Time Efficient & Bragging Rights

I live in a state of wonder.

Yesterday, Homer2101 wrote of my decay rules,

"New items' markup doesn't justify the 2.5 extra average degradation rolls. The discount for worn and shabby items doesn't offset their reduced life expectancy under stress. Used items are always most cost-efficient ..."

I honestly don't know how people who live in this world can exist so blithely unaware of how human beings think.  How pervasive is the shot in the image shown, of people waiting many hours for the first touch of a phone they could buy without waiting a week later?  Does Homer not realize that there are players ~ some who I have had play in my game ~ who would throw away an item the second it became "used"?  Just because?  That is how they would see their characters.

I think it's great that Homer crunched the numbers.  It's useful information, and the fact that numbers can be crunched shows how potentially reliable the system is for actual play.  But we do ourselves a disservice when we think the game boils down to how the numbers dictate we should play.  And it astounds me that ~ although there are many people who will never buy anything new, on principle ~ that anyone talking about the subject can be so cognitively dissonant about the way that humans think.  People won't buy "new" because it is cost effective.  They'll buy new because it is "new."  They don't care about the cost.  The gold in their pocket doesn't mean as much to them, as it might to others.  They're adventurers.  There will always be more gold.  But something that is new, is fleeting.

Hell.  Even a new gold piece has a special worthiness that surpasses the value of the metal.  If I were playing a character, and had just bought a new shield, I would look at my fellow player and his used shield and smirk.  "Are you still using that crappy old thing?  Mine is new!"  Oh, what a prick I would be, bragging about my new shield.

Another example, another concern.  The image on the left is the ThinQ Alexa "smart" refridgerator.  You've most likely heard about it.  It is a micromanager that enables you to scan every item of food you put into your refridgerator, so that you can scan it again as you take it out, so the item can keep track of what you have and what you've eaten.  Presumedly, how many calories you're consuming, and from the things I'm reading, speakers for playing music and a voice that carps at you for eating the wrong foods.

There are some things that puzzle me about it.  There are quite a lot of foods that I don't keep in a refridgerator, like flour, sugar, beans, canned items and so on ... and these things get added to the refridgerator after they're cooked together into meals that I make without measuring, because after decades of working as a professional cook I eyeball everything, including most of the common baking I do.  So once I make a meal, out of substances both from and not from the refridgerator, then put them in the refridgerator as left-overs, I'm curious how I scan those left-overs in.  Or, for that matter, if I cut seven slices of cheese off a block, and return the slightly smaller block to the refridgerator, does the refridgerator weigh the cheese?  Or any of the other things I shave down as I'm cooking?  I don't buy pre-packaged foods ... and I'm definitely wondering how I scan out one potato.  Oh well.  There's probably some way it manages this.

If this is the amount of niggling micromanagement we're willing to install into our daily food-consuming activities, some five or six times a day, why would anyone care about having to roll 40 dice to account for equipment decay?

Is it that my readers, and their players, don't know how to speed up the die-rolling process?

I imagine a player with forty items rolling a die, getting a decay result, putting down the die, picking put an eraser, scratching out the "n" next to the character sheet, picking up a pencil, writing in a "u," putting down the pencil, picking up the die, rolling a decay result, putting down the die ...

Are your players really like this?  Homer postulated six seconds per roll.  Mon dieu!

Suppose that it was determined that, out of 60 pieces of equipment, 22 were new.  Some of those wouldn't need to roll at all; if the characters take the effort to pack all the extra uncommonly used articles in a single backpack that doesn't get opened or adjusted, then only the backpack need make a check.  Thoughtful storage would reduce wear and tear.  But let's say, I have 22 items to roll, and I have to use a d4.

First, I can simply roll the dice quickly, in batches of six, noting out loud, "fine, fine, down, fine, down, fine" ~ down meaning an item is downgraded.  Then I make a quick check on my character sheet on the 3rd and 5th item, and begin rolling again.  This way, I can easily do six rolls in six seconds.

Obviously, I'm not using a dice tower.  Dice towers are game momentum killers.  If you're at all interested in the pace of your game, make your players get rid of them.  They're only a way for the player to glom more attention to themselves as they fetishize their die rolls, making others wait and creating unneeded noise at the table.  But what am I saying?  Most of you have already figured this out.

I can speed the process still faster by having my neighbor roll dice, calling off the twenty-two items as I make ticks on my character sheet.  Or, I can roll the dice and my neighbor can make the ticks.  Unless, of course, both you and your neighbor are such profoundly distrustful prats that you can't trust one another to be both honest and faithful ... in which case, why the fuck are you playing with this person, much less sitting next to them?

With the two-person method, I can make 22 rolls in twenty seconds, and probably less.  The checks, once made, don't even need to be addressed during the game session.  The character sheet can be adjusted later, when we're not playing.  Or does that make too much sense?

