Weapon Mechanics

A lot of emphasis in Pathfinder is placed upon magical weapons and their properties. Since acquiring such weapons is one of the primary goals of adventurers, this is good and proper. But put magic aside for a moment. Magic can do anything, and it doesn’t really matter (save, perhaps, thematically) what type of weapon serves as a vessel for which magical effect. When we take the magic away, what are the fundamental differences between weapons? Why would a level 1 adventurer choose a spear over a trident, or a scimitar over a falchion?

As it stands, mundane weapons all have a few simple attributes:

Price, which may or may not matter. Personally I’ve been much happier since I started enforcing starting gold more strictly. But for many years I allowed players to select any mundane equipment they wanted, and I do see the appeal of that method.
Damage, separated into Small and Medium, to reflect the various sizes of player races.
Critical range, and multiplier.
Range, for projectile weapons, or weapons which can be thrown.
Weight, which nobody I’ve ever met, not even the grognardiest of grognards really seem to care about. Encumbrance is important. The difference between 11lb and 12lb isn’t.
Damage type, which can be bludgeoning, piercing, or slashing damage. Sometimes a combination of two is used.
Hands Needed, which can be Two, One, or ‘light.’ (One handed weapons can be used with two hands optionally, while light weapons cannot.)
Complexity Category, which Pathfinder uses to help determine proficiency. The categories are Simple, Martial, and Exotic.
Some weapons have special properties, such as being ‘reach’ or ‘brace’ weapons. Other weapons are easier to use with certain combat maneuvers, such as tripping or disarming.

It’s not exactly a comprehensive representation of the differences between various weapons, but aside from overly precise weapon weight, it works well. After all, Pathfinder is a game, and everything needs to be simplified to help the game run smoothly. Excessive realism has a way of making a game tedious. None the less, I wonder if mundane weapons could be made more varied and interesting.

Below is a list I’ve compiled of weapon mechanics. Some are ready to be implemented, while others would need their mechanics refined. Individually, I think each could be included in a game without making in overly complex. Collectively, however, they would probably be too much. I’d like to hear more ideas in the comments if you have any. I’m particularly curious to know if other games have mechanics I didn’t think of.

Two-Handed Damage: In Pathfinder, a weapon wielded in your off hand gains half of your strength modifier to its damage, one in your main hand gains your full strength modifier, and one in both hands gains 150% of your strength modifier as damage. Calculating the strength bonus with decimal places is both unnecessarily complicated, and insufficient to influence the player’s decision. Make it simple: Offhand weapons get no strength bonus, main hand weapons get full strength bonus, and two handed weapons get double strength bonus.

Throwability: Pathfinder’s throwing weapon status is binary. Either a weapon is meant for throwing, or it is not. It could be fun if there were three options. A dagger or javelin can be thrown with no penalties. A rapier or a scythe would take a full -6 penalty on any thrown attack roll. Some weapons, like a spear, battleaxe, or longsword would take only a -3 penalty to throwing them. They’re not designed to be thrown, but they’re similar enough to weapons which are that it’s a feasible tactic. Weapons like whips and flails should be un-throwable.

Finesse and Cleave Weapons: Credit for this idea must be given to D&D 5th Edition, and to Jack. He shared the idea in the comments for my post on the Wide Swing Dilemma, and it is largely his creation. He’s got a nifty blog where I’ve got a whole tag all to myself.

In Pathfinder, Finesse is a feat which allows characters to use their dexterity instead of their strength to modify an attack roll when using light weapons. Cleave is a feat which allows a player to attack multiple enemies in a single turn. The idea here is to remove both feats, and instead make them an intrinsic property of certain weapons. A rapier or dagger, for example, would always have its attack rolls modified by dexterity rather than strength. Likewise, a two handed waraxe would always enable a character to take a swing at 2 or 3 enemies at a time, so long as all of them could be hit with a single arcing swing.

Speed: Each weapon would have a speed number associated with it. That number would be the amount of iterative attacks it was possible to make with that weapon on a given turn. A two handed war hammer, for example, might have a speed of 2 or 3 at most. While a dagger might have a speed of 10. Note that these iterative attacks are not entitlements, they are maximums. A character would need to work hard and level up before they were able to make multiple attacks during a single round, but a two handed war hammer would never be able to make more than 3 attacks, no matter how high level the character became.

Space To Use: A two handed axe is not the best weapon to have in a 3ft wide cavern. You can make some use of it, but it would be at an extreme penalty. I suggest three types of weapons. First, those which require only personal space. These would work anywhere that a character could fit comfortably, and would include weapons like a dagger, blowgun, or rapier. Weapons with a 10ft space to use would require an area at least 10ft wide to use comfortably, and in smaller spaces they would take a -4 penalty to attack rolls. This would include any weapon like a longsword or axe, which requires a wide swing. Finally there would be 15ft or larger weapons. These would mostly be weapons with reach, such as a whip, spiked chain, or trident. They would take a -4 penalty in spaces less than 15ft wide. In some spaces they might be impossible to use. A whip, for example, is completely useless if you don’t have room to swing it. And a 7ft long trident isn’t much use when you’re attacked from behind in a corridor 5ft square.

Both Speed and Space to Use are included in AD&D 1st edition. I am not very familiar with the relevant rules, however, so the above are concocted from my own suppositions on how such rules might work in a game.

Strength/Dexterity To Use: Composite bows already do something similar to this. Each composite bow has a strength rating, and a character must be at least that strong in order to be proficient in the weapon. This would apply the same concept to other weapons. Using a rapier or whip proficiently, for example, would require a dexterity of no less than 14. While a two handed warhammer would require a similar amount of strength. A character without a sufficient ability score could still used the weapon, but they would never be able to become proficient in it.

Training Time: This would replace Pathfinder’s weapon proficiency system. Each weapon would have a pair of training numbers indicating how long it takes to become proficient in the weapon. A dagger, for example, would be 2/4. If a character wishes to become proficient with a dagger, they simply need to take it with them into battle. The character is considered non proficient with the weapon, and all attack rolls are made with a -4 penalty. Anytime the character gains at least 2 experience* from a battle where they successfully dealt damage using the dagger, they put a tally mark next to the weapon. Once they have a number of tally marks equaling the first number (in this case, 2) their attack penalty is reduced to -2. Once they have a number of tally marks equal to the second number, they are considered proficient with the weapon and no longer take any penalties associated with using it.

Each class starts out already being proficient with a number of weapons. For fighters, all training times are reduced by half (rounding up).

*This is in reference to the Simple XP System I use.

Weapon Vs. Armor Type: This is another 1st edition rule which I know very little about. I like the concept, and would be interested in seeing it in play, however I have no real original ideas on how to implement it (yet). Instead, I would direct you to a post over at Delta’s D&D Hotspot which proposes pretty much what I think I would come up with. (I seem to have a tendency to reduce everything to 3 groups).

Hold at Range: A few weapons, like a spear or a trident, naturally lend themselves to keeping someone at range. At the end of each turn while using such a weapon, the player may indicate that they would like to keep a foe they just attacked at bay. When the character does this, they gain a -2 Dexterity penalty to AC against all other enemies. If their designated enemy attempts to move closer, then the character gets an automatic attack of opportunity against their foe. If the attack succeeds, then the foe’s movement is halted and they cannot move any more on that turn.

Parry Bonus to AC: I’m not 100% convinced that this is a good idea. To some degree, the parry is already included in a character’s AC as part of their dexterity. However, some weapons lend themselves better to defense than others do. Neither a very short weapon, like a dagger, nor a very long weapon, like a scythe, would be well suited to aiding in defense. This, I think, has the potential to be the mid-sized weapon’s biggest advantage vs. smaller faster weapons, and larger harder-hitting weapons.

Weapon Damage and Repair: This is hardly a new idea, which never seems to survive long because tracking weapon damage is too much hassle. I’m not sure how that problem could be resolved, but I would very much enjoy seeing this element in a game if it were possible. It would be particularly interesting when combined with my new crafting system. (Which, I swear, I’m going to post eventually).

Alternate Attack Surfaces: The party encounters a band of skeletons. This is unfortunate, because they’ve all come equipped with spears and tridents. Since they only have piercing weapons it will be difficult to kill the skeletons, who have DR 5/Bludgeoning. Then the bard has a wacky idea: what if they turn their weapons around and hit the skeletons with the shaft instead of the points? Many weapons seem as though they would be simple to use in other ways, to achieve a different type of damage. It’s pretty difficult to use a weapon when you’re striking with the flat of the blade or the pommel, so I could understand if many weapons did not have alternate damage types. But what could be simpler than using a spear as a quarterstaff, or a scythe as a piecing weapon?

