Picture Thursday 28: Sitting Minotaur by Paul Reid

The best monsters are fresh monsters. Not only because familiarity breeds contempt (which is true), but also because the GM is forced to describe the monster without the crutch of shared understanding. If I tell my players they encounter orcs, then they will understand what I’m telling them, but the inherent “otherness” of orcs won’t impact them. They probably won’t even take the time to imagine what the orcs look like. But if the monster the players encounter is one they’ve never heard of before, the GM is forced to do a little more descriptive work, which ultimately makes the game better I think.

There will always be room for the classics, though. In my mind, the natural progression of monsters is to start out as terrifying creatures. As we become more used to seeing those monsters, they become a little less scary and a little more relatable. The minotaur is a good example of this, I think.

While still able to pull its weight as a monster (and they are one of my favorite classic monsters), I more often use minotaurs as exotic NPCs these days. This painting by Paul Reid gives the viewer a look at the minotaur when it’s not menacing Athenians. It looks almost normal.

I’d absolutely recommend looking at Paul Reid’s gallery, linked above. He works in a classical style which I think is significantly underrated by modern artists. And he’s done a lot of work with classical mythology, including several different takes on the piece above.

You Don't Need to Roll a Character to Start Playing

This evening I attended a social gathering. My sister has just turned 14, and I had dinner with her and the rest of our family. It proceeded as family gatherings often do, which is to say that it wasn’t an experience I’d share on a gaming blog. Late in the evening, though, my sister commented that she’d like to join me in playing D&D someday.

“Want to play now?” I asked.

By happenstance, I had a set of 7 dice with me, and I always try to keep pens and paper handy regardless of where I am. I had everything I needed to run a game, and it was a perfect opportunity to try out an experiment I’ve been wanting to attempt for awhile. The experiment is simple: using whatever tools are on hand at the time, introduce a group of new players to gaming by making up a game on the spot.

The three siblings sitting nearest to me were all interested, so I wrote out the six basic stats on three pieces of paper. I told them all to roll 3d6 for their stats, in order, to roll 2d8 for their HP, and to write down one thing their character was good at. From there I figured everything could be handled by d20 checks against their stats, until I encountered a situation where they needed something deeper.

The process proved to be a little awkward. Not because any of my players had difficulty understanding my instructions, but because we only had a single six sider to share, and three people each needed to roll it 18 times. It wasn’t a quick process, and unfortunately the players weren’t even able to explore the first room of the dungeon before the rest of the dinner party agreed that it was time to leave.

I was disappointed. I could see their eyes lighting up as they just barely started to engage with the game world. My experiment was succeeding, I was creating fun out of nothing but experience-tempered improvisation. I didn’t have much to ruminate on, but I was at least encouraged that it was worth trying this again.

It wasn’t until the drive home that I realized I had wasted a lot of the game’s time. I asked the players to roll stats, and it took a good 8 minutes to get everybody’s rolling taken care of. And in the small amount we played, we never actually used those stats. It’s not hard to imagine that we could have gone 15 minutes or an hour, or even several hours without actually needing every single character to use every single one of their ability scores.

Instead, what I could have done is simply given each of them a piece of paper, and told them to write down one thing they were good at. Once that was done, I could have just started the damn game.

If in the first room there was a large rock, and one of the players wanted to lift it, then I could have told them to roll 3d6, record that as their strength, then roll a d20 against that strength score. The stats still exist, they just exist in a state of quantum flux until they are actualized by rolling a check.

Something I’ll try next time for sure.

Deadly Dungeons 20: Dancing Skeleton Room

There is nothing tricky about the dancing skeleton room.

Nor is there anything deadly.

Nor even is there anything dangerous.

No map has been provided, because the room is both extremely plain, and extremely variable. It may be any shape or size, and have any number of doors. Its features may be entirely plain, or if you wish, the room may have wooden floors and mirrors on all of the walls. The only important element of the room is that it be large enough to support a large number of medium creatures. I’ve used 50-100, though larger or smaller groups may also work.

Upon opening the door to the room, the players are greeted with a truly bizarre sight. Droves of skeletons are dancing in unison. Graceful, energetic, wild dancing, with occasional maneuvers which could never be performed by a body with muscles and ligaments. One style of dance flows seamlessly into another, and no dance ever repeats.

