Cornered

Our next step is to question whether or not combat is an inevitable part of D&D. Traditionally, it has been, as players in various circumstances carry weapons and wear armour for a reason, and not for show. However, with later badly structured combat systems in place, there are many DMs who eschew combat, preferring to focus on other aspects of gameplay, because the mechanics of combat can be sluggish, dragging down the pace of the game and making it boring for both the players and the dungeon master.

It seems obvious, given the failure of the official community to rationally address this problem, that we must address it ourselves. Some advocate that we should twist ourselves into pretzels, adopting time-saving strategies meant to compress moments in combat down to their bare minimum, strategising the way that die modifiers are added up in advance, or demanding players respond with their actions near-instantaneously, to compensate for the rules being radically diverse and complex.

A better answer, it would seem, would be to adopt a top-down approach to fixing the problem. If an automobile becomes so complex that the driver must adopt so many strategies to cope with it that it ends in back problems and a headache at the end of a three hour drive, the solution is not to find a better position in which to sit in order to drive the car. The solution is to sell the damn thing and buy one that drives more easily. In a way, this describes the choice taken by many DMs, who do feel that if the combat system doesn't perform well, get rid of it. But while I suggest getting a better system, they prefer to get rid of the system entirely and replace it by resolving conflicts through social interactions, clever solutions or careful navigation of the world's dangers... treating combat in the game like the addage, "whomsoever throws the first punch loses the argument."

D&D is not a social dispute, however; it's a game, not a moral high ground promoting the idea that violence is the last resort. Violence in D&D is an intentional aspect of the game, with an expansive rule set intended to moderate it, reward for it and frankly encourage it. Combat isn't a fallback or a failure of diplomacy, it's a key part of the adventuring experience.

The real challenge, then, isn't in avoiding combat, but in making combat work. This demands that it be interesting, fluid, easy to play and integral to the players' actions. Our first step is to accept that yes, we have the right to rethink those parts of the combat system that we don't want to be part of our game, going forward. There's a common belief, especially among some DMs, that the rules as written (RAW) are sacrosanct, that to change them is somehow betraying the integrity of the game. But it’s essential that we challenge this notion, because the rules are just tools created by ordinary designers — people who may not have anticipated every style of play, and who certainly aren't sitting next to us as we try to use the contraption they've designed.

The functionality of D&D must continually be questioned if we are to understand our control and mastery of the game, though the experience that we require. We need our game, including the combat system, to be effective and as easy to manage as possible, given that so many aspects of having to control the players, the narrative and the overall demands of the game are already very, very complex. Like anything else that needs to be designed, it's our privilege to look at a part of the game and think, "How can this be done better." In this manner, human beings have improved everything, from flint axes to rocket ships. Our privilege in this process is absolute. It is our game. No designer or official representative of the game takes precedence over our will or that of our players. We have to run this thing; it's our right to fix it, just like we would anything that we buy and which we must use every day, to meet our standard. Empowerment is key here: we are in control, our judgment about what works and what doesn't is valid, and thus we should go about slashing and burning parts of the system as we see fit. Damn those who are not at our table who think otherwise.

But where to start? We must, after all, identify those parts of the combat system that are dragging down the experience and see why. First, let's consider elements of complexity that are bogging down the game's flow. This includes issues such as the initiative system and its aggravating turn order, which must be rescheduled with every round. This process creates dead time where players lose focus and become disengaged, while the changing order creates a confusion about whose turn it is. Why not just establish a set order based upon, say, dexterity, or intelligence, and have it stay that way in perpetuity. Then Oliver knows he always follows Janine, who always follows Dave, so that the person who follows Oliver knows precisely how much time there's left before it time to declare his or her own actions.

We can minimise spellcasting complexity, and at the same time undercut how powerful the spells are by limiting their scope and effectiveness. Force players to find some other way to innovate than by allowing them to invent forty ways each spell might be made useful in some odd and unique situation, which only creates a long-lasting dialogue around, "What if I do this, or that, or this other thing, or possibly this..." and so on endlessly, as the non-spellcasters sit around and wait, wait, wait.

