Let's roll some dice, watch some movies, or generally just geek out. New posts at 6:30 pm ET but only if I have something to say. Menu at the top. gsllc@chirp.enworld.org on Mastodon and @gsllc on Twitter.
I recently wrote about my unfinished business with 4th Edition D&D (“4e“). In short, the edition was (mostly) abandoned by WotC while there was still more of their material to explore. This was a problem only because most of my friends and I were the kind of people that would always move on to the current edition, so there’s no blame to assess. That’s just the way it is. Well, as I mentioned in that post, the same thing happened with 3rd Edition D&D (“3e“); it just wasn’t as devastating for me.
So, moving onto the topic at hand, I recently came across a 3e supplement I had forgotten but was a sore point for me: Dragon Magic. In WotC’s words,
This D&D supplement presents an unprecedented variety of new options for your character, each one drawing on some element of draconic might. It presents a new standard class, the dragonfire adept, who combines a potent breath weapon with various magical invocations. It reveals many new ways to wield the magic of dragons, including draconic auras, dragonpacts, and draconic racial variants.
For the DM, this book also provides dragon-themed adventure seeds and campaign ideas, magical locations to explore, and new options for making dragons more powerful and exciting.
I’ve always been a “kitchen sink” DM, by which I mean that I never forbade a player from using an official WotC resource for their D&D character. I didn’t care how it broke the game; I’d adjust. If they bought the book, they should be able to make use of it. I found it bizarre that WotC’s Living Greyhawk living campaign wasn’t so generous. They’re the ones that were trying to sell the book. Why forbid its use? But I digress. The point is that I bought Dragon Magic and really wanted to try the class it introduced, the dragonfire adept. I never got that opportunity, and the one time I tried, the DM forbade it because he wasn’t familiar with the material.
I have no idea whether it was a fun class. I have no idea whether the draconic subspecies, variant class features, draconic feats, draconic spells, dragon pacts, or draconic auras were any good. But I really wish I had had the opportunity to find out. To be clear, I’m being a whiny little bitch about this. It’s not enough that 4e, 5e, or any other game system created similar options. I wanted to play these options in 3e at that time, and I’m a little bitter I was denied that. As I’m not a fan of 3e, and the only times I’ve played it in recent years has been within the resurrected Living Greyhawk campaign, which forbids it, so this will never happen. That’s a shame.
All I wanted was to ride Falcor!
In other words, the real message of this post is: Don’t deny your players the opportunity to use the materials for which they’ve paid good money (i.e., don’t be a dick).
Yesterday, I asserted that confirming critical hits was the worst rule in the history of D&D. Why? Well, this is how I imagine the rule came to be.
Designer 1: “Do you know who I really hate?” Designer 2: “Who?” Designer 1: “Players.” Designer 2: “Oh, no kidding. They’re the worst.” Designer 1: “Well, I have a new idea for a rule that will completely screw them.” Designer 2: “Ooooo, tell me! Tell me!” Designer 1: “So, if you roll an unmodified (aka ‘natural’) 20, it’s considered a ‘critical hit’ that does something really cool.” Designer 2: “Wait, how is that screwing them? You promised we’d be screwing them!” Designer 1: “Hold on; hold on. I’m not done. So, the player rolls a natural 20, which itself is relatively rare, but in that relatively rare instance when they do, this happens:
Player: “Hooray! I get to do something cool!” DM: “Um, no you don’t.” Player: “What? I rolled a natural 20. That’s a critical hit. I get to do something cool.” DM: “Um, no. Roll again.” Player: “Why?” DM: “Because if you want to do something cool, you have to earn it.” Player: “I thought I just did.” DM: “Yeah, that was good, but I need more. Roll again.” Player: “Okay. I guess so. . . . I got a 7.” DM: “Well, that misses, so your hit isn’t critical. Just roll normal damage and be happy I didn’t kill your character.” Player: <grumbles knowing that every 3rd Edition D&D DM will do the same thing, so there’s no way out>
Designer 2: “Holy crap! That’s maddening! Players will be soooo frustrated.” Designer 1: “And don’t forget, RPGs are balanced under the assumption that things like this will occasionally happen, so even when they get the critical hit, the mechanical benefit is illusory. This is just a way to dangle a carrot of being able to do cool things, then snatching it from them. It’s all about generating that frustration. Why? Because it’s what they deserve.” Designer 2: “You are a god of game design!” Designer 1:
Yet again, my move has uncovered some things that I haven’t laid my eyes upon in years. This time, I found a bunch of 4th Edition D&D (“4e“) material that I never used, and some I didn’t really use.
