″- 4′ 8″
Average Weight: 160-220 lb.

Ability Scores: +2 Constitution, +2 Strength or +2 Wisdom
Size: Medium
Speed: 5 squares
Vision: Darkvision

Languages: Common, Deep Speech, Dwarven
Skill Bonuses: +2 Dungeoneering, +2 Religion
Force of Will: You gain a +1 racial bonus to Will defenses against attacks made by immortal creatures.
Infernal Resistance: You have resistance to fire damage and poison damage equal to 5 + one-half your level.

Infernal Quills Duergar Racial Power
You tense and send the quills projecting from your body into the gaps in your foe’s armor.
Encounter ⋄ Poison
Minor Action Ranged 3
Attack: Strength, Constitution, or Wisdom vs. AC. You gain a +3 bonus to the attack roll.
Level 11: The bonus increases to +6.
Level 21: The bonus increases to +9.
Hit: 1d8 + Strength, Constitution, or Wisdom modifier damage, and the target takes a -2 penalty to attack rolls and ongoing 2 poison damage (save ends both).
Level 11: 2d8 + Strength, Constitution, or Wisdom modifier damage, and the target takes a -2 penalty to attack rolls and ongoing 5 poison damage (save ends both).
Level 21: 3d8 + Strength, Constitution, or Wisdom modifier damage, and the target takes a -2 penalty to attack rolls and ongoing 8 poison damage (save ends both).

How to reskin this power so that it works with Wisdom is an exercise left to the reader.

This race didn’t need to be half-rewritten like the bullywug, just updated. I tried to give it the general feel of dwarf + devil. As much as I wanted to pull in the 3E duergar and add 4E versions of invisibility and enlarger person and psionics and stuff, that’s not really what they are any more. Plenty of room there for a racial paragon path, though.

Posted in Gaming Systems, Underpowered | Tagged | 2 Comments

On the Story of 5th Edition

Two articles appeared on Wizard’s website this week, both part of ongoing series: This week’s Legends & Lore by Mike Mearls, and this week’s The Dungeon Master Experience by Chris Perkins. They offer very different sides of D&D, as Mearls talks about the development of D&D 5th Edition (a.k.a. D&D Next, using the same naming theories as professional wrestling) and Perkins discusses a regular if busy campaign he runs. They form an interesting point/counterpoint for D&D, looking at it from the standpoint of a designer who’s trying to build or fix a system and a player who’s trying to maximize the use of the system that exists. Both are interesting reads.

The differences between the articles really hit home this week. In Mearls’ “This Week in D&D”, he says that Wizards is aiming for a smaller set of rules mechanics, instead focusing on things that make sense in common language rather than focusing on making new mechanics. The example he gives is making an “archer” rather than a character who has “Rapid Shot”, because “archer” is a more recognizable term. As long as there’s still some option in this that prevents all archers from playing exactly the same, I can get behind this. It eliminates or reduces problems with the scope creep, and it suggests that the real focus on a character will be how they act at the table and how they feel rather than what numbers are on their character sheet.

But he starts the article by saying that the development teams want to “shift [their] emphasis to story”, which says to me that we’re back to the world of pre-programming how the world works rather than trusting players and DMs to come up with their own. I’m not against having fluff in the books, and anybody who’s heard me gush over the Pathfinder bugbear can attest to this. But the story of D&D is best managed by DMs and players, not by the book that settled on the world months before any campaigns start. The more in-depth a system’s story is, the less respect I have for it.

The comments are all aflutter over this, mostly with approval, and mostly because they assume that a focus on “story” means a focus on “a default D&D campaign setting”. It looks like Greyhawk has a fanbase much larger than I thought, and I can’t really argue with what the customers want. Though it’s not escaped my notice that players want a focus on common language like “archer” but are fine with a focus on specific language like “Moradin”. It’s enough to make me think that players don’t know what they want, just that they want it.

On the opposite end of the scale, Perkins’ “Make It BIG!” explains that players and DMs best remember the events, settings, and characters that are over-the-top rather than the mundane path of a game. Though my evidence is largely anecdotal, I can agree with this. Players don’t remember the Monster Campaign because the plot was gripping, and I’m pretty sure half of the players couldn’t even tell me what it was. But they do remember the nimblewright launching a subterranean castle into the air to destroy his own airship, the myconid* dying when he tried to crawl into the mouth of a fiendish dinosaur, and the half-dragon orc getting into a toe-to-toe punch-up with an eldritch giant named Bootylicious.

