[RIFFS/TABLETOP]: Dice Pool versus D20+Modifier: who will steal my heart?
I created these two love letters as a way to work through musings about my own design goals, but I thought they might make for an interesting read for anybody else in the design space. For context, the game I’m working on started out more-or-less as an old-school D&D clone (classic twenty-sided dice and all) to drape a fun little setting idea over, and I’m wondering if I should change the core rolling mechanic. (The setting includes such FUN themes as trench warfare, propaganda, trauma and being stuck in the past, but I’m going to stop myself there. That’s a tangent for another time.)
If you’re unfamiliar with the ‘Old-School’ scene and are worried that I’m ignoring 50 years of game design by going ‘Old-School’, don’t be. There have been countless attempts at ‘improving’ the classic game by throwing out its frustrating idiosyncrasies and spotlighting the charming ones, and Knave is my personal favourite. Basically, the ‘Old-School’ term is a misnomer at this point, and by stealing from Knave, I’m standing on the shoulders of a game design giant (also known as ‘Questing Beast’). Over time, I’ve tested the game and had a lot of fun with it. When this project started I wanted something so familiar I could run it with my eyes closed, but it has evolved into something increasingly unique as I’ve added ideas of my own. Now, I’m being tempted by the D&D Devil to commit the ultimate sacrilege: Finally ditch that icosahedral hunk of resin we all know and love…
My D20 when I told it I was the luckiest girl in the world
To that big pile of d6s I’ve been seeing at my Blades in the Dark sessions, I think you might just steal my heart…
Okay, fair warning, my relationship with the d20 is a complicated mess. When I first created my game, I envisioned two distinct types of modifier: a suite of five static modifiers on your character sheet, inspired by the Classic Six attributes, and various dynamic situational modifiers that let you roll extra dice. The latter is essentially a self-contained pool of dice that modifies your d20 roll, similar to the Banes and Boons used in Shadow of the Demon Lord and Lancer. Are you still with me? All you need to know is that my players roll a number of dice equal to the number of situational modifiers (some of which cancel each other out), add the result of another, different die roll, then add their character’s static modifier. So… that’s three numbers that need to be added together to get the result of a single in-character action… and your average player is even worse at mental maths than a GM. But we can cut this roll’s result down to one number without removing any modifiers. Roll a bunch of dice for your situational modifiers, then roll a number of dice equal to your static bonus. No mental maths; just look at all the dice and choose the highest result. Yeah, I know. All that convoluted word salad just to say ‘I like simplicity’.
There’s something so very enticing about your curves. The probability curve on a dice pool means that players can pump as many resources as they want into improving their character’s stats, but they will never be guaranteed a successful roll. No artificial limits, no punishments, just the laws of probability. Tthe curve makes for a compelling dilemma for those players who like putting thought into their character’s ‘build’... At what point do their stat improvements start providing diminishing returns? I think there is a wellspring of space to explore this dilemma.
Why roll just one die, when I can roll as many of you as I want? Having every one of your stats represented by physical objects, and giving more objects to more powerful characters, is strangely visceral. Many players love the tactile element of rolling a #&%!ton of dice. What can I say? I’m a materialistic bitch, and more plastic is better.
My D20’s face upon finding out I’d been rolling other dice
To my d20, please, I still love you…
You’re Old-School, just like me. As if I haven’t said it enough: I’m an Old-School girl at heart. I cut my teeth on a laundry list of D&D heartbreakers, clones and evolutions… which included, but by no means stopped at: Knave, Old School Essentials, MÖRK BORG, Stars Without Number, Warlock! and also that one that had an interesting rogue class but turned out to be written by a crazy person with questionable morals (I don’t like that one as much as I used to, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a formative roleplaying experience). And you, d20? You were with me through it all. Every one of these games, I dare say, was a love letter to your wonderful shape, the icosahedron. And I would be remiss not to mention that these games, of course, have over five decades of heritage. What this means is that those who look can find tons upon tons of modules and wisdom that are broadly compatible with most of the Old-School genre of games.
We understand each other. It’s less of a mathematical headache for me (the game designer) and my buddy (the game master) if we both agree to just use round numbers and arithmetic to calculate the odds of a gladiator suplexing off-brand Godzilla (or in my case, of a traumatised ANZAC soldier being attacked by his fallen comrades). After all, I failed university-level mathematics hard. You might even say, out of twenty possible outcomes, I got the worst. This means, of course, that if I eschew the icosahedron, I’m making it a lot harder for the GM to adjust difficulty levels up and down on the fly and make challenges appropriately difficult… And, in fairness, some ‘anti-balance’ types might see that as a positive. But you don’t need to listen to them.
You’re a swingy, capricious mistress. That’s right, I actually like your unpredictability. Even after all these years, you keep things fresh and exciting… and don’t you dare listen to those who tell you otherwise. If game masters don’t want randomness, why are they letting players throw fistfuls of dice at them? Okay, I’ll admit that sometimes it’s nice for players to feel ‘in-control’, even when they’re taking a literal gamble. But your twenty-faced, unpredictable nature works so well in combat scenarios… or at least, it does if I’m not playing as an all-powerful, all-graceful, badass. Which is an important distinction. It goes without saying that it’s important to consider who and what your game is about, because a well-designed game carries its themes right to its cold, mechanical heart.
So… will I remain loyal or will my heart be stolen away? Only time will tell.
PS. I know d100-based RPG systems are also common, but personally I don’t think percentages are seductive in the slightest. Perhaps that’s a riff for another time.
PPS. I have a girlfriend. Please don’t tell her I’ve been sending steamy letters to dice.