D&D 1E Favorite Obscure Rules from TSR-era D&D

[Quickleaf]

Grappling, Pummeling, and Overbearing in the 1e DMG. I've tried several times to parse it over the years, hunting for the good hidden in the text, and after my eyes go bleary... I ultimately agree with Gygax's later assessment that it deserved to be discarded.

 

[Mannahnin]

Obviously, it didn't work that way, and it's not hard to see why. For all that people seemingly love to complain about how D&D (of any edition) simply doesn't work when the numbers "get too big," they also like tangible representations of advancement, i.e. gaining levels. Gaining them only to have them be quickly and easily lost later on makes the accomplishment feel Sisyphean in nature, becoming a source of frustration rather than enjoyment.

But then look at all the magic items that granted tons of experience points, almost as if Gary thought to himself "gold to xp isn't enough, these guys might get angry with all the level draining".

Fundamentally, yes. D&D really doesn't have good plans after a certain level, particularly for certain character types. Once you get there, people do tend to retire characters or campaigns (or do level/mechanics-independent stuff). Mechanisms that keep you from reaching that point ought to be a positive. I think there are a few main problems:

1. Advancement/progress feels good, but only when it feels real. So any backslide can't be automatic (else the advancement is illusory). On the other hand, it if isn't automatic, then actually running into the downgrade feels like a tragedy.
2. Advancement already felt slow. Whether it was true isn't really relevant to the feel. Each level (at oft-played levels) was about twice as many xp as the last. AD&D had all sorts of other (often ignored) advancement-limiting effects like double-advancement/training costs if DM feels you are changing alignment/not playing your class; having to fight other druids/monks to advance, and such. Also, if (like many) you stopped treasure hunting for more plot-driven adventures, but gp=xp was still the main contributor (or 2e, where the mixture could be anything, but few options contributed as much as large treasure piles did), advancement actually did slow.
3. Restoration came out in Supplement I (1975). Seriously-- as rough as running into 'lose a level, there's nothing you can do about it' feels, adding something you could do about it (albeit a something you might not normally have access to, and the bookkeeping around tracking xp before and after the drain and how to fit it all together post-restoration) makes having that opportunity and not accomplishing it feel doubly rough.

Yeah, I think that, especially reading between the lines of the AD&D DMG and OD&D books, and in context with modules from the period, that the default expectation was that games would be a bit more roulette-like.

Big gambles, losses AND big wins.

Magic items, ability scores, character levels, were ALL "easy come, easy go". You could get drained by a Wight in one room and then find a fountain on the same level where just drinking from it gave you a level. Or find just one of them. Or neither. You could find an awesome magic sword then have it destroyed by a rust monster. Anything you lost, you had decent odds of finding a Wish to fix!

Of course, by the time Gary finished writing the AD&D DMG he was advocating a grittier, more difficult game with less magic, one that he found more satisfying after years of already playing in a wilder and woolier style.

And so many of us coming later read his instructions and recommendations and tried to play hardscrabble, hard mode, lower magic, but that was way harder to make fun when the game still had level drainers and save or die poison all over the place, but no longer had wishes and similar easy fixes and power ups everywhere.

EDIT: On topic, I'll cite a rule that made zero sense to me when I first read it and still makes zero sense in any game I'd play now, but which serves as a vital context clue supporting my conclusions above. The limitations on raising ability scores using Wishes, from page 11 of the 1E DMG.

THE EFFECT OF WISHES ON CHARACTER ABILITY SCORES

It is quite usual for players to use wishes (or alter reality spells found on scrolls) to increase their ability scores in desired areas, whatever the areas might be. It is strongly suggested that you place no restrictions upon such use of wishes. However, at some point it must be made more difficult to go up in ability, or else many characters will eventually be running around with several 18s (or even higher!). Therefore, when any ability score reaches 16, then it should be ruled a wish will have the effect of increasing the ability by only 1/10th of a point. Thus, by means of wishes (or wishes and/or alter reality spells) a charisma score of 16 can only be raised to 17 by use of 10 such wishes, the score going from 16 to 16.1 with the first wish,16.2 with the second, and so on. This is not to say that magical books or devices can not raise scores of 16 or better a full point. The prohibition is only on wishes.

This rule is obviously silly nonsense in a campaign run following Gary's (and Zeb's, in 2E) guidelines on how rare and difficult to get powerful magic should be. I'm not sure I ever saw more than one Wish in any given AD&D campaign I ever played in.

 

[the Jester]

PO clerics were the best because they were so customizable. I did a game where everyone played PO clerics, and it worked great.

They were super abusable. You could make a specialty priest with all armor and weapons, fighter THAC0, and various spells and/or granted powers... that used the cleric xp chart. In other words, a fighter+ who advanced quicker than a standard fighter.

 

[Snarf Zagyg]

Yeah, I think that, especially reading between the lines of the AD&D DMG and OD&D books, and in context with modules from the period, that the default expectation was that games would be a bit more roulette-like.

Big gambles, losses AND big wins.

One great example-

The fruit in the Forgotten Temple of Tharizdun.