I know that 4e wasn’t for everyone. If it wasn’t for you, and you’re just a hater, then this post isn’t for you. Stop reading and go do what makes you happy. No one will give you shit for it.
When 4e ended, I knew what was coming. Everyone with whom I played D&D — and I mean everyone — would be moving onto 5th Edition (“5e“). Why? Because we were all people that met, directly or indirectly, through organized play. Therefore, we were all people who’d just move on to next edition without questioning it. We’d always have to be playing the current edition, whatever it was.
At the time 5e was announced, my friend, Erik, and I had a conversation. We were both of the mindset that 4e was ending too soon. (Erik would eventually be happy because he prefers 5e to 4e.) There was far too much material that we hadn’t yet used. Well, I was reminded of this as I unpacked a ton of 4e adventures and source books that I never used. Sure, I had seen some Shadar-Kai in Living Forgotten Realms, but I never played a Shadowfell campaign. I really wanted to make use of The Shadowfell supplement, either as a player or DM. That’s just one example. There are more than I could list here, especially when you consider the multitude of adventures.
But it’s not just 4e. Once 4e came out, I was so happy with it that I completely abandoned 3rd Edition (“3.0e” and “3.5e“). (Having to confirm critical hits is the dumbest rule in RPG history, so I was happy to see it go away.) As I’ve mentioned, I sold off all my 3.5e material because, as above, I knew that everyone with whom I played would move to 4e. This was a lot of material. I owned literally every sourcebook WotC published for 3.5e, a couple for 3.0e that were never upgraded to 3.5e, as well a ton of adventures (though not all that WotC had published). I also sold off a few 3rd-party products. The only things I kept were the three core books, the Spell Compendium, and Mongoose Publishing’s Pocket Player’s Handbook. I came to regret selling Deities & Demigods, Hordes of the Abyss, and Tyrants of the Nine Hells. I don’t know what the hell I was thinking (pun absolutely intended). Fortunately, Deities & Demigods was gifted to me later, but that’s not great for campaigns. I would really have liked to used Hordes of the Abyss, and Tyrants of the Nine Hells, but I’m not going to pay a minimum of $75 for Hordes or a minimum of $150 for Tyrants.
Of course, I’m capable of reading the material and adapting it to whatever edition I want to DM. Many of the monsters already exist across editions (though not 4e‘s uber-cool Immolith, except unofficially), but the cosmology and character options are very different. Crossing those streams has two disadvantages: 1) it’s more work; and 2) it subverts my players’ expectations for how the cosmology is currently structured. I wouldn’t know how to convert the Hellbred race from Tyrants of the Nine Hells to 1st Edition (“1e“), which is my current focus. Also, I want to start with the classic adventures first. Adapting adventures from other editions will happen later rather than sooner.
I’m not sure it’s in the cards, but there’s a lot of great legacy material out there that I wish I had used.
Every now and then, someone posts to a D&D group asking how everyone used Deities & Demigods in your games. The question almost always refers to 1st Edition D&D (“1e”). I suspect the reason for that is 1) many people that used it as kids so (like me) their answers will depend on how long ago they played; and 2) later editions of D&D overtly incorporated combat with divine creatures, or their avatars, for epic level adventurers. I’ve also played 3rd Edition D&D (“3e”), 4th Edition D&D (“4e”), and 5th Edition D&D (“5e”), so I’m going to address all of them.
Yes, there’s a clear pattern in my abbreviations, but this is how lawyers write.