Fantasy Languages

Language has an important role in fantasy. In the video game Skyrim, the language of dragons produces powerful magic effects when spoken. In the Lord of the Rings stories, Gandalf repeatedly mentions that the ‘dark speech of Mordor’ should not be spoken, and when it is, it appears painful to hear.* In Judeo-christian mythology, the entire universe is created when god speaks; “and god said, let there be light: and there was light.” So why is it that we ignore language in fantasy RPGs? The most it is ever used for is a minor obstacle when a message or an NPC requires fluency in a certain language to understand.

As I’ve already mentioned in my analysis of the linguistics skill, learning languages by spending a skill point is stupid. Not only can it quickly lead to a character knowing an absolutely ludicrous number of languages (See: The Owlbear) but it doesn’t represent the proper amount of time investment for language learning. I’ve been pondering how this could be improved, and I think I’ve come up with something workable. Characters start play knowing their “basic languages.” These would be The Common Tongue, and any languages which the character should know based on their race and class. For a human fighter, the only basic language would be The Common Tongue. For a dwarven druid, the basic languages would include The Common Tongue, Dwarven, and Druidic. From there, the character may select a number of bonus languages equal to their intelligence modifier. These languages must be of the commonplace variety, but can be selected during gameplay rather than at character creation, if the GM is willing.

After selecting these first languages, players may learn additional tongues by investing time. They must purchase a book (which varies in price from 10gp for commonplace languages, to 10,000 gp for the rarest tongues), or be traveling with a companion willing to teach them. They must spend 8 hours every day in light activity, studying this language. If they are being taught by a companion, their companion must also spend this time in teaching the language, rather than in other tasks. After 35 days (equal to 1 game month for me), the character has successfully learned the language.

A character can learn a maximum number of languages equal to twice their intelligence modifier. So a character with a +4 intelligence modifier can learn up to 8 languages. Note that a character’s basic languages do count against this maximum. So a human fighter with 18 Int starts out knowing The Common Tongue, and 4 other languages based on their intelligence. After that, they may learn 3 additional languages for a total of 8. On the other hand, a dwarven druid with 18 intelligence starts out knowing The Common Tongue, Dwarven, and Druidic, as well as 4 other languages based on their intelligence. That’s a total of 7 languages, so the dwarf will only be able to learn 1 more after the fact. If a player wishes to learn more than their maximum number of languages, they may do so by taking the Polyglot feat, which allows characters to learn as many languages as they like.

Below is a list of languages organized by how common they are. I’ve included the 21 languages in the Pathfinder Core Rulebook, as well as a number of additional languages from other sources, and some of my own creation.

*While I have read LotR, it was more than half my life ago. Forgive me if my memories are more influenced by the films than the novels.

Commonplace

Commonplace languages are spoken openly by many people throughout the material plane. A textbook for learning a commonplace language would be available in most book stores, and could be purchased for 10-50gp. Note that The Common Tongue is not listed, as it is a universal language, not simply a commonplace one.

Dwarven Dwarven is filled with hard sounds, much like real world German or Russian. ‘Dwarven’ is a common tongue spoken by most dwarves. However, in a campaign world with different species of dwarf (Such as The Forgotten Realm’s Shield, Gold, and Gray dwarfs) each dwarf subspecies may have its own language, separate from the shared language of Dwarven. In such a case, each of the languages would be considered a Commonplace language. That includes the language of Gray dwarfs, since the mine-dwelling dwarven species are likely to encounter their Underdark dwelling cousins with some frequency.

Elven In contrast with Dwarven, Elven has very few hard sounds. Most words are composed of soft sounds, which flow one word to the next. The few words which do contain hard sounds are among the rudest words in the elven tongue. Elven is also the most expansive language, with a massive alphabet, and a lexicon which could contain the languages of several other species at once. Elves do not have multiple languages in campaign settings with more than one elven species. Wood elves, sun elves, high elves, etc. all speak a single unified language, though certain ways of phrasing things may be more common among one group than they are among another. The only exception to this is the Drow, whose tongue is a bastardization of Elven and Abyssal.

Gnomish Gnomish is a fast language. This often makes it difficult for non-native speakers to follow conversations between gnomes, even if they do know the language. It is also an extremely descriptive language, and it is not uncommon for a noun to be followed by a lengthy list of adjectives which–in most languages–would be considered excessive. Like elves, the gnomish language is universal among gnomes. This includes the Svirfneblin, or deep gnomes, who–despite being culturally quite different from their surface cousins–are none the less on amicable terms with the rest of their species.

Halfling Halfling sounds very similar to elven, and in fact is thought to be descended from that tongue. Most of its words, however, are not found within the expansive elven language. Halfling, more than any other language, incorporates words from many other languages as well. Dwarves, gnomes, and even orcs might occasionally recognize a random word within a sentence spoken in Halfling.

Gnoll Gnoll is a particularly difficult language for non-gnolls to speak. It is filled with many high pitched sounds, and a lot of bleating and yelping. Fortunately, it is also a very limited tongue, with a vocabulary of only a few thousand words.

Goblin Like Gnomish, the Goblin tongue is extremely fast paced. The chattering of Goblin often sounds comical, which belies how many synonyms they have for acts of violence. Goblins learn to speak it at a remarkably young age, and some anthropologists surmise that the language is actually instinctual for these creatures.

Orcish Orcish is a brusk, primitive language without artistry or style. Any of its subtlety comes from gestures made with the hands, head, or face. Note that these two are not considered separate languages, but a single language which combines vocal and gestural elements.

Giant The language of Giants sounds very similar to the Dwarven tongue, and in fact uses the same alphabet as Dwarven. The various types of Giant (Hill Giant, Stone Giant, Ice Giant, and so forth) have not quite developed their own sub languages. However, they do have very distinct dialects, which can take some time to grow accustomed to.

Gestural Languages Most cultures have developed gestural languages which are similar in style to their spoken languages. These have a twofold purpose: first, they allow those who are deaf and/or dumb to communicate. Second, they allow for silent communication during military action–though those who learn the language for its stealth applications normally have an extremely limited vocabulary. These languages include: Gestural Common, Gestural Elven, Gestural Dwarven, Gestural Halfling, Gestural Gnomish, and Gestural Giant. The other common species have not developed any detailed gestural languages, though that does not mean they are not capable of extremely basic gestural communication.

Uncommon

Like common languages, uncommon languages are mostly spoken by creatures on the material plane. However, most human and demi-human cultures will have had little to no contact with the creatures who speak these languages. As such, they can be difficult to learn. Textbooks for learning these languages are likely to be found only in universities, or the bookstores of large cities. Purchasing one will likely cost between 200 and 1000 gold pieces.

Aklo & Sylvan To someone who speaks neither Sylvan nor Aklo, the two languages might sound identical. Even non-native speakers sometimes fail to understand why a word from one language can’t be used while speaking the other. But to the creatures who speak these languages natively–the fey–the two tongues could not be more different. Speaking a word of Aklo within a Sylvan sentence is profoundly offensive, and vice-versa. It is also said that a plant which grows hearing the Sylvan language daily will flourish and grow strong, whilst a plant which grows hearing Aklo will become twisted and thorny.

Aquan Primarily the tongue spoken by water based outsiders, Aquan is none the less ‘uncommon’ rather than ‘rare,’ because the many water dwelling peoples of the material plane (such as merfolk) speak it. Aquan is strange, in that it can be heard as easily through water as most languages can be heard through the air. Additionally, it has been found that speaking this language wets the mouth of the one speaking it, though one who does not understand the language cannot replicate this effect by speaking the same words. There are some tales of people surviving for weeks without water, sustaining their life by speaking Aquan aloud to themselves.

Auran Like Aquan, Auran is a tongue primarily spoken by air based outsiders. However, many flying creatures on the material plane also speak the language, and this allows it to be more commonly known than most outsider tongues. Most native speakers find it frustrating to converse with non-native speakers, since they often don’t have the lung capacity to speak Auran easily. As a result, they need to take a breath after almost every word, giving the impression that they’re constantly exhausted from physical stress. Despite that fact, those who speak the language actually find it much easier to breathe while speaking it–an ability which comes in handy when faced with poison gases, or low oxygen environments.

