Heroes of the Elemental Chaos

I like Heroes of the Elemental Chaos. When I got Heroes of Shadow, I found that it was mostly just an expansion to the staggeringly limited Encounters line, in that it wasn’t good but it was the best there was. When I got Heroes of the Feywild, I was pleasantly surprised at how much of an improvement it was. Now that Heroes of the Elemental Chaos is out and is even better, I’m looking forward to Heroes of the Astral Sea and Heroes of the Mundane World, That Place We Forget About Even Though Most Campaigns Happen There.

I would discuss the power level of the book, but that’s not my thing. There are plenty of places a person can go if all they want is a way to win at a cooperative game. Instead, I’d rather talk about the implications of the book with a Charisma-based playstyle.

As with most books for role-playing games, HotEC can be roughly divided into two sections: crunch (classes, powers, feats, themes, items, and anything that gives a player or a DM hard numbers) and fluff (introductions, descriptions, backstories, or anything that isn’t numbers). 4th Edition books tend to sprinkle both of them throughout the book. For example, Cleave is crunch, but the italicized description at the top of the power is fluff, and in Essentials, so is the whole paragraph before the power starts. Fluff is the part you throw out and redesign during reskinning, but it’s what tends to explain what on earth a power is supposed to be, and without it we’d just have an assortment of boring numbers.

The fluff in HotEC is magnificent. Chapter 1 goes into what elemental magic is, the reach of elemental magic, the Elemental Chaos, races, and primordials. Essentially, it’s the part of the book you skip completely if all you want is new way to shoot a guy, but for a DM or a player looking for a backstory it’s magnificent. In particular, I have to talk about the section on primordials. They’re a set of powerful NPCs, player patrons, campaign villains, and alternate gods all in one, just waiting for a DM to inject life into them. Wizards basically devoted ten pages to “We’re not entirely sure how these fit into the world. Go nuts!”, which is everything I’ve even wanted in a book.

The classes are similarly great. There are two new monk options based on water and fire, so we finally have a way to play firebenders and waterbenders without wild amounts of tweaking, but there’s also a section at the end laying the seeds for DMs and players to design three more. Druids only got six pages, but they include a new animal companion and what I think are the first beast form attacks in Essentials. The sorcerer got the Essentials treatment in that it lost all encounter and daily powers except for elemental escalation, which can be used a few times per fight, and I love this because it lets me force players to be more creative in their power descriptions than “I guess I hit a little bit harder this time”. The warlock pact option leverages my favorite thing about gaming (randomness) with its mutable damage types, and finally gives us elemental summons like we had from minute one in 3rd Edition. The only downside is the wizard, partially because I’m tired of wizards getting expended in every book, but also because I’ve never been a fan of familiars or their mechanics in any edition. And every one of these classes got a ton of new utilities to tweak a character’s feel and playstyle even more.

The paragons paths I like because they give back a lot of the things we had in 3rd that were missing in 4th, like the doomlords and the Xaositects speakers of Xaos. I’m also a big fan of the emergent primordial epic destiny and its “become huge” daily utility, even if I can’t see a single redeemable thing about the other epic destiny, the lord of chaos. The items are also neat, though I’m starting to be bothered by 4th Edition’s insistence on adding more and more item slots. First it was tattoos, then divine gifts, and now primordial shards and elemental gifts. Characters weren’t complex enough, but now they can have up to three invisible magic items that take up no slots. Just split the next slot into neck and back, or split head into head and face. We’ll understand.

I do think there was a missed opportunity, though, in giving players ways to add elemental powers to an existing character. One of the running issues I have with 4th Edition books is that each new book gives lots of ways to build a character from scratch, but almost no ways to tweak a character that’s in an ongoing campaign. Paragon paths and epic destinies are great ways to do that, and it loses some punch when the only way to take an elemental paragon path is to play an elemental character, especially when the prerequisites include one of the few things that player’s can’t retrain like a class option. The new feats at least give some way to give a normal person some elemental ability, and if you play one of the classes in the book you can take some elemental powers, but most characters are just left out (if you’re a martial or divine character, you can pretty much take a walk).

Overall, I was actually shocked (shocked!) by how much I enjoyed this book. It managed to expand on some of my favorite things in D&D (sorcerers, world-building, themes) and make some of my least favorite things at least marginally palatable (monks, Essentials druids). It even includes a tiny sidebar in the familiars elemental companions section giving players the go-ahead to make creative changes, and I like any implicit or explicit allowance Wizards makes for reskinning. I’m also told the book has some good options by somebody I trust to know about power levels, so if that’s your thing, consider that an endorsement. All told, this is a strong book that gives me hope for D&D, especially as 5th Edition starts taking shape.

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CRs, and Why They Mean So Little

Last night in our 3.5E campaign, we fought an entomber, from Libris Mortis, the Book of Bad Latin (also undead). The entomber’s primary mechanic is, shock of shocks, entombing. Every time it connects with an attack, the target has to make a non-trivial Reflex save or become buried in a shallow grave. Escape requires the assistance of allies (which requires two turns and provokes attacks of opportunity) or two successful grapple checks. It’s actually a pretty neat monster with a pretty neat mechanic, and its Challenge Rating was only two higher than the party level, which makes it a difficult encounter where a character might go unconscious but where nobody should die.

