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The following is an essay I wrote for my D&D group, and I thought maybe some other people would get some use out of it. We play a fairly heavily housruled version of PF, so some of the references may seem a little wonky to people not involved in our game. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Further, I should mention that I wrote this over a two week period, during which I spent approximately 80 hours a week studying a foreign language, so I apologize if some of the phrasing seems off, or if some of the points seem repeated.
Anyhow, enjoy. :)
Last week I wrote - at some great length - about what I mean when I discuss expectations, and in what way I believe we can all enjoy our game more fully. However, I didn't cover my own expectations. I suppose that if I'm going to continue harping on about this issue, it would be hypocritical not to do so. So here goes.
D&D is, before anything else, a game. We play it to enjoy each other's company, reduce stress, and generally have a good time. But without a solidly established ruleset, the game is just a bunch of adults playing Cowboys and Indians, and arguing over whether or not our enemies had, in fact, shot us. “No they didn’t!”
So in order for the game to be enjoyable, one of my main requirements is a clear and predictable ruleset - one which allows us, the players, to predict with a fair degree of accuracy whether we are capable of performing a task. This clear ruleset is achieved in two ways: description, which allows us to understand the game world with which we are interacting and consistency in adjudication of how our actions affect the world, and how that world affects us.
The DM, and his descriptions, are the player’s sole source of input from the game world. Everything we see, taste, touch, hear and smell comes from the DM. So in addition to playing control the world around the characters, they have the important role of playing our senses. Without solid description, we cannot make intelligent and well informed decisions, puzzle out riddles, or react effectively to our environment.
A Shadow in the Night
Early in the campaign, Verrin - née Ragnar - spent a quiet night alone with a grey-skinned fey with a crazy leer who reeked of blood and pain. This lone wanderer traveled nonchalantly through a dangerous land, carrying a cruel scythe, which had obviously seen a good deal of use. Now, my description of this character alerted almost everyone at the table that a Redcap had entered their midst, but even “Jake”, completely unaware though he was of the legends of these murderers, knew that this was not a creature to be trifled with. He knew this because of effective description.
The DM, in his role as our character’s eyes and ears, can paint any picture he wants for us. Did the frail and incompetent Wizard do particularly well with his intimidation check? Then the DM can describe him as dark and powerful, wielding eldritch energy beyond our ken - obviously a being of shadow and nightmare, against whom our only hopes are parley or flight. Perhaps, however, our inquisitor, perceptive as she is, sees through this ruse; the storyteller can describe an entirely different scene for her - an old and frightened man, unfit for a fight, secretly praying that these adventurers will move on, and leave him to his books and petty spells.
Obviously, this sort of description - especially multi layered description - takes more work from the DM, but I believe that they will be happier with the game, as will all of the players, if the world is approached in this manner. To borrow from a more recent example, this evening we faced a fight against Tatzyl, a conniving and evil green wyrm. Though weak for her legendary species, her puissance far outstripped our own. But here’s a secret which holds true in almost every incarnation of D&D, and is especially true in the world which we have woven at our table: we don’t run. I mean, we might. It certainly isn’t unheard of. But if the storyteller thinks that running is the best option for the players (as sometimes they do) then they need to hit us with a clue-by-four. And that clue-by-four is drawn from the scabbard of description.
We should have run. How could “Bob” have convinced us of this without relying on the rather boring and dissatisfying tactic of saying “ya’ll should run”?
Description.
“Tatzyl lands near Andwyn and lazily - almost disinterestedly - swats at her with a single wingtip, and lands a blow which makes Andwyn’s knees buckle under the force - take 27 damage.”
Would we have run even then? Maybe, maybe not. We, the players, weren’t working with the assumption that the forest whose canopy we had just left was thick enough that pursuit by Tatzyl from above was not a real issue - again, this rests on description - but had we not, then at least it could never be said that we had failed to flee simply due to lack of information; the ensuing TPK would have rested squarely on the shoulders of the players.
Description is our life. And as such, it should be given a spot of importance and honor at the table.