Draconic Though the language of dragons is spoken by Kobolds and might be thought to be common, the dialect which Kobolds speak is composed only of the simplest words, with no regards for grammar, and numerous mispronunciations. While this works fine for the Kobolds, true Draconic is a much rarer and much more complicated language. In order to speak it correctly, a creature as tiny as a human needs to almost constantly shout the words in order to create the proper volume and inflection.

Undercommon The common tongue of the underdark is most naturally spoken in low, quiet tones. In that deep place it serves the same purpose as The Common Tongue does on the surface world: it is a universal language, which is none the less distinct from the specific racial languages found there.

Ancient Common Many of the commonplace languages slowly evolve over time. While an individual’s life is too short for this gradual shift to matter, after countless generations it can be impossible to decipher a book written in a language you ostensibly speak. As such, many languages have an “ancient” counterpart which must be learned as a separate tongue. These include: Ancient Common, Ancient Dwarven, Ancient Gnomish, Ancient Halfling, and Ancient Giant. The Elven language is unique in that it does not evolve, save to occasionally add new words to its expansive lexicon.

Drow As mentioned above, the language of the drow is a bastardization of Elven and Abyssal. Unlike elven, the drow tongue does evolve over time, and ancient versions of it do exist. Though, the older an example of the drow language is, the more it resembles Abyssal words shoehorned into Elvish conjugation and grammar.

The Gravespeech Intelligent undead are imbued with knowledge of this tongue upon their reanimation. Many of its guttural sounds are difficult for a living creature to create, but learning the language is a coveted rite of passage for necromancers. Those who chant their necrotic spells in this tongue swear that their command of the undead is strengthened.

Rare

Most rare languages are not spoken by creatures native to the material plane. They are the languages of outsiders, and their words carry great power. A textbook for learning such a language will be difficult to obtain. Likely only a few exist in the world, and they will either be owned by wizards and kings, or guarded by fearsome monsters in a dungeon beneath the earth. Purchasing one would cost not less than 5,000 gold, and could be as expensive as 10,000 gold, or higher.

Abyssal Every word in the grammarless language of demons sounds horrible. Some are reminiscent of a retching cough, whilst others sound disturbingly like a wail of pain. Those who speak it often find themselves prone to acting irrationally for a time afterwords, and respond a little more spitefully to minor annoyances.

Celestial The language of the upper planes always feels good to speak for creatures of good alignment. There is no distinct sensation, but your breathing becomes a little deeper, and your mind a little clearer. By contrast, most evil creatures find it unpleasant to hear. Not quite as bad as nails on a chalkboard. It’s unlikely that the language could be used to detect evil folk by watching for people’s reactions

Ignan The language of fire based outsiders requires a rasping voice to pronounce correctly. Speaking it drys the mouth of the speaker, and prolonged speech can apparently begin to drain a body of its water reserves. It is not recommended to speak the language at length without a beverage nearby. Those who do speak it find themselves temporarily immune to natural fire damage for a few moments after speaking.

Infernal The grammar of Infernal is so strict and obtuse that it makes the language almost impossible to speak until you can speak it absolutely fluently. An incorrectly conjugated verb is enough to make an entire sentence completely indecipherable. And a small error in a lengthy conversation can completely change the meaning of something spoken twenty minutes earlier. The impenetrable nature of the language provides a new dimension to the old phrase “Devils always speak in contracts.”

Terran All of the words in Terran are extremely short. In fact, each of the letters in the Terran written language can also be used to spell a single-character word. The language does not lend itself to lengthy conversations, and is best used to facilitate brief exchanges of necessary information. Speaking the language makes the ground somewhat more welcoming of you. Those who speak it often mutter to themselves as they travel, and swear that their feet hurt much less at the end of the day because of it. Of course, this application is most useful when falling from a great distance, as it reduces the amount of fall damage taken by 1d6.

Treespeech & Seavoice When the trees rustle, and the waves crash, subtle words are being spoken by nature itself. No one, not even fey creatures, can actually learn to speak in either Treespeech or Seavoice. Both languages are created by forces far beyond the ability of a pair of lungs and a single larynx. However, after careful study and a great deal of listening, one can learn to understand what is being said. An astute listener can learn a great deal about who and what is nearby, and it is impossible to become lost when you understand the language of your environment. As a special requirement, both of these languages require a Wisdom score of 14 or higher to learn.

Secret

Secret languages are known only to a chosen few. Helping an outsider learn it, or writing a textbook on it, is a grave offense. Special conditions must be met in order to learn any of these languages.

Druidic Druidic is a known only to druids, and taught to them through communing with nature. Druidic spells with verbal components must be spoken in druidic, or they will not work.

Thieves’ Cant Spoken in the underbelly of society, Thieves’ Cant is a carefully guarded secret of those on the wrong side of the law. Teaching it to anyone on the ‘right’ side of the law is enough to get your throat slit.

Drow Sign Language Though many societies have gestural languages, as mentioned above, the gestural language of the drow is taught much more universally amongst their people. In the underdark, where many creatures hunt by sound rather than sight, the ability to pass messages silently is essential to survival. Given the violent nature of drow, even allowing an outsider to witness too much of the language might earn someone a violent execution from their superiors.

Language of the Church Historically, the official language of the catholic church is Latin, despite the fact that the language has been dead for the majority of the church’s history. Using a language known only to educated members of society allowed the church to create a veil of secrecy between the clergy and the lay people. No one can question how certain teachings were derived from sacred texts if only the clerics can read the sacred texts. Many, or even all churches in a fantasy world might have secret languages of their own. They need not be a method of deception either; a goodly church may simply wish to keep its secrets safe from those who would exploit them.

Unknowable

There are some languages which simply cannot be learned. Hearing them puts a mortal in danger of losing their sanity, and speaking them threatens a mortal’s very existence.

The Dark Speech The true name of The Dark Speech is not known, and if it was, it could not be shared. It is the language spoken when the evil gods gather to converse–not even their mightiest servants are fluent in it. Most mortals would immediately die if they attempted to utter even a word in this depraved tongue. In some cases, however, the most powerful individuals can learn to speak a one or two words of The Dark Speech. They none the less suffer terrible pain from doing so, but the destruction their utterance can cause is sometimes worth the pain.

The Words of Creation The Ineffable Language of the Logos has been mentioned before. Even the most powerful gods cannot speak this language fluently. Instead, they utter only a few key phrases at a time, like a wizard invoking a spell’s trigger. A single word can rearrange the multiverse, or un-make a man.

The Wide-Swing Dilemma

My party’s cleric wields a large, two-handed warhammer. It’s not a weapon which appears in any of the Pathfinder books I’ve read, but I include it in my games as a piece of standard equipment because they are awesome. In our last game session, the party was ambushed by a number of animated goblin skeletons while they were exploring the base of a giant statue. As monsters go, skeletons are not particularly deadly. But they were numerous, and none of the players had ever encountered a creature with damage reduction before. The party’s ranger was none too pleased when his arrow simply clattered through the undead’s ribcage without dealing damage.

Once I explained how damage reduction worked to my party, they figured out that the cleric’s warhammer, as a bludgeoning weapon, was able to overcome this defense. The barbarian cleverly responded by finding the largest rock she could, hefting it, and waddling around the battlefield smashing skeletons to pieces. The rogue and ranger did the best they could, but found that their piecing and slashing weapons weren’t up to the task. They encouraged the cleric to take the forefront in the battle, since her weapon was ideally suited to the fight. She did, and eventually ended up in this position:

I know, my battlemat is out of scale with the miniature base. I need to do something about that eventually.

Anyway, when the player found herself in this position, she told me she wanted to try and attack all three of the skeletal goblins in a single horizontal swing. I couldn’t think of a single diegetic reason why she wouldn’t be able to attempt this. I made a quick ruling at the table, and told her that she would be able to attempt it as a full action, but that each attack would be made at a cumulative -2 penalty. So her attack on the first goblin in her arc would be at a -2 penalty, the center goblin would be at a -4 penalty, and the final goblin would be attacked at a -6 penalty. This seemed like a reasonable penalty to me, and I had the player roll her attack dice.

As it turned out, none of her attacks landed, nor did any of her attacks land on her next turn when she tried the same tactic again. The penalties didn’t even come into play, she never rolled above a 10. Bad luck, but the party prevailed, and continued on with their adventure. But the encounter stuck with me throughout the rest of the evening, and I’ve continued to ponder it ever since. My ruling ‘steps on the toes’ of two mechanics built into the Pathfinder game: multiple attacks from a high base attack bonus, and Cleave/Great Cleave feats.

