Diomin
"The journey from Tel-Harsa to the Shield of Ashima will also be uneventful. Feel free to use the wilderness encounter chart on page XX if you feel the need for the PC's to encounter something." (Diomin, p.93)
I feel that this passage appropriately sums up the Diomin experience. It's an exploration of setting that sounds interesting, but is given very little in terms of simulative mechanics or techniques; it's an uneventful world. The little that is offered has a bland and haphazard feel to it, as if they were indeed rolled on an encounter chart. Moreover, the whole book is littered with annoying errors.
However, despite the near universal panning of this setting book, Diomin plays an important role in the development of d20 setting design. It is the paradigm of how not to make a campaign world. This analysis will focus on the premise of Diomin and how it utilizes mechanics and techniques to create a memorable gaming experience. The book fails completely, but analysis of this failure can be informative.
Premise
The basic premise of a setting book is to promote exploration of the world presented therein. What does this world look like? Who are the people that live there? What are the major themes of this world? How can these elements be worked into "adventures?" Diomin is centered on the thematic exploration of the "war of the Gods."
"Diomin is at the juncture between the Spirit World and the Divine Realm, created by the One God to act as a bridge between the two. Sorcery and mortality is the product of this joining and Diomin is what is being fought over by the gods to this very day." (p.4)
So, we have three pertinent elements of the setting to explore. First, we have interactions with the worlds beyond, the Spirit World and the Divine Realm. Second, we have the apocalyptic "war" over "the souls of creation" with the "final battle soon to rage among the heavens." Third, we have new lands, nations, and races to explore and around which to form adventures.
This all sounds fine. It's nothing new or exceptional, but it's a solid premise upon which a fine game may be structured. If the implementation works. . .
Mechanics
This book falters in implementing good simulative mechanics so completely that I'll only be addressing the most relevant gaffs. There are three areas to consider: character design, setting specific mechanics, and the Spirit World.
Character design is the starting point in the exploration of setting. What are our options? Well, we've got four PC races, modifications to the baseline classes and the addition of a new "shaman" class. I'll discuss the shaman class later; for now, let's focus on the other options.
Races break down as follows. The Arak are blue-skinned "barbarian" humanoids, compared in the text to Native Americans of the mid-1800's. Then there's the beautiful, tall and long-lived Gnolaum, with "a culture similar to that of ancient Japan." They even have samurai-like rangers that wield "kewl" katana- oops, baraqs and the shorter caphars. The third race is the Hearthom, a mercantile culture of "walking, talking, breathing stautue(s.)" Yep, they are made of living stone! Finally, there are humans divided into two cultures. There is the light-skinned and democratic Tirasim; then there is the "olivine"-skinned, evil Zeredites.
Notice that there are no Tolkien holdovers here. As the back cover so inelegantly puts it, "Elves? We don't need no stinkin' elves. . ." I'm all for breaking the stereotypes of fantasy rpgs, but, whenever one decides to trail-blaze into the realm of new fantasy races, I expect these innovations to be properly balanced in accordance with the d20 standard races or, if need be, given a level designation.
Unfortunately, the designers of Diomin didn't consider the ramifications of their creations; why play a human? The non-human races are totally unbalanced, especially the Hearthom who get a bunch of nifties, including +2 strength, +2 wisdom, and damage reduction, all at the meager cost of -2 dexterity. I'd rather have elves than these horribly designed races.
Rather than make mechanically sound races, the designers decided to put the balance into class restrictions. Do you want to play a barbarian? Only the Arak may be barbarians. Want to play a druid? Only the Gnolaum may be druids. Of course, if you really want to play a class out of your racial type, then you can acquire the "Unusual Background" feat.
What are the consequences of this design decision? On one hand, this encourages gruesome powergaming; the mechanics create a racial/class focus point for optimizing character resources. On the other hand, this penalizes player creativity and character diversity; losing a feat for no return in character potency is a big sacrifice. For instance, want to play Tirasim bard? You can't, unless you spend that feat. Enjoy roleplaying a decidedly weaker PC.
