We previously covered why training systems were abandoned in D&D. Here's what replaced it.
As I discussed in the previous article, it was also wrong-headed because if you did the things that enabled you to survive and prosper then why would you need somebody to train you? You don't teach or even train people in order to somehow mysteriously activate what they already know/know how to do. You teach them in order to provide a substitute for real-world experience (If you're a good teacher, that is) People learn best from experience, and by talking with other practitioners in order to learn from them, and as you get more experience, you improve.
And then there's the chicken and egg question: where did the original trainer come from? There must be a way to learn these things successfully without being trained by someone else.
Fundamentally, we have two competing systems: a level-based system that uses the word “experience” to reflect characters’ development through adventuring, and a more monetary system that requires payment to advance.
In AD&D 2nd Edition, training was relegated to an optional rule:
This sudden jump up a level is similar to how hit points are treated in D&D. You don't lose capability as you accumulate damage, but when you get to zero hit points, you’re suddenly incapacitated. Later systems have strayed from the simple hit point approach to cause more nuanced damage, so that characters suffer different penalties than just hit points over time.
This waning effectiveness has its roots in wargames with unit “steps” (including many block games). Damaged units decrease capabilities in discrete increments, because that’s the best we can do with non-computer games. But some designers think that’s better than a unit being fully capable until suddenly it’s dead, as was true in all the older Avalon Hill games such as Stalingrad and Afrika Korps.
More modern games reject this idea of leveling entirely, preferring instead to allow characters to focus on different skills from a pool and increase those as they see fit. It requires considerably more bookkeeping, which is why you see this style of advancement more often in computer role-playing games. Computers make it much easier to keep track of the minute details—and of percentages.
D&D codified technical skill with the Proficiency Bonus in 5th Edition, a modifier that is uniformly applied to many aspects of a character’s capabilities. While not a one-to-one equivalent of a character’s level, the Proficiency Bonus replaces much of the fiddly bits of how good a character is at combat, or spellcasting, or avoiding damage by tying it all to one number.
Conversely, there are some rules that restore degrees of advancement or failure in between levels. 5th Edition reserves training for learning new languages or tool proficiencies independent of levels (250 days at a cost of 1 gp per day). Optional rules added further complications and costs in Xanathar's Guide to Everything.
On the damage side, 5E has exhaustion levels, which provide a separate track of penalties from hit point loss alone (and can still result in character death!). Speaking of death, there are now death saves, with three fails accumulating in the death of a character.
Despite the relatively simple approach D&D has to success and failure, it’s clear players crave more nuance in how their characters develop or die. We see this in more modern RPGs and in D&D’s gradual removal of training as a requirement for advancement.
Your Turn: What subsystems do you use for advancement or failure in your games?
Congratulations on Advancing, Pay Up!
I’ve always thought one of the worst mistakes in AD&D (not repeated in later editions) was the requirement that when you reach enough experience points to rise in level you have to pay somebody an exorbitant sum to “train” reach that new level. I suppose these rules were an attempt to take excess money out of the game, but if applied as written it turned adventurers into mere money grubbers (much worse than treasure-hunters) in order to acquire enough money for training. I want a game of heroes, not money-grubbers, and I doubt that Gary Gygax wanted adventurers to be money-grubbers when he wrote AD&D.As I discussed in the previous article, it was also wrong-headed because if you did the things that enabled you to survive and prosper then why would you need somebody to train you? You don't teach or even train people in order to somehow mysteriously activate what they already know/know how to do. You teach them in order to provide a substitute for real-world experience (If you're a good teacher, that is) People learn best from experience, and by talking with other practitioners in order to learn from them, and as you get more experience, you improve.
And then there's the chicken and egg question: where did the original trainer come from? There must be a way to learn these things successfully without being trained by someone else.
Fundamentally, we have two competing systems: a level-based system that uses the word “experience” to reflect characters’ development through adventuring, and a more monetary system that requires payment to advance.
The Devolution of Training in D&D
Subsequent editions of Dungeons & Dragons gradually phased this requirement out, for good reason. I suspect the training rule was dropped in later editions because the designers realized it turns the most noble adventurers (including monks and paladins) into mercenaries, especially when experience points are given for gold. I didn’t need a rule to extract cash from adventurers. I do not give away big treasures, as treasure does not provide experience points in my games.In AD&D 2nd Edition, training was relegated to an optional rule:
In D&D 3rd Edition, it was assumed characters practiced their skills during downtime, with an optional rule of working with an instructor at 50 gp per week. Skills took one week per skill rank and feats took two weeks. Class abilities and spells also required expenditure of time and money. By 4th Edition, training was removed entirely (with a reference to proficiency replacing training).
Why it Went Away
There’s nothing inherently wrong with leveling up rules. D&D was intended to be relatively simple. Leveling is meant to be an abstraction in which characters are finally getting a tangible in-game benefit from their experiences that they would have achieved gradually in a real world.This sudden jump up a level is similar to how hit points are treated in D&D. You don't lose capability as you accumulate damage, but when you get to zero hit points, you’re suddenly incapacitated. Later systems have strayed from the simple hit point approach to cause more nuanced damage, so that characters suffer different penalties than just hit points over time.
This waning effectiveness has its roots in wargames with unit “steps” (including many block games). Damaged units decrease capabilities in discrete increments, because that’s the best we can do with non-computer games. But some designers think that’s better than a unit being fully capable until suddenly it’s dead, as was true in all the older Avalon Hill games such as Stalingrad and Afrika Korps.
More modern games reject this idea of leveling entirely, preferring instead to allow characters to focus on different skills from a pool and increase those as they see fit. It requires considerably more bookkeeping, which is why you see this style of advancement more often in computer role-playing games. Computers make it much easier to keep track of the minute details—and of percentages.
Stepped or Nuanced?
If we were willing to accept the additional record-keeping and complexity, we could have gradual decreases in abilities with injuries sustained for RPG characters. Similarly, we could have characters increase in one skill or feat before they fully level up. And in some RPG rulesets that is the case, but not in intended-to-be-simple D&D.D&D codified technical skill with the Proficiency Bonus in 5th Edition, a modifier that is uniformly applied to many aspects of a character’s capabilities. While not a one-to-one equivalent of a character’s level, the Proficiency Bonus replaces much of the fiddly bits of how good a character is at combat, or spellcasting, or avoiding damage by tying it all to one number.
Conversely, there are some rules that restore degrees of advancement or failure in between levels. 5th Edition reserves training for learning new languages or tool proficiencies independent of levels (250 days at a cost of 1 gp per day). Optional rules added further complications and costs in Xanathar's Guide to Everything.
On the damage side, 5E has exhaustion levels, which provide a separate track of penalties from hit point loss alone (and can still result in character death!). Speaking of death, there are now death saves, with three fails accumulating in the death of a character.
Despite the relatively simple approach D&D has to success and failure, it’s clear players crave more nuance in how their characters develop or die. We see this in more modern RPGs and in D&D’s gradual removal of training as a requirement for advancement.
Your Turn: What subsystems do you use for advancement or failure in your games?
It’s D&D. Suspension of disbelief is part of what you sign up for. It all makes as much or as little sense as you’re willing to accept.