If you’ve played Pathfinder, or D&D 3.x, you’re familiar with these rules. Each class has a base attack bonus which rises as the character goes up in level, and this bonus is added to most types of physical attack that the character will make. Once the creature’s BAB gets high enough, they gain secondary, tertiary, and even quaternary bonuses which are lower (-5, -10, and -15 lower) than their full BAB. As a full action, the character can make multiple attacks per round using progressively lower bonuses. But while a character must be at least level 11 to gain three attacks with their BAB, my table ruling allowed a 2nd level character to attempt three attacks. And she did it at a -2, -4, -6 penalty, rather than a -0, -5, -10 penalty. A net bonus over the official way of doing things.

Gaining iterative attacks from base attack bonus does have a few benefits which I would not have allowed the cleric, had she asked. For example, a character attempting multiple attacks using their BAB is allowed to choose the order in which they attack their foes, can take a 5ft step in between attacks, and can even decide whether or not they want to continue attacking, or take a move action instead, after the first of their attacks. None of these should be possible if all of the attacks are made in a single fluid motion. But nor would they seem to make up for the fact that my cleric was able to access an ability which (according to the rules) was far beyond her ability.

The second rule I stepped on the toes of, the cleave and greater cleave feats, serve a similar function. If a character with the cleave feat successfully deals damage to one foe, then that character may make a second attack (at their full BAB) against another adjacent enemy. The greater cleave feat works the same way, it simply allows the player to continue making new attacks against adjacent enemies so long as the chain of successful attacks remains unbroken. Both feats subject the player to a -2 AC penalty for a round after use.

My player did not have the benefit of being able to use her full BAB on each attack, as the cleave feat allows players to do. But she also did not suffer a -2 penalty to AC, nor did she need to successfully deal damage to the first enemy in order to attack the second, or the third. And, on top of that, she didn’t need to take 3 feats (Power Attack > Cleave > Great Cleave) to make the attempt in the first place. Once again, it seems that my table ruling gave the player more a net bonus over the official rules.

Despite my ruling interfering with two official rules, I can’t help but feel that I acted correctly. I still cannot see a single diegetic reason why Gibbous the cleric would not be able to attack all three of the closing skeletons with a single horizontal swing. And while I’m sure the rules could be debated forever, I don’t particularly care. Combat balance is not sacrosanct. Player Agency is.

None the less, I am left with a few thoughts on how to improve my game in the future.

If a player attempts this tactic again, I think they should take a -2 penalty to AC for being off balance. I think it makes a lot of sense that a player who attempts a really wild attack wouldn’t be able to block attacks as effectively.
If a player attempts this tactic again, a slightly more harsh penalty might be appropriate. A -3 cumulative penalty, instead of a -2, should be sufficient.
Players with high base attack bonuses can make iterative attacks as a standard action, rather than a full action. This is a house rule that my twitter friend Rilgon first pointed out to me, and I’ve thought it sounded like a good idea for awhile now.
I long ago abolished the Power Attack feat from my games, because it falls prey to my problem with feats. I now think I’ll remove the Cleave feat for the same reason. Great Cleave can remain, as a means of allowing players to overcome the cumulative attack penalty, but only if they hit each time. After that the penalty stacks for each attack they miss.

I’m curious how other GMs would have handled this situation. Personally, it’s just edged me closer to the day when I build my own tabletop role playing system, with blackjack and hookers.

Variant Spell Preperation

Casters are overpowered in Pathfinder. It’s not exactly a controversial statement. They’re less overpowered compared to non-casters than they were in D&D 3.5, but that’s not saying much. Wizards were demoted from Gods, to merely Demi-Gods. Finding ways to creatively nerf wizards has become a side hobby of mine. I’d like to bring them in line with the other classes, without taking away of the flavor which I view as central to the class.

In early editions of D&D, Magic Users gained their spells at random, and that served as an effective balancing device. And while I think it’s a really cool idea, I don’t think it fits into the Pathfinder mythos very well. A Pathfinder wizard is a scholar; there is nothing random about how they go about their business. I’ve suggested before simply removing any spells that a wizard gains by leveling up, and instead offering the wizard spells as treasure. I still like this idea a lot, but I understand that not everyone can get behind such a large nerf. It has also recently been suggested that any spell a Wizard casts from a scroll should count against their total spells per day. I quite like this idea as well, but obviously it’s not sufficient to completely balance the class.

While reading a recent post over at Brendan’s site Untimately, I struck upon another idea. What if the spell slots of the Wizard (or any other Caster) were not level specific? According to the current Pathfinder rules, every time a wizard gains a new spell level, they have only 1 spell slot for that level. At the next level it goes up to two slots, two levels after that it goes up to three slots, and three levels later it maxes out at four slots. By level 20, a Wizard is able to prepare four spells from all ten spell levels each day, for a total of 40 spells every day. If they like, a lower level spell can be placed in a higher level spell slot, but that always feels kinda wasteful, doesn’t it?

Using this idea, a wizard will still have spell slots, and still prepare their spells using a Vancian “fire and forget” system. But instead of having X number of slots for Y level spells, the caster will instead gain generic spell slots which can be used to memorize spells of any level. The catch is that each spell requires a number of spell slots equal to its spell level to memorize. So a fifth level spell will require five spell slots.

The way the system scales is really quite interesting. Using the official Pathfinder rules, characters who reach a new spell level can only prepare a single spell of that level until they gain a new character level. Using system, however, characters probably have enough spell slots to prepare several of their highest level spells as soon as they gain access to them–but at the expense of only having a few spells to cast for the day.

I feel like I’m writing ‘level’ and ‘spell’ a lot.

Another interesting thing about this system is that it becomes remarkably easy to scale the wizard’s level of power until you find a good fit for your game. If you’re running a low magic game, Wizards start with 4 spell slots, and gain 2 new slots each time they gain a class level. If you’re running a game with more magic, wizards start with 3 spell slots, and gain 3 each time they level.

The system seems elegant to me, but I haven’t play tested it yet. I wish I could claim credit for coming up with the idea first, but it appears Brendan beat me to the punch by almost a year. And apparently an old sourcebook called The Principalities of Glantri Gazeteer beat him to the punch by several decades. Still, I think the idea deserves some consideration.

Page By Page: Gary Gygax’s DMG part 3

This is the third installment of my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “Time” on page 37, and continues through Illusionist Spells on page 47.

Time What Gygax wrote here about time and how to keep track of it is fascinating and vital. So much so that I’ve already dedicated not one, but two posts to exploring it. I see no need to repeat myself here.

Day-to-Day Acquisition of Cleric Spells In D&D 3rd edition and Pathfinder, obtaining spells is a pretty straightforward procedure. Every morning the cleric prays for an hour, and all their spell slots are filled for the day. In 1st edition AD&D, as is often the case, there’s more to it than that. There is additional background, which seems to have been dropped from later editions because it complicates the game. And while there’s something to be said for cutting out unnecessary complications, I have been learning that many of Gygax’s original ‘fluff’ offers interesting adventure opportunities.

For a 1st edition cleric, only first and second level spells can be obtained through simple prayer. More advanced spells of third, fourth, and fifth level must be gained by beseeching one of your deity’s powerful servants each morning. To put it in terms I imagine many of my readers are familiar with, the cleric must communicate directly with an angel each morning in order to receive those spells. And for spells above fifth level, the cleric must communicate with their god directly. Not just once, but every morning.

The interesting thing about this is that if the cleric has acted against their god’s dictates within the last day, then they know they must face that god again the next morning when they ask for spells. And Gygax flat out says that for particularly serious transgressions, the cleric’s god may choose to simply obliterate the offending mortal.

Acquisition of Magic-User Spells Since I first learned that oldschool Magic Users learned their spells at random, I’ve been torn on the concept. On the one hand, I like selecting my spells carefully. It allows me to create effective strategies, and it meshes with my conception of wizards as magical scientists. On the other hand, I love randomization. Being given a random set of tools and needing to figure out a way to be effective with those tools is an intriguing challenge, and one I always enjoy. I look forward to playing some 1st edition once the WotC reprints come out, so I can make a more informed decision about which method of obtaining spells I prefer.

I have to say about this section, though, that Gygax seems a little overzealous about preventing players from obtaining spells too easily. I understand that easy access to spells can unbalance a game, by Gary literally says that if a player saves the life of an NPC who was already loyal to them (like a hirling) then that NPC will (at best) be willing to allow the PC to copy one spell from their spellbook in exchange for a spell and a minor magic item. The rules literally dictate that exchanges of spells should never be equitable for the player. This seems odd to me.

