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.

Pathfinder Class Analysis 13: Cavalier

Core Concept: The Cavalier seems an odd class to me, because I don’t really see the type of person described here as ever pursuing a life of adventure. They’re knights in a king’s court or elite soldiers within an army. What on earth would drive them beneath the earth searching for treasure? I suppose Pathfinder is designed in such a way as to make political or military campaigns an option, but none the less the cavalier is a little out of place. Though that doesn’t mean they don’t have some cool stuff about them.

II should point out that the Cavalier has a long history with D&D. Gygax originally created the class back in 1983, several years before I was born. Unlike many other such classes, though, I know absolutely nothing about the historical cavalier. I considered reading up on the class’s origins before making any assessments about this modern iteration of the class. However, it occurred to me that I have a unique opportunity to examine the Pathfinder cavalier without the bias of historical context, so I chose to maintain my ignorance until I have recorded my thoughts.

I would also like to point out that this is a class with no spellcasting ability. This makes me happy. Game designers too often resort to spells as a way of making supplemental classes interesting. In fact, out of the six new base classes introduced in the Advanced Player’s Guide, the cavalier is the only one without spells.

Challenge: I like challenge. It’s similar to a Paladin‘s smite ability, with some interesting quirks such as a penalty to AC against foes other than the one who has been challenged, because the cavalier’s focus is so intense. As one of the class’s core abilities, it is respectably flavorful and isn’t too complicated. I even like the way in which many of the cavalier orders modify it.

Mount: I have little of interest to say regarding the mount. At least little which isn’t better suited to being said about the “charge” mechanics below. I will point out that the class doesn’t have any alternative here. Every class in the core rulebook which has the ability to acquire an animal companion also has the option to replace their companion with some other ability. I’ve speculated in the past that this was due to the extreme complexity involved with maintaining the mount’s character sheet.

My guess would be that the mount is simply too essential to the workings of the cavalier class, meaning any alternative would be a severe detriment to the class.

Order: A cavalier’s order is a little bit like a Paladin’s oath crossed with a Sorcerer‘s bloodline. It provides the Cavalier with a customized benefits package (class skills, modifications to the challenge ability, and special abilities gained every few levels) at the cost of requiring the cavalier to adhere to a certain set of principals, or ‘edicts.’

Were it up to me, I think I would simplify the orders significantly, but as it stands I didn’t come across anything egregiously bad in any of the available Orders. And as mentioned above, the way in which they modify the challenge ability can be interesting. The paladin would benefit from something like this, actually, rather than its somewhat vague “do no evil, always do good” code of conduct.

Tactician / Greater Tactician / Master Tactician: I’m not a big fan of “Teamwork Feats.” For those who don’t know, they’re essentially feats which two players must take, which allow them to work together to achieve certain results. Most of these feats are actually pretty solid and neatly avoid my oft-cited problem with feats. My issue is that they require two players to both take the feat in order to gain any benefit from it. But what happens when the other guy who took the feat can’t make it to games anymore? Now the feat is useless unless another player can be convinced to take it.

Abilities which rely on other players are, in my opinion, a bad design choice.

With the tactics abilities, the cavalier can grant his teamwork feats to other characters. My only complaint about this is that the cavalier has to wait until “Master Tactician” before teamwork feats not gained through tactician bonus feats can be used with the tactician ability. It’s so confusing that I can barely understand my own explanation of it!

Cavalier’s Charge / Mighty Charge / Supreme Charge: The charge abilities, and their prominence in the way the cavalier develops, is likely why the cavalier doesn’t have the option to select another ability instead of getting a mount. But this begs the question: how often will the cavalier really have the opportunity to make a mounted charge?

This goes back to the misgivings I wrote about when discussing the class’s core concept. My players have spent all of their last two sessions in a dungeon where a cavalry charge would be pretty difficult to pull off. And while I know not everybody runs as many dungeons as I do, it seems strange to design a class which almost precludes dungeon play. I would feel bad if I had a cavalier in my current adventuring party, since they would often be forced to leave their mount behind.

Expert Trainer: For a class with such a heavy investment in mounted combat, it seems obvious that they would be exceptional mount trainers. A nice touch.

Banner / Greater Banner: The banner abilities are all about improving the morale of your companions. These, (and the tactics abilities, come to think of it) suggest to me that the cavalier would function best in a game which was more liberal about hirelings than Pathfinder is. As it stands I would think that any cavalier would be wise to pick up the Leadership feat as soon as possible.

I’ll also point out that abilities like “wave your banner and improve the morale of your allies” always seem ridiculous to me, if those allies are actual players rather than NPCs.

Bonus Feat: Oh, boo! I hate it when a class has a few random bonus feats tossed in just to keep it from having any dead levels.

Demanding Challenge: I’m not sure how I feel about the idea that an NPC can actually be forced to focus its attention on a given character. As a GM, I would not like to run a game where the players were able to force their enemies to act in certain ways.