Do these restrictions simulate the setting? Yes, they do. However, does this simulation lead to a richer exploration of the setting? No, it doesn't. They create a bland uniformity of type; for instance, most Arak will be barbarians or shamans. When a setting becomes predictable, it is no longer fun to explore. But the restrictions alone do not derail character generation. When coupled with the unbalanced new races, a level field of implementation becomes increasingly difficult to maintain. This results in a lack of fun for all.
What other wonkiness can be found in resource allocations? Well, some of the classes have been altered. For instance, paladins may be of any alignment, only Gnolaum rangers gain spells, and wizards may not be lawful good. Is there any reason for these changes? Simulation of setting. Fair enough, but do they lead to balanced or enjoyable play? No, these modifications are implemented without the slightest concern for play balance or character diversity. They are haphazard.
Let's consider the topic of "currency" in character generation. As the players design their characters, the manner in which they allocate resources, via race, class, skills, feats, equipment, and powers, tells a GM what type of game they are interested in playing. It's a passive form of narrative control, wherein the PCs "buy" story types by indicating character expertise. There are so many options that have been arranged in a slapdash fashion that the player will find that their "currency" has either been focused into a generic type or scattered inefficiently through Diomin's sloppy mechanics.
So, I find character design to be a mess of unbalanced rules, ill-conceived modifications, and tedious restrictions upon character diversity. Making a Diomin character is a tiresome and unpleasant task; the stories resulting from them are likewise predictable and awkward.
Setting specific mechanics are important in creating an immersive explorative experience. I've touched on a few mechanics in discussing character generation, but there are many more areas where setting may be emulated. The geography, the wildlife, the metaphysics, and the economy can all be modeled through well-designed implementation.
Geography is sparsely detailed. Each culture is given a brief paragraph on the most prominent land type and a quick note on climate, usually of the "winters can be quite cold" type. Geography establishes the immersive experience of gaming within the setting. Wilderness survival challenges can be fun, but this book gives nothing upon which to create such a challenge. Think of the harsh deserts of the Dark Sun setting or the mist-shrouded lands of Ravenloft; consider classic D&D terrain, like the Barrier Peaks or the Vast Swamp of Greyhawk. These places and settings are so memorable because the terrain itself becomes a story element, with emulative mechanics and specific encounter charts. Diomin has none of this; therefore, the lands are forgettable.
Wildlife and monsters are of great importance in establishing a feel to a setting. So, what types of creatures are typical of Diomin? I don't know. The book doesn't offer any advice other than a race of evil cat-men, the Gadianti. Well, that's good, but what else is found in Diomin? Given the close connection to the Spirit Realm, are there any special creatures to emulate this? No. Given the non-Tolkien tendencies, are there orcs, goblins, trolls and other such typical D&D fare? I don't know. Again, this book fails to offer mechanics that would facilitate the implementation of the setting. Just a small list would have been sufficient, but we get nothing.
Metaphysical elements are usually expressed through the magic system. For the most part, spellcasters are unchanged. However, wizards have a new concern, Corruption points. In Diomin, wizards draw their power form "The Source," an alien and vague power from beyond the material reality. It's not divine, but it isn't qualified as spiritual either. This mysterious power alters the use of components from traditional D&D; there is no need for material components or external foci. Instead, wizards use their own body as a focus and their spiritual energy to refine and control the mystical manifestation. Unfortunately, the process is degenerative, resulting in physical deformation and madness. This is an interesting concept, but what are the mechanical repercussions?
Material components are important elements in maintaining play balance. Usually, it's assumed that the wizard will have the necessary materials at hands, but sometimes the requirements are expensive or unusual. Spells like stoneskin or scrying are examples of such. By ditching the requirements, these spells become overpowered.
This wouldn't be a significant problem if the Corruption points balanced everything out in the end. For every level gained, the alien energies channeled through a wizard's body cause physical and mental deterioration, expressed mechanically by the acquisition of a randomly determined number of "points" from 1 to 10, modified by the wizards Intelligence bonus which is subtracted from the number rolled. (Yes, according to the formula, it's possible to lose corruption with lucky rolls.) Whenever a wizard attains a designated level of "corruption points," they gain either an insanity or a deformity. Unfortunately, there is no mechanical guideline for implementing this corruption; it depends on GM whim and vague "role-playing."