The contrast between these articles is somewhat striking, as Mearls says “Let’s hold back on the rules so we can work on the story” and Perkins says “Nobody cares about the story until the players make it worthwhile”. Certainly large, interesting adventures aren’t precluded by the design aesthetic of 5E. But I think it’s a huge mistake to expect that designers can make those things happens. Just give the players the rules they need to play the characters they want, give the DM the framework he needs to build the plot the players like, and trust the customers to make their own story without a designer’s help.

I think it’s another conflict between Int-based design and Cha-based play. I’ve said before that Int-based design is a good way to lose sight of the system itself. Our situation has not improved.

* – You know, both my highlight reel and Chris Perkins’ involve myconids. Maybe, like Greyhawk, they also have a fanbase much larger than I thought.

Posted in Commentary | Tagged | 3 Comments

Pre-Campaign Survey

I mentioned a campaign survey once that I used for my campaigns, but I never actually published it. You can find it here. The idea is that players fill out the survey by indicating where they want the campaign to be on seven sliding scales.

For example, a player might check off the box halfway between role-playing and roll-playing, indicating a fairly typical campaign with a mix of combat and non-combat. They might go slightly right of center on rural/urban, indicating a slight preference for being in and near civilization.

I usually fill one out myself too and take the average, though I keep in mind any outliers. It helps me plan my campaign around what the players want and expect to play, sometimes in a way that changes the campaign significantly. Here’s how my last one turned out, with a surprisingly high preference toward a campaigned, non-episodic game:

I know the rows are reversed. Not sure what happened there.

These are general guidelines. Just because the players wanted to be around PG-13 doesn’t mean I can’t have G-rated moments, and vice versa. But it does indicate that I shouldn’t be running a campaign where the players are typical people just trying to survive after the End Days (low tech, low power, dark tone).

It’s clear that this is focused toward D&D; other systems don’t have a magic level to chart (though they might have a tech level, or a spirit level or something), or they assume a certain power level, or they don’t have patience for combat as a campaign focus. It also works best if you’re making your own setting, like a grown-up; Eberron, for example, leans toward dark tone, high magic, and low power level, and the survey results should be weighted accordingly.

Treating each as a scale from 1 to 7, like my players tend to do, my baseline is something like 3/6/5/5/3/5/6. It varies based on the campaign and what media I’ve recently consumed, but this line probably isn’t terribly surprising to anybody who’s seen my influence map. There aren’t any extreme values there, and that’s to be expected. In the survey above, I asked six players (and myself) seven questions to get forty-seven values with two abstentions. Only three of those values were a 1 or 7, and two of those were me trying to skew the results to fit the setting. Players tend to want something in the middle, and when they don’t it’s the DM’s job to sit up and take notice.

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Underpowered: Bullywug (4E)

D&D has lots of options, and it’s fairly obvious that they’re not all equally powerful. I’ve ranted about this, but over time I’ve also been doing something about it. Rarely, it’s a house rule to limit to power of a given option. More often it’s a house rule to power up something that’s fun or flavorful but isn’t as good as a more common, powerful option. Every once in a while I like to look at one of these options and see if I can tweak it so that players who go for it aren’t taking a hit for their characters.

I know that working on game balance doesn’t really fit with a free-form, DMing-with-Charisma style. But I believe that one of the points of a system like D&D is the ability to let players play just about anything. If a player sees something they want to play (especially after spending forever looking for it) and find out that it isn’t fun, there’s a problem. Not everything can be perfectly-balanced all the time, but if a player has their heart set on a specific character, the system shouldn’t be working against them.

Races in 4th Edition have a very simple, consistent formula. Each race (now) gets a +2 bonus to one ability score and a +2 bonus to a choice of two others, a speed of 5 through 7 (except for the pixie, who flies at 6 but walks at 4), two languages, a +2 bonus to two skills, two to four racial traits (except for shifters, who get none, and eladrin, who get five because shut up), and some racial power. There’s little variance from this formula for PC races.

Monster races, however, aren’t so lucky. Included at the end of the Monster Manual and Monster Manual 2 (and the occasional other weird place), monster races are seriously underpowered compared to PC races in the Player’s Handbook series. They have fewer racial traits, occasionally lack powers, and weren’t given the same treatment that PC races were when Wizards shifted from the two-stat-bonus system for ability scores to the one-and-a-choice system.