The skeletons will ignore the players unless the players interact with them. If the players dance with the skeletons, the skeletons will gather around them and emulate the player’s movements. If the player sings, the skeletons will try to sing backup–though their voices are a high pitched screeching which can’t enunciate words very well at all. The skeletons will be intrigued by anything which involves new and exciting ways to dance. And that is all they care about. If the players propose a dance competition, the skeletons will gleefully participate. But the winner will quickly grow bored of their prize once they run out of ways to dance with it.

If at any point the skeletons do have reason to perform an action, they will dance while they do it. Even tied up, a skeleton will find a way to rhythmically wiggle in their bonds. The only time the skeletons will stop dancing is if the players deal damage to one of their number. In this event, the skeletons will wail and cry in their high pitched screeching. They will flee from the players, and cower in the corner as far from their attackers as they can. Once they have been attacked, they will not dance again. If the player returns to this room after some time has passed, she will find the skeletons standing nearly motionless, shifting sadly from one foot to the other.

These skeletons provide no experience points.

Merciless Monsters 13: Simonlefera, or "Cricket Wizard"

I’ve always hesitated to share the monsters I make for my games, because I believe monsters require art in order to be communicated clearly. Previous entries in the Merciless Monsters series have either relied on finding an image which looks kinda-sorta like what I imagine in my head, or on my ladyfriend’s marvelous art. If I had my way, she’d illustrate all of my posts, but she has this whole “life of her own” which gets in the way of that.

By now, though, I’ve accumulated quite a bestiary of monsters I created for fun or for my personal use It seems a shame not to share them, so I’m going to experiment with subjecting you all to my own doodles of my monsters. I’m sorry for the general lack of quality this will probably lead to. (Though, truth be told, I’m quite happy with how this one turned out).

Simonlefera are unnatural creatures, and no one is quite certain where they come from. They’ve been observed congregating around areas of profound magical energy–or places where such energy is later discovered. No mating rituals have ever been recognized, nor have the dissected bodies of the creatures revealed any obvious reproductive organs. Some scholars have suggested that Simonlefera may be proof of the long-discredited theory of spontaneous generation. Lacking any other hypothesis, this idea has begun to gain some traction.

In appearance, simonlefera resemble a bald human head with tough, rubbery skin. From where a normal human’s head would have ears, the Simonlefera has a massive pair of legs which resemble the hind legs of a grasshopper. When laid flat, these legs can be as much as 12ft long! These legs are used for moving quickly, and jumping as much as 30 times the creature’s height. Four smaller legs sprouting from the underside of the ‘head’ provide stability for forward motion. These legs can also cling to walls, allowing the Simonlefera to climb them as a spider does.

The eyes, while small and mounted much as a human’s eyes are, are multi-faceted like the eye of an insect. From the lower jaw grow two weak, spindly arms ending in 3-fingered hands. While capable of significant dexterity, these hands are largely useless. They seem to exist primarily as a means to interact with magic, though they are also used when the creature eats. Finally, from the creature’s chin grows what appears to be a long beard which drags across the ground. In fact this is a sensory device. It allows the Simonlefera to sense vibrations in the ground, replacing the functionality of the ears.

Bodies, or body parts from a simonlefera can often be sold to a wizard for a very good price. Various parts of their anatomy are of immeasurable use in magical research.

In terms of diet, simonlefera primarily sustain themselves on small mammals, such as rats, mice, rabbits, or ferrets. However, if need be, any meaty animal of this size will suffice, such as a frog or small bird. In addition to this diet, it is speculated that simonlefera also sustain themselves by drawing upon magic. None which have been removed from areas of strong magical energy have ever survived for more than a day; after which their head appears to “deflate.”

The most notable aspect of the simonlefera is their ability to use magic. This appears to be a natural trait, and draws on no known source of magical power. They are often able to cast both arcane and divine spells (though all of their magic use in fact registers as arcane). And as they grow older, their spell repertoire becomes even more diverse. While most of them can only access the most mundane spells, there appears to be no limit on their ability to cast. And when working in groups, even a skilled adventurer can be overwhelmed.

Despite their appearance, Simonlefera are not intelligent creatures. The chittering sounds they make do not have linguistic content.

Simonlefera

You hear a strange chittering sound, and what appears to be a human’s head on insect legs hops into view.