Pathfinder Class Analysis 12: Alchemist

Something which I greatly respect about Pathfinder is the way in which Paizo has avoided system bloat. D&D 3.5’s run produced some truly terrible books, each of which came with a handful of new classes, dozens of new prestige classes, and mountains of new spells. And while Paizo has published books containing all of these, they’ve usually done so with a measured hand. The non-core, base classes are well considered and fit nicely with the 11 core classes. They’ve also been released under the OGL, which Wizards of the Coast did not do with their supplemental material.

So while I’ve completed my analysis of the core classes, I see no reason to stop looking at the rest of them.

Core Concept: While it may seem contrary to my statement above, I hate the Alchemist. In my mind, the existence of an alchemist class which gains access to impossible new heights of alchemical mastery invalidates every wizard who ever made time to focus on brewing potions. In the core rules alchemy is made out to be a great feat–not so for alchemists! They can brew potions in a minute flat!

Hit Die: 1d8 seems quite high, doesn’t it? What makes the alchemist deserve a larger hit die than the wizard? I suppose it might be argued, based on the class description, that “using his own body as experimental stock” has toughened up the otherwise squishy character. But I think 1d6 might be more appropriate.

Alchemy: As mentioned above, my least favorite aspect of this class is the way in which I feel it devalues alchemy. Creating concoctions in a single minute, and being able to create so many in a single day, makes run-of-the-mill alchemy look silly.

Once upon a time I was working on a class (never settled on a name for it, though I did have the working title of “Alchemical Surgeon”). It was primarily a healing class, and while it did receive some bonuses, it largely had to craft potions using the same process as any other class. The primary difference was that the surgeon was much more adept at using the potions, delivering them via needle prick, and allowing a single dose to be used multiple times rather that only once.

I think this would have been a much more interesting route to go than the one the Alchemist’s designers chose. Not only does it avoid the problem of devaluing non-alchemist alchemy, but it avoids another problem as well. The Pathfinder alchemist’s concoctions only work when being held by the alchemist. Something about the alchemist’s aura makes them work, blah blah blah, bullshit. It’s the kind of explanation people come up with when they need to implement a rule for game reasons, and can’t think of sufficient justification for why that rule would exist in the game world, so they just say “magic.”

My surgeon, on the other hand, was able to make concoctions more potent because he or she possessed knowledge of anatomy and knew where & how to inject the patient. That’s a much better explanation in my book.

I will say one positive thing about alchemist alchemy: I like the idea of a caster who can save spell slots to prepare later in the day with a minimal investment of time. That’s something I would like to see implemented better with another class.

Bomb: Bombs are pretty cool, I essentially covered my only issue with them above: they become inert when held by anyone but the alchemist. Which begs the question: what if the target of a thrown bomb catches it? Shouldn’t they be given a chance to do this since the bomb will become inert as soon as they posses it?

Brew Potion: Kinda obvious that this would be a bonus feat at first level.

Mutagen / Persistent Mutagen: This is actually a pretty damned cool idea, and works a mite better than the other two types of Alchemist alchemy (bombs and extracts). A better explanation for why it only works for the alchemist who created it might be that every mutagen must be tailored to the person who will use it, and they are so complex that it’s not really possible to understand another person’s physiology well enough to create a mutagen for them.

One thing I would have liked to see was more flavor. Functionally this is just an alternate form of the Barbarian’s rage ability. I think it would have been cool to have a handful of special monsters which the Alchemist could turn into at different levels.

Throw Anything: I like the Throw Anything feat. It was a clever addition to this class which I don’t know that I would have thought of myself.

Discovery: Perhaps this is just because I’ve been getting more old-school lately, but does anyone else think this would be much more interesting as a random roll rather than a choice the player must make? The impression I get of the alchemist is that they do a lot of random mixing “just to see what will happen,” so random discoveries would be appropriate.

Regardless of how they are chosen, however, I like how this ability is implemented.

Poison Resistance: I think it would be better if Alchemists simply gained immunity to poison at level 2, rather than receiving a resistance which slowly grows until it becomes immunity at level 10. But that’s a pretty consistent difference between Paizo’s design philosophies and my own.

Poison Use: Impossible to poison one’s self while using poisons. Straightforward and logical. I always thought this ability ought to be a feat.

Swift Alchemy / Instant Alchemy: These abilities only further speed up the Alchemist’s ability to create concoctions, and compound my primary issue with the class even further.

Swift Poisoning: Unlike performing alchemy quickly, applying poisons more quickly is pretty mundane and makes good sense to me. Though now that this ability exists, it ought to be an assassin ability as well.

Grand Discovery: This is among the cooler capstone abilities. Again it feels like it should be random, but that’s a pretty small complaint all things considered.

Alchemist Formulae: While I have no comment on the content of the Alchemist’s spell list, I like that the maximum spell level available is 6. There are several “partial casters” like the paladin who are primarily focused on their non-spellcasting abilities, but they normally max out at 4th level spells. The Alchemist leans in the other direction, with a heavier investment in magic. I’d prefer to see more classes like that, I think.