A is A
Consistent application of the rules is, as far as I’m concerned, the most important factor of rules adjudication. We can discuss balance and flavor and RAW and RAI, but at its heart, the important bit is consistency. I honestly don’t care if a large monster with ten foot reach can hit that corner shot - I just want to be able to predict with some degree of accuracy whether they will be able to or not. This gives the players a more intelligible world, and also makes for an actual surprise when the DM introduces “The Large Monster with the Slightly Longer Arms!” who can hit a further corner or reach a bit farther.
Consistent application of the rules does not mean that we need to follow RAW, follow the suggestions of the designers, or play in a style similar to that played in Pathfinder Society games. It just means that we as players need to understand how the world works, regardless of whether our characters understand the world. Of course the system hasn’t equipped us for every possibility or corner case, but I do rather strongly believe that all of us at the table will agree to a spur of the moment adjudication, perhaps later illuminated by research of the rules when we are not in the thick of things, so long as it does not irrevocably damage our characters. Of course some of us - here I point fingers squarely at myself and “Alice” - need to be reminded not to argue back in the heat of battle; I accept that, and I don’t feel any shame in admitting that I need to be reminded of this rather basic concept with startling regularity. It’s a social game, we’re all friends, we can police each other to ensure a happier table.
That all being said, we do, of course, need to be careful in the way that we twist the rules to twist our needs. I say this mostly to acknowledge the fact that “Jim” prefers a game closer to RAW. If moving too wildly away from RAW calls into question one of the core expectations of a player, then we need to walk the line carefully. But even a player who cleaves to RAW religiously - which is not what I believe “Jim” to be - will, in my opinion, be happier with a “fair” off the cuff adjudication than with grinding the game to a halt. We all have very little time to play. We can write down rules disputes and research them in the intervening weeks.
In essence, all I am trying to say with this point is that I would like to know what is going to happen to me when I jump off of a 30 foot cliff, I would like to see similar results in similar opponents, and I would like to see a game table ruled more by democratic process than autocracy in the long run, though in the heat of the moment autocracy is fine.
Specialization Not Required
My next point is something which I have talked about before, at some great length, with anyone willing to indulge me the time. It is absolutely one of my core expectations of the game, and like several of my other expectations it is multi-faceted. I strongly feel that specialization should not be required - by which I mean that a character ought not be required to expend one of their very limited number of feats to perform each and every little action - and that the response when a player tries to do something should be closer to “let’s figure out how to make that work” than “you can’t do that.”
Feats in D&D are one of a character’s most important resources. They can’t get more simply by raiding more treasure troves - though feat acquisition through level gain is an obvious byproduct of treasure hunting - and they are pressed to make every feat they get count. Even in PFRPG, where characters get half again as many feats as they did in 3.5, they are a guarded resources which must be carefully watched.
With this in mind, what genius was it that decided that each and every thing needs a feat? Feats are one of the greatest sources of bloat in the game, and it seems that once a feat for a particular capability is published, everyone wants to say that the feat is required to perform the action. I understand that a person who has spent a feat to improve their tiddlywinks playing skill should be better at tiddlywinks than my non-specialized character, but a feat shouldn’t be required to sit down at the tiddlywinks table.
I’ve been guilty of this feat bloat, just as every other DM I know. We are torn between permissiveness, fairness, balance, and fun - but if a player approaches a DM and requests to take a feat which allows him to perform a fairly banal task, the DM should - in my opinion of course - either disallow the feat and explain to the player that *anybody* can toss a sword, or they should alter the feat to instead merely grant a bonus to sword chucking. Once you have taken a step down the dark alley of allowing feats to grant such banal skills, the DM is pressed to continue the trend. If you required “Jim” to take a feat to do some niggling little thing, would it be fair to allow “Alice” to perform some equally niggling little task without taking a feat?
We paint ourselves thus into a corner. We can easily avoid this position by telling an inquisitive player: sure you can do that - anybody can; you may need to take a feat to really shine at it though.
An example that springs to mind is attacks of opportunity against passing opponents when wielding a bow. Why shouldn’t the bowman be able to merely stab the passerby with an arrow? He may get a penalty on his attack roll if she isn’t proficient in “Arrow,” but it should not be off the table. There was actually a feat established for this very act in 3.5 - and in unmodified games the act of taking “Weapon Proficiency: Arrow” would of course be a feat - but why ought it be? In what way does it increase the fun of the game to disallow a player to, as a last ditch effort at self defense, stab out with the pointy ended stick they already have drawn in their hand? They may not be able to perform the Legolasian task of felling an orc with a melee wielded arrow and going on to drop another orc at range with the same piece of ammunition, but what’s the harm in allowing the actual melee strike to occur?