This is negligent design. Finally, there's something of interest in this setting, but it's given only a hand wave to whimsy, regardless of balance or simulation. I find this tremendously disappointing.
Economics are yet another area that makes a setting "feel" real. The easiest ways to mechanically implement it are through tailored equipment lists and appropriately instituting monetary standards. This book offers no help on setting specific equipment, other than the Gnolaum "daisho," a special pair of uber-blades for rangers.
But it gets worse. The monetary values are totally warped by ill-considered modification. Two copper pieces equal one silver piece. Two silver pieces equal a gold piece. One gold piece, one silver piece, and one copper piece equal a platinum piece. Let's do a price comparison. In D&D, a longbow equals 100 gp or 10,000 cp. In Diomin, this same longbow is still equal 100 gp, but it only equals 400 cp. Hmm, never has chicken (2 cp) theft looked so profitable.
So, in regards to simulative mechanics in facilitating exploration of setting, this book totally fails through an unhappy combination of carelessness and bungling implementation.
The Spirit World is an area that Diomin should prominently feature. After all, the new shaman class derives power directly from this thematic setting element. Well, I've already mentioned that the book offers no "monster" stats for interacting with the spiritual realm. Moreover, it seems that spirits have no actual interactions with the mortal realm, unless a shaman engages with them. So, mechanically speaking, spirits are only a setting element when a shaman specifically calls upon them or tethers them into an object; otherwise, they exist in total isolation from the mortal realm.
Well, given that Diomin was created specifically as a bridge into the spirit realm, I feel that this is a gross oversight of design. Spirits and their ilk should be front-stage and center in this setting. There ought to be all kinds of mechanics to craft adventures around them, like possessions, hauntings, and breeches in the fabric of mortal reality. There's so much potential here, but it all gets ignore. Instead, the shaman acts as a tiny keyhole with which we may peek into the mysterious realm of the spirits.
So, how does the shaman work? Very poorly. The design of class abilities is atrocious! For instance, the primary ability of shamans is to "control" spirits, a process by which a spirit is utilized to manifest spell-like abilities, knowledge, or feats. This ability is achieved at fourth level. For three levels, a shaman is basically useless. Moreover, the ability to actually summon a spirit of which you might have need isn't gained until sixth level! So, if you need a spirit of healing at fifth level, unless one happens to be strolling in the neighborhood, you're out of luck!
But the awfulness doesn't end there. The actual mechanics in summoning and controlling doesn't reflect expertise. The process is determined with an unmodified charisma check. In other words, a fourth level shaman with charisma 18 is as likely to gain control or summon a spirit as a 20th level shaman with an identical charisma. Experience does not matter! I think that this is an absurd design choice.
Moreover, dealing with spirits is unreliable and risky. The successful use of this ability is determined by an opposed charisma check between the shaman and the spirit. If the spirit wins, there are two results: it can leave, which results in the shaman being unable to use this ability for three days, or it can indefinitely possess the shaman. Either situation is overly punitive. I think that maintaining an element of risk when dealing with spirits is a decent idea, but these mechanics totally hobble the shaman from being an effective class. It's bad design.
Furthermore, the rules for attaching or tethering spirits to items are likewise both underpowered and abuse-prone. The mechanics use experience to attach the spirit. On one hand, it's underpowered because the expense in terms of experience points is much greater then a standard magic item would cost. However, it's abuse-prone because there is no gold piece restriction or necessary feat requirement and a totally open ability to select whatever spell-like ability is desired. For instance, at the cost of 500 experience points, your shaman can cast charm person at will. At the cost 3500, you've got stoneskin active all day long.
Another gruesome oversight is the "spirit walk" ability. At tenth level, the shaman can leave her body and with successful scry checks may scout out areas safely from the spirit realm at will. The consequences of this power are immediately obvious. The shaman becomes the ultimate scout. What's behind the door? Send in the shaman. How many guards are in the tower? The shaman will take a look. Yes, there is a set distance that limits the length to which the shaman can travel, determined according to level, but it's sufficient for most "dungeoneering" or "infiltration" style of challenges.
So, by giving so little help on designing spirit-based adventures and by botching the design of the shaman class, this book fails to deliver on one of its most interesting setting features. The mechanics do not facilitate the exploration of the Spirit World nor do they allow it to be smoothly integrated into adventure design.