Weather

In the past I’ve written that weather is an important element in tabletop gameplay, but I’ve reevaluated that position. Rather than calling it an “important game element,” I think it would be better termed as an “intermediate GM skill.” Yes, including weather in a game enhances the game’s atmosphere, and can potentially provide the players with an interesting handicap or boon. It’s a good addition to a game, but GMs already have a lot of things to keep track of. If something needs to be dropped, weather is the obvious choice. When I first started playing tabletop RPGs, I honestly didn’t notice that every adventure took place on a clear summer’s day. Weather was never mentioned, and nobody ever complained.

Given that weather is non-essential, I want it to require as little work as any mechanic can ever require. Random is good, but in this case, charts are bad. Charts require table space, or GM screen space. When they need to be rolled on, the GM will probably need to spend a few moments finding them. That’s too large a time investment. For weather, I want to roll a die, and immediately be able to interpret the die’s result.

I propose using a 1d12 roll. When play begins, a roll of 1 indicates bad weather, 2-3 indicate inconvenient weather, 4-9 indicate normal weather, 10-11 are nice weather, and 12 is great weather. Each new day out of doors, the GM rolls another 1d12. The same ranges mentioned above are used to determine how the weather changes, with the options being: much worse, slightly worse, unchanged, slightly better, or much better.

The GM determines the weather’s precise nature based on the current climate and season in the player’s location. Both of these elements should be predetermined using the game world’s map, and the campaign calendar. Within this context, the idea of “good” and “bad” weather is relative to how it helps the characters. While crossing plains or forests, rain would be at least inconvenient. In a desert, however, rain would be the best weather you could possibly ask for!

I like how this method utilizes a bell curve, without the annoyance of adding numbers together. Perhaps this weakness comes from my own poor education in math, but adding even small numbers together requires me to pause for a moment and consider. Not long, mind you, but longer than reading a single number off of a die. The system is also fairly easy to memorize: 1,2,3 are bad, anything with double digits (10, 11, 12) is good, and everything else is normal. And even though my decision to use a d12 was based on the probabilities which can be modeled with it, I take some small pleasure in coming up with a new use for the lil’ underutilized guy.

The number 12 has an amazing, underutilized synergy with dice games. But that’s a post for another day!

Page by Page: Gary Gygax’s DMG Part 14

This is the fourteenth installment of my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “Monsters and Organization” on page 104, and continues through “Siege Engines and Devices of War Defensive Values” on page 110. My purpose is not to review the DMG, but to go through it as a modern gamer, learning about the roots of Dungeons and Dragons, and making note when I see something surprising or interesting, or something which could be adapted for a modern game.

You can read all posts in this series under the Gary Gygax’s DMG tag.

Monsters and Organization, Repetition: So, this is just kinda silly, but I thought this passage was odd:

“As has been stressed herein, you will find that it is necessary to assume the various roles and personae of all creatures not represented by players. This can be particularly difficult in combat situations. You must be able to quickly determine what the monsters involved will do in any given situation, and this can be particularly difficult in combat situations.”

Monsters and Organization, Make a Note: Gary writes that before the players announce their course of action, the GM should write down what the monsters will do. That way, when the players argue that the monsters seem overly-intuitive, the GM can show the note he or she made and prove the monsters decided on their actions before the players did.

I’m sure Gary found this useful, but it seems like strange advice to me. In all my years as a GM, I don’t think I’ve ever actually had a player argue with me. At least not very forcefully, and certainly not so frequently that I’ve needed to develop counter-measures for it. My general impression is that Gary liked to…’stress’ his players more than I do, so perhaps that was a factor. But ultimately, if I had a player who questioned my honesty so frequently that I needed to start using counter-measures to prove I wasn’t being unfair, then I would be fine telling them to leave my table.

Monsters and Organization, Six Examples: It’s been a lot of pages since I saw something this awesome. Modern DMGs need to include this information. It doesn’t even need to be updated, they can just copy it from the 1979 DMG, and past it un-edited into the new ones.

Gary goes through six different groups the players might attack, and provides two examples for how each might react; with the first being how they would react to the initial attack, and the second being how they would react to a second attack a week following. It’s one thing to say over-and-over again that the GM should control the monsters and NPCs intelligently, it’s a different thing entirely to have detailed examples for undead, giant ants, orcs, a small town, a bandit camp, and a fortress. I would honestly say I learned something from this section.

Use of Non-Human Troops: When I started reading the DMG, all I knew about it was that a lot of people consider it to be one of the most important RPG books ever written. A work so profoundly insightful and ahead of its time, that even modern works which attempt to build on its success have not made it irrelevant. A book which got it right, while so many modern books somehow get it wrong.