Simonlefera; CR 3; [Aberration] [Near Leylines] [Diurnal]

XP: 800
N Medium Aberration
Init +8; Senses Perception +10

DEFENSE

AC 16, touch 11, flat-footed 6 [10 + Dex(4) + Natural(2)]
HP 12 (4 HD, 4d6 + 0)
Fort +6 Ref +10 Will +10;

OFFENSE

Speed 50ft Climb Speed 20ft
Melee Kick + 7 (2d6 + 2) [May only use this attack on opponents behind it]

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Natural Caster(Su) Each time a Simonlefera gains a new hit die, it also gains access to a new spell which can be cast at will. The spells are determined randomly from the lists below. Any duplicate entries should be re-rolled.

Levels 1-4: 1. Cause Fear, 2. Cure Light Wounds, 3. Doom, 4. Inflict Light Wounds, 5. Obscuring Mist, 6. Shield, 7. Magic Missile, 8. Mage Armor, 9. Sleep, 10. Reduce Person, 11. Shocking Grasp, 12. True Strike
Levels 5-8: 1. Acid Arrow, 2. Summon Swarm, 3. Web, 4. Hideous Laughter, 5. Darkness, 6. Gust of Wind, 7. Scorching Ray, 8. Blur, 9. Cure Moderate Wounds, 10. Hold Person, 11. Sound Burst, 12. Inflict Moderate Wounds
Levels 9-12: 1. Bestow Curse, 2. Contagion, 3. Cure Serious Wounds, 4. Inflict Serious Wounds, 5. Meld to Stone, 6. Stinking Cloud, 7. Deep Slumber, 8. Fireball, 9. Lightning Bolt, 10. Gaseous Form, 11. Blink, 12. Haste

Jump(Ex): Using its powerful hind legs, the Simonlefera can easily leap as high as 150 feet in the air, and land again safely.

ECOLOGY

Environment Anywhere magic is strong. They often gravitate towards leylines, and such can be found in nearly any environment.
Organization Solitary or cabal (4-8)
Activity Cycle Diurnal
Diet Magical Energies, tiny mammals; Natural Enemies Wizards

Picture Thursday 27: Alfred the Great

Before anything else, I apologize for not being able to find the artist for this piece. The only source I can find for it is an audio essay on the BBC’s website. For all I know it could be 1000 years old, or it could have been created specifically for this particular broadcast.

I’ve been on a bit of an English History kick lately. I started reading up on Edward Longshanks, continued forward through history until I got bored with the Tudors, then skipped back to read up on Aethlestan, William the Conqueror, etc. It’s fascinating stuff, and I’m hoping a better understanding of the realities of that period will make me a better GM to boot. Alfred the Great’s life, in particular, might make an interesting campaign. During his darkest days his resources weren’t too far off from what a mid-level adventuring party would be able to call upon.

While there is some fantastic art of Alfred, as well as some really cool statues, I think this is the most inspiring piece I’ve seen. The bright colors and energetic posing makes it seem very pulp-y, which in turn is evocative of oldschool RPGs for me.

Pathfinder Class Analysis 15: Oracle

Core Concept: Sitting down to write my assessment of the core concept for the Oracle begs the question: what is a class’ core concept?

If we refer to the narrative concept of a caster who must suffer a hindrance in order to access their powers, then I quite like the core concept for the oracle. Likewise if the core concept is a caster who unwillingly has magical powers thrust upon her by the gods. These are things I like.

If, however, the core concept refers to the class’s mechanics, then the oracle is perhaps the most vapid class I have assessed thus far. Not necessarily because any of its mechanics are bad, but because none of them are unique or inventive. The oracle is a hodge-podge class, assembled from mechanics left over from other classes.

Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean that the oracle is a bad class, or that it was a poor addition to the game. It does, however, mean that I don’t have much to talk about. Forgive me if this ends up being short because of that.

Spells: The oracle is a sorcerer who casts divine spells. There’s really not much more to say about it. Oracles learn and cast spells exactly as sorcerers do, but they draw from the cleric spell list instead of the wizard spell list. They even copied the artwork concept of a scantily clad woman. (Joy).

I suppose the one distinction is that oracles must choose whether they prefer “cure” or “inflict” spells, and they will always automatically learn every spell of the type they chose. This is in addition to the spells they gain on the “spells known” table. And while players do have the option to choose “inflict” spells, I think the purpose of this mechanic is to make healing magic more accessible–which isn’t something I’m fond of.

Don’t get me wrong, when my character gets knocked down to 1 hp, it’s good to have a magical healer around. But I prefer magical healing to be a boon, not a necessity.