This of course, ties neatly into the second part of this point: the DM should search for ways to allow player actions, as opposed to searching for ways to disallow them. I know that this very idea is abhorrent to those who prefer a style of play which has come to be known as “Gygaxian Naturalism,” but I feel that it makes the table a happier and more enjoyable environment if, when we come up with some clever or awesome thing not specifically addressed in the rules, or even an action which has been ruled against in the RAW, we can at least attempt it. Do you want, as part of a charge, to jump over the difficult terrain posed by a hedge standing midway between you and your quarry? Allow it. Maybe the player takes a -2 on their jump check - they are, after all, swinging a weapon around and focusing on their opponent’s weaknesses while making this leap - but it ought not merely be declared as impossible because the rules don’t specifically grant you the ability to perform such an action.
Look, we are playing a game in which we impersonate heroes engaged in mighty quests to save worlds. We all grew up watching Conan and Red Sonya, reading The Lord of the Rings and the Elric stories ... we want to play heroes. If we wanted to play normal boring people, we’d go play a Ghoul in Vampire: The Masquerade. I’ll address my opinions of the status of PCs in the world later in this essay, but I have yet to meet a person with whom I’d like to share a game table who’d prefer to play a character who isn’t a badass at what they do. The one player I did know who preferred to play regular people instead of heroes fell out of our group of players after storytelling for a devastatingly bad game of GURPs played in the real world in the Arabian Peninsula at the time of Mohammed. He actually made players roll checks to free their horses from the hitching post. Do any of us really want to play that game?
Find the Fun
My final expectation in the rules section of this essay overlaps rather nicely with the material in my previous point. Rules should increase the fun of the game. This is, above all others, my absolute most basic expectation from the rules - without a doubt, failure to cleave to this expectation is the thing most likely to drive me away from a game. It has driven me, I admit to my great chagrin, to intentionally ruin more than one game. If a rule only serves to make the game more boring, tedious, or burdensome, then it should absolutely not be applied.
Of course, we all have different definitions of what rules reduce fun, and what rules increase it. Do any of us doubt that Brad could probably have a pretty darn good time playing a form of the game that “Jake” would quickly call “Accountants and Acquisitions” and walk away? One of my main points in writing this series of essays is to try to pinpoint what I would like to see in the game, what I could do without, and what my absolute most basic needs are to continue at a table.
I apologize in advance for picking on him a second time in a single essay, but my most recent memorable example of this type of play is “Bob’s” adjudication of craft skills. In my opinion, the level of granularity which he wants to see in the Profession, Craft, and Perform skills does nothing to bring fun to the table, and actually significantly quashes it. Yes, Profession:Brewer is mentioned in the books, but that does not mean that there ought not be other ways to arrive at a fair level of skill in making beer. Why *not* Craft:Beer? Why not, for that matter, Craft:Alchemy? Historically alchemists created liquors with great regularity, can they not apply this skill toward making a weaker drink?
“Bob” handled this in a fairly positive way. Realizing that his adjudication on this matter was significantly reducing the fun of at least half of his players, he brainstormed with us and we came to a compromise. Of course, it is the nature of compromised that I am mollified by the new ruling instead of being happy with it, but compromise with the expectations of other players, including the DM, is an important part of creating an environment conducive to enjoyable gaming.
This does not mean, of course, that the DM should allow the players to steamroll them, that every campaign should be a monty haul, or that every pile of treasure should be specifically tailored to the PCs. But it does mean that if a player wants to do something which does not significantly change the balance of their character, the rules should be bent to allow it. Why not allow Verrin’s Magic Missiles to be unerring balls of fire. The guy’s a pyromaniac - it fits the flavor, and has no mechanical effect.
This also mean that the players and the DM must have a frank discussion (discussion?) - such as this essay - about what fun means to them. If my core evaluation of “fun” required that I be able to play a fighter who by 5th level wields a Vorpal sword, then I should not expect to find a welcome place at a table where the rest of the players prefer low magic and low treasure.
