Philotomy Jurament
First Post
Psion said:
While "gross shortcuts" which are "anything but tasteful" is a completely precise observation -- and not at all qualitative?
(Yes, yes, I know -- you were just stating your opinion...)
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The Elegance of d20 and D&D
- Thread starter SWAT
- Start date
While "gross shortcuts" which are "anything but tasteful" is a completely precise observation -- and not at all qualitative?
(Yes, yes, I know -- you were just stating your opinion...)
Psion
Adventurer
Philotomy Jurament said:While "gross shortcuts" which are "anything but tasteful" is a completely precise observation -- and not at all qualitative?
(Yes, yes, I know -- you were just stating your opinion...)
Point, meet Philotomy. Philotomy, meet the point.
I just think it's one of those terms like "cinematic" that anyone can assign their own meaning too, and this is not so much useful in commucation other than as a rhetorical bludgeon.
Philotomy Jurament
First Post
Psion said:
Yep, I agree; rhetorical bludgeonism is one of those isms I am generally against, wherever it may be found (except when I do it)...
SteveC
Doing the best imitation of myself
Always an interesting discussion. The real problems with using "elegance" as a benchmark for a system is that it's very hard to define what we mean by the term (much as Psion said).
Any game with a unified mechanic can be said to be elegant when stripped down to its base forms. FUDGE, for example, is a very elegant system at the core because there's not all that much to it. At its core, FUDGE is a dice rolling mechanic and a way to describe thing. Once you start adding meat to the bones of the system, it can be just as confusing as D20.
If you strip D20 down to its most basic parts, it is quite elegant. As a couple of examples, take a look at Core Elements and Perfect20 for what I'm talking about.
What I think most people who talk about a game system being elegant are referring to is a way to roll dice and a way to describe people and things. That can indeed look VERY elegant, but it also means that all of the work for running the game is going on with the GM behind the scenes. There's nothing wrong with that, but it also means that the GM is going to do all of the lifting when they run the game. Again, nothing wrong with that, but there's also nothing really right with it either: it's just a thing.
The term elegant has a positive connotation in general, but, really, what does it mean when you apply it to a game?
--Steve
Any game with a unified mechanic can be said to be elegant when stripped down to its base forms. FUDGE, for example, is a very elegant system at the core because there's not all that much to it. At its core, FUDGE is a dice rolling mechanic and a way to describe thing. Once you start adding meat to the bones of the system, it can be just as confusing as D20.
If you strip D20 down to its most basic parts, it is quite elegant. As a couple of examples, take a look at Core Elements and Perfect20 for what I'm talking about.
What I think most people who talk about a game system being elegant are referring to is a way to roll dice and a way to describe people and things. That can indeed look VERY elegant, but it also means that all of the work for running the game is going on with the GM behind the scenes. There's nothing wrong with that, but it also means that the GM is going to do all of the lifting when they run the game. Again, nothing wrong with that, but there's also nothing really right with it either: it's just a thing.
The term elegant has a positive connotation in general, but, really, what does it mean when you apply it to a game?
--Steve
ColonelHardisson
What? Me Worry?
librarius_arcana said:What!!?? LoL
Dude d20 is not elegant, fact.
Sure it is. Fact.
Wow. That's really easy. I made something factual by tacking on the word fact.
ColonelHardisson
What? Me Worry?
Psion said:
Yep, this is exactly the way to do it. The nebulous nature of what constitutes elegance makes arguing either position fairly easy. On one hand, a system that tries to cover every contingency with rules mechanics that are mutually incompatible for each situation can be seen as inelegant, but one that covers very little and requires the game slow down as each situation is adjudicated could also be seen as inelegant.
Psion said:Or you could admit it's all a matter of taste. But if you are going to fight a rhetorical war, strike from the high ground.
Again, yep. There are likely very few modern RPGs published that could be truly labelled as inelegant, on either side of the rules light/heavy spectrum.
spacemonkey
Official ENworld Space Monkey
I think we are all missing the point here, really.