Spell Casting For those unaware, Dungeons & Dragons has always used something called Vancian Magic, named for Jack Vance, the author whose work the system was based upon. It’s also sometimes called “fire and forget,” because every morning a caster must memorize their spells, and once the spells are cast that memorization is wiped from their mind. In the editions of the game I’ve read, that’s about the extent of the information given. Here Gygax goes into greater detail. He explains that each spell is a combination of symbols and sounds which are charged with energy from one of the planes of existence. When combined into a certain formation, the energy of those planes is released in a limited fashion, causing a magical effect. Those symbols are then consumed by the magic which passes through them, not unlike a fire consumes fuel. Whether the symbols are on paper, or in the mind of a caster, they disappear.

Gygax writes nearly half a page on this topic, and recommends that for additional background, GMs read The Eyes of the Overworld, and The Dying Earth by Jack Vance. As well as The Face in the Frost by Bellair. Having not yet read these books myself, I cannot comment on them beyond Gygax’s recommendation.

Gygax also notes that while the words of a spell are typically used to bring the effect forth, and somatic (hand movement) components to the spell are used to “control and specify the direction, target, area, etc.” This brings to mind the interesting possibility of allowing casters to bring forth spells without somatic components–but in doing so they will have no control over how the effect manifests itself.

Spell Explanations Here begins a lengthy section where Gygax adds “DM’s Notes” for many of the spells present in AD&D. It doesn’t include spell descriptions, but most of the spells have self explanatory names, so I was able to follow along just fine. This section seems like a useful tool for the GM. It offers advice on how to adjudicate instances where players attempt to use spells in unusual ways which might end up being overpowered. For example, Gygax notes that casting the spell “light” upon one’s eyes does not grant a character “luminescent vision,” but rather blinds the character for the duration of the spell. Entries like this one make me wish GM notes for spells had been perpetuated through later editions of the game. It’s not only useful for determining how to handle a specific case, but it’s useful as a general guideline for how to handle players hoping to push the boundaries of what a spell can do.

On the other hand, I don’t see why “Blindness does not restore lost ocular organs” could not have been put in the spell description itself.

Aerial Servant I simply find this funny. Ever since I became interested in this hobby, I’ve heard from religious nutjobs that D&D teaches kids to cast “real spells,” and that players must learn incantations to the devil in order to succeed in the game. The notion is preposterous of course. Spell casting is normally handled simply by naming the spell and saying your character casts it. Players rarely have the spell’s description memorized, much less an incantation to go along with it.

None the less, the DMG says that players should be required to indicate which type of magic circle they’re using when they cast this spell. I laughed.

Favorite Quotes from this Section

“Once a cleric changes deities, he or she must thereafter be absolutely true to the new calling, or he or she will be snuffed out by some godlike means. It is 90% unlikely that the cleric’s first deity will accept him or her back into the fold after falling away, unless some special redemptive agency is involved. There is no salvation for a thrice-changed cleric; he or she is instantly killed.” -Gygax, DMG, page 39
“a hollow voice rings forth and commands: “GO FORTH FROM HERE AND RETURN NOT UNTIL YOU BRING CAPTIVE THE HIGH PRIEST OF OSIRIS AND ALL OF THE ALTAR SERVICE OF HIS TEMPLE AS SACRIFICES TO ME IN TOKEN OF THE SINCERITY OF YOUR TRUE REPENTANCE!” -Gygax, DMG, page 42

Page By Page: Gary Gygax’s DMG part 2

The second in my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “Money” on page 25, and continues through Loyalty of Henchmen and Allied Creatures on page 37. You can see the first post in this series here.

Player Character Expenses Gary recommends that players be forced to spend a certain amount of gold each month on general upkeep. This covers all the numerous costs which are too painstaking to track during the game itself: the cost of meals, lodging, ale, minor tools, etc. This is something which actually exists in Pathfinder. You can find it under “Cost of Living,” on page 405 of the Core Rulebook. In many ways, I think the Pathfinder system is more elegant than Gary’s, but I’ve never heard of anyone actually using it. I’ve even failed to implement it myself. That’s something I need to improve on.

Reputed Magical Properties of Gems Every edition the game has some type of list which itemizes the various values of gems, but I love that Gygax devoted half of a page to explaining the type of magic each gem is related to. I can’t speak for the historical accuracy of the list, but gems and other precious stones have been said to have magical properties throughout history. Gygax specifically states that simply owning a stone does not grant any magical benefit. Rather, the purpose of the list is to give game masters a frame of reference they can draw from when creating magical items. If an NPC gives the party a magical stone to ward off a curse, then the GM can make the stone Topaz, whereas if a wizard wants to make a Ring of Guile, the GM can require them to hunt down some Serpentine.

Helmets A common argument in the tabletop community centers around helmets. Some think they should add to a player’s armor class, while others (including myself) argue that a helmet is part of whatever armor the player is already wearing. If anything, players should receive an AC penalty for not using a helmet! Gygax takes an interesting position on this issue: if no helmet is worn, then roll a d6 along with each attack roll. If a 1 is rolled (1-3 for intelligent creatures) then the head is attacked directly, and it only has AC 10.

Dexterity Armor Class Bonus I find it very interesting that the 1st edition AD&D rules say that a character wearing heavy armor does not lose their dexterity bonus to their Armor Class. The restrictions on players are generally more harsh in older editions than they are in newer ones. But perhaps I’m simply misunderstanding because I lack a proper background in how Armor Class worked during this era.

Hirelings There is a lot of emphasis placed on the search for hirelings, and bartering with them for their services. I find this idea intriguing. As a player, I imagine that once I’ve established a stronghold, I’ll try to recruit NPCs I meet during my adventures to come work for me. If I meet a city guard or blacksmith I like, I offer them a sum of money to come live in my stronghold, and spend their days guarding my treasure, or making my weapons. As a GM, I imagine each NPC added to the player’s stronghold as a possible adventure hook. Maybe the blacksmith has a gambling debt, and somebody will come to collect on it. Maybe the city guard is a deserter from a massive army which demands the players turn him over.

Sages I don’t recall when I first encountered the concept of sages–wise and elderly keepers of knowledge. But from the first time I heard about them, I was fascinated. There’s something romantic about the life of a scholar, and I’ve always enjoyed having my players encounter them. For a long time now, I’ve allowed players who fail a knowledge check by 10 or less to know of a sage who can answer their question. But I’ve always been interested to know more about the oldschool origins of these characters. And Gygax did not disappoint me. Very few topics have received three full pages worth of coverage in the DMG so far, so I’m quite happy! There’s a lot of information on how to randomly generate a sage’s fields of knowledge. And I particularly like the idea of hiring a sage, and having permanent access to their immense knowledge on a given topic.

How would you utilize a sage within your stronghold who knew everything there is to know about, let’s say, birds? It might seem useless, but I’ve found that “useless” resources can be a huge benefit, if you figure out how to use them properly. Perhaps this sage could advise you of a method to coax carrier birds to land in your citadel, and allow you to intercept messages from other kingdoms. Or maybe their knowledge could provide the fortress with a source of food during a long siege?

Henchmen I’ve never been at all satisfied with the way D&D 3.x/Pathfinder handle followers. The leadership feat has always struck me as clunky and difficult to use, so I’ve been surprised to learn how differently followers were handled in older editions of the game. Rather than being an obscure ability which only a few players will pursue, it seems as though Gygax expected every player to eventually acquire a few NPC hangers-on. The system for recruiting them is a great deal more advanced, detailed, and elegant than the one presented in Pathfinder. I particularly like the fact that a full page is devoted to calculating a creature’s loyalty. The extremely simple loyalty system described in the Leadership feat has never sat well with me.

The comparison between oldschool and modern methods of attracting followers is something I would like to go into in more detail, but it will require a full post to do so. I’ll hold off on that for now.

Favorite Quotes from this Section

“Such short-term employment cannot last beyond one week’s time, and the sage will thereafter not be available for at least one game month — as there are more important and constructive things to be done than answering foolish questions, anyway!” -Gygax, DMG, Page 33
“Thus, suppose a sage is asked a question out of any of his or her fields of knowledge. If the question is of general nature, the sage will hedge and talk around the point, or just possibly sit and look wise for 4-6 rounds before answering that the question is beyond his or her learning…” -Gygax, DMG, Page 33

Board Game: Expedition to Castle Ravenloft

Ravenloft, both the adventure, and the setting which surrounds it, have always fascinated me. Partially because of my well known love for the macabre, but also because everything about them has a kind of mystique which I find enthralling. The dangers of Ravenloft are always unseen, always shifting, and you never know where you’re going to end up. And Castle Ravenloft itself stands as a figurative edifice among dungeons. My mind’s eye imagines an endless maze of corridors, filled with every kind of danger imaginable. And at the end there is Strahd, a villain so legendary that he’s withstood almost 30 years of marketing and re-marketing without becoming boring.

