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Message: <blockquote data-quote="EvilDwarf" data-source="post: 5990080" data-attributes="member: 46843">Ok, so first of all, I'm not a troll, at least not when I checked in the mirror this morning. But the issue of the boring fighter has come up once again in the discussions of Next in these forums, in the play test feedback, and in a recent Next Q&A.I've been playing D&D since its first days, and am still the proud owner of the white box/chainmail rules. Been through every edition (and lots of other systems), and I have honestly been wanting to pose this question and offer the following observation for years--so now with Next on the horizon, I'll give them voice.Here's the paradox I'm talking about, simply put. I'll use 1E as an example, since this is when I first noticed it. Our group had two fighters, Homer and Scylla. Now, there's no one in our group who played with these characters (and I'm certain the same would hold true of outside observers) that these two fighters were anything alike. Homer's weapon of choice was the spear; he wore the heaviest, most protective armor he could lay his thick hands on, was a bit of a drunkard and womanizer (and when I say a bit, I mean a lot), and when under the influence of either would take the most outrageous of chances and act in the most outrageous of ways, from situations in a tavern to a temple to the dungeons. One of his most memorable exploits was venturing, drunken, into a room of vipers, catching them up with his bare hands to place them in a sack, only to hurl the bag later into a room of orcs and hold the door shut.Scylla, on the other hand, was a man of honor. He lived by a strict moral code and considered his honor more important than his life, and he often put that to the test. He favored the two handed sword. He would wear light armor, but would carry on his horse a set of heavy armor. He's best known amongst our group for a couple of episodes. In one, a guard at a castle gate insulted his honor. He challenged the guard to combat at dawn the next morning. He switched out his light dungeon going armor for his heavy armor, and dueled the guard as challenged, with success. Another was the time he stayed behind to battle a stairway full of goblins to buy time so a badly wounded and expended party could make its escape. Amazingly, and with many critical hits to his luck, he actually survived the encounter (no fudged DM rolls) and emerged, badly wounded himself, from the dungeon to the astonishment of his fellow adventurers.So, here's the paradox (finally). Scylla would never have engaged in a drunken bout of womanizing or snatching up a room of venomous snakes. And if Homer had ever volunteered to sacrifice himself to stay behind to hold off a hoard of goblins to buy his companions time to escape, we'd have thought he'd been Magic Jarred or something.Yet, here are two 1E fighters, neither of which are similar, but neither of which could be different, because they played by the exact game mechanic. I've often thought, what distinguishes characters? And I've almost always thought, the characters are distinguished by their class mechanics, and esp in 1E, characters were differentiated only in combat: fighters swing a sword and roll a d20, magic users cast their spells, etc. So, how does one interpret these very different characters who have exactly the same "boring" mechanic? How can these characters be so very different if they can ONLY do the same things, system-wise? And, IF there can be very different, very interesting characters who are locked into the SAME boring mechanics, what role does or should mechanics play in giving players options in making their characters NOT boring?And what do these two characters say about the "boring" fighter, and might that have something to inform Next?</blockquote>

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