Excessive adjustments to die rolls create enormous problems with combat flow, with nearly every throw being modified in some odd way; deciding which way to modify a throw, additionally, creates a decision paralysis that frequently holds up the game, while the need to be accurate about the totalling of modifiers does also. This constant math in the middle of what should be a fast-paced, exciting part of the game reduces the process to an ugly mathematical problem that, in reality, adds very, very little to the emotional benefit the characters gain. By simply eliminating dozens of adjustments that applies to most players, this has the effect of reducing the number of modifiers without actually changing the power levels of the combatants in respect to one another. And without the time spent on players who make a fetish of stacking modifiers, they, too, have to apply themselves to other solutions in order to improve their combat effectiveness.

We could also consider issues having to do with hit point tracking, specifically the escalation of numbers for damage and hit points. The reason for this shift appears to have been an attempt by game designers to create a more epic and powerful feel for the combat, especially at higher levels. Imaginably, when characters deal out numbers like 40 damage, this is supposed to be significant. Similarly, having creatures with hundreds of hit points also feel more "epic" when a party is facing something massive, like a dragon. The increase in hit points also allows for longer, more drawn-out fights, which can work for some playstyles but ends up bogging down the game for many.

How is it actually a better design to do 40 damage against a creature with 200 hit points than it was to do 5 damage against something with 25 hit points? The experience of the players is the same. The higher numbers adds mental arithmetic and make combat feel longer without increasing the tactical complexity, with a psychological impact that is short-lived, and negligible in any case. Human beings quickly adapt to the change, making the higher numbers appear meaninglessly elevated, while sacrificing the immediacy of combat resolution. When the numbers were smaller, the effect of an attack could be seen at once; with the DM having to constantly adjust totals in the hundreds, it creates a drag on the game.

This said, fixing this problem is an enormous undertaking. It would require a DM to go through a dozen books, page by page, and personally scale down the numbers, which is a time-consuming and complex process. And since all official materials promote these same inflated numbers, every time a new purchase is made, it means more of the same painstaking work... followed by the necessity of teaching one's players to re-adopt numbers that make sense, but which aren't in line with their memories and habits. The problem, then, is virtually insolvable for anyone without a mad sense of righting things, which does not describe the typical dungeon master. In a fashion, then, everyone is forced to deal with this same absolutely unnecessary change to the rules, more or less with our being made into the company's bitch. We are more or less helpless in having to manage the new game's bloated numbers, even when we recognise that they're bloated for no good reason.

This is the reason why many DMs simply accept the system and try to bend themselves to it, rather than fix the system. The car in this case has been deliberately built to be undrivable... and to some degree, the car has cornered the market so that all the cars we might want to buy are undrivable. The way out of this mess and mayhem is long and tedious and without an easy end in sight... but anyone who styles themself as a dungeon master who intends to still be doing this in ten years time must recognise the necessity of addressing these issues as something that CAN'T BE FIXED EASILY. Rationally, it is better to return to an earlier game version of D&D, prior to these changes being made, and add things that we like from later editions. Then, rather than a long period spent tearing down, we are renovating and building up instead, taking a game with less troubles to start with and building it into a game with some later characteristics, but not necessarily all of them.

As stated already, the goal here is empowerment. As a DM, we shall always do better when the game is what we want it to be. This, obviously, isn't simple, and there's no getting around that. There are few drivers who decide that the best way to get the car they want is to build one themself in their garage, over the space of years... but here I am advocating exactly this mentality if what's wanted is a smooth, practical, immersive game. IF car companies the world over were dedicated to making undrivable cars, then more drivers WOULD be making their own car in their own basement — this would become, unquestionably, a world-wide phenomenon, until the car makers changed their ways and adopted a more sensible product. This author did not invent this problem; it merely exists, of it's own accord, and the solution is not one that can be gotten around in some other way.