At least, that’s my view, as someone whose never been so fortunate as to venture into Castle Ravenloft himself.

When I first saw that Wizards of the Coast had created an Expedition to Castle Ravenloft boardgame, it piqued my curiosity. And when my gaming group recently began experimenting with board games (we all very much enjoyed Hero Quest) I took that as an excuse to spend $60 on the game, so the group could have some variety. Last night was the first time we played the game as a group, and we ran through three adventures before calling it an evening.

The game is quite clearly based on 4th edition rules, which I personally found a little off putting, as I have a strong aversion to that ruleset. But even though it uses the terminology of 4th edition (daily/utility/at-will powers, dragonborn, elradin, etc.)the board game is none the less a fully self-contained product. And while my personal feelings made me a little uncomfortable talking about “healing surges” at the table, they function perfectly well as a mechanic for the board game. Even if I do not approve of their use in a tabletop RPG.

The basic premise of the game is very simple. Each player selects a character from the five which are included with the game. The characters all have a race and class, which determine which stack of ability cards they recieve. The players then take four abilities which they’d like to have access to during the game, plus one ability which is fixed and must be taken every time. The environment is created using a stack of dungon tiles with interlocking edges, which are shuffled and placed face down on the table. Whenever a player explores the “edge” of a tile currently in play, they take a new tile off the stack and connect it to the game board. When a monster is encountered, the player who encounters it draws a monster card, and at the end of their turn each round they must play the monster according to the tactics listed on the card. Each game session consists of braving the dangers of Castle Ravenloft to complete a specific objective, which you select from the adventure booklet before play begins.

The game is actually quite difficult. Groups who wander into the dungeon without understanding their own abilities probably will not walk out again. It also helps to have a thorough understanding of the game’s rules; during my playtesting session prior to getting the whole group together I nearly flipped the table because I didn’t realize I was supposed to be picking up treasure cards every time I killed a monster.

Most of the game’s difficulty comes from its manic pace. If a player does not explore any new dungeon tiles during their turn, they must draw an encounter card. Some cards summon traps or monsters, while other cards are spell effects which can damage or immobilize you. The worse encounter cards, however, are those with environment effects which remain in play until replaced by a new environment effect. Most of these effects are a severe hinderance to the party. Some cause damage when a player uses an item, or a once-daily ability. Perhaps the worst environment effect is the one which damages a player if they end their turn on the same tile as any other players, essentially forcing the party to split up.

The only way to avoid drawing an encounter card is to explore a new part of the dungeon, and when you do that you must place a new monster on the newly explored tile. So no matter what, each character’s turn creates a new complication for the party. Plus, some tiles have black triangles on them, indicating that you must draw an encounter card anyway! I must acknowledge the elegance of the design. Since the number of dangers encountered rises with the number of players, the game automatically scales up and down for whatever number of players you have at the table.

Not everything about the game’s design is quite so elegant, unfortunately. My group quickly implemented a number of house rules to combat some of the game’s ridiculousness. For example, we combined the “Hero” and “Exploration” phases of each player’s turn. In the basic rules, players must first do all of their moving and attacking, and only then can they choose whether or not they will add a new tile to the board. That means that if you begin your turn by moving to a tile’s edge, and exploring, then you cannot attack the monster which appears there until your next turn. Apparently every monster in the dungeon has the element of surprise.

We also changed the rules for leveling up. According to the manual, once a player has collected 5xp worth of monsters, then the next time they roll a 20, they may discard those experience points, and flip their character sheet over to the “level 2” side. This is a nuisance kind of rule. In both session of the game where we followed that rule, it ends up with every player sitting on 10 or 15 experience points, waiting for a fucking twenty to come up. Instead, we allow each player to level up immediately upon reaching 5xp.

We’ve changed a few other minor rules here and there, but those are the two largest changes I think.

I am intrigued by the possibilities for expanding this game. It only comes with a handful of adventures, but there’s no reason that we couldn’t come up with our own adventures for the game ad-infinitum. And that’s not even to mention its sister games. Expedition to Castle Ravenloft uses the exact same system for play as two other D&D Board Games: Legends of Drizzt, and Caverns of Ashardalon. The games could easily be mixed together to add a larger variety of monsters, treasure, encounters, and adventurers.

As a final point, I have to mention the miniatures. As a GM, I refuse to use miniatures for anything but PCs. But, for those who do like to have more ornate monster representations on the battlefield, the minis included with this game will be a significant bonus. They’re very nicely creafted plastic, and come from the same molds that official D&D miniatures have come from in the past. And there’s so many of them! Enough, I think, for every monster card in the game to be in-play simultaneously.

Without question, Expedition to Castle Ravenloft is worth the remarkably cheap $65 price tag. Any criticism I have for the game is minor, and the amount of fun I’ve already gotten out of it in just a few weeks is impressive. Plus, even if you don’t like the game, your purchase won’t be a total loss, because you’ll have miniatures to play with.

Page By Page: Gary Gygax's DMG part 1

I find a lot of pleasure in writing about books which I’ve read. Whether I’m excited about a module I’d like to run, or lambasting an author for being sexist, it’s a lot of fun for me. I believe it also serves a useful, or even essential, purpose. The written word is a medium through which an exchange of ideas takes place. If I simply read something without sharing my thoughts on what it, then all I’ve done is absorbed ideas. I may be a better person for it, but that’s not how an exchange works. It’s not until we discuss a book with others that we’re fully engaged with the ideas presented therein. That’s a large part of why I place such a high value on post comments. Expressing my thoughts is one thing, but it’s nothing really special until someone else connects with what I’ve expressed, and shares thoughts of their own.

Word of warning: majoring in philosophy may cause melodramatic outbursts about the value of ideas.

Problem is, some books have too many ideas in them for a single post to be sufficient. Gary Gygax’s original Dungeon Master’s Guide for Advanced Dungeons and Dragons is one such book. This is a seminal work, and arguably the most notable of Gary’s life. When Wired magazine set out to name the 9 books every geek must read, they listed this book first. I’ve never heard anyone speak ill of it. Proponents of every edition of the game revere it. Second, Third, and Fourth editions may all have had Dungeon Master’s Guides, but Gygax’s treatise is the Dungeon Master’s Guide. I obtained my copy about two months back, and have been impressed time and again with what I’ve read. I am repeatedly struck by the sense that subsequent editions of the game ‘missed the point.’ That the way I learned a concept while reading the 3.5 DMG was an inaccurate rephrasing of what Gygax originally put down here.

As I embark on my first read-through of the Dungeon Master’s Guide, I am taking copious notes, and will be posting my thoughts regularly. This will not be a continuous series, because we just finished one of those, and also because I’m a slow reader. Nor will it be a comprehensive series. I’ll be writing with an eye towards ideas which interest me personally. Such as mechanics which might be useful to me in my own games, or concepts which I find particularly innovative or odd.

This first post covers up to ‘Changing Alignment’ on page 25.

Dice: There is nearly a full page worth of information on probability curves and different ways of producing random outcomes. This is essential information which every GM should be aware of. I had a poor mathematics education, and when I finally learned about this stuff whilst reading blogs and other articles on the Internet, I felt upset that I hadn’t fully understood the implications of different types of dice rolling. When I found out that this information was actually included in the original DMG, that made me upset all over again. Why wasn’t this included in the third edition DMG, or in Pathfinder’s core rulebook? What other information was deemed more important than this?

Characteristics for Player Characters: I’ve always allowed my players to select their height and weight themselves, because I regarded it as role playing information. Half the time the field remains blank, and I’ve always been fine with that. Gygax’s insistence that height and weight be randomly generated have gotten me thinking, though. If I know the party’s weights, then I could set weight limits for pressure plates. If I know their heights, I could tell them where the spinning blade 3ft off the floor hits them. I’m not quite ready to add two additional rolls to the character creation process in my games, but it’s something to think about.

Player Character Non-Professional Skills The secondary skills system has always struck me as elegant. It has its limitations and its failings, but I like the idea of deriving a host of character abilities from that character’s profession. I’ve already discussed this somewhat in my skills overview entry for the profession skill.