I’ve found this to be half true. Yes, much of the book is amazing and awesome. Often in these fourteen posts so far, I’ve written that some section or another ought to be included in modern RPG texts. In fact I wrote that just a moment ago, just scroll up to the previous section!

Unfortunately, for every great section like “Monsters and Organizations,” there’s a section like “Use of non-human troops,” which is gratuitously useless. The fact that the various fantasy races don’t get along with one another is well documented. There’s even a “Racial Preferences Table” in the Player’s Handbook, which is referenced here. I can see how that would be useful.

Do you know what isn’t useful?

The knowledge that a weak human leader with no officers to directly control troops will only have a 25% chance to control the actions of a group of Kobolds. But I can raise it to a 95% chance if the player is a strong leader, and I have plenty of officers.

Who cares?

I suspect this subject (which seems to come up often) has a lot to do with Gygax’s roots as a wargamer.

Underground Construction: What did I JUST say?!

Constructions: Here, Gygax lists a number of building types, and their costs. He gets into detail like doors, arrow slits, etc. This level of detail does not interest me, nor can I really figure out how it should work in play. I can’t even imagine how long it would take to price out this kind of stuff.

Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen rules for crafting a stronghold which I actually liked. Does anyone know of an example? Or perhaps I should just craft my own.

Siege Engines and Devices of War: This seems really overly complex to me. This feels like it was written for a war game where siege weapons would be a major game element, rather than for a role playing game where (ostensibly) individual character actions would be the focus. There’s two full pages of rules for hit determination, attack values, defense values…I think it may be more complicated than AD&D’s actual combat system.

Simple Attacks & Grapples

I’ve been working on different ways a combat system could function, and I’ve constructed something I’m pretty happy with. It borrows heavily from both OD&D, and material I’ve read on Untimately.

Each class has a “Combat Target Number.” Anytime a character wishes to take offensive physical action against something, they roll a twenty sided die. If their roll on the d20 is equal to or higher their CTN, then the action succeeds. As each class levels up, their CTN becomes gradually smaller. Modifiers to the CTN are rare, which allows it to be very simple. A single number written on the player’s character sheet, which they must roll against.

Most characters will also have an Avoidance Score. This is typically a very small number, between -3 and 4. For most characters, their avoidance will be the same as their dexterity modifier; though if the character uses a shield, that will also add +1 to their AS. Again, modifiers to AS are rare, which keeps it simple. Any time a creature with avoidance is attacked, the AS is added to the attacker’s CTN.

Armor does not benefit a character’s avoidance score. Instead, it functions as a type of damage resistance. Each type of armor will have a die associated with it. As a simple example, lets say that leather armor uses 1d4, chain armor uses 1d6, and plate armor uses 1d8. Any time an attacker rolls a successful attack, they must then roll their damage dice against the defender’s armor dice. The value of the armor die is then subtracted from the value of the attack die, mitigating or even eliminating the damage dealt to the target.

My primary goal here is simplicity, which I think I’ve achieved. The player need not roll 1d20 + BAB + Strength + Weapon Bonus + Relevant Feat. They don’t even need to roll 1d20 + [Bundled Attack Bonus]. As silly as it might sound, taking two numbers and figuring out which is bigger is easier than taking two numbers and adding them together. I also like how the system keeps both the attacker and the target mechanically engaged. While determining the success of the strike, the player and GM need to communicate the CTN and the AC. While determining damage dealt, the player and GM are rolling dice opposed to one another.

You may have noticed that the CTN is to be used anytime “offensive physical action,” is taken. That’s because it would also be used similar to Pathfinder’s Combat Maneuver roll. The attacking player rolls against their CTN plus their target’s AS if they’re attempting to kick sand in their eyes, or disarm them, or grapple them, or whatever. Grappling in particular is traditionally complex and unwieldy. From 1st edition AD&D’s “Non-Lethal and Weaponless Combat Procedures“, to the system in D&D 3.X which was so complicated I literally kept a flowchart at the table at one point. Pathfinder’s combat maneuver system is a huge step in the right direction, but I think it can be simpler still.

When attempting a grapple, the attacker rolls against their CTN + their Target’s AS as normal. If they succeed, then they’ve got their hands, legs, tentacles, or whatever on their opponent. The attacker then makes a strength check (Roll 1d20. Equal to or under STR is a success, over STR is a failure). The defender may either roll a strength check, or a dex check, whichever they prefer. Whoever succeeds by more gets to pin/push/hold their opponent. If the two players tie, they are stalemated. If both players fail, success goes to the defender.