It makes me wonder if they were never meant to be played, which in turn makes me wonder why they were published. I expect that the authors expected somebody to play them. After all, the big taboo in playing monsters is that they’re, well, monstrous. They’re not supposed to fit in with PCs. But PHB2 introduced playable lycanthropes and reincarnated spirits, and PHB3 gave us minotaurs (formerly a monstrous race) and psychic crystal robots. At this point, “monstrous” is kind of a loose term. Dark Sun gave us bugs. So I don’t see any reason that the monstrous races shouldn’t be treated the same as PC races, given that there’s no strong reason to differentiate them.

There’s a lot of work to do in putting all races on a (more) level playing field. But I think the best way to start is with the most obvious outlier, from the Monster Manual 2:

BULLYWUG
Average Height: 5′ 4″- 6′ 0″
Average Weight: 150-240 lb.

Ability Scores: +2 Constitution, +2 Dexterity
Size: Medium
Speed: 6 squares (swamp walk)
Vision: Normal

Languages: Common, Primordial
Skill Bonuses: +2 Athletics
Rancid Air (Poison) aura 2: Any enemy that spends a healing surge within the aura is weakened until the end of its next turn.

Bullywugs, as far as I can tell*, are still on the two-stat-bonus system for ability scores. They’re one of only seven races that don’t get +2 to two skills (shardminds get three, humans and orcs get none, and bladelings, duergar, and githyanki get one; note that five of these seven are monstrous). They have no racial power. They only have one racial trait, and it only triggers when an enemy spends a healing surge, something that fewer than a dozen monsters do, most of which are in the MM1. Only one monster in MM2 allows allies to spend healing surges so Wizards knew when the bullywug was printed that its only trait was a rare corner case. And it also uses the Poison keyword, so any enemy immune to poison (the most common immunity) ignores the aura. So the only thing they can expect to use in any given campaign is swamp walk, a trait reliant on the DM’s kindness in determining the setting.

The lore of the race almost supports this, but not enough. The whole point of bullywugs is that the natural world hates them, more than aberrations, undead, evil gods, and everything else with stats. Clearly this included the designers. But they’re adorable in a Ninja-Tutrle-esque way, so let’s see if we can save them from their creators.

There are four bullywugs in the Monster Manual 2 as actual monsters, and all of them have good Dex. So let’s keep Dex as their mandatory ability score. Since Con is already included in the race, that’s going to be one of their optional ability scores. We need to determine the other. Of the four monsters, one is Str-primary, one is Wis-primary, one is Con-primary, and the fourth is Dex-primary. The Con- and Dex- primary monsters both have Str and Wis high and tied. We can make a case for either Str or Wis here. But since the half-orc is already Dex/Str,Con, doing the same with the bullywug wouldn’t add anything interesting to the race list. Let’s make them Dex/Con,Wis, a unique set.

Their speed, vision, and languages are fine. Of the forty-four published races, thirty-seven have speed 6 (and the pixie should count, so thirty-eight). The monster bullywugs have normal vision, so that fits. And the monsters only speak Primordial, so that’s a given as their second language.

Let’s determine their other skill bonus. Athletics is good because it’s already there and all of the monsters have it (Athletics determines jumping distance, and bullywugs are frogs, so draw conclusions accordingly). But three of the monsters only have Athletics. The fourth, a shaman has Nature. Athletics/Nature isn’t exactly new or special, but it fits for a race that lives in swamps, so we’ll take it.

The racial traits and powers are harder, because we’re largely free-forming it. The aura can stay, but since it’s so rarely useful it won’t factor into our balance considerations. Swamp walk is also a good choice for a trait. But we still need two mid-level traits and one power to bring them up to a PC race. The only power that all bullywugs share is one that heals any creature who hits them with a critical hit, something that’s neither fun nor helpful. I thought I was going to have to start making thing up wholesale, until I saw this:

Bullywugs say they were created by the original primordials, not by the gods…By amassing legacies of savagery, the curliest bullywugs imagine that they will one day be reborn as slaads.