1e
As a kid, I loved reading mythology before I had even heard of D&D. Mythology is what drew me in, so of course I was going to use Deities and Demigods anyway I could. I remember during my earliest days (1977 or 1978), I created a list of 100 (or so) magic items from that sourcebook (e.g., Thor’s hammer, Enlil’s helm), and each PC was permitted to roll a d100 to determine their starting magic weapon. Yes, a 7th-level level character could wield Zeus’s Aegis. As an adult, this sounds stupid, but there’s no wrong way to play D&D, right? We had fun with it.
Hiatus
I stopped playing D&D in 1982 due to the Satanic Panic, so no 2nd Edition or 3rd Edition D&D for me.
3.5e
I returned to the game of D&D in 2005, and 3.5e was the current edition. I never played or ran epic level for 3.5e, so that edition’s Deities and Demigods was nothing more than reading material. I sold off almost all my 3e materials when 4e came out, but when I repurchased some for posterity, I made sure to grab that one (actually, it was gifted to me by James). I love that book, but what stood out the most to me about it was the transition to Horus as the supreme leader of the Egyptian pantheon. Like the real world, leadership switched. But I never used it in game.
Side Note: I really wish I’d never sold Hordes of the Abyss or Tyrants of the Nine Hells. They’re great resources valuable in any edition, but buying them now would be a horrible waste of money.
4e
There was no 4e Deities and Demigods. Divine creatures, or their avatars (DM’s choice as to which), appeared throughout various monster manuals, and they were designed as encounters for epic level creatures. Basically, Wizards of the Coast (“WotC”) surrendered to the notion that a lot of us wanted to face the divine, and it became part of the game. How the monster was interpreted – the actual creature or just an avatar – was a matter for the DM to decide, but they were there. Well, a few of them. I don’t recall WotC publishing gods beyond their own proprietary pantheons. I believe you had to go to third parties for that material, and sometimes it wasn’t right on point (e.g., Soldiers of Fortune had a Thor equivalent, but he wasn’t called “Thor”).
Going Backwards
Now that I’m going backwards, I must decide how to deal with divine creatures. They aren’t baked into the scheme like they are with 4e. In fact, as some have pointed out, it really should be impossible for PCs to compete against the divine on their home plane, which is the only place where they can finally be defeated. Once you leave the Prime Material Plane, many spells don’t work or are severely weakened. The environment itself works against the PCs but is home sweet home for divine creatures. There’s no upper limit to class levels for PCs, so eventually PCs should be able to fight the divine within the rules, but who’s going to level up to level 1,000? No one, and isn’t advancement through adventuring the real fun of the game? I’m not just going to say, “Okay, you’re all 1,000th level. Let’s go fight some gods.” I’m also not going to rewrite the rules in some odd way to make divine encounters more practical. It’s assumed that DMs will tweak the rules a bit, but eventually that reaches a point where we aren’t playing D&D anymore. That doesn’t interest me.
Of course, I don’t have to make my decision anytime soon. In fact, I may never have to make it. Once I sit down at the table, I may lose interest in 1e quickly. We’ll see.
Shameless Plug
This isn’t much of a plug, but here it goes. Luddite Vic and I are designing our own RPG. It’ll never see the commercial light of day because we don’t meet frequently enough to get it done. However, the system so far is, unsurprisingly, exactly what I want from an RPG. One of our design schemes relevant here is to make sure that PCs can emulate characters from mythology, folklore, or literature even at first level. I’ve never seen that in an RPG.
For example, how might one emulate Thor in 5e? One less-than-ideal option would be a hammer-wielding human tempest cleric, but that cleric would barely be distinguishable from any other cleric build until 3rd level, and even then, it’s going to take a while before it’s obvious to other players what you’re trying to do. You could just tell them, but if you need to do that, you’re not really playing Thor yet. What about Tarzan? How long would a half-naked, dagger-wielding barbarian last in a game of 5e?
In our system, everyone would know from the get-go exactly what you were doing with your lightning/thunder-based, hammer-wielding, human tempest, or a half-naked, dagger-wielding barbarian, even though those characters wouldn’t be any more or less powerful than any other 1st-level characters. That’s the real solution, but I know of no other game that does that. One game was mentioned to me where the PCs are the gods, but from what I understand, they don’t start as anything resembling 1st-level for other RPGs. That’s not bad, but it’s not the same thing. I want to start as first level with that character concept and earn divinity.