Starting Level of Experience for Player Characters Whenever I have new players, I try to make sure there’s at least one experienced player at the table. I’ve found that the experienced player’s example helps the newer players connect with how the game works. Gygax makes the exact opposite recommendation. He goes so far as to say that if you have both new and experienced players, that a GM should place them in separate parties, to allow the neophyte players the opportunity to explore on their own. I wonder if this is a viable choice in a Pathfinder game, where players are much less likely to enjoy having their characters killed shortly after beginning play. None the less, I think I may try this with my next group of newbies.

Unnatural Aging I very much like the idea of spells which advance a character’s age. Many of Pathfinder’s most powerful spells sometimes feel as though they lack impact, because casting them comes with no great cost. In D&D 3.5, many of these spells required a character to sacrifice a large amount of experience points in order to cast them, which I never liked. It lacks a sufficient game world explanation. It’s just a meta game mechanic which unsuccessfully attempts to reign in the power of casters. Magical aging, on the other hand, is well rooted in the fantasy genre. I like the idea that a character is so drained by Altering Reality that they lose three years from their life. And it does reign in a caster’s power significantly: each casting of the spell brings them ever closer to their character’s death from old age.

Disease A few days before I picked up the DMG to begin this project, one of my players asked my why disease did not play a role in the game. “Rabies is a serious threat, and any minor animal could be a carrier for it,” he said. I told him that disease was not a larger part of the game because it wouldn’t be fun: there’s no meaningful way for a player to avoid disease, nor any meaningful way for them to combat it. At best, I said, it would be a way for the GM to tax the players resources by forcing them to heal themselves occasionally, even if they’d taken no damage. When I said it, I felt very Gygaxian. My position on the matter meshed with what I knew of Gygax.

But apparently not, because every month Gygax writes that players have a base 2% chance to contract a disease, and a 3% chance to contract a parasite, with both probabilities being modified by relevant environmental factors. I do not understand how this could be fun for the players. I’d be very curious to hear from anyone who has actually played a game with this rule in effect.

The Paladin’s Warhorse In World of Warcraft, both the paladin and warlock classes have special “class mounts.” These days the ability to summon these steeds is gained automatically upon leveling, but when I first started to play the game years ago, there were lengthy and difficult questlines which had to be completed in order to obtain these mounts. I found the quests to be a great deal of fun, which made me appreciate my mount a lot more once I had it, and I have often regretted the fact that these quests are no longer part of the game.

Apparently the same is true of Dungeons and Dragons. As long as I’ve played the game, the paladin’s Warhorse has simply been a celestial creature which the paladin summons upon reaching a certain level. However, according to Gygax, this summoning spell only gives the paladin the ability to see his or her future companion in whatever local it is currently in. The Paladin must then travel there, and bond with the mount in person. And who knows what quests will be required along the way! This sounds a great deal more fun than the way it is done in Pathfinder, and I fully intend to use this from now on.

Thieves and Assassins Setting Traps Something I noticed in my preliminary page-flipping is that Gygax occasionally asked his players to produce sketches demonstrating their technique in accomplishing certain tasks. Here, he dictates that anytime a character wishes to set a trap, they should be required to produce a simple drawing illustrating how the trap functions. As a frequent player of rogues, I find this idea to be positively brilliant. I’ve often sketched simple trap designs just for the fun of it. I honestly think I would use traps more if I was actually required to provide a physical diagram of how it would work.

My only concern is that some players might be intimidated by the need to actually diagram their traps. My understanding of mechanics is rudimentary enough that I would let something work if it makes even a small amount of sense, but I can still imagine that some players would find the prospect daunting.

Lycanthropy Firstly, Gary and I are very much in conflict about what should cause a paladin to fall. Here it’s written that a paladin should fall if they are infected by a werewolf, because the second personality (the chaotic evil werewolf) causes the paladin to no longer be “pure enough for that honored state.” I’ve written at length about how a GM should handle a paladin’s oath and the possibility of a paladin falling, and I stand by those views.

Secondly, I like the approach Gygax takes to allowing players to gain control of their lycantrhopy–though I dislike his ultimate view of what lycanthropy represents. According to the DMG, a character with lycanthropy must live with the condition for many years before they’re able to control the transformation. And even once they can, it takes years longer to perfect their control. However, as far as I can tell, being a were-something never becomes beneficial to the player. In many ways I am a product of modern fantasy storytelling, I view lycanthropy less as a curse, and more as a superpower.

What I think I would like to do in my games is run the first stage of lycanthropy much as Gygax recommends. Players will be out of control when they transform, and probably won’t even be aware that they undergo the transformation for several months. In their alternate form, they will act as a beast, according to their alignment. However, as years go by, they could begin to control it. Perhaps after 6 months or a year they could control when they transform. And after a year or two, they could be in full control of themselves while in the alternate form. That way, both visions of lycanthropy are given some purchase within the fantasy world. On the one hand, it is a curse which will cause players to suffer a great deal for a very long time, and they will probably want to get it removed. However, if they choose to stick it out, it can eventually reap significant rewards.

Alignment The 9-point alignment system found in D&D can often feel clunky. Shoehorning every philosophical outlook into one of these nine categories feels forced, and to his credit Gygax admits that. In his explanation of the alignment system, Gygax phrases things in a way which I’ve never heard in all of my years of gaming. One which makes a lot of sense, almost to the point of being stupidly obvious: the alignment system helps determine who you are most likely to align yourself with.

This is not to say that groups of similarly aligned creatures cannot be opposed or even mortal enemies. Two nations, for example, with rulers of lawful good alignment can be at war. Bands of orcs can hate each other. But the former would possibly cease their war to oppose a massive invasion of orcs, just as the latter would make common cause against the lawful good men.

Alignment Language I’ve long been aware that early editions included languages specific to each of the alignments. In addition to common, a human paladin would speak “Lawful Good.” I always thought this sounded like an absolutely ridiculous idea. And while the book doesn’t entirely sell me on the concept, it does mention a number of points which have given me cause to reconsider my previous distaste for the idea.

Alignment languages are not full languages. Their vocabularies are extremely limited.
Think of alignment languages like Latin–which is a dead language that was none the less used for centuries as the universal tongue of the catholic church.
Speaking in an alignment tongue is considered remarkably rude when not alone with members of like alignment.

Changing Alignment Gygax writes that any change in a character’s alignment should result in the loss of 1 level of experience. I can’t find any justification for this, it seems very strange to me.

Favorite Quotes from this Section

“As this book is the exclusive precinct of the DM, you must view any non-DM player possessing it as something less than worthy of an honorable death.” -Gygax, DMG, Page 8
“Of the two approaches to hobby games today, one is best defined as the realism-simulation school and the other as the game school. AD&D is assuredly an adherent of the latter school. It does not stress any realism (in the author’s opinion an absurd effort at best considering the topic!). It does little to attempt to simulate anything either.Advanced Dungeons and Dragons is first and foremost a game for the fun and enjoyment of those who seek to use imagination and creativity.” -Gygax, DMG, Page 9
“An example of the use of wisdom can be given by noting that while the intelligent character will know that smoking is harmful to him, he may well lack the wisdom to stop (this writer may well fall into this category).” -Gygax, DMG, Page 15
“[Regarding Hide in Shadows] As is plainly stated in Players Handbook, this is NEVER possible under direct (or even indirect) observation. If the thief insists on trying, allow the attempt and throw dice, but don’t bother to read them, as the fool is as obvious as a coal pile in a ballroom.” -Gygax, DMG, Page 19

Overview of Pathfinder's Skills: Conclusion

As a GM, I’ve always gravitated towards using some skills, and away from using others. In my limited experience, I’ve found that most GMs do something similar. There are skill checks which they call for, and checks which they don’t. Beneficial as those decisions may be, players are often harmed by this practice. Because, in my experience, GMs don’t communicate which skills they will be using for and which they will not. They may not have even noticed that they ignore certain skills. In my own experience, when a player says “I swim into the river,” I’ve never even considered asking for a swim check. I’ve always simply allowed players to do so. But what I’ve come to realize is that I have been, in effect, lying to my players because of that.

When a new player is joining my games, I’ve never told them not to put any ranks in swim, or climb, or disguise, or escape artist. I let them make their own decisions, not realizing that in doing so I am implying that any skill they put points into is a skill which will potentially be useful to them. How many of my players have wasted skill points on skills which would never be rolled even a single time? I have been at fault in this, which is why I set out to correct that oversight with this series. Over two weeks of posts here on Papers & Pencils have been devoted to overviewing Pathfinder’s skills. I’ve approached each one in turn with as clear a mind as I could manage, analyzing its strengths and its flaws in the hopes of cutting the fat from the system.