So the race was created by primordials and aim to become paragons of chaos? Now we have something interesting. Slaads also don’t have any consistent powers or traits save that most of the have a teleport speed, which is too powerful for a low-level PC. But just the idea of chaos as an origin and goal is helpful. So let’s try building them some racial traits that leverage this drive toward chaos:

Mutable Physiology: Whenever you spend a healing surge or complete a short or extended rest, roll a d10 to determine a damage type. You gain resist 5 to that damage type until you spend another healing surge. The resistance increases to 10 at 11th level and 15 at 21st level.

1 – acid
3 – fire
5 – lightning
7 – poison
9 – radiant
2 – cold
4 – force
6 – necrotic
8 – psychic
10 – thunder

The idea is that the bullywug is changing frequently and randomly. It’s like the resistance offered by the shardmind but less powerful than the resistance offered by the diva or vryloka. Interestingly, it tends to go away just when you need it; if you’re in a fight where resist 10 fire is really helpful, you have a good chance of losing it if you take too much damage and need healing. It might make sense to drop this to a d8 and take away psychic and force, or to a d6 and also take away radiant and necrotic. A paragon path could also modify it. I know most races use resist 5 + half-level rather than 5/tier, but I’m toning this one down a bit because…reasons. I could be convinced to change it.

Yes, it duplicates the wild sorcerer trait. I’d actually forgotten about that one until I started looking up the correct language for the mechanics. But I’m not really bothered by the chaos race having ties to the chaos class, especially since bullywugs don’t gain a bonus to Charisma. A bullywug wild sorcerer would be underpowered but awesome, which I’ll allow.

Primoridal Origin: Your ancestors were native to the Elemental Chaos, so you are considered an elemental creature for the purpose of effects that relate to creature origin.
Deicidal: You gain a +1 racial bonus to attack rolls against immortals.

Primordials (elementals) and gods (immortals) fought a massive war deep in the lore of 4th Edition. Since bullywugs consider themselves fledgling primodials, this makes sense to me. It’s more flavor than anything that can really be expanded by feats or such. But attack bonuses are rare and cherished, so I think we’re done with racial traits. Now we need a power.

What makes a monstrous bullywug different from a PC bullywug? Since the race version doesn’t have the trait that heals enemies, maybe the PC version has gotten over this, to the point where nature doesn’t think the PC is quite as abhorrent as its brethren. But what if it was instead able to harness this “wrongness” and turn it into a strength?

Nature’s Revenge Bullywug Racial Power
As you feel nature shifting to thank your enemy for dealing a mortal blow, you use your mastery of chaos to pervert the reward.
Encounter
Immediate Reaction Close burst 20
Trigger: An enemy scores a critical hit against you.
Target: The triggering creature.
Effect: The target is weakened until the end of your next turn.

It it powerful? No, not really, unless you’re knocking a bunch of damage off a brute or solo’s next turn. It would be much stronger as an interrupt rather than a reaction. But for a power available for free at level 1, it fits, and it’s a rare racial power that affects an opponent without an attack roll. Again, it can be modified by feats to perhaps inflict ongoing poison or other ailments.

So we end up with this:

BULLYWUG
Average Height: 5′ 4″- 6′ 0″
Average Weight: 150-240 lb.

Ability Scores: +2 Dexterity, +2 Constitution or +2 Wisdom
Size: Medium
Speed: 6 squares (swamp walk)
Vision: Normal

Languages: Common, Primordial
Skill Bonuses: +2 Athletics +2 Nature
Deicidal: You gain a +1 racial bonus to attack rolls against immortal creatures.
Mutable Physiology: Whenever you spend a healing surge or complete a short or extended rest, roll a d10 to determine a damage type. You gain resist 5 to that damage type until you spend another healing surge. The resistance increases to 10 at 11th level and 15 at 21st level.

1 – acid
3 – fire
5 – lightning
7 – poison
9 – radiant
2 – cold
4 – force
6 – necrotic
8 – psychic
10 – thunder

Primoridal Origin: Your ancestors were native to the Elemental Chaos, so you are considered an elemental creature for the purpose of effects that relate to creature origin.
Rancid Air (Poison) aura 2: Any enemy that spends a healing surge within the aura is weakened until the end of its next turn.
Nature’s Revenge: You have the nature’s revenge power.

A lot more complicated, isn’t it? But it’s also a lot more balanced, and we’ve taken the worst published race in 4th Edition much closer to something playable. It’s not the only bad race (the whole point of the races in Monster Manual 2 seemed to be to make the already-lousy races in the Monster Manual look almost decent by comparison), but it’s a start.

