P is for Profundity

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

P is for Profundity...the profoundness of the AD&D game.

It should be fairly obvious to long-time readers of this blog that I'm a pretty passionate guy, especially when it comes to D&D and (these days) particularly when it comes to the Advanced version of the game. If it's not, please allow me to be clear: I am passionate about the AD&D game. If my more than 2000 blog posts on the subject over the last eighteen years isn't evidence of the energy the game instills in me...well, I'm not sure what more you need. Another book or two, probably.

[still hopeful for those projects]

But while D&D generally (and AD&D specifically) has had a profound impact on my life and attitude, can I really say the game is profound? Again, let's be clear about what I mean; the M-W definition of profundity is:

1. Great depth. 2. Depth of intellect, feeling, or meaning. 3. Something profound or abstruse.

[and for the sake of completeness that 3rd definition is referring to something "beyond the obvious or superficial" and "not entirely understood"]

Certainly, in some ways, AD&D meets the terms of the definition. It is clearly a "deeper" game than other editions of the game (such as B/X) and offers more "depth" of game play than many other games that might be played around the kitchen table. As well, I'd say it most definitely has "hidden depths" that are only revealed over the long-term...one of the major reasons I'm such am advocate for long-form campaign play.  

However, while the game may inspire depths of feeling and intellectual exercise, would I call the game particularly deep, in and of itself? 

I would not. It is still just a game...and a fairly simple game when it comes to game play, despite the radical way in which it departs from other prior games. The DM creates a scenario and describes it to the players. The players describe their behavior in relation to the situation. Dice are rolled as/when necessary and resolutions are tallied...often literally in terms of the "points" of the game (x.p., g.p., h.p., etc.). That is all there is to it.

And at this point, I'm sure readers are asking "what does any of this have to do with the theme of this particular series?" Please, allow me to explain by quoting from my introduction:

Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it...

This post relates to the proper approach to running AD&D.

AD&D is a profoundly affecting game, one that tends to inspire passion in others...I am not the first person to gush enthusiastically about it. And yet we passionate AD&Ders...both DMs and players...often assign it more seriousness and depth than the game warrants or, indeed, benefits from. AD&D is not an altar to be worshipped at, and we DMs are not its high priests. It is still just a game to be run, no matter how high a regard we might hold it in. 

Understand that I am writing this from my own experience of 40+ years of gaming. There have been PLENTY of times over the decades that I took the game too seriously, in which my approach to running the game was as one would something sacred. Doing this creates a myriad of problems, all of which are detrimental to the actual running of the game.Briefly they are the following:

1. There is the tendency to over-analyze, over-think, and (Lord knows) over-story your campaign, leading to an actual stoppage in game design due to "analysis paralysis" and the vain seeking after "perfection." Since the latter is never obtainable, it can likewise lead to depression and disenchantment, ennui and (eventually) the chucking of one's campaign altogether. 
2. There is a tendency to curtail the agency of players and to subvert the game design, in attempt to mold play into something that is "more worthy" or creates "more meaning." This will eventually lead to resentment and disenchantment from the players and a breakdown in the game systems that will derail the entirety of the game...either one of which situations can (again) lead to depression, disenchantment, ennui and the binning of your campaign.

You laugh, I'm sure. JB, you just wrote how we can't take the game too seriously! And, yet, here you are talking about worrying that this will lead to the trashing of your campaign...isn't worrying about THAT the same thing as "taking the game too seriously?"

No.

AD&D is designed to be played over the long-term. The campaign is the vehicle for long-term play. World creation (which includes adventure/situation design) is the way the DM interacts with the campaign; the "character" is the player's vehicle for interacting with it. Ending your campaign is ENDING PLAY. No campaign, no play. Do you want your play to end? I don't...I'm pretty into playing the game.

Just one of the (several) reasons my campaign is PERPETUAL these days.

In order to explore the true "depths" of the AD&D game, you must have a campaign. You start it and then you run it, you build on it, you grow it. Like a master gardener, pruning here, grafting there, and providing plenty of fertilizer. You don't rip it up and start over ever few weeks or months. It is a constant work in progress, something you take satisfaction in, something you enjoy and share with others...the fruits of your labor.

Every time you end a campaign, you are starting from scratch. You are doing the OPPOSITE of "putting down roots;" you are ripping up whatever roots have grown. Instead of cultivating your garden, you are burning it down and salting the earth. 

But perhaps you're only interested in a window box. And, maybe, dumping it out and re-starting it every season gives you all that you're interested in: a constant rotation of different veggies in an easily managed space. Not everyone is a master gardener, after all. And, perhaps, not every Dungeon Master has the taste for the kind of work I'm describing here...work that takes time and endurance.

When I say the game isn't "profound," I mean it. It is a simple game, easily explained, easy to participate in. It is not meant to be worshipped or held on a pedestal. And while every DM should have self-respect...respect for their campaign, for their work (which, by the way, is only possible when one respects the game)...that doesn't mean the DM has any delusions of profundity for AD&D.

Respect for the game and approaching the game in a deliberate, serious fashion does NOT mean considering it to be something more than it is. The participants are playing a game of fantasy adventure. They are not curing cancer. They are not writing "the Great American Novel." They are having fun. Mistakes will be made...these are easily corrected (and sometimes ignored). Jokes will be made...my tables are often full of snark and wisecracks from the players. It's not an uncommon phenomenon to make nervous jokes when you believe death may lurk around any corner.

And I don't pull punches.

No. AD&D is not a "profound" game, except (perhaps) in relation to other games. But it can have a profound impact on those who play it. I can say this is true for myself, and I've read many anecdotes from others for whom this was the case (Sherman Alexie penned a rather touching tribute to the game in the 2004 retrospective 30 Years of Adventure...and he's not the only one). But there's a difference between respecting the game and running it in serious fashion and worshipping the thing or formulating attachments and meaning where none are required, or even wanted.  And, unfortunately, when you spend a lot of time with something you love this much it is EASY to fall down that rabbit hole. 

"Touch grass" might apply here, despite the game's analog nature.

We sit at a table with our fellow humans: hopefully friends but, at least, potential friends. We each have our role to play, whether it is "Player" or "Dungeon Master." The DM describes the situation; the players describe their actions. Dice are rolled. The game is played. And by the end, when the books and dice are put away and we stand up from the table, hopefully we will have enjoyed ourselves such that we will want to gather again, on a future occasion, and play once more. 

That is as "profound" as D&D play gets.  And, yet, there is so much more there...so much of the experience that is more than what people can find in other arenas of life. Just because it lacks profound, deep meaning, doesn't mean that the game's not worth playing.  Quite the opposite, in fact.

That's all for today.

O is for Originality

[over the course of the month of April, my plan was to post a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. While I was unable to complete the project on time, I find I still have things to say. Our topic in question is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

O is for Originality...something that is overrated within the so-called "Old School" community.

Not that this series is meant to slam the (mostly commercial) venture that is the OSR these days. But many of the new DMs coming to the AD&D game these days...or even old DMs returning to AD&D after decades of hiatus...are doing so by way of the Old School Revival that's rumbled along these last 17+ years. And in the commercial offerings that carry the "OSR" branding...specifically the for-purchase, pre-written adventure modules (of the kind that new and/or rusty DMs lean on to both inspire themselves and polish their chops), you find a particular type of pathology on display: the urgent need to add "original content" that never was to their offerings.

As if the game didn't offer enough content already.

I write quite a lot of adventures for use at my own table (both for my home campaign and for gaming conventions I attend). And when it comes to designing adventures, especially for convention play, I do not include "original content;" that is, I do not create "new, original" monsters, or magic items, or spells. Oh, you'll see some adventures I've penned for various writing contests that include one or two of these things (because they are elements of the contest), but these adventures don't see actual running at my table except when/if "play-testing." For my own campaign...and when demonstrating AD&D at cons...my adventures don't include anything you wouldn't normally find in the books...for a number of reasons:

1. The content already included in the books is (for the most part) tried and true and already tested within and against the (long-tested) rules of the game.
2. There is more content in the books than I have ever used in totality...which is to say, I've yet to use EVERY monster, or EVERY magic item, or EVERY magic spell over my 40+ years of gaming.
3. For purposes of playing (and "mastering") a game, players need a consistent structure within which to learn and hone their skills, not a rug that gets pulled out from under them with every new dungeon. As I wrote earlier, I am all for metagaming as it IMPROVES player engagement.

Thus, I have no need or desire for adding "original content" to my games...in fact (as per reason #3), I find original content can be detrimental to one's campaign if used in a less-than-judicious fashion.

And it's really not needed! Again, I will make use of a metaphor suggested to me by a DM of far more experience and wisdom than myself: AD&D can be compared to a piano. Consider the ubiquitous piano with its 88 keys...the industry "standard" since 1890. How many people have studied and learned and composed music on a piano over the years, challenging themselves and entertaining others? And how many of them have attempted to add "more keys" to the piano to make the thing "more original?" How many have said, man, these 88 keys aren't enough...there's just not enough sound here to make a decent song!

