From my first experience playing, with every game I participated in, play stopped any time that someone rolled up a new character. That is, everyone at the table waited to see what the results would be. The idea that a player would go off alone, while the game continued, to roll dice in order to make a new character without witnesses, was something I didn't encounter until many years later. Perhaps it's because I play with Canadians, and we're all so polite. Still, there's never been any question among players here, to this day, of having a vested interest in a player's new character.
There is, in fact, a palpable excitement among the players. They remark on the 4d6 as they fall, expressing their enthusiasm when an 17 or 18 is rolled. They want to know what the new character's going to be. After all, this is a new member of their team; someone they'll soon have to rely on in a pinch. Each game participant relives when they rolled up their character; how it felt; how the other players reacted. The process isn't boring or dull. It's an opportunity for bonding.
Let's start with my rolling a set of six results. Sorry, not going to make a video of this, so I'll be rolling them without witnesses too ... but as this character is for demonstration only, this should be fine.
My first attempt yields, in order, 12, 15, 12, 13, 8, 15. When rolling a player's "main" character, the first character the player gains, I don't consider these scores to be high enough. As I explained in the 4d6 post linked above, my game relies on a bare minimum of stats. As it happens, the above falls short by 1 point — I require a minimum of at least one 15, or higher, and one 16, or higher. Thus, with a main character, these rolls are scrapped and the player rolls six new ones. Once upon a time, I would just adjust the rolls, to create the minimum; but it's more exciting to have the player roll again.
Now, if the above set were rolled for a character's henchfolk, the additional supportive character a player gets when their main character reaches 5th level, before these numbers are scrapped I ask, "Do you want to keep these numbers, or keep the six you haven't rolled yet?" Only two attempts can be made for a henchfolk, because they're deliberately meant to be supportive. The player already has one tough-enough main character; henchfolk can have flaws.
In this case, I think probably the player would keep the rolls above for a henchfolk. After all, the total is 75, about 2-3 points above average (I believe the average of 4d6, drop the lowest, is somewhere around 12.17, but if someone wants to correct me ...). A new set of numbers could be much lower.
Let me roll a second attempt. In order, 7, 10, 12, 8, 5, 11. Ouch. Wow, that is really bad. One of my party's henchfolk is about this level. The player named her, "Hope." Mostly, as a hench, Hope looks after things.
I'll try again. In order, 15, 17, 13, 9, 12, 16. That's not bad. As these are good enough, I'll make this a fighter, human I think for simplicity, and male because I'm a male. The next step is to place these rolls under the headings of strength, intelligence, wisdom, constitution, dexterity and charisma.
Where to put them is always a point of contention. As a player, my chief concern is survival. At some later point, when I obtain a henchfolk, I'll have other concerns that addition can address. As I know my game, and am observational about how often certain die rolls come up, I know where those stats ought to go to produce the best possible results. I don't withhold that information; I'll tell a player my opinion, if I'm asked. But I'm rarely asked.
Here's my contention with players who want to figure out everything for themselves. They don't figure things out. They don't read the rules that I've posted that apply to making these choices. They don't ask questions. Instead, they throw numbers at stats with abandon, often assigning far more importance to charisma, in particular, than it deserves.
According to my aging table, as a human fighter I'm going to start the game between 15 and 18 years old (unless the character background generator adjusts this, but that's a low chance). This means I'm almost certain to be a young adult. Looking at the age adjustments to ability stats, my "new" character's wisdom is going to be adjusted by -1, and my constitution by +1.
If I put the two highest stats under strength and constitution, I end up with either a 16 strength and an 18 constitution, or a 17 in both. A 16 strength adds 1 point of damage when I hit, but it gives no bonus at all when I try to hit. The difference between a 17 and an 18 constitution is 1 point per level. By the time I reach 9th level, if I do, this provides a difference of 9 additional hit points ... at a time when many of the monsters I'll be fighting cause that much damage a round.
Whereas in getting to be 9th level, I'm going to make hundreds of attempts to hit. That +1 bonus to hit will matter a dozen times in every fight I enter, whether I'm hit or not. Yet where does the player choose to put that 17? For a fighter? Under charisma. At least half the time.
This is because, usually, a player sees that 17 and thinks, "OMG, I can be a paladin!" So they waste the 17 under charisma. Then the put the 16 under constitution, where it rises to another 17 ... and they put the 15 under their strength. Where it is totally fucking useless to them. Seriously. They might as well put the 9 under their strength, since that's the bare minimum ... and every result from a 9 to a 15 gives the precise same bonus in fighting. None.
Now, some would say this proves AD&D is a broken system. See, the system doesn't let players be stupid gits when being a paladin matters more to them than anything else in the game, therefore it "doesn't work." Especially as they find their treasured paladin can't hit anything in a fight. It doesn't seem to sink in that maybe the paladin option should be reserved when at least two 17s are rolled, or that the 16 should be put under strength and the 15 under constitution, so they both become a 16.
I watch this happen all the time. And when it does, I know the player's going to be disappointed. I know they've built some fantasy model for the paladin in their head, but I'm not supposed to say anything, because "agency." So I shrug, wait for the player to slowly grow aware of their start-of-the-game fuck up, and eventually out of pity throw them a +1 sword.
These early decisions in a strategy game can easily be the reason why a player quits our game. And often, by threatening their agency a little bit by speaking some common sense out loud, and saying, "You're really going to miss being able to hit monsters," we at least gain the benefit of saying "I told you so," when they stew and pout away game time. Assigning ability stats matters. Its absolutely as important as choosing players for your office football pool — and there again, there's always one joiner who puts it all on one super-amazing player, who gets a knee injury in the season's second game. Whereupon, they grouse and moan that it "wasn't fair" and "they didn't know."
That's all right for a football pool, but it's an attitude that positively sucks for D&D, when we all play together for many hours at a time. I don't want investigative players, or experimental players, I want HAPPY players, who hit more often when they swing.
Missing stuff is for mages.
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