I'm more than a little astounded that this doesn't seem obvious.  With five minutes and a little sense, with me rolling the dice and the players making ticks on their paper, I could manage five players' equipment.  They would trust my dice, because they trust me, and I would trust them to give the correct number of things that needed a check and to apply the checks to the rolls that hurt worst of all.  I know I could trust my players to do this, because if a player is the sort that won't, it will soon become obvious not only to me, but to every other player I have.  Before I settle in to address the issue, I will probably have two other players separately come to me and say, "You know, I saw Jack doing ..."  These are the kind of players I have.  They don't want to cheat.  They like playing fair.

It must be hard having so little mastery over your game, or the fundamental mechanics of your game, like dice rolling, that you have to make concessions so often for the sake of players who perceive that checks are egregious.  I had been thinking the decay system was a bridge too far, but in retrospect I'm seeing that I've created something rather simplistically elegant.

I refuse to hold myself to a standard of "time saving" with people who will drive all over town for hours on a Saturday to find just the right household towel, between 6-hour sessions playing fortnite and a four-hour football game, but won't sit for five minutes and roll 60 dice.  Fooey!

I Always Had My Suspicions

Many of the comments on the video argue that the test enhances the minutest of inconsistencies, so that the actual difference it the die, as it would affect rolling, is negligible.  I would tend to agree with that.  At the same time, many of the dice shown in this video are distinctly of the cheap variety, the sort whose edges begin to degrade after ten, fifteen years use.  Some of my dice are like this, some have gotten to the point where I won't use them for anything critical in a game.  Others of my dice are 30+ years old and show no breakdown at all.

I only put the video up because I knew this would be something too interesting to ignore.

Visible Random

Steadily, the closer a book gets to completion, the more energy it requires.  As that energy approaches the requirement necessary to actually judge the book's value before putting it on the market, the body reaches the point where it can no longer judge anything with validity.  This is the point I am fast approaching now.

So it is nice if I can envision something outside that framework, giving me something new to consider.

Earlier today, between breakfast and lamenting the necessity of cover letters and their actual value in obtaining a meaningful position, I found myself thinking of random generators from a different perspective.  I'd like to present that perspective now.

The intrinsic problem with any game mechanic based on a die roll is in their limitation.  Typically, dice are used either to indicate pass/fail (such as the 'to hit' die) or to offer a range of possibilities (as in any random monster generator).  Board games such as Monopoly or the game of Life use the second method by streaming the options in a linear loop or ribbon - the multiple possible results of rolling a '7' are different if you're on Park Place than they are if you're on Boardwalk.  The existence of cards or other game mechanics will then result in certain parts of the board being more valuable than other parts.  The table below, for instance, gives the average number of rolls needed in order to recoup the cost necessary to buy the property:

Nothing beats New York

It is in this manner that certain board games made the best possible use of dice before the existence of role-playing games.

The pass-fail result is a harder mechanic to build into a strategy.  If I need a 17 to hit a given monster, then all I can really do is keep trying to hit every round and wait for the odds to pay off.  In later games, we saw an attempt to change this by allowing players to increase their odds through gaining a variety of skills - but fundamentally the static result remains the same: there are only two options:

Suppose we want to decide something less concrete than whether or not a character can jump a ten foot gap without falling - say, in picking the commander of a group of soldiers under our command.  Imagine that we assign all commanders two fundamental traits, loyalty and ability . . . and then when the battle occurs, we have that commander roll pass/fail on both those traits. This would give us a slightly more elaborate set of results:

That is a bit better.  Offers some nuance.  We can assign at least three different results for the battle.  Where both rolls pass, terrific success.  Where both rolls fail, a rout.  And when one roll passes and the other fails, the battle (or whatever situation is to be decided) ends in a stalemate.  Moreover, we can split the stalemate result into two forms - one due to the commander not being loyal enough and the other due to the commander not being able enough.  If a plan is in involved, there are meaningful differences between being loyal and being able.

More importantly, note how we've reduced the chance of a total failure from 50% to 25%.  That is significant - and will become more significant as we move forward.

Suppose we introduce a third trait in our commanders: personality.  Loyalty only describes the commander's attitude towards us - personality describes the soldiers attitude towards the leader we've selected.

Now we have three separate rolls to make - which requires that I produce something like a 3-D chart to keep track:

Best I can do, I'm afraid.  This sort of thing can quickly get confusing, so I will try to explain.  The upper and lower four square arrangements are reproductions of the loyalty/ability table above.  In the upper square, the third roll, the one for personality, passes universally.  In the lower square, the third roll fails universally.

Now we have nuance.  There is only a 1 in 8 chance of all three rolls pass; but also only a 1 in 8 chance of all rolls failing.  There is a 3 in 8 chance that two rolls will pass and a 3 in 8 chance that two rolls will fail.  Even without distinguishing which roll passes and which roll fails, we have four levels of result:  a total success, a moderate success, a moderate failure and a total failure.  We have 8 different categories that we can use to designate specific circumstances surrounding what abilities pass and what abilities fail - which in turn can never be entirely equal in their importance.

For example, suppose a commander fails at loyalty and personality, but succeeds in ability.  This could suggest that while the commander does not care for the plan or the soldiers care for the commander, the commander's sheer capacity to manage the situation stopped the battle from becoming a complete rout.  A commander like this should perhaps not be in charge of men but of the whole war, where he or she can take part in making the plan.