SWAT - here is how you should proceed. Notify your manager immediately that you continue to disagree with their viewpoint. Then state vehemently that you might (just might) be persuaded to come to his side, but it will take some instruction on his part. This will take the form of a FUDGE game GM'd by your manager on a weekly basis until you are convinced. On or off work hours is fine (though you can suggest that during work hours you are more alert and productive).
Optional step: if you really dislike the 'elegance' arguments you can always keep asking for an 'elegant' way to resolve some mechanic that Fudge doesn't cover very well (or in depth - of which there are many), but this may be regarded unfavorably. I would suggest just enjoying the game
SWAT - here is how you should proceed. Notify your manager immediately that you continue to disagree with their viewpoint. Then state vehemently that you might (just might) be persuaded to come to his side, but it will take some instruction on his part. This will take the form of a FUDGE game GM'd by your manager on a weekly basis until you are convinced. On or off work hours is fine (though you can suggest that during work hours you are more alert and productive).
Optional step: if you really dislike the 'elegance' arguments you can always keep asking for an 'elegant' way to resolve some mechanic that Fudge doesn't cover very well (or in depth - of which there are many), but this may be regarded unfavorably. I would suggest just enjoying the game
I would agree with your manager that the D20 system as exemplified by 3.x D&D isn't particularly elegant. However, other games based on the D20 system are quite elegant. So that's an important distinction to make.
D&D 3.x isn't (IMHO) elegant in any sense of the word. But it doesn't need to be because it's got a lot of other advantages (almost limitless expandability, diversity, a strong tactical combat system, etc.). An A-10 Warthog isn't a particularly elegant aircraft, but it does what it was designed to do EXTREMELY well.
D&D 3.x isn't (IMHO) elegant in any sense of the word. But it doesn't need to be because it's got a lot of other advantages (almost limitless expandability, diversity, a strong tactical combat system, etc.). An A-10 Warthog isn't a particularly elegant aircraft, but it does what it was designed to do EXTREMELY well.
I like to think of elegance in rules as similar to elegance in the design of a mechanical watch. Every piece has its place, every piece does exactly what it should do, and the whole functions perfectly.
Elegance has nothing to do with how many rules are in a game. What matters is how well those rules work together, and how well they work with the end user. It would be foolish to say that watch A is more elegant than watch B simply because it has fewer parts.
For example, there are lots and lots of feats in D&D, but the concept of a feat (an exceptions based rule attached to a character) is elegant. If you play a wizard, you never need to understand how Cleave works. Even the DM doesn't need to understand it, unless a monster has it. Cleave is a wonderfully elegant feat, because it's so simple yet so powerful: Once per round if you drop an opponent, you make another attack. Those 12 words cover the entire sum of the feat, and it has an exciting, important impact on the game.
In contrast, an inelegant feat is complex, slow, and uninteresting. Imagine if Cleave altered your attack bonus or did other weird things to how you attacked. It would slow down the game to dubious benefit.
Problems arise in D&D when various exceptions based elements mesh poorly, or when one system collides with another. The advancement rules for BAB are very elegant when taken on their own, but they fall down when, say, the rogue can't possibly hit a monster, but the fighter hits it every round. BAB progressions are easy to remember, but if the gap between them becomes too large it's hard to find a sweet spot for monster ACs.
By the same token, simple does not mean elegant. Call of Cthulhu has very simple mechanics. If you roll your skill or less on d100, you succeed. Yet, it falls down as soon as you try to add difficulty factors, opposed checks, and specific skills into the mix. Dodge leaps to mind - my ability to avoid your attack has nothing to do with your skill. If I have a maxed out Dodge skill, even Great Cthulhu can't touch me!
Another aspect of elegance lies in "spending" complexity in the right place. Complexity in stuff you do away from the table - leveling up a PC, designing a new monster, is fine (within reasonable limits), since it has no impact on how quickly the game moves. In comparison, the rules for climbing a wall are best kept as simple as possible. Climbing doesn't come up all that often, and when it does we generally just want to climb the wall and get it done with. Same thing with grappling, casting a spell while underwater, swimming, and so forth.