The problem is specifically how the numbers worked in the fight. The creature hit the party’s defender on a 13 and the party’s striker on an 8, which is pretty reasonable. Its damage could knock out a player in three hits, or two hits if the monster rolled well for damage, which is fine for a brute. But the Reflex save against its entomb ability is fairly difficult, and the grapple check to escape was worse. The party rogue could avoid being entombed by rolling a 9 or higher, but needed a natural 20 to escape the grapple (which, recall, had to be done twice). The barbarian could escape the grapple on a mere 14. So with one hit, the monster gave a player a 50% chance to not participate in the encounter for a minimum of two rounds, most likely five rounds or more. We all got knocked underground, lost the combat, and the cleric had to dig everybody out and heal them before the monster came back to finish us off.

I think it’s important that every DM realize that monster levels and Challenge Ratings are a suggestion rather than a hard and fast rule. Monster CRs are designed for a theoretical perfect party of a healer, a defender, a damage-dealer, and a caster (specifically, Jozan the cleric, Tordek the fighter, Lidda the rogue, and Mialee the wizard). Any variance in this party creates a different situation that can lead to a different combat. Switching the rogue to a barbarian makes it easier to fight undead but makes the party more susceptible to spells that target Reflex, switching the cleric for a druid increases versatility at the expense of some healing, and so forth.

Consider the entombed. For the playtest party, Jozan could turn this undead creature on a difficult but possible roll of 19 on 1d20+Cha. Mialee can use single-target damage spells to hurt it or control spells to limit its reach. Lidda is largely irrelevant, but she can spend turns digging out entombed allies and is very likely to make her Reflex save. Tordek is pretty much unchanged, unless he has a silver weapon, which is unlikely but incredibly handy.

Now consider our party of three melee characters: a cleric, a barbarian, and a rogue(-like thing). We had nobody who could stay away from melee combat against the terrifying melee specialist. It was impossible for our cleric to turn it. Its DR ruined the two-weapon fighting of the barbarian and made the rogue almost incapable of dealing damage except with magical powers. And we had one fewer person to save entombed allies. On paper, this was a great monster, and it was still a fun fight. But it was a bad match with this party and its current capabilities.

Here’s a story I promised to tell. Also in Libris Mortis, there’s a creature called the entropic reaper. It has fast healing, damage reduction beaten only by cold iron and lawful, spell resistance, normal undead resistances, and the ability to deal an average of 100 damage on a critical hit (which my sorcerer took). These alone are pretty scary for a CR 12 creature, but its namesake ability is its entropic blade.

If entropic blade hits you, you make a Fortitude save. If you fail, you’re done in the fight. You are unable to cast spells, take a -4 penalty to attack rolls and a 50% miss chance besides, and have a random chance of targeting allies since you can no longer tell who your enemies are. But each round you’re in this state, you take 1 Wisdom drain, which kills you if your Wisdom reaches 0. The only way to stop this effect is the application of sufficiently powerful healing magic (restoration or heal, which only clerics have at level 12), so if you want to survive, you need a cleric who has one of these spells prepared or an ability to cast one of them spontaneously, such as from a scroll. You can delay the effect, but only for one minute with a DC 21 Charisma check as a standard action, which requires a Charisma of 30 to get to a 50% chance of success. A character with a good Charisma can stave this off almost forever by doing nothing but making this check, but it means they can’t affect the fight in any way.

When we fought this creature, we had a sorcerer, a rogue, a fighter/bard, a druid, and a cohort cleric who used wands. The only chance we had to survive entropic blade was if the cohort entered combat (which he generally hadn’t done yet in the campaign) and cast restoration. But even with a perfect team, the initial Fortitude save is essentially a save-or-die mechanic unless the cleric happened to choose the correct spells at the beginning of the day.

Is the entropic reaper a bad creature? Probably. I don’t think it should have been published, and I can’t imagine why it was included at CR 12. But that doesn’t mean it’s unbeatable. The right party with the right preparation, a sufficiently high-level party that can resist many of its powers, or an appropriate ability to retreat and strategize can all make the fight balanced if not easy. But the lesson here isn’t that some creatures are bad (that’s a different lesson). It’s that CRs aren’t hard and fast representations of the difficulty of fighting a creature. Every monster, challenge, story, and part of a campaign needs to be measured against the capabilities of the characters and the players to challenge them but keep each side of the table from invalidating the other.

This is a lot easier in 4th Edition with its stranglehold on monster attacks, damage, and defenses. But there’s still a lot of room for bad decisions in power design, especially custom power design, and any variance from the expected formula can have hilarious consequences. And any of the non-numeric aspects of a monster can be trouble too; a fire specialist can expect to be sad when a fire elemental comes to a fight, but sending the players on an extended story in the City of Brass is just malicious.

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Re: Why we pick bad leaders, and how to spot the good ones

A neat article pooped up in Google Spotlight this week : Why we pick bad leaders, and how to spot the good ones. It’s not the most well-written article I’ve read this week, and it doesn’t have any earth-shattering research or world-changing analysis, but it does have application to what makes a good DM.

“Leader” is a good, if incomplete, word for a DM. A DM has to get people together, manage different personalities and time constraints, and moderate to keep everybody on the same page. Unlike a business leader, they don’t have to manage their people unless something at the table requires clear intervention, and they don’t perform any in-character delegation. Their job isn’t really to lead the party, but rather to lead the session and tell their story, present challenges, and make sure everybody is having fun.