The idea is ridiculous, as anyone with the slightest  passing interest in music might tell you. And, yet, how many DMs are unsatisfied with the content of the core D&D books? How many have said that the 350+ monsters in the Monster Manual or the 300+ magic items in the Dungeon Masters Guide or the 400+ spells in the Players Handbook are insufficient for their crafting of adventures? Are you kidding me?

There is a TON you can do with the "limited" amount of content in the books: writing an adventure is much like composing a piece of music on a piano. And just as a piece of piano music can be played differently by different musicians (softly, loudly, quickly, slowly, jazzy, or arranged with other instruments, or whatever), a single adventure can be "interpreted" differently by different DMs...or run differently by the same DM on different occasions depending on the players involved.

Orcs aren't "boring." YOU are boring. What is needed is NUANCE, not novelty. Situationally, there are as many different ways to use orcs in your game as there are to use humans...these are intelligent (if imaginary) creatures after all. Consider all the way humans can differ...not just in form or function, but culturally.  I know that many of my fellow American look at all Latin American people as one big mass of brown-skinned, Spanish-speaking people (I know this as I was once one of those Americans) but it is so, so not the case. Even if you ignore the individual differences of individual Mexicans (for example), Mexicans are VERY different from Ecuadorians who are VERY different from Panamanians who are VERY different from Paraguayans who are VERY different from Brazilians who are VERY different from Argentinians or Chileans, etc., etc.. In fact, they are SO DIFFERENT from each other, that unless their country is right next to another they tend to know NOTHING about the differences they have...yeah they know the people there speak Spanish (and, perhaps, have a decent soccer team) but they are often completely ignorant when it comes to someone else's history, politics, customs, food, etc.

It's like the way MUCH of the western world thinks of Africa as one big, homogenous country with border lines drawn on it. There are THOUSANDS of different ethnic identities in Africa and wildly differing genetic diversity even amongst people who share the same color of skin. Would a westerner consider all white people to be one big group? Is a Dutchman really the same as a Sicilian? My Basque friends from Bilbao certainly don't consider themselves "Spanish" in any way, shape, or form. "Your Catalan is getting quite good" they tell me (in English). 

As an American I know there are huge differences of culture between our 50 States. Yes, there are plenty of similarities, but a Washingtonian is a LOT different from a Hawaiian or a Georgian or a New Yorker or a Texan. It's not just politics that divides my country: we are (and always have been) separated by regional and cultural identity, even if we've been united (for most of our history) by some rather singular and lofty ideals that...once upon a time...we all agreed on. But are we different? Do we vary? Hell yes! Even within my own State of Washington, there is a vast difference between the "island folk" of the San Juans and the hard drinking/snorting fisher folk and lumberjacks of the Olympic Peninsula and the multi-generational farmers of the Palouse and the military folks in Everett and the very complicated metro area that is Seattle. Seattle, itself, is large enough that different neighborhoods have their own cultural identity...we're not all elitist tech-savvy "Lib-tards." Far from it! I've lived here since I was born (in '73) and MOST of that time, Seattle was pretty darn "working class" and that's how a lot of us "long timers" still see ourselves. Besides, everyone knows the elitist, tech-money d-bags live in Bellevue.

[haha. I joke. Bellevue is full of wealthy Asians, duh]

The POINT is, just saying an orc is a 1 HD antagonist and that we need a blue-skinned version that explodes when you hit it or one that has feathered wings or an orc that shoots lasers from its eyes in order to "spice things up" is simply showing a profound LACK of imagination. And it's short-changing both your players (who are trying to master the system...something they can only do when there is consistency of application) and yourself (as a designer and Dungeon Master).  What? Are you afraid that if you start "humanizing" orcs (or goblins or lizard folk or giants, etc.) by giving them nuance and ethnical variety that you're going to somehow turn them into something the players don't want to kill and then there goes the game? Have you not noticed how many different motivations, excuses, and justifications humans have found to kill each other over the centuries? My cup runneth over!

Yes, I am well familiar with the classic TSR modules of early days of AD&D and how the MAJORITY of them (pre-'85, i.e. "the good years") would include a new monster or two. I would just point out the following for consideration: A) you almost never see new magic items or spells, things which (in my estimation) have the highest potential for unbalancing or "breaking" the game, B) many times these new monsters are unique encounters and/or thematically linked to the adventure (i.e. not likely to show up elsewhere in a campaign), C) compared to the MAJORITY of the monsters in a 30-60+ encounter area, one or two new critters are a pittance, and D) you generally do NOT see these shenanigans in adventures designed for introductory, low-level play (no new monsters in B1, B2, N1, N2, etc.). Players have to learn the ropes before you start serving up curve balls!

SO...to bring this entry to a summation and close: it is NOT a mark of "creativity" or "good Dungeon Mastery" to be adding new, unique content to your game. Anyone can do that; the Fiend Folio is an entire book filled with new creatures created by a wide swath of designers (more than 70). Pursuing "originality" (in terms of content) as a goal in and of itself isn't the best use of your time and energy as an adventure designer. In my estimation, you'll get far more value out of finding ways to use that which is already present in ways that are unusual, challenging, surprising, and in ways both deeper and more nuanced. Engage your players through good system use, rather than novelty. 

AD&D campaigns can last a long time and you can get a lot of mileage out of it as written. However, when it comes to the vehicle's actual components, there's still a lot of tread left on the tires; no need to change them out so soon!

; )

N is for Newbies

[over the course of the month of April, my plan was to post a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. While I was unable to complete the project on time, I find I still have things to say. Our topic in question is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

N is for Newbies...which is to say "new players." We love new players.

Once upon a time, it felt like the hardest thing just to find people who were interested in playing D&D...any kind of D&D. For the most part, that barrier no longer exists. Oh, it might not be possible for me to sling together six people at the drop of a hat for a game this weekend, BUT if you live in a community of most any size and have a ready means of reaching out to people (using, for example, the internet), and so long as you're willing to exercise a little patience, a committed DM can attract a table of enthusiasts in fairly short order. The phrase if you build it they will come has never been truer than at this moment in time.

I'm sure there are those who laugh at that whole paragraph...for multiple reasons. However, I assure you it's true, including about this being the "hardest bit" for me at one time. I have always been bad at marketing and (especially) self-promotion (I still am)...and in pre-internet days I was even worse. That I had any reputation at all in my local community says more about my weird-ness (mm..."unique-ness") than any talent for sales (I failed at all types of "sales opportunities" in my youth; I'm just not that kind of person).

And yet, somehow, I always seemed to be able to end up DMing or GMing games, even during the "lean years" of the 1990s. I have said it before and will say it again: players are easy to come by. People LOVE to play games. Their main barrier is having to do any kind of WORK including LEARNING STUFF.   I often (half-)joke that players are lazy as hell, but the truth is that the vast majority of us prefer things to be EASY...especially in a world that is so often difficult. It's why we tend to continue in the same job or vocation for years (often shaped by what our parents did or taught us), or why we persist in being the same religion or political persuasion with which we were raised, or enjoy the same hobbies and pastimes we have since we were kids. Learning new things takes time and effort, and the old adage about "teaching an old dog new tricks" is LESS about our ability to learn as we get older, and far more about our resistance to GIVE UP what comes so easy to us after years (or decades) of experience. Even after letting my vocal chops get rusty the last twenty-ish years, I can still mimic Geoff Tate on Revolution Calling or belt out Man In The Box note-for-note...but I can't play three chords on a guitar with any proficiency, or play anything more complex than "one-two-three-a-leary" on the piano (hell, I can't even play chopsticks). It's just "too hard"...and I have too many other things occupying my attention.

Here's the other great realization I've come to over the last couple decades: one of the main "turn-offs" for potential players was telling them D&D is a "hard" game...that it is a "hard game to learn." Because people, especially OLDER people (and by "older" I mean adults) generally don't have the time or inclination to learn new, hard things. Not unless it means more money in their bank account. This is why you don't see people picking up the guitar or a new sport or changing their religion or switching their vocation to something drastically different from what they've been doing. Unless they have had some crisis in their lives, something that's upended their world view. A brush with their own mortality (either a cancer scare or seeing a loved one die), for instance. Maybe a divorce or some sort of serious disillusionment with their profession or the proverbial "midlife crisis." Barring something of that nature, most people tend to "keep on keeping on" unless you're talking about small, not inconvenient, mostly "fun" modifications to their lifestyle.

The easiest way to get people to play D&D is to explain to them how EASY it is. 

And it IS easy...from the player's side. And if you're a longtime DM (like myself) who has a ton of extra dice and a spare PHB to occasionally loan out, the barrier to entry is even easier. Most of the stigma attached to D&D of being "too nerdy" or "satanic" has fallen away over the last 20 years. If you tell people it's a fun, easy game with zero barrier to entry (because YOU, the DM, will be providing the dice, books, adventure, and know-how), you'd be surprised at just how many people you'll find willing to give it a try. Assuming, of course, that you don't present yourself as someone too weird, nerdy, or satanic for a particular individual's taste.