What has been the result? Well, the original game of Dungeons and Dragons 3.5 had an amusingly appropriate 35 skills. Pathfinder combined a number of these skills together, bringing the total number of skills down to 26. With the additional cuts I’ve made, the total number of skills is down to 14 total.You can see the breakdown of the skills on this chart:

My reduction in the number of skills is pretty drastic. It is legitimate to be concerned that it may be too drastic. If a human rogue rolls 18 for their intelligence, then they can add two to that, and start the game with an Intelligence modifier of +5. If that character also selects rogue as their favored class, then at each level they can receive a total of 15 skill points (Rogue is 8 + Intelligence Modifier, +1 for the human racial trait, +1 for leveling in a character’s favored class.) Considering that both Craft and Knowledge represent multiple skills, this doesn’t mean that the character would end up with excess skill points at each level. However, such a rogue would almost certainly be forced to put skill points into a number of abilities they had little to no interest in actually using. Such a character does not even imply any attempt to manipulate the system on the player’s part. All it would require is a lucky roll for ability scores, followed by common-sense choices.We could reduce the number of skill points each class receives. However, for now, I will be allowing characters to maintain their current speed of skill point acquisition, to see if this is actually a problem or not. After all, no class gains skill at the same pace that the rogue does, and rogues are supposed to have a wide variety of talents.

I hope I have been somewhat successful in streamlining, and improving Pathfinder’s skill system with these posts. But there’s only so much that can be done. The D20 system’s skill mechanic is fundamentally flawed, and from what I’ve seen, so is the way design decisions have been made. If not by Paizo, then at least by Wizards of the Coast.

First, there’s the issue of linear probability. Rolling a single twenty sided die for a skill check means that none of the potential results are even slightly more likely than any other possible result. A character can roll a 1, or a 20, or anything in between with equal probability. With some rolls, like attack rolls in combat, it makes good sense. Combat is chaotic, and unpredictable. Your skill at thrusting a sword is mitigated by the quality of your opponent’s armor, and their skill at parrying, or blocking, or dodging your attack. This is not true with something like a ride check or a acrobatics check. Take the instance of a jump: in Pathfinder, a level 1 commoner who attempts to jump as far as she can is just as likely to make it 1ft as she is to make it 20ft. Can you imagine anyone in the world with that kind of variance in their ability? A much better system would be one which used multiple dice for skill checks. Something like 2d10, or 3d6, which would have a bell curve of probability, where the numbers in the middle of the possible range (right around 10-11) will appear much more frequently than the numbers at either extreme of the number range.

I’ve also found that there has apparently been no real attempt to balance the skill’s usefulness against one another. It would seem to me as though any sufficient amount of play testing would reveal that skills such as escape artist are used much less frequently (and to much less effect) than skills such as perception or acrobatics. Given this wide disparity in the frequency and effectiveness of usage, a skill point put into escape artist is significantly less valuable to a player than a point spent in acrobatics. Now, I would not suggest that each skill needs to be precisely equal in value to every other skill. A game which offers as many choices for character building as Pathfinder does will always have more and less ideal ‘builds.’ But there is a limit to the disparity of balance which is acceptable. Some of Pathfinder’s core skills are more valuable than others by an order of magnitude, and that’s unacceptable.

For many of these skills, I can only imagine that they were kept in the game because the game needed to be compatible with D&D 3.5 products.

I would like to thank all of my readers who stuck with this series throughout. I know it has been a rather dry read. Truth be told, I’ve been itching to be done writing it myself. There have been a number of topics I’ve been greatly interested in writing about, but I did not want to interrupt the flow of these skill posts. Now that they’re done, I look forward to covering a variety of topics which have been on my mind these past few weeks. As mentioned earlier in this series, I am intending to re-write the Knowledge and Craft skills, as well as the process of identifying magic items. You can expect those posts in the coming weeks, but not before I’ve had some time to touch on some other subjects first.

Overview of Pathfinder's Skills: Stealth to Use Magic Device

Stealth (Full Description on PFSRD)(-C’s Post): The stealth skill is not quite so broken as I thought it was before I sat down to do my analysis. It can be easy for those of us who played Dungeons and Dragons 3rd edition for years to not notice, or forget, some of the changes which Pathfinder has made. Pathfinder’s stealth skill doesn’t include any information on hiding whatsoever: hiding is left up to the GM and players to work out on their own. Which is good and proper. If my players tell me they would like to hide behind a statue, then I see no reason to make them roll for it. Simply using commonsense rules about line of sight is enough. Though I would appreciate it if the stealth skill included information about hiding in shadows, or using camouflage in the woods.

In my games, I assume that all characters standing in darkness and not moving are effectively hidden and cannot be perceived unless a creature has darkvision. Moving half your speed in darkness requires a stealth check (for moving silently) made with a +4 bonus. Characters standing in dim light make stealth checks directly opposed to perception checks so long as they are not moving. If they do move, they make their check at a -4 penalty. In areas of normal or bright light, hiding in shadows is done at a -2 penalty when standing still, and a -6 penalty when moving.

I also use facing in my games, as presented under the OGL for D&D 3.5. Note that the rules include a -5 penalty for perception checks made to the “flanking” (left and right) areas, and -10 penalty for perception checks made towards the “rear” area. So characters standing to the side or the rear of a creature can attempt to use stealth checks to move silently into an area where they can hide, which allows them to hide during combat.

Judgement: As written, the skill is not clear on several key points. And, without facing, the skill’s use in combat becomes a little ridiculous. By polishing these aspects of the skill, it can be made acceptable.

Survival (Full Description on PFSRD)(-C’s Post): I like survival. When attempting to subsist in the wilderness, there are some tasks which shouldn’t be ignored, but which are none the less not interesting or easy enough to actually model at the table. Finding food and water, for example. While this may be a simple task in a forest, scrounging up the necessities of life might be significantly more difficult on a rocky mountain, or in a desert, or a poison-filled swamp. The skill also helps players avoid becoming lost, which is good when world travel is handled by a hex crawl rather than the much less entertaining “fade to black” style travel. The skill is also essential when attempting to find, and follow tracks, which is a time honored ability in D&D, and functions effectively under the Pathfinder rules.

Judgement: I would like it if this skill had more utility, but some of the utility it already has (determining weather a day in advance, for example) is pretty useless. A better mechanic for these tasks could probably be worked out for future editions of the game, but as it stands survival is adequate.

Swim (Full Description on PFSRD)(-C’s Post): If you read my entry on climb, then you already know why I hate the swim skill. It is utterly without merit for a game which takes place largely on land to treat the ability to swim as anything more than a binary function. Either yes, a character can swim, or no, they cannot swim. I suppose that if a specific adventure called for the characters to spend significant amounts of time in the water, then a “water maneuverability classes” similar to the ones traditionally used to gauge flight ability might be useful. But that’s about it.

The rules offer a number of examples of when a swim check should be asked for, such as when the water is rough, or stormy. But how often is this really an issue? In all my years, I’ve only ever played through a single underwater dungeon, and a handful of water-environment combats. Even in those instances, I never felt the need to roll dice to determine how well players could move. I understand, of course, that my personal experience can’t be extrapolated to everyone who plays the game. But the game is clearly not designed around adventuring through watery environments, and if it was, I doubt you would need to roll dice to determine whether or not you could move at all.

In my games I allow players to simply swim if they feel as though it’s an ability their character would have. If you need a mechanic, then have players who wish to swim spend a single skill point to gain the ability to do so. It makes more sense than learning languages by spending a single skill point.

Judgement: Purge this skill from your game, and let its name never be spoken again.

Use Magic Device (Full Description on PFSRD)(-C’s Post): This is another example of a well constructed skill, like Sleight of Hand. It allows any character to use items, such as wands and scrolls, which would typically only be usable by casters. This allows characters greater flexibility in their planning. My players, and myself when I am a player, often come up with elaborate plans which require the use of a specific spell cast in a specific place at a specific time, where there might be no caster present. But since a fighter is not fully capable of understanding the complexities of a scroll of fireball, it’s only logical for there to be a chance for failure.

Judgement: Keep this skill in the game as-is.

And there you have it. All of the skills. The conclusion will go up over the Weekend, after which we will return to our regularly scheduled writings.