With that in mind, I think we can draw clear parallels between Cohn’s article and the role of a DM. It lists a few traits that don’t make a good leader, particularly “a candidate’s charm, their stellar résumé or their academic credentials”. These correlations are fairly obvious. A good DM is not determined by their at-table personality (I’ve seen plenty of good players be average or lousy DMs), their past success in DMing (each new campaign, party, and set of players is a new challenge, and some DMs just don’t click with some challenges), or their knowledge of the system (it should go without saying, but encyclopedic knowledge of the system doesn’t make a person fit to design something in that system).

Some of the traits of good leaders are a little more vague, but here’s how I think they relate:

  • Integrity – Cohn defines this as “a blend of honesty, consistency and ethics”. A specific breakdown of integrity differs from DM to DM; I lie to my players all the time, which would make me dishonest, except that DMs should lie to present incomplete information or deliberate misinformation to represent character knowledge. In general, a DM should just be a good person. There are few good reasons to give time and effort to somebody who is trying to make you unhappy.
  • Passion – A person who treats DMing like a job isn’t nearly as enthusiastic as a person who treats it like a hobby, who in turn isn’t as enthusiastic as somebody who treats it like fun. A DM legitimately excited about their campaign will make players excited as well.
  • Courage – Hopefully, this doesn’t come up as much. But occasionally a DM has to confront a player who’s bringing down the table or trust their their players can handle some devastating change to the campaign. I’m strongly anti-spoiler in my campaigns (there’s another post there), so I don’t ask players if it’s alright before I kill somebody or give them a difficult situation. I certainly fret about it for the two weeks before it happens and for one week afterward, but at this point I mostly trust my players to run with it.
  • Vision – Campaigns are supposed to have goals. Few players can handle being dropped into the middle of a setting and told to explore. Good campaigns build to a peak or a series of peaks, and a DM had to at least know a little what he’s doing when he starts.
  • Judgment – This one’s pretty obvious. A DM with consistently bad judgment will lose players fast.
  • Empathy – A DM doesn’t run a table of characters, they run a table of players. A DM has to read players on the fly and occasionally flat-out ask them how things are going. If the players aren’t enjoying themselves (in general, maybe not at that specific moment), the DM has failed.
  • Emotional intelligence – I’m not sure I get the name of this trait, but it means that a DM should be able to stand back and look at what they’re doing and how they’re doing it. Often, this means asking the players for their assessment and suggestions on how to improve. Much like anything, a DM who isn’t improving over time will never become good.

Ricky Gervais aside, I’m pretty sure this article is more targeted to the current election season than to business, and that works better for my comparison. DMs aren’t promoted, they’re elected. They don’t answer to management, they answer to the people who elected them. And it’s rare for a DM to not serve at least one term (the length of a campaign) unless they quit before then.

Having all seven of the traits above is rare. Everybody has should have them in some capacity, but most people can only expect to have a few of them enough to register as a courageous or empathetic DM. It can also be hard to figure out which ones a person has or doesn’t have until you sit through a campaign with them, and it’s even harder to see them in yourself. After years of running games, I think I’m good at passion, vision, and judgment and lousy at empathy, and emotional intelligence, which means that I create and run magnificent campaigns and I can’t figure out why my players don’t think I’m as great as I do.

Posted in Commentary, DMing | 2 Comments

Save or Die

A million years ago in my post on Law #0, I mentioned before that I don’t like save-or-die effects. In case you’re on dial-up and can only load one page per hour (thanks for picking this one, by the way), here’s what I had to say:

I don’t like save-or-die effects. They’re the laziest kind of difficulty. They’re not interesting and they don’t challenge the players, they’re just a quick way to put a threat in the room. I can’t wrap my mind around the idea that “roll a 14 or stop having fun” is a good mechanic in a rulebook or at a table. I have a standing rule in my campaigns that I won’t use any save-or-die effects as long as the players don’t.

I understand why save-or-die spells exist. Magic is terrifyingly powerful, by design. A first-level wizard, which is the weakest possible PC, doesn’t need as long as four seconds to summon a dog from space, change into a different person, or create fire that can shock an average person into unconsciousness. Magic escalates quickly, and at a certain point having some spell that causes instant death is a logical conclusion.

Spells aside, there’s also room for save-or-die effects in the flavor of D&D. Mythology in general is thick with creatures that can slay without really trying, like gorgons, basilisks, banshees, and whatever the plural of cockatrice is. In essence, giving players the ability to cast death spells is a way to even the playing field, giving them the same chance of killing their enemies with a minimum of time and work.

But what I don’t get is why a player would ever do that, or why a DM would do that to players. I don’t understand what player can cast one spell, consider it a job well done, and move on without having invested any effort in-character or out. I don’t understand what DM can enjoy hurling a creature like a medusa at unsuspecting players, knowing that it will probably result in people at the table who are just going to sit and watch as other people have fun for them. And I don’t understand why a game designer would write something like that, thinking “This has a good chance of ruining all the energy a DM or player put into something, there’s little if anything they can do about it, and that’s exactly what I want.”

Save-or-die effects really have to include things that aren’t explicit death, but have the same effect on an encounter. A player that gets paralyzed, put to sleep, or teleported away is as good as dead for that fight unless there’s some way to break them out, and it takes a dedicated character to prepare for the myriad ways a player can be incapacitated. At this week’s Delve Night, the players fought harpies. Three players fell for a harpy’s song, which requires that the characters take no action but follow the harpy until it stops singing. All the harpy had to do was fly toward a non-threatening area away from the quest objective, and suddenly there was only one player who got to participate in the session. There’s no threat of imminent death, but even with the extra save the players got from jumping off a boat into calm water, one effect shut down most of the party without any chance of salvation. The only ways to stop the effect were to cast silence (which requires a valuable spell slot at low levels), slay the harpy (which requires that a character with appropriate range and damage resists the spell), or play a bard (which requires playing a bard).