A basic example of play might proceed thus:

Fighter “I’d like to attack the orc. My CTN is 11.”
GM “The orc has an AS of 2, so you’ll need to roll a 13 or better.”
Fighter [roll] “A 15! That’s a success, so I’m rolling my damage die, 1d8.”
GM “The orc only has chain armor, so he’s rolling a 1d6 for defense.”
[Fighter and GM both roll their dice.]
GM “The orc rolled a 4.”
Fighter “That’s not bad, but I rolled a 6, so he still takes 2 damage!”
Rogue “Me next! I’ll get him with my throwing knife. My CTN is 14, so I need to roll a 16 or better here.” [Roll] “17, Success! Rolling my 1d6 damage die…”
[Fighter and GM both roll their dice.]
GM “I’m afraid the orc’s 3 beats your 2.”
Rogue “Fucking fuck. I wanted his gold. >:(“
Wizard “That really just leaves me. But my spells are gone, and my staff only deals 1d4 damage, so there’s a good chance I couldn’t hurt him even if I hit. I’m going to try to tackle him so the other players can hit him more easily next round.”
GM “Alright, you can try that. But you’ve got a CTN of 16, so you’ve gotta roll an 18 or higher to succeed.”
Wizard [roll] “I actually did it! I got an 18! Just barely!”
GM “Alright, but you’ve still gotta make your strength check. The orc is much stronger than he is agile, so he’ll be using his strength to oppose you as well.”
Wizard [roll] “Woo! I got a 10, that’s just under my Strength of 12!”
GM “Ah, but the Orc got an 8, which is way under his strength of 16. When you leap to tackle him he knocks you aside with his arm. You’re now sprawled on the ground behind him.”

There are a few complications to this system which I’ve omitted here. Both strength and dexterity do have a role to play, as do various positioning and circumstance bonuses and penalties. But this is the basic structure of the system, and I would be interested to hear thoughts on it.

Killing My Babies

“Kill your babies” is a term you may or may not be familiar with. I’m sure it exists in many fields, but I first discovered it while studying writing. The idea is that when you’re working on something, parts of it will become very precious to you. You’ll be happy with the way this argument or that turn of phrase represents you and your skills. But even a brilliant piece of writing can be out of place. The quality of the project as a whole must always take precedence over any individual aspect of it. Anything which is out of place or distracting must be killed, even if it is your baby.

I killed one of my babies a few minutes ago. In and of itself, that is not something worth writing to you about. However, the reason this particular baby needed to be smothered revealed something mechanically interesting about my recently posted ability scores weighted by race system. I’d recommend you read it, but to briefly sum it up, my idea is that the player should first pick their race, then roll their ability scores in a way that is weighted towards that race’s strengths and weaknesses. So a dwarf, being very hardy, would roll 5d6 for their constitution, and take the highest 3. Whereas a halfling, lacking physical strength, would roll 5d6 take the lowest 3 for that ability.

A few days ago I had the idea to combine the weight-by-race system, with a variant of the old ability penalty flaws system. My plan was that if a character had a negative modifier in any of their 6 ability scores, then they would need to roll on a flaw chart associated with that ability. So a character with a -2 modifier for their strength would need to roll on the strength flaw chart. No matter how severe the penalty (-1, -2, -3, -4) the character would only have one flaw per ability score, and the flaws would mostly be absolute “can’ts.” A character with a Strength flaw might roll “Can’t climb anything harder than a steep slope,” or “Can’t run for longer than 1 round.”

Unfortunately, while trying to work it out, I found it was difficult to determine which flaws should be associated with which scores. For example, one of the flaws I knew I wanted to have in there was “Can’t swim.” Originally, it was a strength flaw, because strength is the ability which modifies the swim skill in Pathfinder. But that didn’t strike me as correct, because it would mean dwarfs would almost never be unable to swim, while halflings would often be unable to swim. Moving the ability to dexterity solved that problem adequately, but then I ran into the same issue with “Can’t climb anything more difficult that a steep slope.” It’s obviously a strength based thing, yet a halfling scrambling up a rope seems perfectly natural. Many small creatures with low strength should be able to perform strength-based tasks, because their own mass requires less strength to move.

It was here where I realized that there was a large difference between Pathfinder’s default method of rolling ability scores, and my racially weighted method. Using the default method, ability ability scores are relative. Using my variant, ability scores are absolute. What do I mean by that?

In rules-as-written Pathfinder, a Strength of 10-11 is ‘average,’ pretty much regardless of your race. With a penalty of -2, halflings have a slightly lower average of 8-9; but since PCs get to roll 4d6 drop the lowest for all of their scores, PC halflings will still have an average strength (11) higher than the average NPC human. It sounds a little ridiculous to say that an average PC halfling will be about as physically strong as an average human, until you realize that a halfling’s strength is relative to their own size. Other mechanics represent the halfling’s strength relative to larger creatures. When using a weapon, halflings must use a smaller damage die. When attempting to grapple with an opponent, halflings suffer a significant penalty due to their size. Even encumbrance is modified by the creature’s size; a halfling can carry only 3/4ths the weight of a human with the same strength score.

The weighted-by-race system, in contrast, is intended to use absolute values for the ability scores. A character with 10 strength can carry the same amount of stuff regardless of whether they are a pixie or an ogre. (accommodations would be made for quadrupeds). That might sound ridiculous, but bear in mind that neither of those creatures will ever have a strength of 10. A pixie’s strength would probably be something on the order of 5d2, take the lowest 3. While an ogre’s strength might be the highest 3 out of 5d10.