* – A lot of the monstrous races have gotten updates via the D&D Insider subscriber system. Since I’m not a member, I hear about them third-hand, so I’m not real clear on what has and hasn’t been updated. In general I treat them the same way I treat an obscure rule book that none of my players own–if I can’t read it, it doesn’t exist.

Posted in Gaming Systems, Underpowered | Tagged | 2 Comments

Live GameScreen

I have to give props to Live GameScreen, and not just because I invented it. It’s the tool I’ve been using at the table for almost three years now, and along with MapTool (for online gaming) it’s the only software I need or want for managing play. I’m not sure how many people reading this aren’t aware of it, but it’s worth checking out, especially now that it’s approaching v1.

I may need to log an enhancement for boss fights if I’m going to use it in the Awesome Campaign, though.

…you know, between this post and OpenOffice, I’m stating to think that my CamelCase software names outnumber my normal names. It’s really just Firefox and Minecraft, isn’t it?

Edit: Live GameScreen is now available for download from this very site. You can find more information about it in the top menu.

Posted in DMing, Gaming Systems | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

System Depth and Published Material

When a player is building a character, I generally go through the same steps with them every time, or suggest that they go through the steps on their own if they’re sufficiently well-versed in the system:

  1. Decide what character they want to play. This includes personality, general role in a group, some backstory, and so forth.
  2. If the description from step (1) contains any in-game terms like the character’s class, feats, skills, etc., repeat step (1) until it doesn’t.
  3. Open a rulebook and start using D&D to build the character.

New players (that is, players new to D&D) don’t have a problem with this. They aren’t weighed down by in-game terms, information about what classes are good at what, predispositions toward how a certain class should act or which character ideas are powerful, and all that other stuff that gets in the way of building a character. Instead they just get an idea for what they want because they aren’t stuck with their concepts of what D&D can and can’t do.

Experienced players are actually just as good. They know what D&D is capable of, namely almost anything. They don’t mind playing a sub-par class, because that’s the class that fits the character they want and they trust the DM to not hammer them for their choice. They don’t think of characters as class-first (or, in the case of Monte Cook’s terrible, terrible opinion, race-first) because all classes have enough variance for plenty of character, especially once they start reskinning.

It’s the players in the middle that are the problem. They have just enough knowledge to be dangerous. They know that certain classes are good and others are not, usually favoring casters. They know what energy types they should use, what monsters they can expect, what powers are good, what position they should occupy in a party and on the battlefield, and so forth. They tend to think of characters as bundles of stats first and personalities second, and they have a hard time building characters without divorcing them from the rules that make them work. *

So what causes this? I think there’s an inherent need to look at a set of options and find a “best”, an option you can pick for maximum benefit and minimum hassle. We look for the best apartment in a town, for the best brand of mustard, for the best car to fit our lifestyle. This (I’m convinced) is why the Yankees have so many fans outside of New York, because it feels good to cheer a team you know is going to win more often than not. People gravitate to the “best” options, and it’s hard to consciously separate from that.

This gets harder and harder as more choices appear. It’s usually not that hard to pick Brand A or Brand B cola when they’re both offered at once, but when Brands C through J join the mix it’s much harder to narrow things down to a single option. It’s much quicker if you can reject half of them out of hand for one reason or another. If you can cut out Brands F through J because they’re diet colas, you’ve gone from ten choices to five and life is much easier.

It was kind of a roundabout way of getting here, but I think that one of D&D’s advantages is also one of its problems, that there’s so much information and so many choices. When presented with twenty classes, the player who can immediately reject the twelve weakest is left with eight options that are slightly above the curve of the game. When presented with a hundred feats, a player can get themselves a much smaller list by merely rejecting twenty that are duplicated or improved by a better feat.

To an experienced player, the amount of information isn’t a problem. More options is just that, more ways to build the character you want. But to new players it’s a bit intimidating to see the sheer volume of published information at their disposal, and intermediate players drop most of it almost subconsciously because it doesn’t result in the bundle of stats they want.

This gets back to the idea of the article I referenced last time, that long-running series are big time sinks for anybody who wants to get into them. People are becoming more and more accepting of marathon media consumption, but we’re still not at the point where the average gamer can look at ten rulebooks on a shelf and process them all in an afternoon. Reading a single rulebook cover-to-cover is too daunting a task for many players, much less retaining it at will for actual gameplay.