In my campaigns, save-or-die (save-or-become-temporarily incapacitated is too hard to type repeatedly) effects are soft-banned. I won’t design encounters with them, including avoiding monsters with those effects built-in or lessening the severity of the effects, and the players won’t use them either. If the players do happen to use a save-or-die spell, then that lock comes off; I’ll never forget the panicked looks the party had when one player, against all advice, tried flesh to glass on a monster, knowing that I would gladly (and indiscriminately, because I’m great like that) respond in kind. It allows players to either safely avoid them or keep one in reserve for a critical moment, which is a neat backup plan to have.

If there’s a flaw in this plan, it’s that the system expects you to use save-or-die effects, so you miss out on a few things avoiding them. Look at the save-or-die effects on the 9th-level spell list for wizards: dominate monster, hold monster (because of the setup for coups de grace), imprisonment, mage’s disjunction (for NPCs rather than monsters), power word kill, wail of the banshee, and weird. Nearly a third of core 9th-level arcane spells aren’t allowed in my campaigns, and a bunch of lower-level spells are out as well; in general, enchanters are outright ruined by this restriction, but all casters end up with fewer options. Things aren’t much better on my side, either. Every core monster above CR 17 can use some save-or-die effect except the tarrasque (which, as you may have heard, is the tarrasque), and I have to read some monsters closely to see whether they have some terrifying game-ending effect. Remind me to talk sometime about the entropic reaper.

I’m not sure whether to include lesser effects under this umbrella, but I lean toward no. A wizard in a silence spell or fighter who gets his weapon sundered probably feels like he’s locked out of the fight, but there’s always the opportunity to affect the encounter in some way. It’s a situation that rewards sufficiently creative players, which I like as long as I do something that means I don’t feel bad about destroying tens of thousands of gold pieces.

This is one of the many cases where Pathfinder improves on 3rd Edition and one of the rare cases where 4th Edition may as well. Pathfinder changed some spells like finger of death and wail of the banshee to direct damage rather than save-or-die, and 4th Edition has fewer effects capable of knocking out an enemy, most if not all of which are restricted to daily usage. In a sense, 4th managed to do away with save-or-die effects by breaking them down into many smaller effects designed to make sure that enemies participate in the battle as little as possible, giving them to players and monsters in equal measure, calling that role a “controller”, and making it a heavily-suggested part of every party and every fight. I’m not convinced this is a net gain.

I guess my favorite story around save-or-dies isn’t the above-referenced terrified players, but it was earlier in that campaign and similarly terrifying. The party was in a one-sided fight (a planned TPK), and the cleric broke out some serious spell to kill a nearly-unharmed enemy construct. She succeeded, and on the next initiative a death salad used implosion to kill the cleric and nobody else. I’m not sure what made the implosion stop (damage interfering with the concentration?), but I know the players suddenly had an opinion about that monster, which set up both the severity of the soft ban on save-or-dies and the consequences of playing D&D as written. It was delightful.

Posted in DMing, House Rules | 1 Comment

On “The Genius of D&D”

For reference, I did not miss that Monte Cook thinks how you were born (race) is more important than what effort you’ve put into life (ability scores). This somewhat upsets me and leads me to imagine that this is not an issue I have that will be addressed in 5th Edition.

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Perform (dungeon master)

So what is DMing with Charisma?

There are three skills in D&D that represent the ability to make money in a non-adventuring role (and it’s telling that all of them were in my last post, which means that 4th Edition doesn’t have them at all). Craft is Intelligence-based and is used to create something physical. Profession is Wisdom-based and is more service-oriented, representing broader but less deep knowledge. Perform is Charisma-based and is used for artistic expression. Each of them has limited application in, say, a dungeon crawl, but I think it’s safe to say that every non-adventuring NPC in every setting has some ranks in at least one of them.

I think that Wizards’ intent is that DMing is a Profession check, but DMing doesn’t fall perfectly into any of these buckets. A dungeon master really needs to use all of them to build an interesting session or campaign, so I feel like it’s not right to say for sure that DMing is one or another. Rather than looking at it from a Craft-Profession-Perform perspective, I think it’s best to consider it from the standpoint of the relevant ability scores.

I think of a Wisdom-based DM as a fairly typical DM. They have some knowledge of the system, but they’re not rules lawyers. They have NPCs with personality, but they aren’t method actors. A Wis-based DMing treats DMing like a service, where they have to balance a number of aspects of running a game. They feel kind of like an ascended version of a typical player, though I think the Wisdom style is better tapped into the players than other styles. Any DM has to respond to the players, but Wisdom DMs put even more weight into what the players want. Usually this is a great thing, but a DM too reliant on public opinion can get pulled in too many directions or become subject to only the loudest or most upset players. I’ve seen many sessions and more than one campaign be shanghaied by a particularity emphatic player and a sufficiently permissive DM.

Intelligence-based DMs are a step or two more comfortable with the hardest parts of the game. They treat a campaign as a thing to be built by one person more than a thing to be generated by a group, and they stick much closer to official rules and mathematical integrity than Wisdom-based DMs. It’s easy to think of them as uptight and distant, but my Int-based DMs always have a startling amount of internal story consistency, and they make sure that the gameplay is as fair as possible. Intelligence DMs treat the story as the most important thing; bad ones crush player opinion for the sake of the plot, but good ones integrate the players so they’re as involved as the DM is.