We should all look out for each other at the table. We are all friends, and there’s no reason, when we notice that one of our members is unhappy with the game, to continue without trying to address their discontent. We should be willing to compromise our secondary expectations for the good of another player’s core expectations. We should, in other words, try to increase the enjoyment of all of the players at the table - and in order to do so, we must communicate with each other.
In an effort to keep this essay shorter than Moby Dick, I’ll hop right into this section without a lengthy intro.
The Character are Exceptional
One of my basic expectations - an important secondary, at least - is that the PCs are exceptional. Though Verrin may not be the smartest man alive, he’s almost certainly the smartest man in the backwater burg where he spent his youth (granted, this incarnation of Verrin grew up in a magical metropolis, so my statement probably isn’t true, but had he been raised in Rand al’Thor’s Three Rivers, it almost certainly would be). This harkens back to my previous comments - we are here to play heroes. To quote Louise Glück “No one wants to be the muse; in the end, everyone wants to be Orpheus.”
Obviously I understand that the game’s rules already support this idea. There is a reason that PCs start with higher stats than average commoners. If a character with a 24 Intelligence and a +23 on Knowledge: Architecture and Engineering wants to spend time in game inventing things such as vulcanized rubber tires so that his cart fares better on poorly paved roads, there is no reason to stand in their way - especially if the other players at the table are getting a kick out of it. Such a person is literally superhuman. In the real world, he would be one, if not the, greatest mind the world had ever known. So he invents something ahead of his time - big deal. If the character wanted to invent the 747, perhaps we could talk about game impact, flavour, and fun, but a rubberized tire is well within the bounds of a superhuman genius.
We encounter this, and roll with it, constantly in the course of our games. Monks fall hundreds of feet without being hurt. Wizards literally throw fire from their fingertips. Barbarians bash down iron doors with their bare fists. These are exceptional actions, in an exceptional world - why do we insist that other things remain strictly in the realm of the real?
I’m harping on this - but since its the point of the essay, I am not chagrined to do so. We need, as a group, as a community, to honestly discuss our expectations of the game. Maybe allowing Verrin “The Mad Inventor” Bellstopper to invent something which makes the game world a little too modern severely hampers the fun of one of our players. If this is true, then speak up! Let us know, at the table, that Verrin is getting Chocolate in your Peanut Butter! We all have our sacred cows, and we are all willing to allow our friends theirs.
The Solving of Riddles
My final two points can be wrapped up very quickly: the first is that every problem (or almost every problem) should have more than one solution - if we come up with an unexpected answer, roll with it; the second is that there should be more than one clue to problems, and the acquisition of vital information should never be left up to a single die roll.
For investigative players, little is worse than a riddle which we know we haven’t solved because we botched a perception check. Maybe a single clue was missed, but later on new information should come to light which allows us to continue our investigation of the problem. This is especially true of times when the players are actually champing at the bit, obviously intrigued by a feature in the game world, and are eager to explore it.
These final two points have been discussed at some length by the Alexandrian, and as I neither see the point in duplicating effort nor believe that I could express the concept better, I will leave you with a link to his remarkable essays on the subject.
(I regrettably don't know how to linkify things on these boards)
http://thealexandrian.net/wordpress/1118/roleplaying-games/three-clue-rule
I love D&D. It’s my longest lived hobby, and I’ve made my closest friends while playing it. But even for a fanatic like me, the fun can run out of the game. I’ve sat in campaigns where I dreaded the weekly session. This should never happen. And so long as we speak clearly about what we want from the game, I don’t believe that it will. Thanks for bearing with me.
Interesting essay and a worthwhile read. That said I note that you spend some significant time discussing how important it is to maintain consistency so that the players know what can be expected and what they can and cannot do however, later in your essay, you then extol the virtues of allowing players to improvise. This strikes me as a contradiction. If the rules (even if they happen to be house rules) are to be applied consistently so that everyone knows what the deal is this not at odds with the idea that a player might use their arrow to stab some one as an attack of opportunity?
In the end these two elements seem to exist on a continuum with a game with high levels of player improvisation at one end and one in which the rules are clear, consistent and well understood at the other. I'm skeptical that you can have it both ways.