In summation, Diomin falls short in the mechanical facilitation of its premise. The mechanics are inadequate or non-existent.
Technique
Techniques of implementation are the means by which a book helps the GM realize and depict a setting for her game. Diomin offers two techniques: description and example.
Description is of enormous importance in a setting book. This is where all the relevant issues of the world are presented to the reader. Detail about the people, geography, religion, and everything else is offered so that the reader can visualize life on this world. By coming to an understanding of the world, the player can then participate in informed interaction with the setting, exploring its nuances through scenario design or character generation.
I've touch on many of the pertinent issues of description in discussing setting specific mechanics. Geography, zoology, metaphysics, and economics are given skimpy treatment. Unfortunately, there still remain many points of complaint in the description of setting. The three most disappointing elements are cliché, secrets, and gender issues.
Diomin makes a point of stating that it is eschewing the use of Tolkien clichés. Instead, in institutes a whole host of non-Tolkien clichés. The Biblically inspired "War in Heaven" is the start of an all too familiar parade of the quotidian. The "Japanese samurai" Gnolaum, who, with their longevity, cultural refinement, connection to nature, and physical beauty, are simply elves with the pointy ears trimmed off. Then there's the "evil cat-men;" well, they certainly aren't in the same cliché category as elves or dwarves, but they aren't too far behind either. In short, the attempt to present a fresh, new world is undercut by the reliance on old and stale fantasy tropes.
Secrets plague this product. Oftentimes, the text refers to a cultural or geographic element of the setting, but then it says something akin to "but the people who know about this refuse to talk about it." There isn't even enough information for players to roleplay the knowledge that should be commonplace for their character. For instance, regarding the Hearthom, no information is given about their homeland, the Isle of Assarion.
"No one is allowed to visit their island, and strange and wondrous inventions are said to exist there." (p.24)
Well, what if your party consists of Hearthom? Can they visit their homeland? If so, what exists there? I don't know because the book is deliberately secretive about it. Likewise the Gnolaum have come to Diomin from an unknown land to the East, where their society had descended into rampant decadence and evil. Do Gnolaum PCs know how to find this land of evil? I don't know, but, even if they did, a GM couldn't give even a little bit of information about it to her players because to book provides none for her to give!
Secrets are interesting if they are restricted to further the exploration of setting, but secrets for the purpose of being "mysterious" are just annoying. Furthermore, it's lazy. All details pertinent to the exploration of setting need to be offered up to the GM. In a book that lacks description of even the more mundane elements of setting, such as mountains, lakes and deserts, this purposeful secretiveness is absurd.
Gender issues may not be of importance to every group out there, but they sure as heck are of great importance to me. Diomin uses misogynistic restrictions as simulation of setting. This is a viable design choice. For instance, in a historical setting, such as medieval Europe, misogyny exists. This is done for verisimilitude; after all, how well is your suspension of disbelief going to be maintained when conversing with the Lady Bishop?
Again, misogynistic simulation is a viable design decision. However, Diomin is a fantasy world; it isn't bound by the necessity to model sexist societies. Out of the five cultures described, only the Hearthom have an egalitarian view of gender.
"Women are considered to be equal to men in all aspects of their culture. Unlike the other races of Diomin, Hearthom women can be members of all classes of society (farmer, warrior, or merchant) and hold any rank within a class." (p.27)
Two out of five, the Arak and Tirasim, mention specific restrictions against female adventurers. The Gnolaum and Zeredites do not specifically restrict female options, but the description contains a clear subtext of such.
So, how does the implementation of misogynistic restrictions make for a better gaming experience? It doesn't! It is a stumbling block for female gamers and those who wish to play female characters. If I wanted to play an Arak "baby-making machine," this setting element might be of interest to me. I don't want to roleplay the joys of motherhood, while the male PCs go on all kinds of exciting adventures. Can a female PC use a disguise to pass as a man? Yes, but this shouldn't be the default approach to playing a female character. This is a fantasy setting; there is no reason that I can see for making this design choice. I find it insulting and it hinders implementation.
Note to all you setting designers reading this: unless gender issues are salient elements in the exploration of setting and theme or are required for verisimilitude, do not incorporate misogynistic restrictions into your design. They only breed annoyance and resentment in the female gamers who may be exposed to your product.