Charisma-based DMs are the opposite. They’re the DMs most likely to ignore the rules, dice rolls, and continuity for the sake of doing something great right now. In retrospect, the campaign may not have make the most sense, but the point is that everybody’s having fun. If you can get past the idea that Cha-based DMs are willing to blithely throw out things about the system that you’ve been using for years, the biggest issue is that the world around the players can take on a life of its own, far bigger than they can hope to manage.

For example, let’s say a player wants to incapacitate an opponent from far away by shooting their clothing and pinning it to the wall. It’s not an uncommon trope, and the target certainly has some loose clothing to pin. An Int-based DM might disallow it, on the ground that there’s a feat for this (Ranged Pin, Complete Warrior) and letting a player duplicate the feat without having it means the feat is meaningless. Clearly, the designers wants this to require some extra character investment. A Wis-based DM might allow it, but only on a sufficiently good roll, like a critical hit or the target’s AC with a bonus, and even then the target can remove the error on their own turn. Clearly, this is something that should be possible and it doesn’t break the game with these additional restrictions. A Cha-based DM might allow it outright as long as the player can make the shot, perhaps even the target’s AC with a penalty. Clearly, it’s easier to hit a wizard’s robe than the one bit of exposed skin on a fighter, and what the player wants to to is dynamic and cinematic.

None of these DMs are wrong. There is a feat that allows ranged pinning, and generally players shouldn’t be able to ignore restrictions like that at will (or else you probably want a more freeform system). A character should have to be a very good archer to pull off a shot like this, or else players and NPCs would be doing it all the time. Cinematic play is fun, and usually out-of-the-box thinking should be rewarded to encourage creativity. And all of the DMs would probably agree that an arrow that does 1d6-1 damage is going to have a hard time penetrating a steel wall deep enough to trap an enemy’s stray fabric. Each response leads to a different style of game and encourages a different type of player and a different style of thinking, but D&D is built to handle all of them, often in the same room.

In fact, the system is usually more robust than the people who use it. All of these styles have one significant downside, and it’s that they’re each most comfortable with players that act the same way. An Int-based DM doesn’t really want a thespian trying to rewrite base classes and spin the story in hilarious ways, and a Cha-based DM doesn’t want a strict player who gets upset whenever the rules are violated and doesn’t have the patience for nonessential quests and NPCs. And any Wis-based DM who has had both a performer and a rules lawyer in the same party knows exactly how hard it is to balance the two. The easy solution is to make sure that your players act the same way you do, but that’s about as stupid as it is lazy. Not only is it nearly impossible to cherry-pick players that way, but you end up depriving yourself of the experience of dealing with other personalities and the fun differing styles being to the table.

I actually started as an Int-based DM, and I retain a lot of my rules knowledge from then. By the time I finished my third campaign, I was Wis-based, and somewhere during my current campaign I moved to Cha-based, which is where I’m pretty happy. Over the years, I’ve managed to hit the highs and lows of each style of DMing before settling on what I’m currently doing. The good part is that I can DM in the moment, often pointedly planning as little as possible for a session, but with some sort of consistent overarching story and the understanding (or, if I can manage it, cooperation) of my players. I also still have all of the information I gathered from when information mattered more to me, do I don’t have to consult a reference table or make a wild guess when asked about the hardness of wood (it’s 5). The bad part is that my Cha-based method of designing and acting out NPCs has actually exacerbated my Int-based issues with players failing to remember them, and at this point I expect (almost require) my players to at least try some performance as well.

For reference, I would let the player take the shot. I would however remind them that the enemies function under the same rules and can do anything the players can, then let another player make their own impassioned plea on why giving enemies the ability to trap half the party from a hundred feet away is a terrible idea. Little diverts a player’s aim more effectively than the threat of reciprocity.

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Secondary Skills

I have plenty of complaints about the skill system in 4th, but the thing I missed the most is the skills that fell by the wayside. I understand rolling skills like Listen, Spot, and Search into Perception, and I don’t lose a lot of sleep over that. I’m talking about the skills that are wholly missing from the system, like Profession and Craft. There’s not any way in 4th Edition for, say, a bard to be any better at music than a paladin with an equivalent Charisma.

I could rant for ages on why I miss these skills, what this means for characters in 4th Edition, and why this change is bad (and I have!). However, it’s awfully boring to just listen to me complain, so instead I’d like to put forth an optional rule, secondary skills, designed to fill in the gaps left by the skill system.

The types of secondary skills are described below:

  • Appraise – Intelligence: You can gauge the price and quality of an item within a narrow margin. This is for determining the cost of something non-magical, such as a gem, a work animal, a rare piece of art.
  • Craft (any one) – Intelligence: You are trained in a craft, trade, or art, such as alchemy, basketweaving, blacksmithing, leatherworking, shipmaking, stonemasonry, or something similar.
  • Handle Animal (any group)– Charisma: You can use body language and intuition to train or influence the actions of a group of creature that could not be influenced by a normal Diplomacy check, like housepets, insects, livestock, or marine mammals.
  • Knowledge (any one) – Intelligence: You are versed in a particular, narrow field of study, such as engineering, geography, mathematics, fashion, the culture of a specific region, or something similar.
  • Perform (any one) – Charisma: You are skilled in a type of artistic expression, such as acting, comedy, dancing, singing, or playing instruments.
  • Profession (any one) – Wisdom: You are trained in a non-manufacturing livelihood, such as boater, cook, farmer, fisher, miner, shopkeeper, or something similar.