Interesting essay and a worthwhile read. That said I note that you spend some significant time discussing how important it is to maintain consistency so that the players know what can be expected and what they can and cannot do however, later in your essay, you then extol the virtues of allowing players to improvise. This strikes me as a contradiction. If the rules (even if they happen to be house rules) are to be applied consistently so that everyone knows what the deal is this not at odds with the idea that a player might use their arrow to stab some one as an attack of opportunity?
In the end these two elements seem to exist on a continuum with a game with high levels of player improvisation at one end and one in which the rules are clear, consistent and well understood at the other. I'm skeptical that you can have it both ways.
Not necessarily. One could allow improvisation for new situations that arise (such as an archer who suddenly has a chance for an AoO) and these could develop into consistent rules. Nothing in the rules say that situation is not allowed. Arrows can be used as improvised melee weapons, arrows are also ammunition so there is no action to draw them, thus a rule such as this would be consistent with the current rules and become an established rule for the future.
"Each problem that I solved became a rule which served afterwards to solve other problems."
Rene Descartes, French mathematician & philosopher (1596 - 1650)
My nitpicking issues with the essay are:
1)You can already throw weapons that are not designed for it. You take a -4 penalty to do so and they have a range of 10 ft, to a maximum of 5 range increments.
2)Arrows can already be used as improvised melee weapons.
3)Changing magic missiles to magic balls of fire does have mechanical consequences, it does 50% more damage to creatures vulnerable to fire, it does no damage to creatures immune to fire, does it bypass the shield spell where the normal magic missile does not? Issues such as this is why people should be very careful about changing rules without considering all the implications. This is why a quick decision might be ok for a single session, but the issues should be taken up later when the entire group has time to consider the implications.
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Magic Missiles
Magic Missiles are funny buggers. Here is how they function: Missile automatically hits a selected target and buypassing all protection inflicts 1d6+1 damage (1d4+1 for the modern game). Effectivly it dissapates all energy into the moment of impact. What does this mean? It means that a magic missile can be the Rock in the street urchin's hands, the Iron Spike being held by Villiam the Bloody, or the Ninja Star being tossed about by that 4' tall halfling in black. Once the Magic Missile becomes a Variant spell, it can pretty much have any form. You can even make it look like an energy attack from Goku in Dragon Ball Z if you like. It can look like a minute meteor, a ball of ice or a thrown rock. - It doesnt do damage other than the stat damage by energy disapation into the target but it serves to mask a Magicuser as something he/she is not.
Consistent application of the rules is, as far as I’m concerned, the most important factor of rules adjudication.
This is very important to me as a player. I can play with a rule I don't like, but I don't like rules changing just because the monsters are getting their butts kicked, and for those of you that don't know me I am a DM, and I know how hard it can be sometimes.
With this in mind, what genius was it that decided that each and every thing needs a feat? Feats are one of the greatest sources of bloat in the game, and it seems that once a feat for a particular capability is published, everyone wants to say that the feat is required to perform the action. I understand that a person who has spent a feat to improve their tiddlywinks playing skill should be better at tiddlywinks than my non-specialized character, but a feat shouldn’t be required to sit down at the tiddlywinks table.
Actually this goes hand in hand with the above paragraph to a certain extent. How else would we determine what someone can and can't do? By codifying it we know it is possible. Maybe being able to trip anyone might be an option as an example without provoking, but others will argue that tripping a trained warrior requires special training or at least practice. They prevent the “mother may I” syndrome. One week you can do double damage on an evocation spell, but the next week you can't is an annoying thing. Before I go any farther I will say that narrative games are not a bad thing, but they are not for everyone. Exalted does it well, and so can pathfinder, but it takes the right group of people. Many of us are not in that group or White Wolf would be the top company or at least number 2.
If you are speaking on making up new feats then I can't really speak on that since I don't make up new feats due to the consistency issue, and I don't have to worry about players complaining if I do it for a monster since everyone in my games has the same limitations, PC and NPC alike.An example that springs to mind is attacks of opportunity against passing opponents when wielding a bow. Why shouldn’t the bowman be able to merely stab the passerby with an arrow?
One of the mechanical drawbacks of ranged weapons is to make sure you can not threaten a square. When my players ask can I do X, I immediately think of what would happen if my bad guys could do it. From there it is either a go or no-go.