The 4th Edition Player’s Handbook has 198,243 words (I counted). That’s sixteen more words than Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Reading, processing, and retaining the PHB1 isn’t simple, and that’s just the first third of the Core Rulebooks for one edition. Even the smaller, post-Essentials books come close to 100K words (longer than Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets). That’s a lot of information to process for somebody at any experience level.

Perhaps in response to this, I’ve seen some games that fit entirely inside one rulebook. Sometimes this works, but more for shorter diversions than for a long-term campaign. A small system that can be extended to a big game tends to be somewhat hands-off about it, relying on the GM and players to do the extension. In the hands of a good group, this works great. With a…less good group or a sufficiently bad leader, the gaps in the system become clear, characters and NPCs end up all looking the same, and the players effectively become unpaid designers trying to write additions to the system that fit the game they want to play.

There’s no universal solution for this. Designers like writing new material, companies like releasing new material, and players like reading new material. GMs who ignore big systems in favor of smaller systems miss out on just as much as GMs who do the opposite, perhaps more if local players are only interested in the big names. Players who ignore half of the system, looking for only the best options, miss out on some great opportunities, but players who try to use it all end up lost in the sheer number of options presented.

The best idea I have is to talk with your players. If it looks like they’re in that intermediate mode where their characters are powerful but lack personality, suggest that they intentionally try something less powerful next time. If they’re avoiding a certain complicated mechanic, offer to go over it with them so you all learn it. If they want to play a new campaign, propose that you try a different, simpler system. And encourage them to ask question if they don’t understand something, in the same way that you should ask them if they’re doing something you don’t understand. No single person can be expected to consume and retain the rules for an entire system, but the answer isn’t to ignore half the game out of hand.

* — I realized after writing this paragraph that it sounded a little like a GNS analysis. That is, new players are narrativists who just make a character, intermediate players are stats-first gamists who play to win, and experienced players are simulationists who can make the system fit any character or world. That’s not even a little true. I’ve seen plenty of gamists who build a character based entirely around a powerful character idea, but I’ve seen plenty more who think of the character they want before they even consider their role in a party much less their class or feat tree. Players of all types fall into this general progression of experience.

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Marathon Sessions (or, Sleep Is for the Boring)

Note: One of the problems with having a post backlog that I go through is that sometimes I talk about issues that aren’t as topical by the time the post goes live. Trust me, three weeks ago House of Cards was all the rage.

There’s an article I came across in the New York Times, of all places, talking about House of Cards. The big earth-shattering idea behind House of Cards is that it appeared on Netflix all at once instead of appearing week-by-week like any show on television. Essentially, it was like buying the DVD of the series, were all of the episodes are available from the get-go. This is a response to the on-demand movement, where viewers are getting more and more into catching up with a series rather than watching everything as it airs.

The show also looks terrible. But that’s not why we’re here.

The idea of marathon viewing doesn’t surprise me, because it’s not too different from what I’ve been doing since I was first introduced to…well, to media. I can sit down and watch an entire season of a show or catch up on a long-running comic in two days, and back when I read books I would gladly burn through whole series. Granted, it colors most of my mindset for the following days or weeks, but it’s awfully fun to do.

It’s the result of one of those facts that’s only philosophical if you think too hard (or not hard enough): most things are in the past. We can’t go into the future and watch The Hobbit 2: Electric Boogaloo, but we can spend nine hours watching the first three Lord of the Rings movies. There’s always more media present right now than there is coming out, and anybody who doesn’t get in in the ground floor is playing catch-up.

There are two topics I want to address based on this, one of which is a lot closer to the real theme of the article. But before that, I want to talk about the first thing I thought when I read this article: “People are getting use to marathon session of watching TV? Finally! I can run those marathon D&D games I’ve been wanting to do since the Wilson administration!”

Short D&D campaigns aren’t all that hard. I’ve run a five-session campaign, I’ve played in a three-session campaign, and I’ve DMed about 130 one-shots, most of which were part of our version of Wizard’s D&D Delve Night. As long as you have a story simple enough to be told in that amount of time (and many are not), you can run a campaign without having to worry about deep world-building, power creep, or the players going too far off the rails. The players in turn don’t have to worry about getting lost in the plot, future time constraints, or how their characters will look or play at later levels. Everybody knows they’re getting into something short and sweet and they act accordingly, which makes the whole thing more streamlined than a long campaign.