And new players are GREAT because they come to the game without preconceived notions. I prefer kids under 16 or older adults (folks in their 40s+) who've never played because they're far less likely to have been influenced by what they've read or (more likely) watched on the internet. This is where you'll be able to cultivate real enthusiasm for the game because you can find people who enjoy fantasy and adventure and games, but who have NOT learned that D&D is about "telling stories" or that D&D requires performance ("acting in character") or substantial "creative collaboration" (writing backstories, working with other "performers"/players). These misconceptions are HARD THINGS for most people because most people have no background or experience in acting or story telling or creative collaboration. And...as I wrote above...people are NOT attracted to things that are hard (unless there is some money in it for them).  To cultivate such people as potential players, you have to first disabuse them of these notions...which is not (usually) an easy ask. Once people have an idea in their head, they are reluctant to let go of it without being presented with evidence (i.e. getting them to sit down and actually play). If it is a friend of yours, they might be willing to do so (if only to humor you, or on a 'one-off' basis)...but for a stranger or acquaintance with whom you have little or no connection? 

That's tough.

Still, it's possible. And I've found that if you can get people in the door (or, rather, at the table) and run a solid game of D&D for them, you'll find many of them will be "hooked" by the experience in the same way YOU once were (the standard origin story for vocational DMs). More often than not, you'll find you have a willing and able player whose main barrier to play is the one all enthusiasts face (including myself): time and priorities.  

[I love D&D immensely. I love my children more. Consequently, I don't play D&D as much as I'd like]

On the other hand having to introduce modern day D&D players to the joys of AD&D can be a rougher slog specifically because of the preconceived notions and baked-in expectations they've already experienced (and, for many, have learned to love). Not to be too harsh, but many of these folks might be a "lost cause," unless they've somehow become disenchanted with the current brand. And that's OK...as I said, there are still plenty of fish (er, players) in the sea. 

Only slightly easier...and in some ways more tricky...are the people who come to the game inexperienced but completely "bought in" to the idea of D&D as a performative art. These folks are enthusiastic about the game precisely because they want the experience of "playing pretend" and "collaborative story creation;" their enthusiasm for the fantasy adventure premise makes them happy and willing participants...participants who lack the shyness and inhibition a DM initially finds in many new players. However, their expectations of game play can be quickly dashed...possibly with severe disappointment...the first time their 'Original Character' dies ignominiously in some filthy subterranean cave or tomb.  For AD&D players, the struggle to overcome challenges (to survive and thrive in hostile fantasy world) brings immense satisfaction, and the experience of doing it with other players brings great joy and forges bonds of camaraderie.  But for the story-minded player, the experience of AD&D play does not always (nor often) synch up with the expectation of evolving a meaningful narrative. Creating a "meaningful narrative" is not the objective of AD&D play, and players who come to the table hoping for this outcome are unlikely to find what they seek.

Disabusing them of this notion is very much a matter of giving them the same explanation as you give ANY newbie...and hoping they can grok it. I give pretty much the same spiel to anyone who sits down at my table to play AD&D for the first time; it goes something like this:

"AD&D is a game of fantasy adventure. Each of you players will create [or "play" if running pre-gens, such as at a convention] a character with which you'll explore the imaginary world. I will be taking the part of the Dungeon Master; it is my job to referee the game and describe the imaginary world you are exploring via your character. Your characters are "adventurers:" people that go to dangerous places and face dangerous threats and monsters that the average person are unwilling or unable to face. You do this in hopes of obtaining fortune and fame; this is your job, it is how you get paid.  If you're successful at your job (meaning you survive dangers and find treasure) you will get better at your job...meaning you'll become more skilled, able to face GREATER danger in hopes of finding GREATER reward.  

"Your choice of character will determine what skills you bring to your adventuring party; each of you will contribute to the group's success. Working together, cooperating with each other, will give you your best chance of surviving and thriving. The fantasy world has many dangers and there are many ways for your character to die; however, even if your character dies, you can always make a new character."

That's about all the explanation I ever give as an introduction to new players of any stripe. When invariably asked the rules of the game, I explain that the mechanics will be explained (by me) as they come up in play; however, for the completely inexperienced newbie I always provide an overview of the following concepts:

• Class and "race" (species)
• Level (and experience points)
• Hit points
• Armor class
• Attack/damage rolls
• Saving throws

Ability scores are explained during the character creation process (or, if using pre-generated characters, explained in the process of pointing out what is on the character sheet).  The economy of the game (gold pieces, etc.) is usually described as the player purchases their character's equipment.

It is not unusual that a newbie player will want to play a spell-casting character, and I do not discourage this (in other words, I never force a new player to play a 'plain Jane fighter'). When they voice this desire, I give them an overview of AD&D spell-casting including the limitations inherent in the Vancian magic system. This explanation by itself discourages most newbies from taking on the role of a magic-user (or even a cleric!) but before they become too crestfallen I usually suggest a multi-class character...a fighter/magic-user, for example...as a means of dipping their toe while still playing a fairly durable character. Similarly, I only bother explaining the thief skills (and the thief's limitations) if a player expresses an interest in playing such a character...and explaining that multi-class fighter/thieves are also a more durable option for a first-time player.

In the end, it doesn't matter all that much the kind of character the newbie plays because, in practice, that first character usually dies before the end of the first adventure session even with the aid of experienced players helping them. New players often underestimate threats they've never encountered and overestimate the 'staying power' of their characters. And this is FINE...the new player is learning the rules and limits of the game, and it is good for them to discover that A) death happens and is a real risk in the game, and B) it is NOT the 'end of the world' (as they can quickly create a replacement PC).  Besides which, a player will OFTEN discover...after that initial foray or two into the AD&D world...that the character they were using was not to their liking; that they would prefer to play a dwarf or a ranger or whatever. It is the rare player who falls in love with the first type of character that introduces them to the world of D&D.

What DOES matter, far more than the player's character, is the experience provided to the player by the DM running the game. The DM must have compassion for the new player which (for me) does not mean "going easy" on the player; rather, it means being patient and willing to explain (in simple, non-condescending fashion) the rules and systems of the game as they come up in play. It means reining in experienced players (who might have limited patience for the newbie) reminding them that they were once beginners, too. Having compassion means understanding that the experience of AD&D...and perhaps the experience of playing an RPG at all...is a NEW one to the player, and they cannot be expected to know even things that seem "elementary" in nature.

What ALSO matters is that the player gets a real taste of what AD&D is. Advanced D&D play is about more than just going down into a hole and fighting orcs...and, yet, this is still a basic building block of the game's premise. The newbie player must experience what it IS to be an adventurer in a fantasy world. As such, they will be served best by being given a "dungeon" (i.e. an adventure site) to explore that has real threats along with adequate rewards (in terms of treasure) so that they can learn the rudiments of the game...concepts like surprise and initiative, procedures like searching for secret doors and wandering monster encounters, as well as the tracking of resources (torches, hit points, arrows, spells, etc.). These things should be central to game play, right from the beginning, so that the new player can begin to grasp and internalize the game's mechanism and play loop.  By the end of the session, the player (either with their first PC or their quickly rolled substitute) should be receiving a share of the party's experience points so that they can see feel and understand the incentive structure of the game.

Finally, it is important for the longtime DM to realize that for a TRUE newbie, one who has never played an RPG, in can be EXTREMELY DIFFICULT to even conceptualize the idea of a gaming experience played entirely in the imagination. Building an experience in the new player's mind, describing in detail the sights, sounds, and smells of the dungeon goes a long way towards instilling this "idea" of Dungeons & Dragons. The DM's narrative description of the environment is what "sets the mood" for the player...far more than any music, battlemap, or illustration. Once the action starts (combat, usually) description matters LESS...describing how blows are struck and pain and suffering is inflicted is far less engrossing than simply watching one's dwindling supply of hit points and panic at the thought of (character) death. But in the lead up to the action, the DM's descriptions build tension and atmosphere that set the stage for cathartic release in mechanical procedure...do not underestimate how this tension-frenzy dynamic functions!  

And if there's a chest of gold coins on the other side of the bloody conflict...so much the better.

Yes, we love newbies. They bring new blood to our game: new energy, new enthusiasm. We can vicariously experience their fresh perspective and we can re-experience the same amazement and horror of dangers and challenges that astound their unvarnished nerves. The other day, I got to watch as my players experienced the mighty beholder, a monster I hadn't included in an adventure since I was 12 or 13 years old. What a rush! It ended in a TPK (bruh) but it gave my players a fantastic experience that they can reminisce about for years to come. For the newbie, ANY encounter, run properly, can result in the same legendary memories. It's what can turn the curious novice into a passionate practitioner. 

The more of those, the merrier.

M is for Metagame

[over the course of the month of April, my plan was to post a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. While I was unable to complete the project on time, I find I still have things to say. Our topic in question is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

M is for Metagame...a subject of which I've spoken (at length) in the past. However, if I'm going to do a series on how to approach and run AD&D, it's something worth addressing again.

First off, let's start directly with some quotes from the wikipedia entry for "Metagame:"

In tabletop role-playing games, metagaming has been used to describe players discussing the game, sometimes simply rules discussions and other times causing the characters they control to act in ways they normally would not within the story...

