In Monte Cook's most recent
Line of Sight, he presents an article called "D&Disms" that he almost called "The Genius of D&D".
In it, Monte goes against conventional wisdom to claim that some of D&D's great strengths have always been: levels, classes, hit points, and dungeons. Newer games have supposedly transcended these limitations, but they're really what made D&D popular -- according to Monte.
On levels, Monte says:
Without the "carrot on the stick" that's clearly displayed ahead of us (in the form of the level advancement system) we might not keep playing the game. If the characters never got better, or if "where we were going" wasn't clear, we'd get bored.
I won't deny that, but I do have to think there's more than one way to provide the "carrot on the stick". First, power-ups don't have to come in the form of levels. Picking up a Feat (Power Attack) and following a Feat chain (Power Attack, Cleave, Great Cleave) could easily serve the same purpose. So could Spells with chains of prereqs.
Then there's the fact that many power-ups in D&D aren't associated with levels at all but with magic items acquired as loot. As many people gloat over their hoard as over their level.
And then there are whole other genres of advancement: roleplaying rewards for having saved the princess, political power, etc. Owning a castle and ruling over the land could make quite a carrot.
And because level advancement comes as a "lump sum" instead of gradually, bit by bit, the benefits are almost always significant and impressive. Yet these benefits come often enough to be fitting rewards for consistent play.
Occasional (even random) rewards that are significant appeal to people more than frequent minor rewards. People enjoy gambling or hunting more than farming or collecting wages.
Even though I can see the advantage of meaningful jumps over incremental improvements, I think D&D's levels are a bit too granular; the jumps are too big. A Feat or Spell certainly seems significant and impressive enough.
The modern 3E notion of classes differs quite a bit from previous editions'. In some ways they've remained constant though:
Classes facilitate the game as a group activity.
True. If everyone has a clearly defined role, each member of the group should get a chance to shine.
Also true. Many alternatives to D&D didn't value simplicity, and that's a shame. In particular, first-edition D&D's rigid classes made character creation a breeze. You could get right to the game.
Classes channel character creation creativity. They provide a templated starting point for you when you make a character. They're not a straightjacket -- they are a median point from which a creative player can deviate. If you want a character who grew up on the streets but secretly wants to learn the arts of magic, you can create a rogue character and eventually multiclass into a wizard. With multiclassing, and skill and feat selection, you can create whatever character you want -- classes don't stop you at all.
Monte explicitly states that "The Genius of D&D" isn't his doing, that it "has to do with the early days of the game's development, and nothing to do with 3rd Edition." Oddly then, his defense of classes rests on 3rd Edition's flexible classes and multiclassing.
D&D's reputation goes back to its 1st edition, and 1E clearly did have classes as straightjackets. Sure, you could make up a different backstory, but the difference between two 5th-level Fighters was negligible, and any two 5th-level Thieves had the same skills with the same emphases.
Even in 3E, many, many classes are surprisingly inflexible. Couldn't every class have used Bonus Feats instead of set Special Ability progressions?
One serious issue with classes (and levels), already mentioned, is the inflexibility. Another, especially now that we have easy access to multiclassing, is that the classes don't often encapsulate just related abilities. That warrior training grants extra Hit Points and an improved BAB surprises no one -- but
any training grants extra Hit Points and improved BAB in D&D. High-level scribes and wizards fight dramatically better than their low-level counterparts, even if they aren't supposed to be great adventurers but just great scholars.
At any rate, the problem isn't classes so much as how classes have been implemented so far.
Monte seems to prop up a Straw Man in his defense of Hit Points:
Sure, a system that describes being burned, falling from a high place, and being stabbed with a sword all using the exact same mechanic isn't very realistic. However, it's exactly that abstraction that makes the game playable and easy to learn.
The number one complaint about Hit Points from the beginning of time has never been their lack of complexity -- although that has come up. The chief complaint with Hit Points has always been that they increase way too fast to the point where they don't match reality -- or even the fantastic "reality" of epic heroes.
We all know the standard arguments:
"How can my Fighter take a dozen sword blows?"