I still like my system better. Not only is it significantly simpler, (small characters don’t need to record a dozen different penalties for the game’s different subsystems), but it’s also more consistent. RAW Pathfinder’s ability scores are only relative for the physical abilities. Mental abilities (Int/Wis/Cha) are absolute. Regardless, though, I don’t think the ability penalty flaw system will work with the weight-by-race system. Not unless I come up with a very different way to implement it.

The nice thing about killing your babies as a game designer, as opposed to killing them as a writer, is that game mechanics are modular, while writing often isn’t. Someday I’ll get to use the ability penalty flaw system…

…someday…

Page by Page: Gary Gygax’s DMG Part 13

This is the thirteenth installment of my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “Non-Player Characters” on page 100, and continues through “Hiring Non-Player Characters to Cast Spells or Use Devices” on page 104. My purpose is not to review the DMG, but to go through it as a modern gamer, learning about the roots of Dungeons and Dragons, and making note when I see something surprising or interesting, or something which could be adapted for a modern game.

You can read all posts in this series under the Gary Gygax’s DMG tag. And yes, this is the second day I’ve posted one of these in a row. And nobody can stop me! Mwuahaha!

Personae of Non-Player Characters: Random charts to determine an NPC’s traits are nothing new. Though, I suppose they probably were new when this book was published. None the less, the concept is commonplace enough that I don’t really have anything to say about it.

The execution of this particular set of charts, however, is odd. Some of the charts seem to overlap each other (such as Alignment & Morality. More on that later), while others seem only marginally useful, such as “Energy” and “Thrift.” Why does every NPC need to be defined on a scale between “Slothful” and “Driven?” Despite these complaints, the charts are pretty good. I like the idea of rolling for an NPC’s level of bravery, or their level of honesty. I don’t recall seeing those on most NPC generation charts, and it seems like something I would use.

Reading this section gave me an idea I’ll need to play with at some point. The gist of it is a set of ‘tiered’ random charts for determining NPC traits. The first tier contains only the most vital information for generating a random NPC, such as their age, race, and profession. It’s small, and can be kept at the table to quickly come up with interesting characters. The second chart would be a little more detailed, and could be used if this particular NPC ended up sticking around for an entire game session or two. It would determine character traits which might not be immediately apparent, such as the character’s piety or knowledge. If the NPC became a long-term addition to the game world, a potential third chart could be used to give them some items of minutia (backstory, marital status, etc.) which the GM can use to keep the character interesting over time.

Morals:

“Morals refer to the sexual tendencies of the NPC, although this trait rating can be used with regard to some ethical questions.”

Um…WHAT!?

First, why is that a thing the GM needs to know? Second, why would this come up? Third, why is sexuality framed as morality? This bothers me a whole hell of a lot. Look at the possible options when rolling on the ‘morality’ table:

Morals (d12)
1. Aesthetic
2. Virtuous
3. Normal
4. Normal
5. lusty
6. lusty
7. lustful
8. immoral
9. amoral
10. perverted
11. sadistic
12. depraved

The progression is pretty clear: the more sex you have, the less moral you are. I’m just happy he didn’t go so far as to define what he meant by terms 8-12. I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t like knowing what G.G. thought of my sexuality.

Non-Player Character Encounter/Offer Reaction Adjustments: This is a good example of what I was referring to yesterday when I wrote that Gygax was a poor communicator. I honestly have no idea what anything in this section means. At all. There are some words, and some percentages which can either positively or negatively affect something based on aforementioned words…but that’s all I can gather.

Based on the title of the section, I imagine there’s a concept described either elsewhere in the DMG or in the PHB which I’m supposed to apply this section to. But that doesn’t really help me much.

Height and Weight Tables: Why not use the tables that were printed for player characters? Why did they need to be printed again? 0.o

Special Roles of the Dungeon Master: I don’t have a lot to say about this section, but I feel like I’ve been harshing on Gary a lot in these last two segments. So I want to point out that these ~1.5 pages are great. They cover their topic in detail, along with an example to help budding GMs understand how the directives presented here function in play. I particularly like the subsection on monsters, which demands that the GM always play the monsters intelligently. And demands it with no lack of emphasis, going so far as to say “In all cases, the DM is absolutely obligated to play the monster in question to the best of his or her ability.” The example of play demonstrating the difficulties a player might encounter when searching for an NPC wizard is also very well written, and pretty funny to boot.

Page by Page: Gary Gygax’s DMG Part 12

This is the twelfth installment of my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “First Dungeon Adventure” on page 96, and continues through the example of play which ends on page 100. My purpose is not to review the DMG, but to go through it as a modern gamer, learning about the roots of Dungeons and Dragons, and making note when I see something surprising or interesting, or something which could be adapted for a modern game.