On the other hand marathon D&D is hard. When I was much, much younger (Two years ago? Three?) I was in three campaigns D&D each weekend. I ran D&D for five hours on Saturday, played for six to nine hours that night, and playing in a different campaign for five hours on Sunday. At a more recent point, I was playing eleven hours on Saturday and eight on Sunday (ask other players how burned out they were from participating in only the Sunday half). That kind of schedule burned me out fast, and it was a good thing the Sunday afternoon campaign only ran every other weekend. As any ten-year-old can tell you, weekends are precious and my brain wasn’t happy about doing the same thing all that time, even if it was in four different gaming systems (…actually, I’m not sure if that helped or hurt me).

But I think day-long, or even weekend-long, games of D&D can work with sufficient breaks. It’s not always easy to monopolize a group of people for a day or two, but if everybody knows what they’re getting into, the feeling of going through an entire campaign in the course of a weekend can be fairly rewarding.

I’m especially a fan of it the context of something larger. I would love to have some mini-campaigns like that for the Eight Arms to build the characters and add to the mythos of the setting. It’s not a bad way to fit something quick and dirty into an ongoing campaign, like a quick plot with a much more pressing timeline. Heck, if you’re using anime as a framing device for your campaign, having out-of-continuity “movies” is almost required.

As long as you’re able to work it into schedules, there aren’t many players turned off by the theory of a marathon game (they might not be willing to practice it, but the theory is sound). A narrativist could want to explore their character acting in an unusual situation without committing to an entire plot based around it. A simulationist could enjoy seeing some part of the world that isn’t explored in the main campaign. A gamist could be interested in new and exciting challenges to overcome that might not have fit in the original campaign.

And when you consider changing characters for that short campaign, I think it actually becomes more attractive. A narrativist gets to flesh out somebody new, a simulationist gets to see how the world works without the PCs, and the gamist can try something that doesn’t click with their original character. It allows people to scratch the itch that makes them think their character or game is in a rut, but it happens in such a short time frame that it doesn’t throw off the campaign proper. For bonus points, try doing this by asking the players to be established NPCs or even villains, and I guarantee they’ll feel closer to the temporary characters and invent some traits that you hadn’t considered.

Like most things I want to try, I know that this isn’t for everybody, and it’s highly likely that not all of the players in your current campaigns will agree with me. But if you find people who are up for it, I think there’s a lot of benefit to be had.

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Schrödinger’s Gun in Games (or, That Robot Ducky is a Doombot!)

When I was younger and thus poorer, I liked to make gifts for people rather than purchase them. One year I came home from college for a weekend that coincided with my cousin’s first or second birthday party, and I decided to make him a small puzzle with a picture of a duck on it. I handed it to his parents, and during dinner they helped him put it together. I didn’t pay terribly close attention while he did, but whatever conversation I was having at the time was interrupted when I heard his jubilant cry upon completing the puzzle, staring at it for the first time.

You see, up until that moment he hadn’t recognized that there was a cohesive picture among the pieces, just that each piece had some colors and shapes. He didn’t know why certain pieces fit together, only that they did. It wasn’t until he saw the whole picture that he’d realized he’d been assembling a duck, and it was the biggest surprise in the world to see something recognizable appear out of nothingness.

I know a very smart GM with very poor taste in sports teams who likes to point out that nothing in a game is real until it’s explicitly presented to the players. The party can assemble any number of clues toward some in-game mystery: the brutal way the mayor was murdered, the large pawprints outside his windows, the full moon that night, the furry creature spotted fleeing the scene. But until they see it with their own eyes, they can’t be certain that they’re hunting a werewolf. It could just be a transformed druid, or some otherworldly monster, or just a very hairy person with terrible footwear.

The trope for this is Schrödinger’s Gun, and it’s probably the third most powerful weapon in a DM’s arsenal (after a BFG and an actual, at-the-table gun). The whole idea is that the GM is free, and in some systems encouraged or required, to change the details of the plot if it makes the game better for it.