Mystery: If the oracle is a divine sorcerer, mysteries are divine bloodlines. Mechanically, I cannot think of a single other thing to say about them. They are literally identical in form.

In terms of fluff, I will say that mysteries are a pretty cool idea.

Oracle’s Curse: This is probably the most interesting part of the Oracle; the flaw which they must live with in exchange for their power. It builds on ancient beliefs about magic–primal ones which seem somehow more true to the human experience. Though the curse doesn’t affect the character anywhere near as much as the mystery does, the benefits from the curse are still quite useful.

I’d prefer if the curses were a little harsher, to force the player to deal with a greater challenge. I also think these would be fun to randomize, though I understand that would be problematic for most players. (Wussies!)

Orsions: Perhaps I ought to simply omit Orsions and Cantrips from these analyses, since I always say the same thing, but I will again direct you to my cleric analysis for my thoughts on these.

Revelation / Final Revelation: These are similar to bloodline powers, and unique to each of the mysteries. To analyze each individually would go well beyond the scope of this post, and probably force it beyond ten thousand words. There are some pretty good ones, and a few bad ones. Blorp.

All in all, a solid class, but not a lot to write about.

Pathfinder Class Analysis 14: Inquisitor

Core Concept: It occurred to me as I was laying out this post that I’ve never actually taken a serious look at the inquisitor before. Other classes, like the Cavalier, the Witch, or the Alchemist at least caught my fancy enough that I read over their abilities briefly when I picked up the Advanced Player’s Guide. The Inquisitor, though? Not so much.

While my initial impression was that Inquisitors are meant to be a dark and gritty paladin, it’s a little more complicated than that. They’re much closer to cleric-rogues, with an emphasis on the cleric part. Inquisitors are who the church sends when paladins are too goody-goody to get the job done. It has a certain appeal, though like the cavalier, the inquisitor’s goals seem awfully specific for a random adventurer.

None the less, I think I like them significantly more than I like the cavalier. Though that may just be my bias towards rogue characters.

Also, I’d like to take a moment to point out the ridiculous boobage on the iconic inquisitor. It looks pretty damn stupid. Fortunately, if she goes all “Spanish Inquisition” on us, we know right where to stab her.

Spells: With spells through level 6, the Inquisitor is among the most magically invested classes outside of the primary casters. That seems a little powerful for a character with such significant physical combat ability, but I haven’t seen one played before, so I won’t make presumptions about the class’s balance.

I will say that I’ve always wanted to see a caster like this. One with spells up to 6th level or so, who rounds out their magical weakness with other cool abilities.

Domain: Since the Inquisitor doesn’t get any domain spells as the cleric class does, Inquisitor domains function more like a Sorcerer‘s Bloodlines. And while I’m not a fan of clerical domains, my primary issue with them is that they require too much of a day-to-day time investment from the player. With only a single domain, and without bonus spells, I actually think domains work pretty well for the inquisitor.

Judgement / Second Judgement / Third Judgement: I’m not terribly fond of abilities which function only in combat. There’s a certain verisimilitude to the judgement abilities, since they are god-given strength to mete out justice. But that’s the slippery slope to 4th editionism!

Aside from the “only in combat” aspect, I quite like judgements. A consistent buff which can be switched out for another in the set as a swift action is a solid mechanic which keeps things fairly simple, but can also give the inquisitor lots of options for how to approach battle. I also like how iterative levels of the judgement do not add new potential buffs, but instead allow the inquisitor to call upon multiple buffs at once. If keeps an already complicated mechanic from getting entirely out of hand.

The judgement ability is actually surprisingly similar to something I’ve been working on for awhile. On the one hand it’s a little frustrating to find out I’ve been preempted, since this is an idea I came up with before the Advanced Player’s Guide came out. On the other hand, it’s encouraging to know that the professionals at Paizo apparently like my ideas enough to come up with them themselves.

Monster Lore: In years of playing, I don’t know that a player has ever made a knowledge check to identify the weakness of a monster. This may be more a result of the way I run the game than the way my players play it, but regardless, I’m not really impressed by an ability which allows you to add your wisdom score to such a minor edge case.

I’d call this filler, but it’s a level 1 ability, so it’s one among a half dozen other abilities.

Orsions: The feelings I expressed for Orsions when discussion the cleric class essentially hold true here.