In tabletop role-playing games, metagaming can refer to aspects of play that occur outside of a given game's fictional universe. In particular, metagaming often refers to having an in-game character act on knowledge that the player has access to, but the character should not. For example, having a character bring a mirror to defeat Medusa when they are unaware her gaze can petrify them, or being more cautious when the game is run by a merciless gamemaster.

Some consider metagaming to benefit oneself to be bad sportsmanship. It is frowned upon in many role-playing communities, as it upsets suspension of disbelief, and affects game balance. However, some narrativist indie role-playing games deliberately support metagaming and encourage shared storytelling among players.

Okay, first understand that this entirely starts with the faulty premise that tabletop role-playing games are about "creating stories." While this may be true for some RPGs (not most in my experience), it is certainly not true of AD&D. 

However, setting that aside...a lot of this is simply bullshit.

AD&D, like many RPGs, counts part of its "fun" as being a form of escapist entertainment...a break from the humdrum of daily life. AD&D does this by providing an imaginary world fraught with challenges that players must confront in order to reach their objectives. That is the core system of play, the thing that focuses players attention, allowing them to "tune out" the real world.  When players can do this, their perception rests solely on the action of game play, rather than the events and situations happening away from the table (i.e. the real world). This is the essence of escapism, what is sometimes referred to as immersion or "immersive roleplaying" (the latter because it is immersion during the act of roleplaying).

Most people trying to sell you the bit about crafting stories think immersion is something different. They think "immersion" is something akin to being inside a story. The players become their character, thinking as they do, feeling as they do, reacting "instinctively" as if they were the character, rather than as a person playing a game. 

For these people the idea of metagaming...of considering the game as a game during gameplay...would break this psychotic dissociative identity disorder that they seek to cultivate. In practical reality, however, the majority of players are perfectly sane and, thus, wholly incapable of identifying in such a way with the imaginary character that is their vehicle for exploring the situations of the fantasy game world. It is a fool's errand to even attempt such an exercise.

As such, the proper way to pursue immersion...the state of being in which time slips away from the player's perspective as they completely engage with their pastime...is to lean HARD into the rules and actual play of the game. The Dungeon Master facilitates this by challenging the players with situations ad obstacles that provide real threat to their characters and objectives, with potentially painful (mentally, emotionally) consequences.

Thus challenged, the player(s) must be allowed to use every device at their disposal to survive, INCLUDING (but not limited to) 'outside game knowledge'..,that very thing referred to as "metagaming." 

In play, we are already modeling the "lived experience" of a fantasy world  imperfectly. Mortal combat is not a matter of one side moving in organized fashion, followed by the other. Secret doors are not always found exactly 16% of the time. Poison is rarely, if ever, a binary exercise in life or death. These things are conventions of play, necessary precisely because we ARE playing a game. What sucks players into the moment such that they forget their outside cares and worries and instead zoom in on the roll of a single die is the fact that the stakes of the game...winning and losing, success and failure, death or survival...are ruled by these simple game mechanics. The dice matter, as do the rules and procedures that lead to that all-consuming, attention grabbing dice roll.

Trying to pretend that the game is NOT a game...forbidding "metagaming" in an effort to create some sort of 'lived (fantasy) experience'...is not only missing the point of what makes AD&D an exciting game, but is actually detrimental to the very play that makes the game an exciting, challenging pastime. Best for players to metagame the hell out of it...players should be plotting and planning together, picking the equipment and spells and tactics they think will net them the best chance of success. Players should be rightly frightened at the potential TPK situation when they lose an integral part of their team's resources/capabilities.  Players should be doing their best to pool whatever game knowledge they have in order to best "win" at the adventure that faces them.

As a Dungeon Master you WANT players who are doing this, because such players are ENGAGED ENTHUSIASTS...the kind that will put YOU through the paces, forcing a DM to up their own game. This makes game play just as exciting for you as it is for them.

I'd much rather have THAT at my table then a bunch of folks pretending to be ignorant in the name of "good sportsmanship."

L is for Limits

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

L is for Limits...and believe it or not, we really, really like limits in our Dungeons & Dragons game.

Limits are what makes a game a game...at least a game worthy of play. When you play basketball with your friends, you don't score a point just for touching the ball...to score a point you must put the ball through an elevated hoop, suspended higher than (most) people can jump. It is a simple game, but it is a challenging game, and the challenge is a large part of what compels people to play and enjoy it.

AD&D has LOTS of limits built into its rules. There are limits to what classes a given species can play. There are limits to what level a given class-species combination can achieve. There are limits to ability scores based on species and gender (we'll talk about that one in a second). There are limits to how a character may advance and how experience points are acquired. There are limits to what may be carried, limits to resources (arrows, oil, torches, potions, spells). Limits to the number of hit points of damage a character may sustain before winding up dead-dead-dead. Heck, there are even limits to WHICH characters are eligible to be raised from death by magic (sorry to all the elves and orcs!).

All these limits provide boundaries that shape the look and feel and play of the game. They all provide challenges to the participants' desire to do "anything they want," despite ad copy claims to the contrary ("...a game of limitless imagination!"). 

And challenge is what makes it a game worth playing.

FOR EXAMPLE: the character is the player's tool and vehicle for exploring the game world; however, that "tool" is only as effective as the limits of its level. A 1st level character is VERY limited in effectiveness, compared to a 10th level character...even if the two were equipped in similar fashion (equipment and magic items tend to act as a "force multiplier;" they do not (usually) "make" the character). Advancing in level requires the player to earn experience points. Experience points are earned through finding and recovering treasure (these are adventurous treasure-hunters, after all) OR...more minimally...by defeating opponents in combat (valid, given that much of a character's effectiveness is measured in combat ability).  However, engaging opponents in combat COSTS RESOURCES...players lose time, lose hit points, lose consumable equipment, lose spells...and this cost must be weighed against the potential gain.  Because depletion of resources means a reduction in the RANGE at which the player can operate.

[if I spend an hour of my four-hour game session locked in a large combat, I'm using up a quarter of my real world game time in a single encounter, leaving LESS time for more exploration/adventuring. If I lose a large amount of hit points (or fellow player characters) or spells and resources in this large encounter, that leaves me with a decreased amount for further exploration/adventuring. The question becomes: was the battle WORTH it? If pursing this large combat resulted in a large treasure, or opened access to a large treasure, or provided a clue for finding a large treasure...then, maybe. If not, that large combat may end up being a Pyrrhic victory. Assuming it results in victory at all]

But that is the challenge of game play...it is what makes AD&D the game it is. In the present D&D culture, it is a common practice to NOT award experience points but simply to "level up" players at arbitrary chosen places as a reward for accomplishing story goals set by the DM. This is pretty much the opposite of "player agency." Players must jump through the hoops specified by their DM in order to get their cookie. And since the award is subjective and arbitrary (the DM can choose to award a level whenever they "feel like it") nothing the players actually DO or accomplish in the game matters in the slightest. It only matters how generous the DM is feeling on a particular day (which may ranged from "overly generous" to "downright stingy").

Some of us prefer our actions to matter. Some of us prefer to have agency.

HOW ABOUT ANOTHER EXAMPLE: when creating their character in the game, players are LIMITED by two factors: 1) the ability scores they roll, and 2) the class-race combinations that are allowed. Since ability scores are randomly determined, this tends to create a broader swath of "humanity" (including demi-humanity) among the players in some semblance (verisimilitude...again!) of "real life." Not everyone has what it takes to be a paladin, or a ranger, or a monk, or a bard. And so those classes appear with less frequency than simple fighters and clerics and magic-users and thieves...as they should. Likewise, not every species trains the same type of profession. Elves are not particularly religious (perhaps because they cannot be raised from the dead?) and there are no adventuring clerics among their number (their priests are all "stay-at-home" types and limited to NPCs)...this is implied world/setting material as well as a LIMIT on what players can choose.

While the non-humans have limits of choice when it comes to their profession, they also have limits to their maximum achievable effectiveness. 8th level might seem to be an impossibly lofty rank to low-level sloggers of OSR "lite" games, but it's barely more than "mid" for an AD&D campaign...my players can hit 8th pretty easily within a year of play (even with level draining undead). As one might expect, this means the bulk of long-term characters...especially fighter types...are going to end up as humans (who have no level restrictions). The trade-off? Humans gain none of the special abilities of the non-human species (and there's a LOT, especially for dwarves, elves, and halflings), nor do humans have the ability to multi-class (advance in two classes simultaneously) which is a decided advantage of the non-humans, especially at the low-mid levels of play.

Again, we can contrast this with present day (5E) game culture where any character can be any species-class and can achieve any level. Without boundaries, there is no particular challenge save, perhaps the challenge of playing something "original" in a world where all is permitted. However, that by itself (for me) breaks any semblance of verisimilitude as such a world of half-orc bards and halfling paladins, where the greatest fighter in the land can be a gnome and the greatest wizard a dwarf, is just a little too "gonzo" for my taste. I like my fantasy grounded in an accessible world of SOME naturalism, not the cartoon anti-logic of the wildest anime-come-to-screen. There are other RPGs for anime play.