Examples are of great utility in helping set a standard by which a GM may construct encounters and scenarios. Unfortunately, this book doesn't offer much worthwhile assistance here. Sample NPCs are offered, but they are totally without statistics and given minimal background text, usually just three or four sentences long. Therefore, they're not of much use.
This book does offer a sample adventure, which takes up a considerable amount of the books total length. Unfortunately, it's so awful that it's practically useless. When play-testing this product, I considered running this adventure, but it was so ineptly designed that I chose to write-up my own. So, this appraisal is given with a "not play-tested" caveat.
First, it's filled with clichés, from the random thug encounter to the escaped enemy to the enlistment of total newbies for a task that may "save the nation." Even the kicker to the adventure is cliché, and more than a little bit silly. After all, how successful is a nation at war going to be when it advertises for total strangers to guard shipments of important military supplies? Not too successful, I'd say.
Then there's lazy design. Frequently, the adventure sets up a situation to hinder the PCs. Precisely how they'll resolve the situation is totally up to the GM; no helpful suggestions are offered. For instance, a PC is framed for a murder by an evil NPC. How does the PC get "off-the-hook"? I don't know. Hopefully the players will come up with something.
Moreover, there's a total lack of simulation in the actual adventure. For instance, when exploring the city of Arioch, the capital of the Tirasim, does the adventure offer specific encounters to establish the look, feel, or style of this important locale? No, instead it offers a generic set of random encounter chart. Let's see, I rolled a 2, "weird people." I reference the appropriate subchart and roll again. It's a 5; looks like the party meets a transvestite. Darn! I wanted a "transportation mishap!"
The space wasted on the random encounter charts, with its prostitutes and beggars and vendors selling the severed private parts of the Gadianti cat-men, could have been dedicated towards actually describing the city. For instance, are there any local temples? How do they look like? How about the governmental center? Are there any monuments of note? What type of architecture defines the city? I don't care about "pestering mimes;" I want useful examples of Tirasim culture!
To put the nail into the coffin of this horrid adventure is the poorly written NPCs, with their buggy stat blocks, and the encounters that the writers haven't even attempted to balance according to CR and APL. These encounters are woefully unbalanced and the GM will find herself totally rewriting them, or just fudging them like mad.
All in all, this adventure is a very poor example of scenario design. It is little better than totally useless.
On a related topic, the actual writing throughout this book is not the best. To be fair, I don't expect beautiful prose that rolls off the page with grace and refinement in rpgs. The skills required for good game design are different from the skills required for writing elegant prose. To expect a writer to be a master at both is simply unfair. However, I do expect that the writer will avoid things like grammar errors, awkward switches in narrative voice, and overly convoluted sentence structure. An rpg doesn't need to be an artful read, but it does need to be a clear read. This book needed another round of editing before being sent off to the printer.
Appraisal
Diomin is an utter disappointment. It has a sound premise but it fails in implementation at each and every design decision of the book. All in all, it feels like a "homebrew" world, hastily written and rushed to publication, so as to emerge at the forefront of d20 products. It fails to deliver in so many ways that virtually nothing can be salvaged from this creative endeavor.
However, some words of wisdom can be found from one of the writers, Christopher T. Miller, when responding to a review published on RPGnet. He writes:
"Praise is great, but often criticism is the key to becoming better at what you do. It's my goal to incorporate what we've heard over the past few months and apply it to put out stronger products in the future."
There is a lesson to be learned from the analysis of Diomin. Question every element of your setting design. Don't just settle for obvious simulation. Analyze it for deeper repercussions in terms of resource allocation, scenario design, and enjoyable facilitation of the premise. Ask yourself if these choices lead to your desired goal. Do not allow your vision to be marred by ugly mistakes of shortsighted design or lazy description. You may not end up making a product that gamers across the world will love and play, but you will end up with an artistically pure expression of your creativity.
Diomin could have been an interesting world. It could have been used to tell engaging stories in a realm between the divine and the spiritual. It could have offered thrilling adventures in the face of the apocalypse. But it doesn't do any of this.
Therefore, I definitely do not recommend this product.
---OMW