There was a room with five trees, each with fruit of a lustrous black color. The five trees were coded to classes (one was F, one Cl, one TH, one MU, and the last one was everyone). If a character from the correct class picks a fruit, then they have to make a system shock check.
If they fail, they are turned to black ash, forever gone. If they succeed, they gain a point in their main ability.
If they do it a second time, they have to make a system shock. If fail, death. If succeed, the LOSE two points in their main ability.
If they choose the wrong tree, they take 3-30 damage, and must make a system shock as above.
Another wrong tree? 3-30 damage and reverse system shock.
Third wrong attempt? Just death.

The "bonus" tree will give anyone either a point in constitution or charisma. No check required! But if they try again, or if this is their second tree, they need to do a reverse system shock roll (or die forever) AND lose a point every ability.

 

[Alzrius]

Yeah, I think that, especially reading between the lines of the AD&D DMG and OD&D books, and in context with modules from the period, that the default expectation was that games would be a bit more roulette-like.

Big gambles, losses AND big wins.

Magic items, ability scores, character levels, were ALL "easy come, easy go". You could get drained by a Wight in one room and then find a fountain on the same level where just drinking from it gave you a level. Or find just one of them. Or neither. You could find an awesome magic sword then have it destroyed by a rust monster. Anything you lost, you had decent odds of finding a Wish to fix!

I'm given to understand that goes for PCs also, i.e. you might have them for years and years across a campaign...or they might die in the next room.

Slightly more seriously, I've spoken to at least one person who said that back in the days of AD&D (and even OD&D), there was an expectation that the group was larger than any one player. Your PC might die, but the party continued on, and so you rolled up a new character and looked for a way to join the other PCs. While this leads to a lot of "you seem trustworthy, would you care to join us on our noble quest?" jokes, the fact of the matter is that henchmen, hirelings, and followers meant that adventuring parties were essentially small armies already, and taking over one of a stable of NPCs who'd been with you for a while was supposedly commonplace (if I recall correctly, this was how Gygax came to play Bigby, who was originally an enemy wizard that Mordenkainen cast charm person on).

So in other words, it was kind of like your PC was a cast member on The Walking Dead.

 

[TwoSix]

They were super abusable. You could make a specialty priest with all armor and weapons, fighter THAC0, and various spells and/or granted powers... that used the cleric xp chart. In other words, a fighter+ who advanced quicker than a standard fighter.

I know! It was great.

 

[Mannahnin]

I'm given to understand that goes for PCs also, i.e. you might have them for years and years across a campaign...or they might die in the next room.

Slightly more seriously, I've spoken to at least one person who said that back in the days of AD&D (and even OD&D), there was an expectation that the group was larger than any one player. Your PC might die, but the party continued on, and so you rolled up a new character and looked for a way to join the other PCs. While this leads to a lot of "you seem trustworthy, would you care to join us on our noble quest?" jokes, the fact of the matter is that henchmen, hirelings, and followers meant that adventuring parties were essentially small armies already, and taking over one of a stable of NPCs who'd been with you for a while was supposedly commonplace (if I recall correctly, this was how Gygax came to play Bigby, who was originally an enemy wizard that Mordenkainen cast charm person on).

So in other words, it was kind of like your PC was a cast member on The Walking Dead.

There's certainly some truth to that. And apropos of that, let's remember the inheritance rules from 0E (Men & Magic, p13). If you are smart enough to designate a relative as your heir, you can make them your next character and they can inherit your dead character's stuff, less a 10% tax.

This came up repeatedly in the 0E Castle Greyhawk campaign I played online during the pandemic. Especially when a bunch of us hit a bad random encounter on the 3rd or 4th level of the dungeon, a Necromancer (10th level M-U) was the result, and most of the party got hit by, and everyone failed their saves to, a 10d6 Lightning Bolt. Poor John Grond, my 5th level Fighting-Man (of very large stature, Chaotic alignment, and rumored Ogrish ancestry) was fried. But thankfully he had an old mercenary buddy able to inherit (most of) his wealth back home, and magic items once the dead PCs were eventually tracked down and put to rest. They had all been made into undead, naturally.

 

[Snarf Zagyg]

So in other words, it was kind of like your PC was a cast member on The Walking Dead.

Yep, and you never knew if you had Shane, or Glenn, or Rick.

 

[Lanefan]

Obviously, it didn't work that way, and it's not hard to see why. For all that people seemingly love to complain about how D&D (of any edition) simply doesn't work when the numbers "get too big," they also like tangible representations of advancement, i.e. gaining levels. Gaining them only to have them be quickly and easily lost later on makes the accomplishment feel Sisyphean in nature, becoming a source of frustration rather than enjoyment.

One long-serving PC of mine has, during his career, entered 4th level five times: twice from below and three times from above.

Level-drainers found him to be a very tasty treat, for some reason. And those Restorations get expensive!

 

[Lanefan]

....I appreciate that you are suffering for the rest of us....


I will go back to one of the original issues highlighted earlier. How can you have multiclass options that explicitly violate class alignment restrictions?

The alignment restrictions on Rangers make no in-setting sense. A criminal banished from town who has had to make his way in the woods half his life should be able to become a Ranger simply through living that lifestyle, while still being an evil cuss at the same time.

If one looks at Druids as being Nature Clerics, alignment restrictions don't make any sense there either: various deities of all alignments would, one would think, support Nature Clerics.

Druid/Ranger? C'mon! Why not allow Ranger/Assassin? I mean, Drow?

Ranger is one class where I had to get harsh with multi-classing, to prevent a few exploits in character design.