ONE FINAL EXAMPLE: and here I'll talk about the ability score discrepancies between males and females. AD&D places limits on ability scores based on species and that is fine...I have no issue with one species being less agile than another, or less educated, or not built as robustly as another. These are issues of culture (setting/world building) and fantasy physiology. However, with regard to the STRENGTH ability score, AD&D places limits based on female strength in comparison to male strength for each individual species. It looks like this:

• Halfling (M/F)       Max: 17 / 14      +1/+1 or 0/0
• Gnome (M/D)        Max: 18(50) / 15     +1/+3 or 0/0
• Elf (M/F)               Max:  18(75) / 16    +2/+3 or 0/+1
• Half-Elf (M/F)       Max: 18(90) / 17    +2/+4 or +1/+1
• Dwarf (M/F)          Max: 18(99) / 17    +2/+5 or +1/+1
• Half-Orc (M/F)      Max: 18(99) / 18(75)   +2/+5 or +2/+3
• Human (M/F)         Max: 18(00) / 18(50)   +3/+6 or +1/+3

For those who are new to AD&D, understand that the strength ability score goes from 3 to 18, but fighters (including rangers and paladins) with an 18 score roll percentile dice to achieve a "bonus" score of 01 to 00 ("100"). High strength scores provide a bonus to melee combat (very important for sword-swinging fantasy, doubly important for fighter types), as well as a +10% bonus to experience points for fighters with a score of 16+ in strength. Consequently, even though the a max STR male halfling is only getting a +1/+1 to attack/damage rolls versus his female counterpart, the female halfling will be earning less x.p. (as a fighter) because her STR is capped at 14. With this in mind, female gnomes and halflings should probably not even consider fighter as a class.

In my youth, we just rolled with these, as is. Our group included two girls (one my co-DM), both of whom played fighters, and it was never an issue (as in, it simply never came up). There may have been one or two complaints from BOYS in our group (who occasionally played female characters), but we'd simply say "them's the rules, fella." Any player was allowed to play any gender, and we stuck by the rules as written. These days, I'm of a different mind. 

For one thing, while combat issues the major part of STR, in AD&D the issue only starts to get crazy with fighter percentiles...all non-fighters are limited to a max 18 STR, and that's never giving you more bonus than +1/+2. In other words, not much bonus. However, the real issue for me is the added weight allowance, in which any character with STR greater than 11 gets additional carrying capacity. ENCUMBERANCE is one of the limits we LOVE, as it keeps the game firmly grounded in pseudo-reality, rather than the "Minecraft mentality" of unlimited inventory.

Real world carrying capacity is tied to BODY WEIGHT. Yes, men (on average) have a more upper body strength than women, but their ability to carry loads over distance is pretty much the same percentages: 20-30% of body weight for sustainable load over distance; 10-20% of body weight is optimal for speed and endurance, 30-35% sharp drop off in pace with fatigue/injury risk...this latter amount would be a military-style "heavy" load. Military and trekking studies show that women can average 15-25% of their body weight for sustained movement, while men average 20-30% and that fitness and experience matter more than gender for carrying capacity.

It's a fascinating thing to study...and once you do you start seeing the STR chart in the PHB is INSANE. A +300# weight allowance? Even the +100# of a woman limited to 18/50 STR seems outrageous...unless these were additions to the maximum encumbered (staggering around) load. However, it is explicit that this amount is added to the unencumbered rate of movement. Probably because it's a fantasy game and some rules are written for the sake of expedience.

And if it's a fantasy game, then it doesn't matter to me whether the the women-folk are equally strong as the men-folk. As such, in my campaign all members of a species (male, female, and...I suppose...non-binary) use the same maximum STR score (i.e. they all use the number listed for the "male" of their species). 

I guess we only really, really like MOST limits.

; )

J is for Jaded

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

J is for Jaded...the cynical, tired, world-weary view many have when it comes to this nearly 50-year old game that is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons.

I mean, that's the real reason people don't want to play AD&D, right? Not because it's out-of-print (it isn't), but because it's old and creaky and un-supported compared to the new hotness with its DM's Guild and D&D Beyond and corporate-sponsored community. First edition is just some odd relic for nostalgic wargamers...curmudgeonly, grey-bearded grognards, yeah?

I mean 1E is just so much "Oh, no! Yet another group of orcs! And, oh, look...these ones have a pet cave troll." (*yawn*)  I mean that's just a sleep spell followed by flaming oil, no?  If you've seen one bag of gold and a +1 sword, you've seen them all, amirite?  BORING.

Oh, and AD&D combat. Sure. Roll for initiative. Roll to hit. Roll for damage. Repeat. Over and over and over. How TEDIOUS...and yet that's 90% of D&D combat, no? Maybe with a charge thrown in for good measure. Lighting torches and dutifully marching down stone stairways into dark passages...again and again. A grinding slog of searching for coins so one can level up and do it all over again...didn't that type of play go out of style circa 1988?

And the players of this edition...boy-howdy, what kind of neck bearded mouth-breathers these guys are. All jokes about their appearance aside, what kind of MENTALITY drives a person to find this kind of game "fun?" To want to butcher monsters and rob them of their (imaginary) possessions? What kind of sick, freakish behavior is this?

Is it any wonder that the "OSR" is filled with "rules lite" games? After all, if all you want to do is go down a hole, stab some things with a sword, and steal their stuff, what do you really need for rules? Why NOT just run a simplified game with streamlined procedures and let your imagination carry the day when it comes to creating monstrous challenges and fantastical magic treasures? I mean, don't these "lite" RPGs give you the same gameplay for a lower cost in terms of time and effort? 

And even if you MUST have your "complex," pseudo-wargame (because you're a big ol' nerd who likes the crunch), just how long can you sustain interest in running the same six scenarios time and again? Ancient tomb, labyrinthine cavern, evil temple/shrine...is it really six scenarios? Maybe four if you count stronghold of tyrannical overlord as one. Maybe.

These are the words of the jaded. Know them. Let them penetrate you. Flow through you. And then continue on their merry way. 

Do not apologize for your hobby. Do not make excuses for it. Do not even try to justify it to people. You like what you like. There are far worse vices and far sillier pastimes than playing AD&D.

But what about YOU? Are YOU feeling jaded by the game play of AD&D? Well...let's talk about that.

A jaded AD&D player, unfortunately, doesn't have much recourse available to them. Chances are that any cynicism they've acquired is largely due to the Dungeon Master. You can try to 'up your game,' looking for adventures elsewhere (i.e. outside the dungeon), pushing your DM to expand the scope of play...but sometimes that's a no-go. In those cases, your best choice of action (IMO) is to become a Dungeon Master yourself, modeling the change you want to be.

On the other hand, if you're a jaded AD&D DM, you're going to need to take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror. For the DM who feels stuck in a rut, who no longer feels the "fire" of enthusiasm for the game, it's never an issue of "bad players" or "burnout" (although people will often advise the jaded DM to switch groups or 'take a break' from running). No, if you're feeling your game is dull, staid, repetitive, and/or lackluster there is only one way to rekindle your spark: work harder. That your game feels lackluster is a direct result of failing to meet your own expectations.

What? There's not enough fantasy in your game? There's more fantasy in the core books than you'll probably get to in a lifetime...I've been playing for more than four decades and *I* haven't used every monster, magic item, and spell. If your orcs are "boring," it's only because you're using them as cardboard cutouts, the RPG equivalent of pixels spawning only to be killed. Give them motivations, give them agendas, give them plans. Tie them to the environment, to your campaign world. Enjoy them...tart them up with personalities, names, idiosyncrasies. NOT because you're trying to entertain your players with "funny/weird NPCs;" players are far more likely to simply beat such creatures to death instead of interacting with them (this IS D&D, after all). No, you are entertaining yourself...AND you are world building. Those 'cheap deaths' at the hands of bloodthirsty players can have consequences.

What if the orcs aren't "bad" at all, but a  tribe of surface dwelling types that are engaged in a brisk trade with a local human community...perhaps the town or village that the players use as a base of operations. Maybe the mayor was actually paying the orcs a small stipend to keep the road clear of bandits; maybe some of the orcs had intermarried with members of the human population. Or perhaps not...perhaps the orcs were steering well clear of the humans (only occasionally ambushing the lone villager or lost merchant that wandered into their territory) but was instead engaged with a more remote group of more vicious humanoids...for example an alliance with some gnolls against a small group of ogres. Killing the orcs might upset the gnolls; it might also overturn the balance of power in the region as the dissolution of the orc-gnoll "buffer" incites the ogres to come down from the hills and raid the human village. Lots of possibilities.

But perhaps you feel you've already exhausted ALL possibilities with orcs. If you have, my question to you is: why are you still using orcs in your scenarios? Are you not awarding enough treasure to advance your players to a level where they can come into conflict with bigger prey?  How many years, how many sessions have you been playing "small ball?"  Long enough to get bored, sure...does that mean years? Because after a year or two of regular play, you should have players of a high enough level that they can start exploring other planes of existence...where the weirdness is both expected and encouraged.  But if, after two to three years of solid play, your players are still under 7th level in experience, then you're probably doing something wrong. Either your players are complete numbskulls (which means you could/should be helping them, teaching them how to tackle/handle challenges more effectively). OR you're simply not opening enough possibility for them by seeding your game with adequate amounts of treasure. 