For the most part, a secondary skill check is the same as an ability check using the relevant ability score, plus half of the character’s level. Also, a character can gain training in secondary skills, which gives them the normal +5 bonus to checks using that secondary skill. A character can train in a number of secondary skills equal to their Intelligence modifier (not counting half of the character’s level).

Importantly, these skills can not be used perform actions better covered by a normal skill. For example, Knowledge (religion) is not a good idea, because Religion already does the same thing, and the point of the secondary skills is not to effectively gain more trained skills than a character should have. One idea, though, is to represent a narrow focus. Knowledge (nature) is bad, but perhaps Knowledge (poisonous plants) could work for an assassin. There’s also some leeway in here for specificity and relative success. A player who rolls a 15 on Knowledge (desert creatures) should get less information than a player who rolls a 15 on Knowledge (scorpions), though the latter skill is not useful for identifying vultures.

This is intended to work almost outside of the normal system, complimenting it rather than changing it. Secondary skills should not be prerequisites for feats or paragon paths. A character can find or make items that give bonuses to secondary skill checks as for normal skill checks, if a character is sufficiently determined. The idea is to add another tool to make characters into people more than bundles of stats and power, and I don’t see any reason to add additional restrictions to the game based on secondary skill choice. More than anything, it’s a way to leverage a character’s non-adventuring life, something that really doesn’t exist in 4th Edition.

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The Seven Party Roles (Examples)

So what does it mean to have roles that aren’t defined by the system? In 4th Edition, a fighter is a defender. Though you can build one with striking or controlling, it’s a rare fighter that doesn’t function at all as a defender. Rogues are always strikers and never defenders. Wizards are always controllers and very rarely strikers. None of these classes are ever leaders. 4th Edition is designed so that almost everybody of the same class serves the same role in slightly different ways, and everybody with the same role does similar things in similar ways (there’s a reason every leader gets two minor action bursts at first level that grant a healing surge).

3rd Edition and Pathfinder don’t have explicit roles assigned to classes, so what classes are good at what roles? This is where I really like the freedom of these systems, because just about any class can be just about any role. Some are certainly better than others, but any character can do almost anything (except healing). As an example, let’s look at the druid, one of the most versatile classes in the game, to see how well they work:

  • Control — At 1st level, druids gain the spell entangle, which is probably the strongest low-level control effect in the game. As they level, they continue gaining area effects that change the battlefield, slowing or damaging enemies and keeping their allies safe. They can also convert their spells into summoning, to put large walls of meat anywhere on the field.
  • Damage — A druid has no limit on the number of creatures it can summon or control, and five magical allies can do a startling amount of damage each turn. A druid can also transform into an animal and attack enemies directly, and they get the occasional spell like flame strike that rivals sorcerers for sheer damage.
  • Defense — They have an armor restriction and no class bonuses, so the average druid isn’t fantastic at defense. They do, however, have a fantastic amount of buffing spells, probably second only to the cleric, and a prepared or smart druid can protect themselves perfectly in almost any situation. Then add the defense bonuses from wild shape.
  • Diplomacy — Druids have some difficulty here, because they lack interaction skills as class skills and Charisma is not one of their primary ability scores. However, Pathfinder has no restriction on how players are allowed to spend their skills. A druid can put all of their skill points into Diplomacy, Sense Motive, and Bluff, and all they lose is the +3 class skill bonus, which they can counter with the feat Skill Focus. They also gain wild empathy, giving them the rare ability to engage in diplomacy with unintelligent beasts.
  • Healing — Druids gain cure spells more slowly than a cleric, because they have cure moderate wounds as a 3rd-level spell rather than 2nd, and all later cures are similarly delayed. But this only sets them back about 4.5 hit points per cure, and a high-level druid isn’t all that harmed by this. They also have the effect-healing spells one would expect, like neutralize poison, remove disease, and restoration.
  • Nature — Druids are nature specialists. Their class skills are based on nature, their spells manipulate nature, their class abilities make them better in nature, and their summons and wild shape simulate nature.
  • Stealth — Druids have something like the same problem here as with Diplomacy, since stealth skills are not class skills for them. But their wild shape allows them to change into creatures better suited for stealth, including animals that can fly, and their spells are better suited to hiding than interaction. At 3rd level, a druid is even immune to being tracked in natural environments.

Notably, few of these roles are mutually exclusive. A druid can’t put all of their skills into diplomacy, nature, and stealth, but they can certainly put their skills into stealth, prepare spells for healing or control, and use wild shape to deal damage. Most characters can and should handle multiple roles.

This is all well and good for a versatile class, but what about others? Let’s look at the barbarian, the greatest one-trick pony in the cole rules:

  • Control — There’s no reason a barbarian can’t wield a reach weapon, giving them better control over nearby enemies. Add the feat Combat Reflexes and proficiency with the spiked chain, and a barbarian can deal a terrifying amount of damage to anybody that walks nearby. Large barbarians, like ones under the effect of the spell enlarge person, are even scarier.
  • Damage — Barbarians rage, which is second only to sneak attack for a class ability capable of dealing tons of damage. Most barbarians are perfectly happy taking a defense penalty to hit scary things hard with large weapons.
  • Defense — It seems weird to play a barbarian that explicitly never uses their rage power, though in 3rd Edition that’s the best way to be a defender. Luckily, Pathfinder includes a number of rage abilities that make barbarians capable defenders, like beast totem, boasting taunt, and guarded stance. They also have a staggering number of hit points, letting them stay standing for far longer than they should be.
  • Diplomacy — Playing a diplomat barbarian is hard, for largely the same reasons as druids. Barbarians are also likely to make Charisma and Intelligence their lowest scores, so they aren’t good at talking and don’t have many skill points to make up for it. But a sufficiently dedicated player can make a barbarian who can talk, even if their preferred method of talking is shouting intimidatingly.
  • Healing — Barbarians can’t heal. Most classes, in fact, can’t. They can take ranks in Heal, carry potions, and keep magic items that allow limited healing, but they’ll never cast a healing spell. This is the only role that not every class can fill, and this is why.
  • Nature — Barbarians are about as good at nature as any class can be without class abilities that focus on it. Though they often prefer to use their skill points on mobility and shouting, a barbarian with Int 6 can still have good Knowledge (nature), great Survival, and the Track feat at 1st level.
  • Stealth — To be stealthy, barbarians have to spend skill points they rarely have on skills that don’t like them very much. Dexterity is also a non-primary ability score for barbarians, and they can’t transform like the druid. It is, however, possible, and there’s little more satisfying than seeing the seven-foot-tall musclebound berserker quietly sneaking his way into a hilarious location before starting to rage.

I’ll admit that this does make building a party a bit hard. In 4th Edition, you can say “we have two strikers, a controller, and a leader”, and everybody knew what was missing. In Pathfinder, saying “we have a druid, a fighter, and a monk” doesn’t tell the whole story. I’ve personally been burned on this, when I heard that a party had a druid and thus didn’t consider playing a healer. After the second time I died in three months, I switched to a real healer, letting the druid continue dealing damage and controlling.

Generally, I’ve been happiest letting players play whatever they want, pointing out at the end which roles were missing and seeing which characters could cover them best. I have no idea how this will work in a Delve Night setting. It’s probably best to bring whatever makes sense and just deal with missing a role or two in the first few weeks.

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The Seven Party Roles (Definitions)

Since Delve Night is moving from D&D 4th Edition to Pathfinder, I think it’s about time to dig up this thing I wrote years ago, possibly back before Unearthed Arcana, the fourth core rulebook, was even released. Before 4th Edition really put them to words, 3rd Edition had a general idea of roles, though they listed them as “cleric”, “fighter”, “wizard”, and “rogue” (not coincidentally, these are four classes that match the four 4th Edition roles in the original Player’s Handbook). The problem is that these four roles don’t really cover everything that a party needs to succeed in the average D&D campaign, at least not in 3rd Edition and Pathfinder. When I thought about it, I came up with seven roles that players should have to be prepared for anything:

  • Control — Usually an arcane caster, this function is based around controlling the battlefield to limit the effectiveness of opponents. Often, it’s by killing them, but any debilitating effect such as movement limitations, poison, or even dispelled magic effects can work just as well. Examples: wizard, witch
  • Damage — This function is based around damage with weaponry, tactics, or spells. Multiple attacks, large weapons, or simply lots of physical power can all make a character worthwhile in this role, and spellcasters can deal damage in focused bursts or large areas of the battlefield. Example: barbarian, sorcerer
  • Defense — While the damage-dealer focuses on taking the hit points away quickly, the defender tries to keep them for as long as possible. More importantly, every time an attack is aimed at the defender, it is not aimed at another party member. The defender is in a party specifically to take hits rather than weaker party members, and in a world without marks, they usually do this by staying in the front line. Examples: fighter, paladin
  • Diplomacy — The diplomat often has the most difficult job in the party, largely because it’s based on the skill of the player as much as the skill of the character. Though not as useful in combat, a party that can’t navigate NPCs and cultures is making things much harder than they need to be, and some fights are best won by keeping them from starting. Example: bard, cavalier
  • Healing — This is arguably the most important function in a party, as hit points are the second most important resource a party has. A party can grudgingly get by without being stealthy or having a smooth talker, but a group without a healer is far easier to knock out, and unlike the other roles, this role is limited to only a few classes. Healing can also take place beyond damage. When a character is immobilized, diseased, or just running scared, a healer is invaluable. Examples: cleric, oracle
  • Nature — While a need for nature specialization is drastically reduced in urban settings, there is much to be said for the mobility and knowledge granted by focus in this role. The ability to survive journeys is essential in any campaign that involves travel and many that don’t. Examples: druid, ranger
  • Stealth — Not just the inability to be perceived, but also the ability to do it reliably and take advantage of it. Stealthy characters tend to be very mobile, able to dance around on the fringes of combat. Example: monk, rogue

Characters really should be able to fill at least two roles unless the party is especially big, in which case filling two roles is merely a great idea rather than imperative. The usefulness of each role is also based on the campaign; an urban campaign has less use for the nature role, a campaign of high politics has less use for the damage role, and so on.

There are also a few sub-roles. These generally aren’t important enough to devote a character to them, and a party can work perfectly well without them, but they make life easier:

  • Construction — Sometimes the party needs an item that can’t be currently bought. Pathfinder made this much easier than 3rd Edition, since making magic items no longer cost XP.
  • Enhancement — A role devoted to making others better at their roles, an enhancer uses buffs and aids to spread their usefulness around.
  • Mobility — In a world with full-round actions, combat tends to be fairly static. Mobile characters get a lot of opportunity to keep things interesting, especially when they act in ways enemies don’t expect.
  • Knowledge — Having a sage in the party can make all the difference concerning puzzles, strange monsters, or esoteric lore.