In other cases, rules should be simple because we can expect players and DMs to use them a lot. If every attack roll required a table look-up, the game would slow dramatically.
There are some places were complexity is a good thing. I might have a system for resolving a battle between two armies with a few die rolls. Complexity here might be a really good thing. The players want the chance to do stuff to alter the battle. Tactics should have a role in who wins. A skilled commander should have an advantage over an inept leader. If it takes 10 minutes of game time for the DM to describe the battle, factor in the various modifiers, make several die rolls, then declare a winner, that might be exactly what the game needs.
On the other hand, taking 10 minutes to resolve a Climb check, or to work out a single character's grapple action, is probably not so good.
Handling time is a big part of improving D&D. If a fight takes less time but is just as fun and interesting, the game is simply better. You have more time for roleplay, story, and other fights. Players spend less time watching each other or the DM take actions. The game moves faster, and you get more stuff done in a session.
So to me, all that stuff ties into my definition of elegance. As a designer and developer, my goal is to translate as many seconds of gaming as possible into fun seconds. I think of D&D as a machine that you feed your free time into. Some percentage of that free time becomes fun. I want that percentage to hit 100.
Elegance has nothing to do with how many rules are in a game. What matters is how well those rules work together, and how well they work with the end user. It would be foolish to say that watch A is more elegant than watch B simply because it has fewer parts.
For example, there are lots and lots of feats in D&D, but the concept of a feat (an exceptions based rule attached to a character) is elegant. If you play a wizard, you never need to understand how Cleave works. Even the DM doesn't need to understand it, unless a monster has it. Cleave is a wonderfully elegant feat, because it's so simple yet so powerful: Once per round if you drop an opponent, you make another attack. Those 12 words cover the entire sum of the feat, and it has an exciting, important impact on the game.
In contrast, an inelegant feat is complex, slow, and uninteresting. Imagine if Cleave altered your attack bonus or did other weird things to how you attacked. It would slow down the game to dubious benefit.
Problems arise in D&D when various exceptions based elements mesh poorly, or when one system collides with another. The advancement rules for BAB are very elegant when taken on their own, but they fall down when, say, the rogue can't possibly hit a monster, but the fighter hits it every round. BAB progressions are easy to remember, but if the gap between them becomes too large it's hard to find a sweet spot for monster ACs.
By the same token, simple does not mean elegant. Call of Cthulhu has very simple mechanics. If you roll your skill or less on d100, you succeed. Yet, it falls down as soon as you try to add difficulty factors, opposed checks, and specific skills into the mix. Dodge leaps to mind - my ability to avoid your attack has nothing to do with your skill. If I have a maxed out Dodge skill, even Great Cthulhu can't touch me!
Another aspect of elegance lies in "spending" complexity in the right place. Complexity in stuff you do away from the table - leveling up a PC, designing a new monster, is fine (within reasonable limits), since it has no impact on how quickly the game moves. In comparison, the rules for climbing a wall are best kept as simple as possible. Climbing doesn't come up all that often, and when it does we generally just want to climb the wall and get it done with. Same thing with grappling, casting a spell while underwater, swimming, and so forth.
In other cases, rules should be simple because we can expect players and DMs to use them a lot. If every attack roll required a table look-up, the game would slow dramatically.
There are some places were complexity is a good thing. I might have a system for resolving a battle between two armies with a few die rolls. Complexity here might be a really good thing. The players want the chance to do stuff to alter the battle. Tactics should have a role in who wins. A skilled commander should have an advantage over an inept leader. If it takes 10 minutes of game time for the DM to describe the battle, factor in the various modifiers, make several die rolls, then declare a winner, that might be exactly what the game needs.
On the other hand, taking 10 minutes to resolve a Climb check, or to work out a single character's grapple action, is probably not so good.
Handling time is a big part of improving D&D. If a fight takes less time but is just as fun and interesting, the game is simply better. You have more time for roleplay, story, and other fights. Players spend less time watching each other or the DM take actions. The game moves faster, and you get more stuff done in a session.