Trust me on this: you want new, exciting, ennui-breaking potential in your game? Give your players treasure. Level them up and you'll have whole new horizons to explore.

No AD&D Dungeon Master should ever feel bored or jaded by their own campaign. Your campaign is YOUR world. If it's not exciting enough, or interesting enough, that's something YOU need to fix...by making it more interesting and exciting. The fault of a dull, uninteresting game lies solely with the Dungeon Master running the game. 

And the good news is: knowing that it's your own fault gives you all the power in the world to change it. Just dig a bit deeper...you can do better if you try.

H is for House Rules

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

H is for House Rules...a subject that is likely to meet with more consternation than some of these other essays.

I'd imagine that most D&D players, when asked about their "house rules," will consider all the ways they (or their group) have altered the rules of their game to better meet their expectations of play. All sorts of modifications have been proposed and used by folks over the years, in every edition of the game...far too many to make any kind of comprehensive list. Some groups have decided they don't like level restrictions, or race/class restrictions. Some groups have decided to use a "silver standard" instead of gold for their economy. Others have decided to axe various rules and systems from the game...everything from languages and training, to alignment, to whole races or classes (several folks, for example have decided they dislike the inclusion of clerics in the game, feeling it diminished the "sword & sorcery" feel of the game), while ADDING new procedures that subvert or undermine the existing system...things like "luck points" or a shields will be splintered rule.

In many cases, the DMs making these changes to their game do so with the claim that D&D's authors meant the game to be changed and adjusted at any time; that, rather than actual rules, the instructional text serves only as "guidelines" that a Dungeon Master should feel free to rewrite to their liking, at any time, broadly interpreting the final afterword of OD&D's initial rule set as carte blanche for wholesale changes. 

I am of a different opinion on the matter.

Leaving aside OD&D (not the subject of this series anyway), I find little in the AD&D books to indicate Gygax wanted anyone to modify or change the rules of the game at all. Quite the opposite, in fact:

Dictums are given for the sake of the game only, for if ADVANCED DUNGEONS & DRAGONS is to survive and grow, it must have some degree of uniformity, a familiarity of method and procedure from campaign to campaign within the whole. ADVANCED D&D is more than a framework around which individual DMs construct their respective milieux, it is above all a set of boundaries for all of the "worlds" devised by referees everywhere. These boundaries are broad and spacious, and there are numerous areas where they are so vague and amorphous as to make them nearly nonexistent, but they are there nonetheless. 

...The danger of a mutable system is that you or your players will go too far in some undesirable direction and end up with a short-lived campaign...Variation and difference are desirable, but both should be kept within the boundaries of the overall system. Imaginative and creative addition can most certainly be included; that is why nebulous areas have been built into the game. Keep such individuality in perspective by developing a unique and detailed world based on the rules of ADVANCED D&D. No two campaigns will ever be the same, but all will have the common ground necessary to maintaining the whole as a viable entity about which you and your players can communicate with many thousands of others....

[from the DMG, page 7]

No, the game does not cover the entirety of possible (fantasy) experiences, but it does have functional rules, and the areas where creativity is not only allowed but encouraged are those places where the rules are "vague and amorphous." In other words, only the areas of play where there are no systems or procedures to cover the subject in question...those places (and there are many) are where DMs should be adding specificity and using their own creativity. As needed.

Conversely, where there are already rules, they are there for a reason. And maintaining uniformity (by adhering to those rules) is an explicit objective of the game designer as pointed out MANY times in the text (see the PHB preface and the DMG afterword, in addition to the quotes above).

Now, please allow me to stem the tide of readers jumping down my throat about how they love their dwarven clerics and how unlimited demihuman advancement "saved" their campaign.  I am not so obtuse as to believe that the majority (or ANY) of the DMs running the game are doing it entirely "by the book."  Neither do I want to be hypocritical in professing to be a completely RAW ("rules as written") Dungeon Master when it comes to running AD&D. As a youth, we strove to abide by the rules as much as humanly possible, but there were things we missed and things we got wrong, and for the sake of expedience there was definitely a time when we adopted the rather lenient Moldvay version of encumbrance for our otherwise granular AD&D campaign.

But then, we didn't have the tools (laptops and spreadsheets) that we do today.

Still, even today, my own game deviates in multiple ways from AD&D as written. While mostly done to shore up some inconsistencies and problems found in certain magical (spell) effects, other changes...like the wholesale removal of alignment or the magic-user's need to read magic...are far more significant in scope, if not impact.

All that being confessed, I strive to run MOST of the game in a manner that "hews the line with respect to conformity with major systems and uniformity of play in general" (as Gygax stipulates in the afterword of the DMG). Because these days I run games for all sorts of players, not just my own "regulars." And I want to make sure that anyone who sit down at my table to play AD&D...whether at a "demo," a game shop, or a convention...and has an INKLING (or more) of the game are going to be able to dive in with little or no trouble. Yes, they can even 'choose an alignment' (if they must)...they simply won't find it mattering much (or at all) in play. But everything else? The actual nuts-and-bolts of game play? That they should find more-or-less 'as Gary intended.'

That uniformity that the author hammers on about is quite useful. AD&D is not a particularly 'hard' game to play, but it is not a simple game...certainly not in comparison to, say, the Basic editions written to introduce new players to D&D concepts. But because of that uniformity I can (and have) run AD&D games without issue for players from many different countries. It has allowed me to write adventures that have been run in German and French and Hungarian (to be clear. NOT my native language). It has allowed me to correspond with folks all over the world (via the wonderful technology of today), explaining the rules and how they work (based on my personal interpretations of the text) and citing where they can find the same information themselves. 

The important thing, however, is that it provides a shared understanding and a shared lexicon for communication. When I play chess with my (Mexican) father-in-law, we use different terms for the pieces, but the pieces still move in the same fashion. By playing as close to 'standard' AD&D procedures as I do, I stave off a lot of questions and...I believe...a lot of possible frustrations and resentment. Just being able to say, "yeah, that half-orc paladin (or whatever) ain't allowed in the rules," cuts off a lot of potential issues that might otherwise arise at the table. Yes, some folks will find it galling that their elven fighter can't advance past a certain level...but at least they know what they're signing up for when they join an AD&D game. And my game world doesn't end up looking all that much different from someone else's campaign (assuming they play with the same rules in place).

So, if you were to ask MY players what my most important house rules are (and I have), THESE are the ones they've most often cited:

• No cell phones or electronic devices allowed at the table (this includes the DM...I use my laptop between sessions for calculating and tracking various numbers, but in play, I only use printed documents and hardcopy manuals).
• All dice are rolled "in the box" (all my dice are rolled in the open and in a flat-lying box top; dice that bounce out of the box do not count and are re-rolled in the box).
• No PVP ("player versus player") conflict allowed (players are on the same team; the DM is the adversary)

My fifteen year old son (one of my players) adheres to these house rules in his game, too, although he insists on running everything else "by the book" (including the use of alignment, etc.). Which is his prerogative, of course. And it doesn't bother me in the slightest, because I already know how to play AD&D by the book.

G is for Gygaxian

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

G is for Gygaxian...a particular style of setting design often described as "Gygaxian Naturalism," this latter term first coined by James Maliszewski in 2008.

[James also wrote a follow-up post entitled Gygaxian UNnaturalism that's also worth reading as part of the same discussion]

While each Dungeon Master's campaign is their own to design, there are certain assumptions of the setting that are baked into AD&D play. Maliszewski's discussion stems from the style proliferated in Gygax's later works (his published adventure modules, his World of Greyhawk, and his AD&D books) which were a far cry from the open-ended, Gonzo-possibility that proves so seductively enticing to aficionados of the OD&D (original) edition of Dungeons & Dragons.  These setting assumptions "color" the AD&D game, which for those who dislike "limits on their imagination," can feel both constricting and off-putting.

We'll get to that in a moment.

LOTs of setting assumptions are baked into the "setting-less" AD&D system. For example, there are assumptions of an inter-species, interactive society. There is an assumption of cosmic forces of good and evil. These cosmic forces have actual physical impact on mere (human) mortals...doing "evil" loses a paladin or ranger their professional skills and abilities, for example.  Certain creatures (undead) are subject to the divine powers of clerics (both good and evil). Gold is the coin of the realm and is coveted by ALL intelligent creatures...not just as evidenced by the random treasure hoards in monster lairs, but in the fact that intelligent monsters can be distracted from pursuit by dropping treasure (unlike unintelligent animals, who are onlydistracted by dropping food).

Gygax's adventures exhibit a fantasy ecosystem, in which some monsters prey on other monsters, while other creatures (humanoids especially) exhibit societies, doing construction work both above and below ground, having caravans (often with slaves taken in war/raids), and being ruled by hierarchies of kings, chieftains, sub-chiefs, and lesser lieutenants. It is very much a "human-centric" world view...not only because humans are the focus protagonists, but because every society and custom observed is given in terms of comprehensible human norms. Nothing here is very "alien" in the Gygaxian milieu, even if the fantasy creatures themselves are VERY alien.

