In Dungeons & Dragons, a common practice among Dungeon Masters (DMs) is to hand-wave new rulings for the sake of convenience, or with the belief that they’re enhancing the game by simply saying yes. However, I’ve come to realize that this approach, while seemingly beneficial, may actually be more limiting than many of us think. Simple answers keep things moving but ignore the fundamental truth about creating adventures. Running a TTRPG isn’t just about adjudicating the rules, it’s about creating opportunities for characters to risk it all to pursue their goals. Every question asked in a game is an opportunity to create a new adventure, so let’s talk a bit about this.
Brandon Sanderson, celebrated for his exceptional worldbuilding and intricate magic system design, stands out as a titan in modern fantasy literature. His principles, while crafted for literary creation, offer invaluable insights for TTRPG design. In an era brimming with new TTRPG systems being developed and crowdfunded, I frequently ponder how Sanderson’s concepts could shape better game design, or at least preserve a diversity in gaming experiences rather than yet another play on heroic-fantasy without risk of failure. Specifically, I contemplate the potential of these foundational ideas to captivate players through effective game design—a crucial aspect often missed in the foundational design of many emerging games.
The DM is the First Mover in any Dungeons & Dragons campaign. It’s not that they’re superior or more important; rather, the game hinges on the DM’s involvement. As the game’s primary driving force, DMs significantly influence its tone and genre. Moreover, since they orchestrate the world, it naturally reflects their point of view and judgment. This aspect of game-running is a feature, not a flaw. While it’s perfectly valid for players to have preferences about the game’s style, the DM’s creative perspective is not inherently wrong.
The art of travel in Tabletop Roleplaying Games remains a perennial favorite in community discussions. Despite my earlier posts on constructing Perilous Journeys in D&D 5e, the conversation must go beyond mere obstacles and challenges. The true crux lies in the marriage of narrative and geography - a fusion that is underscored yet often lacks actionable guidance. So, how can we elevate the routine task of terrain description into a thrilling spark for player immersion? Let’s dive in.
As a fan of magically animated minions, I’ve always felt somewhat limited by the options available in the 5th edition of Dungeons and Dragons. If you’re intrigued by the idea of a “pet” class in D&D, your primary option is to become a Necromancer and use Animate Dead. However, the image of a group of shambling undead isn’t always what players envision. Given the rich narrative tradition of casters animating objects, constructs, or elements, it’s perplexing that these options aren’t more prevalent in the game.
Ever found yourself scratching your head over the peculiarities of the Death Save system in Dungeons and Dragons (DnD) 5e? In particular, how the system seems disconnected from the gameplay and action. It can seem counter-intuitive when zero hit points result in the same outcome for any character, regardless of how they arrived there. The Death Save min-game is the same, whether you’ve taken a single point of damage, or sustained a catastrophic 150-foot fall. In this post, I aim to dissect the effects of this system on the game and propose a house rule that could shake things up to make the prospect of death an exciting part of the action again.
Delving into the oft-debated mechanics of Dungeons and Dragons (D&D), it’s hard to overlook the perennial discussion points: Armor Class (AC) and Hit Points (HP). While they may seem simple on the surface, these fundamental aspects of D&D often engender misunderstandings and heated debates. Armor Class, though instinctively viewed as a gauge of whether a character is struck or not, is in fact a more abstract concept. Following my recent post What are HPs in D&D anyway?, it’s fitting that we now unpack the intricacies of AC and its symbiotic relationship with HP - the two crucial pillars that underpin the game’s combat system.
Rock, Paper, Greatsword!
The Genesis of Armor Class
Welcome, intrepid Dungeon Masters, to the next thrilling addition to our bespoke bestiary: The Rage Husk. This terrifying creature is no standard zombie; it’s a psychic construct, the haunting aftermath of a Mind Reaver’s psychic assault. Incorporating elements of D&D 4e’s Minion mechanics, Rage Husks serve as a swarm of formidable adversaries that, while dispatched with a single blow, offer a uniquely relentless and ruthless challenge. Join us as we delve into the grim lore of these dreadful entities and explore how they can elevate your campaign, introducing fresh layers of tension, suspense, and strategic complexity. Embrace the dread, harness the horror, and let your adventurers feel the chill of the Mind Reaver’s shadow with the introduction of the Rage Husk.
Launching a new Dungeons & Dragons campaign is no small feat. It requires not only the arduous task of finding players, but also identifying those who are the perfect fit for your envisioned adventure. Even before delving into character backgrounds, safety tools, or other vital session zero elements, a Dungeon Master’s first hurdle is convincing potential players to invest their precious time and energy into the unfolding saga. This initial step bears striking similarity to pitching a fresh product or service. Just as entrepreneurs entice investors with the promise of innovation and value, DMs need to captivate potential players with a compelling campaign concept. Enter the Pitch Deck - a tool commonly used in the business world, but equally potent in setting the stage for a thrilling D&D campaign.
The conversation around what Hit Points (HP) are and what they represent in Dungeons & Dragons (D&D) is a cyclical one. It’s a concept that periodically bubbles up in the tabletop role-playing game (TTRPG) community, like an ancient dragon in its cyclical slumber, and we seem to be in the midst of another awakening.