That’s how I’d prefer to “use Deities and Demigods.” I shouldn’t need to. I should be able to make the PCs and NPCs exactly what I need them to be. But in 1e, they’re just avatars.
Sundays now are lazy days for me. I either post something silly or other people’s work. Usually both. Today, it’s from a Facebook D&D group I frequent. Here’s what was shared (on this post if you can see it):
I know. This blog hasn’t been kind to canines (too many examples to count). But whether you’re a cat person or a dog person, everyone likes both kittens and puppies, and I’m no exception, so no backhanded compliments on this post.
Everyone’s reaction to this was some variation of “It’s a hydra!” Have they never heard of taxonomy? Reptiles aren’t even in the same class as canines. No, this is its own thing, and its name is Tiamutt, lord of all canines. Always check with me before classifying D&D monsters. I’m apparently much better at it than you guys.
Dungeons & Dragons is a trademark of Wizards of the Coast, LLC, who neither contributed to, nor endorsed, the contents of this post. (Okay, jackasses?)
Sundays now are lazy days for me. I either post something silly or other people’s work. Usually both. Today, it’s (loosely) using science to imagine a D&D creature.
Funny story. I never thought I’d ever be able to spell ixitxachitl, and only recently did it stick in my brain. Now I can spell it at will. Small victories, huh?
Dungeons & Dragons is a trademark of Wizards of the Coast, LLC, who neither contributed to, nor endorsed, the contents of this post. (Okay, jackasses?)
A while back, I observed that, despite Lord Gygax’s writing being rightly criticized at times, he sometimes made some funny observations that I loved, and you really can’t have one without the other. Rather than accept the compliment for our beloved leader, some of you took me for task, stating there is no way (Seriously? No way?) Lord Gygax’s writing could be rightfully criticized. I have some questions for those people.
I need this shirt.
1/day, an ogre mage can cast “a ray of cold the same dimensions as that of a cold wand.” Putting aside the missing preposition, what’s a “cold wand”? A wand of cold? No, because that’s not a thing either.
Okay, that one’s not so bad. It’s probably a wand of frost. I don’t like having to go to another book to figure out what the book I’m reading is saying, especially without a page cite, but it didn’t take much work to deduce, so let’s keep going. Locathahs are “very intelligent” (intelligence of 11-12), yet they don’t speak a language. If that doesn’t seem right, it’s because it isn’t. They have their own language. How do I know this? I read the write up on the merman. Half of mermen speak locathah. That’s where I had to go to learn about the locathahs. You could also go to the triton stat block to learn that, which is my suggestion because the triton stat block is also where you have to go to learn that aquatic elves have their own language. Well, it actually says “sea elves,” which we’re all assuming are aquatic elves. Worgs may also have a language because winter wolves (that do) can converse with them, but it’s unclear whether that’s because Worgs can speak the language of winter wolves. If troglodytes speak a language, I haven’t found it yet.
Okay, that was a lecture. Back to questions. How many hit points does an ogre chieftain have? How much damage does a punch from Orcus do? Well, you better have an 11-sided die so that you can determine that (unless you like rerolling high numbers 8.3333% of the time). While you’re at it, make sure to bring your 7-sided die to the game. You may need to calculate how many hit points a goblin has. Fortunately, you need either a d5 or a d9, not both, to determine how many hit points of damage an umber hulk’s mandibles do.
Why doesn’t a giant pike have a swim speed? They seem to run pretty fast on land (36″). Eel? Eye of the deep? Giant gar? Hippocampus? Ixitxachitl? Lamprey (normal or giant)? Locathah? Masher? Morkoth? Portuguese Man-o-War? (From Portugal? Why not? Rakshasa are from India.) Rays of all sorts? Sea hag? Giant sea horse? Sea lion? Shark and megalodon? Sea snake? Triton? Water weird? Whale? That’s every single aquatic monster in the 1e Monster Manual that has only one speed, and it isn’t for swimming.