Take the mind flayer for example.  Nothing could be more alien than a brain-sucking, tentacle-faced, mind-monster. And yet they have cities. They wear clothes. They keep treasure. They flee when things go against them. They keep slaves. They fight wars with other species (the githyanki). They trade, bargain, make alliances (see the D1-D3 series of modules). In some ways it is very much "rubber mask" fantasy of the Star Trek or Star Wars variety. Creatures seek slaves, treasure, interbreed with humans, have all the normal human range of social behaviors from hatred to great friendship...even creatures that are so long-lived (elves) that their perception of time itself should lead to a completely different method of relating to the concept.

This human-centric, fantasy "naturalism" is important to AD&D play for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that it provides a modicum of verisimilitude. Once upon a time I read that part of the impetus for the Hickman's "story first" approach to adventure design came with their frustration out of plyaing D&D in a dungeon that featured random disparate monsters being discovered, side-by-side, in adjoining rooms for no rhyme or reason...something like a a bunch of goblins, a slime/ooze, and a vampire. Such random design is nothing like the type of ecology Gygax describes in the DMG under Monster Populations and Placement (pages 90-91); clearly the Hickmans were "gifted" with an inferior Dungeon Master. 

Lack of verisimilitude, like "gonzo" settings devoid of consistency or sensibility, can quickly derail player engagement. The less players can trust the setting to abide by any particular, understandable rules, the less the players can trust the Dungeon Master running the game. Why is that? Because, in a game that invests one player (the DM) with all the power of the (imaginary) universe, the players has to trust and believe that the DM will be fair and impartial, abiding by the same rules that govern the players. When the world seems unreasonably odd, strange, or "whackadoo," how can the players trust the DM to NOT be whimsical and arbitrary in their adjudication?

Having a sensible ecology...even a fantastical one...sets parameters and limits; yes, limits that some DMs of a more imaginative bent might find chafing. But for the players, these limits serve as boundaries and guideposts...they indicate the territory in which they (and the DM) can operate. This provides the players with tremendous freedom, as they know that which is not prohibited is allowable. It is a safety net of sorts...one that prevents the DM (who, again it must be emphasized, is all powerful in the game) from over-stepping their prerogatives. Certainly (at least) it can reign in their more power-mad proclivities.

But that is just the verisimilitude aspect of the Gygaxian setting style. The "human-centric" nature of the Gygax's "naturalism," ensures that the game, no matter how fantastical it seems, is still readily accessible by the players at the table.  Yes, mind flayers are completely, horrifically, alien...and, yet, even the most inexperienced player can grasp their (all too human) motivations, understand how to bargain with them (if such becomes possible...or a necessity), and grasp that they might have valuable stashed around that can be taken (if the opportunity presents itself) or be used in trade/negotiation. Dragons, too, are more than just fire-breathing reptiles; bugbears are more than sasquatches...they are peoples, peoples with ambitions and desires, fears and motives.  Not necessarily stories, mind you...the vast majority of NPCs (monstrous or not) in the AD&D game require zero backstory or background. But they have ecology...we know they have to do something to eat. We know they had some type of parent that birthed/hatched them, and may well be seeking to raise a brood of their own. That is naturalism...even if it is fantastical "Gygaxian" naturalism.

AD&D abounds with this...just read through the Monster Manual(s).  Perytons need human hearts to reproduce. Griffons and bulettes natural prey are horses (although the latter find halflings a special treat and dig them from their burrows every chance they get). Dwarves and goblins have longstanding feuds, as do elves and orcs and gnomes and kobolds. Dragons can be subdued instead of slain. Hill giants keep cave bears for pets like a human keeps dogs. Otyughs eat waste from other monsters in the dungeon.  Mimics are the venus flytraps of the underground.  There is ecological setting considerations scattered throughout the AD&D game.

Verisimilitude. Accessibility. Both in aid of having active player engagement, rather than alienation. It wasn't just Gygax's penchant for a particular 'brand' of fantasy that led these things to be a part of the AD&D game. Whether or not he thought about it at the time he was writing, they ended up in the books that form the instructional text of the game...and as a result, an AD&D campaign, run well, is exceptionally good at holding the attention of its participants. Players and DMs alike.

F is for Fighting

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

F is for Fighting...because of course it is. Whether you're talking fangs, fisticuffs, or flashing blades, combat and battle is a deeply ingrained part of the AD&D experience.

But it's super late tonight, and this is the first chance I've had to write today (I'm currently on vacation with the family, and it's my 25th wedding anniversary to boot). 

So instead of writing 10,000 words on the subject I will link you to my earlier post on how I run AD&D combat. Of course, it would also be helpful to understand the literary basis of the game's combat assumptions and expectations. And, for the truly content starved reader, may I direct you to this other post on how to run initiative in the AD&D game.

Apologies for being lazy, but it's been a long, full day, and it's time to hit the hay. Till tomorrow!

: )

D is for Dungeon

[over the course of the month of April, I shall be posting a topic for each letter of the alphabet, sequentially, every day of the week except Sunday. Our topic for the month is Advanced Dungeons & Dragons: how to approach it, how to run it, how to enjoy a system that deserves to be played NOW, nearly 50 years after its inception. Consider this a 'crash course' in the subject]

D is for Dungeon...specifically dungeon design.

The "dungeon" is (as one might expect) a rather important concept in a game called Dungeons & Dragons. Gygax's glossary in the DMG provides us with the following definition:

Dungeon -- A generic term for any castle, location, or ruin that serves as the site of an underground adventure.

Okay, straightforward enough. Or is it? 

The thing is this whole idea...this whole concept, the premise on which the game is built...is about as clear as mud. We are told in the PHB that "individual adventuring usually takes place in an underworld dungeon setting" until 

"play gradually expands to encompass other such dungeons, town and city activities, wilderness explorations, and journeys into other dimensions, planes, times, worlds, and so forth."

However, when it comes to the three types of adventures described in the PHB (p.101) between dungeons, wilderness, and city and town adventures

"Adventures into the underworld mazes are the most popular."

The reason the word dungeon is central in the game's title is because exploring dungeons is the most elementary part of game play. It is the reason the players are here...the reason they're willing to work together, cooperatively, towards a common objective. The dungeon...an underworld death trap filled with dangerous monsters and monstrous dangers while tempting players with the promise of fame and fortune...is the draw. When we say, D&D is a game of adventure, the DUNGEON is the location where that adventure takes place. For the most part (we'll get to the caveats in a bit).

Which is why it's so unfortunate that the AD&D books provide ALMOST ZERO INFORMATION ON HOW TO BUILD OR DESIGN A DUNGEON.

Unfortunate, I say, but true. A gross oversight on the part of the author, and one I didn't even realize till a few years ago, when I was writing a series of posts comparing the DMGs of various editions. None of them are "good" when it comes to this topic...in fact, "terrible" would be a more apt description. But it took me years to notice this lack of information because I learned the basics of how to design dungeons decades before...from Tom Moldvay.

Moldvay's Basic Dungeons & Dragons Rulebook (published in 1981...two years after the DMG) gives a pretty similar definition of the word "dungeon:" a place underground and often among ruins, where characters adventure. However, unlike Gygax's DMG, Moldvay outlines a step-by-step process for designing an adventure...in two pages, no less! His system, while simple, provides the foundational building blocks of design:

Step 1: Choose A Scenario. Moldvay calls this the "background theme or idea which ties the dungeon together," and notes that a "good scenario always gives the players a reason for adventuring." 

Step 2: Decide On A Setting. This is the actual location where the scenario takes place, the "dungeon" in question. Examples of adventure sites include castles, caverns, crypts, temples, mines, stronghold, towns, and towers...most any fixed location can serve as an adventure site, i.e. a "dungeon." But regardless, they all have in common the following elements:

- removed from "normal" (game) civilization

- stocked with danger

- contain the promise of reward

Step 3: Decide On Special Monsters. The D&D game, in all its editions, thrives on conflict, and requires adversaries for the players to struggle against. The scenario and setting suggests monstrous opponents that players can expect to encounter while exploring the dungeon.

Step 4: Draw The Dungeon Map. The first practical step (everything up till now has been thought exercise and/or brainstorming). You draw a map of the area the players intend to explore. For me, this is the most difficult part of dungeon design, as I tend to be a bit hard on myself. I often pull blueprints of actual buildings and cave complexes to use as templates, but I also steal maps from old adventures and re-work/re-purpose them. 

Good maps have sensible layouts, often with multiple means of ingress and exit, multiple levels (both up and down) with more than one way to access each, and enough asymmetry of design to be interesting. Maps for less experienced (generally lower level) players should be easier to map than those you design for experienced veterans, because players tend to want to make sketches during play to aid in their explorations. Making a nightmare labyrinth of non-Euclidean angles and shifting walls is going to be hard on players with fewer resources...and "actual play experience" is one of those resources.