This of course, ties neatly into the second part of this point: the DM should search for ways to allow player actions, as opposed to searching for ways to disallow them.
I don't think we as GM's look to allow or disallow. We think about how it will affect the game on both side of the screen and go from there.
Do you want, as part of a charge, to jump over the difficult terrain posed by a hedge standing midway between you and your quarry? Allow it. Maybe the player takes a -2 on their jump check - they are, after all, swinging a weapon around and focusing on their opponent’s weaknesses while making this leap - but it ought not merely be declared as impossible because the rules don’t specifically grant you the ability to perform such an action.
Actually they specifically say you can't, which is a big difference. With that said if the request came at my table I would consider it, but it would expand in all directions. Why can't a bad guy jump over a player, even if it provokes to get to the squishy in the back?
He actually made players roll checks to free their horses from the hitching post. Do any of us really want to play that game?
That is a far cry from where things are.
But it does mean that if a player wants to do something which does not significantly change the balance of their character, the rules should be bent to allow it. Why not allow Verrin’s Magic Missiles to be unerring balls of fire. The guy’s a pyromaniac - it fits the flavor, and has no mechanical effect.
It is not about the balance of the character, but the mechanics of the game. A feat may not make rogue that much better, but it may empower a fighter type or melee brute a lot. As for Verrin's magic missiles that is flavor, and it never needs feats. I can say my magic missile look like cookies if I want, and I have never known a GM to be that strict. If he is then I feel for his players.
The Solving of Riddles
My final two points can be wrapped up very quickly: the first is that every problem (or almost every problem) should have more than one solution - if we come up with an unexpected answer, roll with it; the second is that there should be more than one clue to problems, and the acquisition of vital information should never be left up to a single die roll.
This I wholly agree with. In short, +1.
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Thank you all for your comments.
I guess I should start by pointing out that this essay was originally meant for my group, and that we've been playing a weekly game for 7 years. In that length of time, many good and bad rulings have been made, and it was not only the good ones which sometimes stuck. So several things - such as throwing improvised weapons - I know are allowed, but the memory of a poor ruling still exists at our table.
Jeremy, my point there was closer to what Pres gleaned from it. We do have a tradition at our table of sticking with adjudications and applying them to friend and foe alike until that adjudication is overturned. This is what you get playing at a table with several people who study law as a hobby and one who is going to law school. :)
Pres, I intended Verrin's Magic Missile change to be purely thematic...changing it to actual fire might be a real issue, but I see no reason not to allow his missiles to *look* like fire. In 3.0/3.5 they again addressed this with a feat - thematic spell, I believe it was called - and my argument is against this type of play. Making the spell *look* different, while giving no real mechanical benefit, increases a player's fun, doesn't hurt game balance, and allows my buddy to feel special. Why charge a feat for a fun idea?
Wraithstrike, first let me say that you are one of my favorite people on these boards. I don't always agree with you, but you always write well and your posts always illuminate the conversation. Thanks for commenting here. :)
I agree with you that bad-guys and good-guys should be ruled by the same set of rules, and it is that thought that inspires my more conservative rulings when I DM at my table. Sure, the leaping charge is awesome for the PCs, but it may suck when it is used against them. These are the times when I allow - when I'm the DM - my group to vote on the issue. How important are leaping charges to the players? If they want them badly enough that they are willing to face them when used against them, then more power to the players, leap away!
The hitching post thing was of course related to a GURPS game phenomenally badly run. If PF -or D&D in general - loaned itself to that sort of play, then I wouldn't be a fan. ;)
I am of course, a narrative gamer. I like stories and character development and long sessions of arguing over the morality of slaying goblin prisoner number 24601. And luckily, I have a group that humors me in this regard.
Allow me, in closing, to quote from another piece I wrote for my group, which I think might be the best summation of my philosophy of the game:
When I know what the other players want - as a DM or a player - and respect at a bare minimum their core expectations then I can go back to following rule "negative 1" (I'm calling it that because it should come before rule zero) ... This is a game. Let's have some fun.