Stern Gaze: Despite my general distaste for the skills system–and in particular the Intimidate and Sense Motive skills–I none the less think this ability is entirely appropriate. The character is an inquisitor, that they would receive a significant bonus to extracting information and discerning lies is to be expected.

I might try to represent it differently mechanically, but the spirit of the ability is solid.

Cunning Initiative: I’m not certain why the inquisitor warrants a bonus to initiative. As far as I can see, they don’t have any abilities which are contingent upon acting first. If anything, it seems as though this should be a rogue ability.

The mechanic is simple enough. I just don’t see how it relates to the inquisitor.

Detect Alignment: A very standard ability for this type of class, which doesn’t really need to be discussed. Though, interestingly, the type of action required is not listed here. I would probably rule it to be a standard action, though it’d be interesting if it were a free action.

Track: I’ve no objection to the inquisitor having this ability, so my commentary on this would be identical to the one I posted in the ranger class’ analysis.

Solo Tactics: I find it interesting that so far, every martial class from the Advanced Player’s Guide (Cavalier and Inquisitor) have an ability which makes Teamwork feats work better. I would also point out that teamwork feats were introduced in the Advanced Player’s Guide.

It’s almost as if they agreed with me that teamwork feats are a terrible idea, and intentionally designed their new classes so as to avoid some of the issues I pointed out in my cavalier analysis. Namely, that any feat which requires multiple people to have the feat in order to work means that one person not being able to show up for a session, or leaving the group entirely, can severely gimp another player.

Teamwork Feat: I’m not a huge fan of bonus feats, blah blah blah, filler abilities, whatever. You’ve heard it all before, and it’s becoming super repetitive through these class analyses.

I have something new to bitch about here, though, because apparently the inquisitor can change her most recent teamwork feat a number of times per day equal to her wisdom modifier. What the fuck? As if there wasn’t already enough fiddling over feats, now alternating between any feat on the teamwork list is an ability? That would be insufferably frustrating at the table.

Bane / Greater Bane: I like this. It’s a very simple mechanic which has a lot of flavor and a large impact on the game. I could even see myself using a similar mechanic.

Discern Lies: I like this for the same reason I like “Stern Gaze” above. Though personally I think it would be cooler if the inquisitor gradually became completely immune to lies, save those which were magically warded against her somehow.

Stalwart: The D&D 3.5 Hexblade had this ability, though it was called “Mettle.” I always thought it was a little overpowered when compared to its inverse, “evasion,” which is omnipresent among the core classes. But the inquisitor has to wait until level 11 to get it, so I suppose it’s alright for it to be more powerful.

Exploit Weakness: I like the idea of critical hits which have an extra oomf to them. However, these improvements are extremely situational, to the point that the ability would be easy to forget when it’s actually relevant. It really only affects monsters who have damage reduction, regeneration, or who have a vulnerability to a type of energy which the inquisitor is using to attack them. Granted, all of those things are fairly common against high level monsters. But they’re not common enough that I think I would be able to remember “oh hey, since this creature is an ice demon and I’m attacking it with fire, my critical hit gets +1 point of damage per die rolled!”

Slayer: I really like judgement, but this just seems to make it complicated. Out of the 3 judgements the inquisitor can use simultaneously at this point, one of those can be used as if it were 5 levels higher, and that judgement cannot be switched out like the other judgements can.

It’s possible that I’m just a super stickler for simplicity, but that seems convoluted me.

True Judgement: I don’t personally find save-or-die capstone abilities to be interesting. But it kinda works for the inquisitor!

Deadly Dungeons 19: Bladesea Sailing Ship

There’s a boat in this room. A big-ass wooden sailing ship resting on the floor of the dungeon.

What the actual fuck?

The walls and ceiling of the room are a massive aquarium filled with sea life, from the green & leafy kind, to the toothy and bitey kind. It is not immediately apparent, but players who observe closely will be able to make out passages in this aquarium which lead out and away–presumably to the sea. The glass walls are not reinforced with magic, but rather, with remarkable feats of structural engineering. So while the glass is quite tough and won’t be shattered with a single blow from a hammer, it’s still possible to break it using mundane means. If that occurs, this room, and likely the entire dungeon, will flood.

The only horizontal entrance to this room opens onto a small 10x10ft alcove in the wall. If players step to the edge, they will see that the actual floor of the room is roughly 15 feet below where they are now. A wooden bridge long enough to reach the deck of the ship hangs from a crane on the ceiling. Unfortunately, it’s currently about 20ft higher than the surface of the entrance platform, and the lowering mechanism can be plainly seen on the deck of the ship, near the wheel.