What spells do a rakshasas cast? What language(s) do they speak? I could ask the same questions for a number of creatures. I already did once (see above). How many rounds or turns does a slithering tracker’s paralysis last? If its siphoning of plasma is interrupted by an attack, will it have time to resume that process if the attacker breaks off the attack? How much damage does a giant slug’s acid do? It’s its preferred attack. Shouldn’t we be told without having to find it in the DMG (on page 64, by the way)? On a d6 roll of 2, what psionic attack will a Su-Monster use? Okay, that last one is just a typo. 🙂
Then there are the spells being referenced with variant names throughout the Monster Manual and even within the Players Handbook itself. One psionic attack is apparently misnamed. What does a mind flayer’s “mind blast” do? I’m not even going to address this disaster. I’ll leave that to this site, which isn’t just an indictment of incompleteness but also general disorganization.
Maybe I’m sensitive, but this is poor writing. My social media posts sometimes generate over 100 responses, and those responses often make opposite claims as to what the text clearly means. For example, no one could agree on the effect of a Iron Golem’s breath weapon or whether paladins and rangers cast at their class level or their class level minus 7 or 8 respectively. A whale at the surface of water is one of many examples of a monster that strikes a target for half the target’s hps. Is that half the target’s undamaged hp total or half the target’s current hp total? I think that last question applies to the effect a Haste spell has on a Wind Walker, but I’m just not sure. The only thing these people could agree on is that their own opinion was unambiguously supported by the text. I’m no logician, but I’m pretty sure that means that one of them is incorrect. I’m still waiting for those apologists to come to a consensus as to what that text clearly says. Instead, they claim that the others are ignoring what’s obvious, missing the irony completely.
At other times, the conversation devolves into, “Well, you’re the DM. Do what you want.” I assure you I will, but I shouldn’t have to design my own game system in the process. The rules should provide a clear baseline, and from there I can tweak it knowing I won’t likely break the game with my preferences. Saying “do what you want” in these contexts concedes, intentionally or not, that the rules are horribly vague. Sometimes when they are clear, they’re disorganized or require mathematically impossible “fair” dice.
This doesn’t mean you must hate the game. There are always clunky workarounds, and I can’t wait to play it again despite my concerns. Besides, these failures are certainly understandable. Lord Gygax was a pioneer. It’s impossible to get something right the first time, especially organization. As far as ambiguity is concerned, modern writers go to great pains to formulate unambiguous language. It’s an impossible goal, but you one can’t even come close if you don’t know to try. Lord Gygax was suffering from a variation of the false consensus effect, assuming that everyone would interpret his words exactly as he intended, in no small part because he was doing this before anyone else. He didn’t have the experience of dealing with min/maxers that squeeze any ambiguity they can find from the text. There’s also plenty to love about his writing, which I’ll discuss next week. However justified his approach, it’s foolish to deny the one and only thing that is clear: Lord Gygax’s writing is often rightly criticized. Denying that denies just how much he difficulty he faced as a pioneer. Getting angry at this notion is doubling down on that foolishness.
Yesterday, I published a post on how the wonderful 4th Edition D&D (“4e”) innovations, passive insight and passive perception, have 1st Edition AD&D (“1e”) to thank for their existence to some extent. They were so good that 5th Edition D&D (“5e”) kept them despite owing its quick existence to 4e hatred. PI & PP represent pulling back from the active checks of 3rd Edition D&D (“3e”). Some brief but extremely useful conversations took place on Facebook, so I hastily put together this post to take it a little further. I apologize for any typos or incomplete sentences. I’ll clean it up later tonight.
Note: The extent of my experience with other games is relatively limited.
All of this got me thinking. The problem with 3e skill rolls is metagaming. If the characters enter a room, and the DM tells the players to make Spot or Listen checks, and the players all roll 10s or less, they’re not going to believe the DM’s words, “You see nothing here.” Telling the players to roll those checks is basically giving away the secret, so I never saw a rogue try to pick a lock under analogous circumstances. That solution doesn’t work for me. Instead, I’m considering something I haven’t seen in D&D nor in any other role-playing game (see note above). My solution lies somewhere between 1e and 4e’s PI and PP. 1e has the monster’s stat block determine whether the PCs succeed or fail, which means that the DM rolls unannounced checks, and players aren’t aware that anything is up (i.e., reduces metagaming). That’s great, but it removes player agency over their own characters’ attributes and abilities. 4e PI and PP instead have the players’ character sheets factor in. The monster stat block sets the difficulty, but the PCs’ attributes and abilities modify their rolls appropriately (i.e., increases PC agency). At first, it seems like PI and PP are the best solution.