In addition to being clear and legible enough for YOU, the DM, to read, it should have a number of encounter areas...rooms, chambers, special points on the map...that you should meticulously label with a numerical key. I strongly advise using simple numbering for these encounters, not an alphabetical key or (Lord no) Roman numerals.

Step 5: Stock The Dungeon. Now that you have the map for your dungeon (based on your scenario and setting you've chosen for that scenario), you key the dungeon with your notes of what will be found at each and every encounter area. This is the "meat" of dungeon design...the map is just the skeleton, and without the guts and muscle and sinew, it's not yet an adventure proper.

Moldvay identifies four forms of "contents" for encounter areas, and I find these useful categories for design. ALSO, while I don't determine contents of encounter areas randomly (as Moldvay suggests), I do place them in the same proportions given by his random chart:

• Monster (1-in-3 encounter areas): these are NPCs that are likely to be antagonistic towards exploring adventurers and who are combat-worthy and inclined to fight if provoked.
• Trap (1-in-6 encounter areas): these are obstacles and hazards designed to damage, delay, confuse, or inconvenience players.
• "Special" (1-in-6 encounter areas): these are anything not a "trap" or straightforward "monster." It could be a special (modified or non-book) monster, a magical effect of some kind (healing pools, teleportation gates, magic mouths, etc.) non-hostile NPCs (hostages that might be rescued or hired to join the group), riddles and tricks, etc.
• Empty (1-in-3 encounter areas): an encounter area devoid of Monsters, Traps, and Specials. It does not mean a literally "empty" chamber; it can still invite interaction (players may search it for traps, secret doors, etc.), and still take real game time from players determined to give it a thorough going over. But these areas are necessary places of respite from the stresses and danger of the dungeon, and I don't recommend going without.

It should be understood that these proportions are guidelines, not hard/fast rules. That being said, I always try to hew close to these proportions as they give a nice rhythm of play in practice. Since you'll only get perfect proportionality in dungeon designs that feature encounter areas in multiples of six, some rounding often occurs. For me, I tend to round the number of "empty" and "trap" areas DOWN while rounding "monster" and "special" encounter areas UP.

For example: given a 20 encounter area, I'd go with seven monsters, four specials, three traps, and six empties.

Treasure, of course, is equally important to stocking as danger, and as with types of encounter areas Moldvay's suggestions for treasure proportions aren't terrible (1-in-2 for monster encounters, 1-in-3 for trap encounters, 1-in-6 for empty encounters). Along with the proportion of encounter types, this indicates that slightly fewer than one-third of all encounter areas will have SOME sort of treasure present. For me, I prefer a slightly higher presence of treasure...something closer to 40+%, but this varies based on scenario and setting.

[please keep in mind that "treasure" takes many forms. If prisoners can be rescued for a reward, they are treasure. If the local magistrate has put a bounty on bugbear scalps, then bugbears become treasure. Etc. We are not just talking bags of gold and silver]

For AD&D, a game of adventure (in which players brave danger in pursuit of reward), treasure is the primary motivator, the "spur" that drives players to action. A steady drip-drip of treasure with the occasional discovery of a large cache, is the primary formula that keeps players on the move and willing to engage and struggle with the challenges of the dungeon environment.

At this point, we are done with Moldvay, and can speak to the concept of scale.

Each dungeon should be designed for a particular level of party; this is what I refer to as its "scale." Actually, it may be more precise to say a particular experience point total of individual player character. Often, you'll see an adventure designated as being for a specific level range...an adventure for levels 4th-6th, for example. They might as well say "for characters of roughly 22,000 x.p." which would yield PCs in the given level range (paladins and multi-class PCs being at the low end, druids and thieves at the high). Everything in the dungeon is scaled off this level range: the types of monsters used, the deadliness of traps present, and...most certainly...the amount of treasure to be found.

Scale is important. Reward should be commensurate with the degree of challenge faced by the players: too much treasure for too little challenge is too easy and leads to boredom and disenchantment, while too little treasure for too much challenge leads to frustration and resentment; both are undesirable. Your campaign will have adventure sites (i.e. "dungeons") scaled to various levels...some low-level, some high...but you must strive to be consistent with your scales. It is fine for high level adventurers to take on a low-level dungeon, wiping it out 'on a lark.' But they should find the takings therein to be of dubious value and not worth the energy expended. Likewise, it is just dandy to have high level "killer" dungeons in your game that players should (rightly) shun until they feel strong enough to tackle them...they provide incentives for their ambition with the promise of rich reward.

In practice, I've found that a 30 encounter adventure should yield (in total) treasure sufficient to advance PCs of the designated number and experience range one level. For determination of gold piece value needed, I always use the fighter advancement table.

For example: a 30 encounter dungeon scaled for 5 characters of levels 5th-7th should yield a total treasure of roughly 175,000 gold pieces in value. With regard to magic items, I look at their gold piece (i.e. sale) value for this calculation.

Dungeon of fewer or more encounter levels get proportionally less or more treasure. For example, one with 15 encounters would have only HALF the treasure (in gold piece value) needed to advance the party one level. Dungeons with 60 encounters would give players enough x.p. (in gold) to achieve TWO levels...which is probably not the same as just doubling the treasure amount. If that dungeon for five PCs of level 5th-7th had 60 encounters, it would need 450,000 g.p. because the amount of x.p. needed to get one fighter from 6th level to 8th is 90K, not 60K. 

Why do I scale based on 30 encounter areas? Time...real world, actual time. It takes time for players to play the game...to explore dungeons, to participate in combats. In practice, I find a rate of three to five encounters per solid hour of play to be average, with about 12 encounters being the practical (max) upper limit for a four hour play session (9-11 being more usual). Smaller groups of players can be more agile in their decision making, but larger groups of players have more resources to throw at encounters...speed at which players get through a dungeon is tied largely to experience (with the game) and group dynamics (leadership, organization). Also, DMs should understand that the longer a session goes on, the more resources are expended by the players, the fewer resources they have at their disposal, and the slower and more cautious they become.

So 30 encounter areas can take three to five game sessions to fully explore (depending on the quality of your players and the length of your game sessions). This could be a month or more of play depending on how often you run games (we'll talk scheduling in a later installment). And a couple more things to keep in mind:

1. It is rare for player to recover every last scrap of treasure from a dungeon. More than just "missing" things, players will tend to abandon a dungeon for greener pastures at some point...mainly because it feels "picked over" with too much challenge for too little reward remaining. And that's okay! We want players to have agency and letting them walk is a part of the AD&D game.
2. We (Dungeon Masters) want players to advance in level. It is an imperative for our game. Leveling up allows designers to expand the scope of what we do, breaking out bigger challenges, more ferocious monsters, more extravagant treasures. Allowing the PCs to level expands what we, DMs, can do with the game.

As far as scaling challenges/danger to players, this is as much an art form (refined in practice) as the distribution of treasure. With regard to traps and hazards, are you considering the player characters' ability to circumvent these things? It's not really appropriate to include half a dozen poison encounters when the party cleric is under 7th level (and thus has no access to neutralize poison). Stone to flesh is a spell only available to magic-users of 12th level so petrifaction becomes, effectively, a death sentence for mid-level parties...these are things to consider. Consider also potential hit points of PCs when assigning damage for traps: A 50' pit drop may not kill a 6th level fighter, but it can deplete hit points enough that another fight or two will finish the poor brute; damage accumulates over time, after all.

With regard to monsters and their placement, these will largely be determined by the scenario and setting you chose at the beginning. If the adventure involves invading a stone giant stronghold, the opponents will probably be stone giants (duh) and their pets and allies. This by itself should suggest the proper scale of the dungeon you're designing. It might sound cool to have the players sneak into the fortress of a lich or demon lord, but they're not going to be doing that before they hit double-digits in terms of level!

If you review the Dungeon Random Monster Level Determination Matrix on page 174 of the DMG, you'll see that every dungeon level has a particular range of "monster levels" (designated as 1-10, or I-X). When considering the scale of a dungeon, I use "equivalent level of the dungeon" the same as the average PC level of the adventure I'm designing. Thus, an adventure for 7th level PCs would see the bulk of their monster encounters come from charts IV-VI, with only few encounters being outside this range (and with reduced or increased numbers, depending on whether or not you're talking greater or lesser charts). Treasure types of monsters (given in the Monster Manual) can be key indicators for treasure distribution (both placement and amounts), and can serve as 'red flags' to the beginning dungeon designer.

[if I find myself creating a "slime themed" dungeon with all the monsters being puddings, jellies, and oozes, I'm going to have a pretty hard time justifying much in the way of treasure placement, for example]

These are the nuts-and-bolts of dungeon design, the elementary building block that is the foundation of the Dungeons & Dragons game. There are, of course, other types of adventure, but exploration of dangerous sites in pursuit of treasure is the MAIN form that game play takes in AD&D. Even the old Dragonlance modules, heavily railroaded story acs that they were, made sure to include at least one dungeon in each of their 14 published adventures. If you don't like exploring dungeon, well, there are a LOT of other RPGs on the market that are not called Dungeons & Dragons. 

We'll get into other types of adventures in a later post.