The floor of the room has been painted blue, and is covered in dozens upon dozens of slits which run parallel to the ship. From these slits, massive 5ft diameter saw blades rise and fall in a rolling pattern, with each blade rising from its slit only after the one before it in line has reached its apex and begun to recede. This creates the image of a rolling sea of steel blades. By studying the pattern of movement, a player could easily run across the floor safely. However, at best they’d only have one chance to climb up the sheer 15ft side of the wooden boat before they were reduced to bloody chunks by the sea of steel.

The ship itself does not appear unusual in any way, save for its location here in the dungeon. There is a wheel for steering, a deck, masts with sails which are currently tied. The floor of the room has a “pocket” in it, shaped particularly so as to keep the ship upright. I have refrained from populating the ship, as there are simply too many interesting possibilities. I personally like the idea that someone wealthy and powerful created this room simply to use the ship itself as an office or dining hall, with kitchens and stores below decks. It might also serve as an excellent treasure chamber, or prison. I leave the specifics up to you.

One thing I will note is that while the entrance is the only horizontal way into or out of the room, there are two vertical exits. One is a trapdoor on the ceiling just above the main mast. It can be seen easily by anyone who looks up, as it stands in contrast to the aquarium. The other is a trapdoor in the bowels of the ship which leads to a room further down. This trap door is not secret, but it is concealed by barrels full of grog.

Picture Thursday 26: "Sound II" by Antony Gormley

Another statue this week. A statue curious enough that it seems it ought to be posted as part of the Deadly Dungeons series, rather than the Picture Thursday series. Credit to Niel Howard for the superb photograph.

This is “Sound II,” in a crypt beneath Winchester Abbey. I was surprised to learn that the piece is not nearly so ancient as the church in which it resides. I don’t have a date for its installation, but the sculptor is still alive, and in his 60s.

The featureless figure is gazing into his cupped hands, which apparently fill with water when this area floods–as seen in the photograph. That is absolutely going to appear in one of my dungeons soon.

Are Dead Levels a Bad Thing?

The exact meaning of a ‘dead level’ depends on who’s talking. I’ve heard a number of different definitions:

A level where the only improvement the character benefits from is increased HP. Typically used for oldschool games, since I don’t think a level like this ever exists in D&D 3.5 or Pathfinder.
A level where nothing improves about the character save for basic numbers stuff, such as HP, Saves, and Base Attack Bonuses.
A level where the character does not receive any new special abilities, though they may increase their HP, Saves, BAB, Ability Scores, or number of feats.

Here, I’ll be using that last definition, since it is the one which is most relevant with regards to the changes made between Dungeons & Dragons 3.5, and Pathfinder.

Back when I started playing tabletop games, around the advent of D&D 3.5, I often felt as though my character’s progress was painfully slow. I was excited to become more powerful, and nothing was worse than leveling up and realizing that very little had actually changed for my character. Dead levels were a serious frustration, because at that time planning out my character’s mechanical development was important to me.

When I originally read the Pathfinder rules, I praised them for the way dead levels were eliminated from the game. It meant players could spend less time waiting, and more time improving their character’s build. And I was right. Pathfinder does allow players to spend more time working on their build.

This is a good thing, because a big part of the appeal for RAW 3.5/PF is building your character. If the players are playing to build characters, and they almost never get to do that, then the game isn’t providing a satisfying experience. Dead levels are a huge issue, and should be eliminated.

However…

I no longer enjoy building my character. I’m not interested in playing a tabletop game where this is my goal, and I’m not interested in running a tabletop game where this is the goal of my players. Such gameplay is perhaps better suited for a video game or board game, where rules are more clear-cut and easy to enforce. In a tabletop game where the rules ought to be flexible and players are owed a logical explanation for any limitations placed on them, I don’t feel that it works.

So in the type of game I like to play and run, what is the point of leveling at all?

Improvement can be valuable without being the focus of attention. It can even be an important goal for the players without being the focus of attention. My goal is to provide my players with a game where they feel as though they can work towards any skill or goal diegetically. The advancement granted them by their class should be simple and easy to record & remember. More individualized character improvement can be sought out through gameplay, regardless of whether the character has leveled or not.

Dead Levels are only a problem if leveling up is the only means of improvement your characters have available to them.