So to me, all that stuff ties into my definition of elegance. As a designer and developer, my goal is to translate as many seconds of gaming as possible into fun seconds. I think of D&D as a machine that you feed your free time into. Some percentage of that free time becomes fun. I want that percentage to hit 100.
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While I'm on the subject, here's an example of what I consider elegant design.
I really, really like the basics of the rules for the Jump skill. I make a check, and that check shows me how far I jump.
In the campaign here at work, I wanted to try out some new rules for fighting underwater. The first thing I did was remove the current rules for the Swim skill and replace them with a near carbon copy of the Jump skill.
When you attempt to swim, your Swim check result is the distance you move. For rough water and similar hazards, I just used the rules for difficult terrain, and added simple rules for currents (when you enter a current, make a Swim check; if you fail, the current moves you X spaces, then you keep moving).
I ran an encounter with several currents and 3D elements to movement (walls that didn't reach the ceiling, jets of water that the PCs could swim over and under, and so on) and it worked out rather well.
IMO, the change was nice because it had no effect on numbers already on the players' character sheets. When swimming, they kept their ACs, attack bonuses, and so on. It was just a different way to move.
I think it made the game more fun, because it added uncertainty about how far the PCs could move and really highlighted the advantage that the sahuagin and the naga they fought had over them. While the PCs doggy paddled along, the sahuagin scouts repeatedly swooped past to attack them. The naga kept dancing out of reach to pulverize them with lightning bolts.
The rules added one die roll to each PC's turn, but that die roll result was fun, interesting, and dramatic. It was cool to watch the scout's swim check when he wanted to charge the naga and finish it off. The rule opened up more chances for dramatic moments - roll poorly, and the spellcaster slips away again to rain spells on the party. With a good roll, the characters finally pin the thing down. Everyone at the table paid attention to the roll, IMO a sign that the rule worked.
In comparison, I tried to design rules for water currents for a sewer adventure I ran. The idea was that when the characters walked through certain areas of waist-deep water, the current would push against them or carry them along.
The rules were awful. The currents had little effect on PC movement, the players had to ask me again and again to explain the rules, and half-way through the adventure I stopped using the currents. No one noticed or even protested.
If you want to test if a rule is elegant, try running a game without it and see if anyone notices.
I really, really like the basics of the rules for the Jump skill. I make a check, and that check shows me how far I jump.
In the campaign here at work, I wanted to try out some new rules for fighting underwater. The first thing I did was remove the current rules for the Swim skill and replace them with a near carbon copy of the Jump skill.
When you attempt to swim, your Swim check result is the distance you move. For rough water and similar hazards, I just used the rules for difficult terrain, and added simple rules for currents (when you enter a current, make a Swim check; if you fail, the current moves you X spaces, then you keep moving).
I ran an encounter with several currents and 3D elements to movement (walls that didn't reach the ceiling, jets of water that the PCs could swim over and under, and so on) and it worked out rather well.
IMO, the change was nice because it had no effect on numbers already on the players' character sheets. When swimming, they kept their ACs, attack bonuses, and so on. It was just a different way to move.
I think it made the game more fun, because it added uncertainty about how far the PCs could move and really highlighted the advantage that the sahuagin and the naga they fought had over them. While the PCs doggy paddled along, the sahuagin scouts repeatedly swooped past to attack them. The naga kept dancing out of reach to pulverize them with lightning bolts.
The rules added one die roll to each PC's turn, but that die roll result was fun, interesting, and dramatic. It was cool to watch the scout's swim check when he wanted to charge the naga and finish it off. The rule opened up more chances for dramatic moments - roll poorly, and the spellcaster slips away again to rain spells on the party. With a good roll, the characters finally pin the thing down. Everyone at the table paid attention to the roll, IMO a sign that the rule worked.
In comparison, I tried to design rules for water currents for a sewer adventure I ran. The idea was that when the characters walked through certain areas of waist-deep water, the current would push against them or carry them along.
The rules were awful. The currents had little effect on PC movement, the players had to ask me again and again to explain the rules, and half-way through the adventure I stopped using the currents. No one noticed or even protested.
If you want to test if a rule is elegant, try running a game without it and see if anyone notices.
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