I mostly just wanted to get this post out quickly so that it’s accessible for anybody building a Delve Night character or thinking about a Pathfinder campaign. In my next post, I want to go over some of the differences between the role systems in Pathfinder and 4th Edition with examples of how most classes can fill almost every role.

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Disparate Character Abilities

One of the campaigns in which I’m playing has managed to step into a problem I’ve seen a lot since it was first brought to my attention years ago. A friend of mine was playing a character who couldn’t take very many hits before dying, and he realized that the best strategy was to not take hits at all. He raised his Armor Class to a ridiculous level, far beyond the capacity of the monsters he expected to fight, so that he could adventure without worrying about every stray arrow. The DM, however, looked at the character and asked that he pull back on his AC, reasoning that it made encounter design too difficult, either making that character too powerful or making the rest of the party too weak. That is, any monster that could reliably hit this character would be too good against other characters in the party.

As an example, let’s say his Armor Class was 55. A monster would need an attack bonus of +44 to hit him half the time on a primary attack, even higher to hit reliably on secondary and later attacks. A decent AC for a level 20 character can be around 45 (the highest AC among the level 18 characters in one of my campaigns was 41), so a monster that hits AC 55 half the time with a primary attack will hit a normal character half the time on a tertiary attack, with the primary attack almost a guaranteed hit. More hilariously, the feat Power Attack lets a monster reduce their attack bonus to gain a bonus to damage. A monster with an attack bonus of +44 can take a -10 penalty on attack rolls and still hit AC 45 half the time, but each hit will deal 20 extra damage. So any monster that can deal with AC 55 can ruin a character with AC 45.

This swings the other way too. A character with an especially low AC has the same problem in reverse, because a normal monster can expect to hit them most of the time. It’s a bit different because this is usually intentional. Characters who have low ACs are typically aware of it and choose low ACs because having a high AC requires them to sacrifice something else. Wizards have their spellcasting reduced for wearing armor, and the advantages of plate aren’t worth the penalties it gives. Rangers, rogues, and other classes also have some features that can’t be used in medium or heavy armor. Monks are right out. As long as they’re not begging to get stabbed, most characters are able to deal with having a somewhat low AC, and having a good front line helps a lot.

It also helps to have a DM who understands party roles. Even though it’s smart, it’s not very fun to have every monster blow through the characters in front of them to reach the wizard. Maybe after a round or two, most monsters will redirect efforts to the scariest characters, and it helps to have multiple monsters that can split the front line and the available healing, but in general a DM shouldn’t spend every fight leveraging the party’s greatest vulnerabilities.

The problem we have in our campaign actually hits all of these buttons for maximum hilarity. We have one character with a spectacularly low AC, a barbarian who put all of their energy into dealing damage. We have another character with a spectacularly high AC, largely to counteract the barbarian and draw attacks. When the second character, a healer, is really going, his AC is 20 higher than the barbarian’s. Further, the DM is sending monsters that are able to hit the healer, mostly because those are the only monsters able to stand up to more than one hit from the barbarian. So we have a situation where the monsters are drastically outpacing the damage of the party, and the only reason it hasn’t resulted in a few party wipes is because the DM isn’t using Power Attack out of the goodness of his heart.

We haven’t died yet, so there is a balance here, precarious though it may be. It’s also nobody’s fault, because everybody’s just doing the best they can to play their characters and balance the game, respectively. However, I get the impression that nobody’s really happy about it. The DM has mentioned a few times that the sheer damage output of the barbarian is making encounter design difficult, and missing one player on a 17 isn’t helping. The barbarian doesn’t like ending half of our fights unconscious, because time not playing is time, you know, not playing. Our wizard has given up on being missed and being near combat at all, and he’s spending his resources just making sure the barbarian stays alive. Even I, with what I thought was a decent AC, have gotten used to being hit more often than not. And all of us are feeling the pain of dealing with these high-level creatures, which limit everybody’s offensive usefulness (well, except for the cleric, whose offensive usefulness is a spiked gauntlet and harsh words).

The problem with a situation like this is that there are so many parts to it, so there isn’t a simple solution. If the barbarian tones down the damage, the monsters outpace us and we die, which isn’t fun. If the healer tones down the defenses, the monsters kill him and we die, which isn’t fun. If the DM tones down the monsters, we cleave through them with no effort, which isn’t fun. And if everybody changes at once, we’re not sure what we’ll lose in the characters or the general play experience. The only idea I can come up with is mixing up combat a bit, but we’ve created a wacky situation there too. Most monsters that target touch AC, bypassing the healer’s armor, are immune to my character as a whole. Most spellcasters can be shut down by our wizard before they can get off a single spell. And any group of monsters that we can deal with one at a time will have small, squishy individual monsters that can’t last a round with us. We’ve tried a few different ideas, but we always seem to end up back at the single giant enemy that can take a hit, deal tons of damage, and stand upright for four or five rounds.

Rather than a mark or some artificial defense bonus, the defense role in 3rd Edition parities is best served by the character able to gain the highest AC, so it’s not always the responsibility of other characters to keep up. But without 4th Edition’s well-controlled limits (read: stranglehold) on defenses and attacks, there’s the chance that a player can specialize in just about anything, creating a real good chance of breaking the game wide open. Whether it’s a spellcaster who can kill every enemy in the first round, the diplomat who can blink their way through every NPC interaction, or the half-man half-refrigerator capable of wading nonchalantly through half of D&D, the freedoms in 3rd Edition are balanced only by the players’ reluctance to exploit them.

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