You can read all posts in this series under the Gary Gygax’s DMG tag.

The First Dungeon Adventure: The whole point of having an example of play is to demonstrate the basics of the game, to introduce the GM to what their role is, and how they should interact with the player. This first section, which is geared towards how to move the players towards an adventure, does a halfway decent job of that. But it could be much better, in my opinion. Rather than simply writing “You inform them that there is a rumor in the village that something strange and terrible lurks in the abandoned monastery not far from the place,” why not directly address the what a hook is and how it should be handled? The example is fine, if a little mundane, but it could have been improved by adding something as simple as: “This is called the adventure hook. The purpose is to inform and entice the players towards an adventure, though the GM should avoid forcing the players down any given path.” Which is pretty much exactly what Gygax does in the next bit, where he describes the character’s guide. It’s noted that the guide might be “an agent of some good or evil power, a thief in disguise, or just about anything else.”

I don’t think this section is bad, but in my reading of this book so far, it has become apparent that Gygax, though brilliant, was not the best communicator*. Perhaps I am wrong. I never met the man. But, since this is often considered to be his greatest work, I think it’s a pretty fair assessment. The above is hardly the worst example I’ve encountered, but it is relevant because the following section is a back-and-forth between players and GM. I’ve heard from a few different sources that reading and re-reading this section is how they learned to play. It’s where all the confusing rules start to make sense.

*Which isn’t to say I am.

Example of Play:

(After asking the players to provide their marching order).
“DM: “Why are the gnome and the halfling in the front rank, the magic user in the middle, and the human fighter and cleric in the rear?”
LC: “That way all 5 of us can act when we encounter an enemy! The magic-user can cast spells over the heads of the short characters in front, and the pair in the back rank can do likewise, or fire missiles, or whatever is needed, including a quick move to the front!”

This is right near the start of the example of play, and I think it’s my favorite exchange presented. I’ve written before about the importance of clarity both from the GM and from the players. If one party doesn’t fully understand the other, then the game starts to feel unfair. I do my best to be clear, and if I don’t fully understand what my players are doing, I’ll ask them to describe it in greater detail. But I don’t think I’ve ever considered asking “why” they’re doing something. To ask that would almost seem like participating in their decision making, which is not my role. My role is to respond to their actions.

However, here “why” is clearly used to improve the clarity of the situation. If the GM would not allow the fighter in the back row to use a ranged weapon over the magic user’s head, then it’s better the players find out now, rather than when they’re in combat.

“DM: “Just as the three are about in position to look down the passages, and while the cleric is heading for the rotting bags, the magic-user cries out, and you see something black and nasty looking upon her shoulder!”
LC: “EVERYBODY, QUICK! SEE WHAT’S ATTACKED HER!” Then, turning to the referee: “We rush over to help kill whatever has attacked her! What do we see?”

…

Okay, two things.

LC, I get that you’re excited. The game is exciting, and something exciting is happening. But you really don’t need to shout across the table for everyone’s character to see what attacked the magic user. Everybody wants to know that. They’re all gonna look. I know this is just Gygax having some fun, but LC just officially became that guy for me.

Which, more to the point, the LC (Lead Character) concept is just weird. I understand that sometimes a certain player is going to become the de facto leader of the adventuring party, but the way it is presented here is strange. The LC literally announces the actions of every character, and apparently those players are cool with it. Perhaps this was done to save space, but the LC implies a style of play where most of the participants are almost spectators.

OC: (The cleric, of course.) “I squash the nasty thing with my mace!” and here the player, having already gained savoir faire, rolls a d20 to see if his strike is successful. A 20, and a beaming player shouts: “I got it!”
DM: “You’re right, and you do … (with these words the DM rolls a d6 to determine the amount of damage) SIX POINTS!”

So…why does the GM roll the player’s damage? Any oldschool players wanna educate me on this?

“DM: Each of you who are opening the door roll a d6 for me to see if you succeed. I see from you character sheets that the gnome has a normal strength, so he’ll need a 1 or a 2, the cleric has 17 strength so he’ll do it on a 1, 2, or 3.” (Eager hands roll the dice, and each succeeds in rolling a score low enough to indicate success.)”

Nearly every roll in this entire example of play is a success. I could really have used an example of what to do if the players fail at opening a door. Do they simply roll again? Is there a random monster check?

“OC: (The gnome:) “I’ll pull myself up into the passage revealed, and then I’ll see if I can drive in a spike and secure my rope to it, so I can throw the free end down to the others.”
DM: “You get up all right, and there is a crack where you can pound in a spike. As you’re doing it, you might be in for a nasty surprise, so I’ll let you roll a six-sider for me to see your status–make the roll! (Groans as a 1 comes up indicating surprise. The DM then rolls 3 attacks for the ghoul that grabbed at the busy gnome, and one claw attack does 2 hit points of damage and paralyzes the hapless character, whereupon the DM judges that the other 3 would rend him to bits. However, the DM does NOT tell the players what has happened, despite impassioned please and urgent demands. He simply relates:) “You see a sickly gray arm strike the gnome as he’s working on the spike, the gnome utters a muffled cry, and then a shadowy form drags him out of sight. What are you others going to do?”