Do you want, as part of a charge, to jump over the difficult terrain posed by a hedge standing midway between you and your quarry? Allow it. Maybe the player takes a -2 on their jump check - they are, after all, swinging a weapon around and focusing on their opponent’s weaknesses while making this leap - but it ought not merely be declared as impossible because the rules don’t specifically grant you the ability to perform such an action.
I respect your message of be aware of other peoples desires and what is fun for them...but this could directly step on somebodys toes.
There are rules specifically for that kind of ability. Duelist get it in PF...back in 3.5 days a class and a couple of PRCs get that ability. It is called Arcobatic Charge. To me as a player who has played a Duelist I would fell stepped on and cheapened when my Swashbuclish type character is shown up by the Fighter in heavy armor. I 'paid' for that ability in levels...or feats(or whatever) to have the mechanics reflect my theme of character...The heavy armor character? Does not have to pay for it( and can do it with a very minor penalty if you go with your -2). This is not very fun for me. The rules are there for the most part to balance out and respect this. And they do alot better job then people give them credit.
It is sorta like having a wizard say I have studied anatomy I should get sneak attack dice...or a rogue saying well I have ranks in Knowledge Arcane I should just be able to cast spells.
If you wabt to perform the Acrobatic Charge...than take the levels in Duelist.
In the end these two elements seem to exist on a continuum with a game with high levels of player improvisation at one end and one in which the rules are clear, consistent and well understood at the other. I'm skeptical that you can have it both ways.Not necessarily. One could allow improvisation for new situations that arise (such as an archer who suddenly has a chance for an AoO) and these could develop into consistent rules. Nothing in the rules say that situation is not allowed. Arrows can be used as improvised melee weapons, arrows are also ammunition so there is no action to draw them, thus a rule such as this would be consistent with the current rules and become an established rule for the future.
"Each problem that I solved became a rule which served afterwards to solve other problems."
Rene Descartes, French mathematician & philosopher (1596 - 1650)
However if things keep popping up mid session that are then turned into house rules I don't see how that is not essentially a style where players expectations are not constantly being thrown off.
I included house rules in my response and understand that if the group as a whole implements them consistently then they become part of the rules. In fact I'd argue that if one wants to have a consistent game in this regards but also wants to include house rules the best way forward is probably - X is not in the rules - therefore you cannot do X, but we'll discuss by email over the next week and if we agree then X will become part of the rules from next weeks session on, some one will write it up and put it into our groups official house rules handbook.
This is a very rules consistent method of play with the rules covering everything and the group as a whole making decisions on whether or not to include something - if it is included its done through the implementation of a new rule. One can compare and contrast that with narrative systems such as Storyteller and, to some extent 4E with the broad use of 'Page 42', where the rules systems themselves actually institutionalize spur of the moment innovative play.
Pres, I intended Verrin's Magic Missile change to be purely thematic...changing it to actual fire might be a real issue, but I see no reason not to allow his missiles to *look* like fire. In 3.0/3.5 they again addressed this with a feat - thematic spell, I believe it was called - and my argument is against this type of play. Making the spell *look* different, while giving no real mechanical benefit, increases a player's fun, doesn't hurt game balance, and allows my buddy to feel special. Why charge a feat for a fun idea?
I found the feat. The feat's main benefit is not the fluff changing. It allows you to increase the DC of any Spellcraft check made to identify a spell you have cast increases by +4. In addition, you may designate one spell you know per spell level as a thematic spell and cast it at +1 caster level. The fact that you are supposed to change the appearance of the spell is just an add-on. I would have been quite surprised if I had needed a feat that provided fluff only, and disappointed.
Wraithstrike, first let me say that you are one of my favorite people on these boards. I don't always agree with you, but you always write well and your posts always illuminate the conversation. Thanks for commenting here. :)I agree with you that bad-guys and good-guys should be ruled by the same set of rules, and it is that thought that inspires my more conservative rulings when I DM at my table. Sure, the leaping charge is awesome for the PCs, but it may suck when it is used against them. These are the times when I allow - when I'm the DM - my group to vote on the issue. How important are leaping charges to the players? If they want them badly enough that they are willing to face them when used against them, then more power to the players, leap away!
I agree with this. If the players want it bad enough I give it to them sometimes. I also immediately use it against them so they have the opportunity to see how it works in a game to see if they want to keep it that way.