The Problem with Passives
But if they were, this post wouldn’t exist. When a game uses passives, the game designers build challenges around what the characters expected passives are going to be. In a situation where the game (or adventure) designer doesn’t want the characters to pierce an illusion or locate a trap, they can always set the difficulty (let’s call it a “TN” for “target number”) unreasonably high, but in most cases, you want the TN to be something nontrivial but obtainable, give or take based on whether it’s easy, moderate, or hard.
But the passive is a static number. There’s no wiggle room, so if, for example, a moderate challenge is desired, the designer picks a number that represents the average TN for the average character. However, every party is going to have at least one character that’s above average in the relevant check. And therein lies the rub. The above-average character’s passive score will always succeed against that average TN. Always. The nature of game design makes passives lean far too heavily towards successes even in a moderate or hard campaign. In hindsight, this is consistent with my experience throughout 4e and 5e.
Thus, while passives remain, in my humble opinion, an innovation, I’m now of the opinion that there’s something better we can use.
My Solution
As with virtually every issue I’ve raised in these posts, I’m probably not the first person to think of them. Screw it. I’m an asshole, so I’m still calling it “my” solution.
I prefer to keep the rolls behind the DM screen. Let the DM roll to determine success, which means there will always be at least some chance of a total failure and some chance of a total success. The high Wisdom character may still fail to hit an obtainable TN, but low Wisdom character may hit it instead. Everyone’s rolls matter, so everyone has their fun, but usually only the high Wisdom character’s roll will succeed, which means that character’s value will always be appreciated by the group. That character will get a chance to shine in the way in which the character was built to succeed. But that’s game balance, and that depends on the system’s math. I want a little more here because my primary concern is psychological.
Disclaimer: Not a shrink.
So, use the 1e system generally, but allow bonuses and penalties based in part on the character sheet. That is, have the DM roll the dice, but modify the roll based in part on each character’s relevant attributes or abilities, which the DM can keep handy behind the screen. This avoids both the problem with static numbers and the problem of metagaming (in this narrow regard), and the players retain their agency. While you’re at it, you can add bonuses if the characters have encountered a (very) similar challenge in the past.
The problem now is how to handle that math for existing systems. I really like the 1e mechanic of rolling 3d6, and if the roll is at or below a relevant attribute score, then the character succeeds. That won’t always work, though. With the gas spore, it’s a percentile roll. A +1 bonus on a d100 is completely different than a +1 bonus on a roll against an attribute score or a regular d20 save. You’ll need a reasonable formular for each, accounting for both the range of possible values and the bonus or penalty given to the relevant attribute score. You may even want/need to account for class and race abilities.
Metagaming?
But with the DM rolling, won’t characters know something’s up? Probably not. Once per round or once per encounter, the DM is expected to roll a surprise die, an initiative die, and a distance die in 1e, and occasionally will be expected to add in some extra dice rolls for equally mundane reasons. There are plenty of reasons to roll in most game systems, but if not, the DM can just make phantom rolls from time to time to throw them off the path. We always expect DM bullshit; it’s a problem only when we’re directed towards specific bullshit. In the end, no one should be the wiser.
Except for gas spores. Anyone who’s read my posts will probably be suspicious of any beholder I throw at them.
Simplicity
There’s one other thing to consider, though. What I’m describing is a small thing, but small things add up. Sure, this is an easy mechanic to grasp conceptually and implement practically, but it’s adding to the pile of other mechanics. PI and PP don’t add as much to the workload as what I’m suggesting, and every bit of complexity you can avoid makes for a faster game. Whether you’re considering what I’m proposing for your own game system or just to add to your existing RPG, keep that in mind.
If you’re modifying an existing system, good luck on the math.