In the example above, say the players determine that the murderer is a werewolf and load themselves up with anti-lycanthrope weapons and spells for a hunt. This is fine, since you figured it was a werewolf all along. But for some reason or another, you’re now thinking that maybe it’s not such a good idea. Maybe you came up with a better story between sessions, or maybe the players had a more awesome idea that you want to convert to on the fly, or maybe you just see how easy the fight will be when the party is overly prepared and you feel like being a jerk. You are, at any time, allowed to change what actually happened because, until the players see it, what happened could be almost anything.

Generally, I think this trope is understood in terms of story progression. Like the above, it refers to something that causes a DM to change their mind about some aspect of the plot that the players haven’t seen yet. But generally, that’s not how I end up using it (perhaps because my plots are always great to start). Instead I tend to use it for balance purposes.

I believe that the ideal fight is difficult but winnable. About a million years ago, I said this:

I like high difficulty. I tend to find that the combats that the players still talk about are the ones where they felt closest to death…Hard-won combats are more memorable and more enjoyable long-term than easy ones, even if at the time it feels terrible.

A fight that’s too difficult is frustrating for obvious reasons, but a fight that’s too easy is equally boring. Generally a good fight should consume some resources (hit points, spells, daily powers) but not tap them out.

So when a fight is starting to lean one way or another, that’s when I break out Schrödinger’s Gun. If a fight is too easy, an extra monster or two may appear halfway through, or a bloodied monster may gain a power that doesn’t actually appear in its stat block. If a fight is too hard, I can do the opposite: the planned minions don’t appear, or the monster loses its bloodied buffs or opts not to use a power it has available. Usually when I invoke this trope, it’s to give a creature a spontaneous “vulnerable X all” to speed the fight up some so that we can end the session on time or finish with a particularly boring encounter. The players aren’t aware of the exact plans you have or the numbers that go into a monster, so you have the option to change them on the fly.

4th Edition is a shade better at this than 3rd for a few reasons. One is the minion mechanic, where new enemies can join a fight that don’t completely rewrite its difficulty. Another is the higher power level, where adding a new trait (like vulnerable or resist 5 all) won’t completely kill the pace of the fight or invalidate certain characters. The “bloodied” status is a great time to make changes to monsters, one I’ve stolen for use in other systems. I think the most helpful change is the ease of reskinning, where a monster with the same stats can be any number of things by just changing its description and the names of its powers. Based on what your players are doing, you can change a goblin hexer to a kobold sorcerer, an orcish shaman, a human cultist, or even a plague elemental on a moment’s notice. The mechanics of the fight are the same, but the feel of it has changed dramatically based on what your campaign needs.

There are systems, like FATE, that are actually designed with this in mind. By spending fate points (or just making sense), a player can cause things to appear that were always there. For example, a player declares “I know about monster X, specifically that it nests in sewers”, and a GM responds “Sure, why not.” At first blush D&D doesn’t seem like a system built to handle such changes by players, but most DMs I know do it at some level. Maybe it makes sense that there’s a bookcase in a room even if I didn’t describe it, so it exists now that a player’s asked.

Beyond that, D&D explicitly mentions changing things on the fly as part of its core ruleset. It’s just that it only mentions it for dice rolls, and instead of “making things up as you go along”, the books call it “fudging die rolls.” Which is the same thing, but you get to feel like you’ve subverted luck as you do it. The 3rd Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide 2 (a book even less read than the 4th Edition version) goes as far as this:

…you should make your world serve the game, not the other way around. No part of your world is set in stone until it becomes part of the game. You might have an emotional connection to some elements of your material, but your players don’t, because they haven’t encountered those elements yet…Look at your background information as a work in progress, subject to instant revision if the moment demands a change that would result in greater entertainment…Even details that do become part of the game can be fudged on occasion. You shouldn’t change details the players vividly remember, because that punctures their belief in your imaginary world. Minor background details, on the other hand, should never be allowed to get in the way of an entertaining choice.

The point is that everything that hasn’t been shown to the players is as good as every conceivable outcome. To the players they’re obviously fighting the campaign villain, but you as a DM can spontaneously decide that this is just a clone, or a loyal follower, or a mind-controlled pawn. You don’t even have to decide this by the time the fight starts, and occasionally not even right after it ends. Until it’s spelled out, all the players have is shapes and colors, and you’re allowed to change the final picture any way you can.

Note: This isn’t even the only way players are like one-year-olds. Remind me to complain sometime about NPCs and object permanence.

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