User:Oportet/Methods of Rolling Ability Scores

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Methods For Rolling Ability Scores


That somehow becomes a discussion on the purpose of all fiction


     With every edition published, D&D adventurers have gotten more and more powerful, at least when rolling for ability scores. At first, it was the now-infamous "3d6 in order"; then it was "3d6"; now we're at "4d6, drop the lowest." In my (admittedly limited) experience playing D&D, I've been in games where the DM ran "4d6, drop lowest, reroll 1s." Supposedly, 10 is the human average, yet adventurers seem to be drifting farther and farther away from average. Of course, adventurers aren't supposed to be average. They're the special forces of their worlds, distinguished from the rank-and-file. However, I'm worried we're getting too powerful, too quick. Adventurers grow to become extremely powerful, but if at first level they're already great, then you've got to wonder what the point of advancement is.

     The problems are compounded by 5e's ability score cap. Adventurers are quickly and frequently becoming "perfect", or flawless in multiple aspects, without any context for their power. As a writer, I'm all too aware of the problems of perfectly powerful characters (Yes, that was a link to Tv Tropes. You'll be seeing those a lot). When adventurers are powerful, they need equally powerful threats. You can't present, say, rioting citizens as a threat, because no peasant could ever think of harming an adventurer. Without this mundane, low-level perspective, fighting powerful enemies doesn't feel unique, epic, or fantastical. The first time you're pitted against a dragon is awesome; the tenth, less so. We need relatively weak characters, or we have no appreciation for power.

     But wait! Just because you roll good scores less often doesn't mean you NEVER roll high scores. No matter what method of stat rolling you use, if you play long enough, you will get a perfect character. All you're doing with honest rolls is encouraging Trial by Devil Axe...right?

     First of all, and I know it sounds crazy, but a perfect character can be an interesting character. I'm not talking about that "roleplaying v. rollplaying" debate; I mean that perfect characters in any form of fiction have their place. Tv Tropes has an entry for these types of characters, and there's several tropes showing how it can be worked into a story. If you're not looking to lose an evening following links, the short version is that "perfect" is subjective. Someone who's great at swinging swords, shooting bows, and charming ladies can be egotistical, or condescending, or dangerous to be around. So when I say "perfect characters", I'm talking about mechanically perfect characters, those guys that can do everything. And yes, mechanically perfect characters can be roleplayed.

     The issue isn't that people occasionally roll fantastic characters. It's that people often roll perfect characters. We're needing to be pitted against dragons more and more, and in doing so, we're cheapening the experience. You don't need to fight a dragon every time for it to lose the epic feeling, or even the majority of times. I realize feelings are subjective, and everyone has their own tolerance for when something feels "cheap". Regardless, if we want something to feel epic, it needs to be used as sparingly as possible.

     Is Trial by Devil Axe the way to go? Of course not; no one should be doing something so monotonous. But unlike games that focus on purely gamist philosophies, D&D lets us get attached to characters even if they aren't perfect. Characters, in their flaws, become relatible. I can't bench press 200 lb., and neither can my rogue, but my rogue makes up for it through wit and diplomacy. My rogue is showing me I don't need to be a hunk to be a hero, and that makes me far more invested in him than some stereotypical knight. Thus, I'm much less inclined to give my rogue the Devil Axe. Trial by Devil Axe requires the player to not care about sending characters to death, so we can prevent it by making players care.

     Of course, this might be my playstyle. Some people get invested in characters precisely because their perfect. They're coming home from a 10-hour shift at their crap job; they need an escapist fantasy, character flaws be damned! Anything less than perfect isn't worth caring about, and if that comes with drawbacks, it's worth the cost. As DMs and designers, we can't say "that's not the way you should play the game"; if we do, they'll just find another table. How can a non-perfect character appeal to these players?

     I know I'm digressing a bit, but personally, I 100% believe there are wrong ways to play games. But even I know I'm not going to convince anyone through a debate. People have their own perspectives, and they're all subjective, including me. If I really want to convince someone of the "correct" way to play D&D, I don't tell them their perspective's wrong. I sit them down at the table and give them new perspective. It's a Catch-22; if people aren't willing to play an imperfect character, then I can't change their thoughts on imperfect characters. I'm not saying they're stubborn, far from it. If every time I played a significantly below-average character was a painful experience, then I'd see the pattern too. The burden of proof is on me, and if I'm going to convince you your playstyle's wrong, you have every right to be scepticle.

     Back on topic. Let's assume you're playing D&D for the escapism. You want to be awesome. You want to be able to slay dragons with giant swords, but you also want to be a genius. Me, too! Here's the problem: D&D isn't real. No matter how immersed we get in the game, if you look hard enough, there's always going to be a immersion break. We all know that D&D isn't the most logical world, and sometimes we can ignore the problems if everything else is up to par. Except we can't. By pointing an immersion break out, we draw attention to it, thus making it the point of focus, thus making it even worse, thus making it even harder to ignore, and so on. It's the centipede's dilemma writ large. Unless you're very good at ignoring problems (and if you are, there's a deeper issue), you'll catch on that fighting dragons just doesn't seem so amazing anymore.

     If that's the case, then why even bother with D&D? Hell, why bother with fiction, period? As it turns out, fiction can make us better people. Thanks to techniques like metaphor, we can come away from fiction with new insight on the world. Fictions lets us find morals and perspectives that we normally couldn't see. For instance, not everyone can be a soldier, but that doesn't stop us from reading a book about war, or watching a war movie, or playing a war game. Authors, directors, game designers, and even DMs can give us these new perspectives.

     That isn't to say escapism is pointless. Sometimes, a message is too unpleasant to swallow without a heap of fantasy surrounding it. Even I admit that D&D wouldn't be as fun without the occasional dragon. We come initially for the dragons and swordfights, and when the escapism runs dry, we can stay for knowledge and understanding. Again, our tolerance for the unpleasant is subjective, and one person's escapism can be too strange for someone else to endure. Creators of fiction, when speaking to the right audience, can use escapism to reach larger audiences.

     At the very least, we should be aware of how escapism impacts our feelings. We want power, we want to fight dragons at every encounter. But without perspective, power becomes meaningless. We need to understand that low-rolling characters have their place. So the next time you roll, consider if you're making yourself too powerful. That 18 might be cursed.

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