"Oh, well, he's not actually hit just because he's, er, 'hit'"
"Huh?"
"Well, those hit points represent the fatigue of dodging blows and the minor scratches he takes as he rolls with attacks that would've skewered a 4-hit-point Commoner."
"Then why does he have to heal these hit points over days and weeks? And why doesn't a healing potion heal those little scratches? Or a healing spell?"
"Why don't you just play GURPS and leave us alone!"
What is true is that Hit Points are an easy-to-use mechanic, and many alternative games made it their priority to be as complex as possible -- all in the mistaken belief that complexity equals realism equals fun.
Monte complains about non-hit-point damage systems:
Virtually every other damage system is either too deadly over the long term, or not deadly enough.
From my experience, other game systems try to make combat super-deadly, in an effort to distinguish themselves from D&D.
What I find fascinating is Monte's support of Hit Points for scaling well, when, of course, they don't. Mundane attacks (1d8 swords and spears) just stop mattering at higher levels. We all know the pain of cornering a PC at sword point or surrounding him with crossbowmen only to either (a) institute rules that sidestep Hit Points to keep these attacks lethal, or (b) twist the rules/expectations of the game to make those crossbowmen Rogues with extra Sneak Attack damage, or (c) plead with the players to go along and pretend their characters are in fact threatened.
D&D has a tendency to scale
everything together. Hit Points, Armor Class, Attack Bonus, and Damage all increase in almost lock-step, and low damage for a high-level monster is almost always very, very high damage for anyone except high-level heroes.
On Dungeons, Monte says:
I've already gone on at length on this topic in the sidebar on page 106 of the DMG. Let me just add to that by saying that not only are dungeons excellent learning tools for new DMs and players, but they're just lots of fun. Dungeon-style adventuring is escapist, simple and often lighthearted.
I think we can all agree that dungeon-style adventuring is simple, lighthearted fun.
If I look back on my own early D&D days though, I can see that inexperienced DMs need help making the transition from mindless dungeons (a room full of Orcs, followed by a room full of Gnolls, followed by a room full of Bugbears) to sensible adventures.
Also, it's a shame that the rules clearly expect dungeon adventuring. Wizards are balanced for dungeon adventures. Their spell lists are almost all combat spells, and the limitations of their magic (N spells per day) really aren't very limiting at all -- except in a dungeon.
In his conclusion, Monte states:
Some people believe that D&D is the most successful roleplaying game* simply because it was first. I don't know if that comes from a lack of insight or sour grapes. Or both.
* It's the most successful RPG by far --- so much more so, in fact, that other roleplaying games don't really even register on the same scale.
I think there's quite a bit to the idea that D&D arrived "firstest with the mostest" and has owned the niche it created ever since. For something like a game, particularly a complex game, finding other dedicated players who know the rules and want to play is a huge barrier to getting a game going. It's like plugging into a telephone or computer network; the biggest network will get bigger and bigger as more people join it rather than a "better" alternative with fewer members to connect to.
Monte also seems to overlook another big part of D&D's appeal: the sheer quantity of monsters, magic items, and spells it presents. D&D as a kid meant "oohing" and "aaahing" over the monsters and magic items. As an amalgam of anything and everything from all sorts of fantasy influences, D&D may not come with a built-in style (Tolkien or Robert E. Howard or Morte D'Arthur), but it gives you a huge menu of choices for building your own game. I think most of us threw in everything, and that was great fun at the time (and it still can be), but even if you want a more coherent campaign, it's much easier to strip away elements than to create them and add them in.
Many "better" systems restrict their focus or provide flavorless mechanics, expecting the gamemaster to inject his personal taste.
Another element of D&D's "genius" may be its genre: fantasy. D&D hit in the late 70's, the same era when Star Wars arrived, and many feel that our post-Vietnam culture was yearning for feel-good fantasy.
Or maybe D&D's "genius" wasn't any one of these elements. Maybe it simply put it all together better than any other game. Maybe it's the synergy between all this elements that proved to be D&D's "genius".