I’m really glad a character death was included in the example of play. Honestly, if I were going to write a DMG, I might include an entire chapter on character death. It’s one of the most difficult things for a new GM to do, and it is really easy to do it wrong if you don’t have some good examples to work with.

The Gnome’s death is well justified. He entered an entirely new area, didn’t look around at all, and immediately began to make large amounts of monster-attracting noise. Though I do find it interesting that the character was not explicitly given a save v. paralysis.

Overall Assessment: The example of play was actually quite good. Many of my frustrations with the writing were not as prevalent here, and I can see why people would rely on this to teach them the game. Perhaps more examples of play are warranted in future DMGs. What if nearly every page of the DMG had a side-bar with a very brief example of play, demonstrating the concepts presented on that page?

It’s difficult for a new GM with new players to really understand the game they’re attempting to play. I’ve never heard of anybody in that situation who didn’t have some really awkward experiences before they figured out what they were doing. More examples like these might help mitigate that, and open up tabletop games to more casual gamers.

Ability Scores Weighted by Race

I’ve been thinking of ways to simplify the character creation process for new players, and I struck on an interesting problem with the way the game is presented. Typically, the first thing I ask my players to do is to roll their ability scores. Which means that their first glimpse of the game is “Roll these dice, record the resulting sum. Repeat this task five more times, then assign one score to each of these six abilities, the functions of which you probably don’t fully understand yet.”

This is a bad first impression of fantasy gaming. Sure the GM can help the player out by giving them an idea of how the ability scores will relate to class abilities, and the player will sticks it out regardless. Nobody is going to walk away from the table after 2 minutes. They will eventually start doing more interesting things, and they’ll probably have fun. None the less, this is a bad introduction which weakens a neophyte’s initial experience.

What if, instead, the initial question was “Which of these fantasy races would you like to be?” That’s a far more interesting introduction to fantasy gaming, I think. And in describing how each race functions mechanically, the GM is also describing interesting detail about the game world. Defining wisdom to a new player is difficult, describing a dwarf to a new player will connect with their experiences and engage their imagination.

Once a race is selected, the ability scores are rolled according to the strengths and weaknesses of that race. 3d6 is the average, but if a race is particularly strong in a certain area, then they would take the 3 highest from rolls of 4d6 or even 5d6. For every ability score where the race is strong, there must be others where they are weak, and take the lowest 3 from 4d6 or 5d6. So humans, as the baseline race, would roll 3d6 down the line; while a race which is strong, but clumsy and stupid, might roll 5d6(+) for their strength, and 4d6(-) for both their dexterity and their intelligence.

This would replace any bonuses or penalties the races get to their ability scores, which would eliminate scores over 18 at first level. And while it might seem extreme, 5d6 drop the lowest/highest doesn’t actually end up with too many extremely good or bad rolls. The averages would be 7 and 14 respectively. AnyDice represents the data really nicely.

So that the players have a little control over the scores they end up with, during character creation they may (after any roll) turn the face of one die to a 6. For (-) rolls, this is done after the high dice are dropped. So if a players rolling a 5d6(-) ability score rolls 6, 5, 4, 4, 1, then first the 6 and the 5 would be dropped. After that, the player can turn that 1 into a 6, resulting in a final ability score of 14. But this can only be done once for each character, and must be done before moving on to the next ability score.

Here’s how I think the races might work out:

Human
STR 3d6
CON 3d6
DEX 3d6
INT 3d6
WIS 3d6
CHA 3d6

Dwarf
STR 4d6(+)
CON 5d6(+)
DEX 4d6(-)
INT 3d6
WIS 3d6
CHA 5d6(-)

Elf
STR 5d6(-)
CON 5d6(-)
DEX 4d6(+)
INT 4d6(+)
WIS 4d6(+)
CHA 4d6(+)

Gnome
STR 5d6(-)
CON 4d6(-)
DEX 3d6
INT 5d6(+)
WIS 3d6
CHA 4d6(+)

Halfling
STR 5d6(-)
CON 5d6(-)
DEX 5d6(+)
INT 3d6
WIS 4d6(+)
CHA 4d6(+)

Orc
STR 5d6(+)
CON 5d6(+)
DEX 3d6
INT 5d6(-)
WIS 3d6
CHA 5d6(-)

Goblin
STR 3d6
CON 3d6
DEX 5d6(+)
INT 4d6(-)
WIS 4d6(-)
CHA 3d6

Kobold
STR 5d6(-)
CON 4d6(-)
DEX 5d6(+)
INT 5d6(+)
WIS 4d6(+)
CHA 5d6(-)