I love 4th Edition D&D (“4e”). I know that’s unpopular, but hear me out, because the one aspect of it I’m going to talk about in this post was kept for 5th Edition D&D (“5e”), so those of you that love 5e owe something to 4e.
3rd Edition
When 3rd Edition D&D (“3e”) brought us skill checks (Note: I never played 2nd Edition D&D), players were rolling Listen or Spot checks, and then the DM would say, “Nope, you don’t hear/see anything.” In many instances, this led to some annoying metagaming, as character ignorance didn’t carry the downside it was supposed to carry. Some 3e DMs had players roll a set of d20s before the game, then use them in the order rolled, but they annoyed me. Why would DMs demand I not roll my attacks before my turn, but the demand I roll these checks before the game even started? I know the answer, but it struck me the wrong way. So how do we avoid the metagaming without annoying me?
4th Edition
One of the “innovations” of 4e that I loved was the use of passive perception and passive insight. They avoided players rolling checks for things concealed from their characters because otherwise the players would know something was up. The passive checks, however, gave players a sense of agency. A particularly observant PC would have a better chance of piercing an illusion or spotting a concealed door than one whose Wisdom was below average. That makes a lot of sense, though perhaps more so in a game system that uses point buy or otherwise gives the players more control over their ability scores (which, by the way, is something else I prefer).
A lot of my recent ramblings are about things from 1st Edition D&D (“1e”) that modern game designers abandoned but shouldn’t have. 1e has its own way of resolving this. The players weren’t involved at all. Rather, the monster determines its own chances of success. For example, when characters see a gas spore, there’s a 90% chance that they’ll mistake it for a Beholder. The DM rolls a percentage die, and if it’s below 91%, the DM simply says, “You see a Beholder. Roll surprise and initiative dice please.” There was no room for metagaming around that.
This is less than ideal because, again, the PC is irrelevant, so I still think passive checks are the best way to go. They make both the monsters’ and PCs’ part of the equation. However, I’m happy knowing that 1e helps avoid metagaming, which I think is far more damaging than ignoring the players’ Wisdom scores. I’d prefer that the 1e PC’s Wisdom score had an impact on their roll to give the player a sense of agency, but as someone only recently returning to the game, I’m not sure how to formulate such a rule in 1e.
I’m loading all mechanical data for 1st Edition AD&D (“1e”) into a database. Having finished data entry for all the spells appearing in the Player’s Handbook and Unearthed Arcana, I spent this weekend creating the tables, queries, and forms for 1e monsters. I’ve entered all the data for everything up to and including the Chimera. This is going to be similarly tedious but 100% worth it when all is said and done.
I’ve gotten through the As, Bs, and Cs, and as of this writing Sunday night, I’ve entered Demogorgon as well (that was a real pain in the ass, with Juiblex — note the spelling — and other demon lords to come). Most of the monsters I’ve entered so far (29 out of 49, or 59.2%) are disappointingly ordinary, representing real world creatures or simply giant or prehistoric versions of them. Grabbing the 3.5 Monster Manual, I see there are 44 creatures (including variations) that begin with the letter A, B, or C. Of those, the closest ones to ordinary are animated objects, arrowhawks, and assassin vines (10 total, or 22.7%). Everything else is made up nonsense, which is the way it should be. Lions, tigers, and bears have their place, but we all come to D&D to fight lycanthropes, trolls, and balors. Of course, you can do that, so this isn’t a major criticism of 1e. There’s plenty of good stuff in there. I just found it surprising how boring the book started. Whether that holds up remains to be seen.
Aside: Kobolds
The bugbear entry mentioned kobolds, and that got me thinking about another design decision my friend and I discussed when creating our own game. I’ll spare you the details of that conversation but instead simply point out that kobolds of legend aren’t anthropomorphic reptiles. I went through YouTube and found a video explaining their true, historical origin. Game designers have plenty of kobold-like fey that fill the space of a kobold, but Lord Gygax apparently didn’t want to throw away the legendary term, so he coopted it for another creature. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but considering that the term, kobold, generally means something different now, it suggests that going back to an older definition is an occasionally useful (if not lazy) means to be original from the perspective of a modern audience.
Okay, I didn’t spare you the details of that conversation.
Play What You Want 