Suppose, instead, the commander fails at personality and ability but nevertheless remained loyal - the commander lost the battle and sacrificed the men, but yet managed to save his or her self.  Is loyalty in this case really a useful trait?  You'll have to decide.

Unfortunately, with three rolls we have no potential stalemate.  Thus I am pressed into producing a 4-D diagram.  I apologize if this gets confusing:

The fourth roll might be anything - but I prefer a negative alternative.  Sanity, perhaps.  On both sides of the above diagram, the 3rd roll applies to both left and right top or bottom squares (depending on pass or failure).  The 4th roll applies to either the whole left side of the equation or the whole right side.

I think I will disdain from this point from going through the specific possibilities.  By now the reader should have the idea and be able to count.  What's important about the above is that none of the rolls need to be a 50/50 chance of pass failure.  Obviously, you would want the best possible set of traits imaginable, basing them on intelligence (ability), wisdom (loyalty), charisma (personality) and perhaps a completely outside the framework determination for sanity (which would not be wholly evident, would it?).  Balancing these different attributes is what makes for a similar nuance that a board game offers to dice-as-selection-tools.

Since a character's ability stats are themselves based on a selection die, and since we can enhance any characteristic by selecting aspects of it still further, there's no end to the nuance that can be achieved.  We can get further interesting patterns by changing for what length of time the above rolling applies: A single round?  An hour?  A battle?  The 'to hit' die system works because we expect the players to be able to roll several times to get an overall average of success.  By increasing the number of times we need to roll to determine the result, we produce a more reliable mean from which to judge success (consider the table above regarding Monopoly properties).

This is all old hat.  I meant to expand the reader's perception of the decisions being made by making them more visible.  I hope that it helped.

Roll-playing & Craps

In puzzling out a solution for my influence/competence problem, posted last Thursday, I've found myself wandering through a number of rabbit holes . . . and these have been problematic because of their potential contribution to 'roll-playing.'

I'm sure I've mentioned this a few times, but just to be clear: I feel that rules are better when they offer a player a choice rather than a result.  That said, there's no real way of determining whether or not the choice is the right one except either by dice or DM's fiat - and I am absolutely opposed to the latter.

The trick, then, is to identify a way in which choice influences which dice are to be rolled, and what results are obtained.  For example, a player decides to attack an enemy by stepping back and loading a bow, moving part of the way forward and throwing an axe or stepping up and swinging a sword. Each ultimately ends in the success being determined by dice, but the effects of each are different in terms of the result.

This puts me in mind of the game craps, where the participant decides ahead of time what to bet their money on - long odds or short - and how to bet after certain results are produced.  For the shooter, we have three basic possibilities:  roll a 7 or 11 and win; roll a 2, 3 or 12 and crap out; or roll some other number and defer the win or loss until later.

It is this third result that interests me.  Fundamentally, it doesn't change the win/loss dynamic, it only extends the time before the win or loss can occur.  Now why is that important?

First, because it allows additional betting, both for or against the shooter, based on the difficulty of the point to be obtained.  A mess of new odds are presented to the participants who must adjust their strategies depending on what point chances to show up.  It is something like having a scroll of protection against magic in your hand and wondering if you should read it before opening the dungeon door - dependent, completely, on what information you chance to have about what's on the other side.

On the surface, it appears that craps is entirely a roll-playing game.  Like all betting games, however, it isn't the mechanism that matters - it is the stake you put behind the mechanism.  That scroll is valuable.  It would suck to waste it.  Not using it, however, could mean the difference between life and death.  Using it on this occasion, yet again, could mean not having it somewhere further on down the line when you really need it.  So what are you going to do?

Choice.  The die roll gives a result but the choice falls on what you decide to stake on that roll.  All 'roll-playing' is based on this principle.

For the record, more money is won and lost worldwide playing craps and other similar games than is staked on all the drama that has ever been produced.  Just sayin'.

I had a solution for working out the competence of doing your job (or an NPC doing their job) on a day-to-day basis, but in reality it was all die rolls to get a result without there being much choice.  I'm organizing an alternative plan which, as it turns out, steals shamelessly from Sims 3 and ends in producing a new measurement, reputation.  I'll be writing about that in another post.

Vast Numbers

From Malcolm Gladwell's David and Goliath: Underdogs, Misfits, and the Art of Battling Giants, giving a typical example of a teacher speaking about class size:

"My perfect number is 18 [students in a classroom].  That's enough bodies in a room that no one person needs to feel vulnerable, but everyone can feel important.  18 divides handily into groups of 2 or 3 or 6, all varying degrees of intimacy in and of themselves.  With 18 students, I can always get to each one of them when I need to.  24 is my second favourite number.  The extra six bodies make it even more likely that there will be a dissident among them, a rebel or two to challenge the status quo.  But the trade off with 24 is that it verges on having the energetic mass of an audience instead of a team.  Add six more of them to hit 30 bodies and we've weakened the energetic connections so far that even the most charismatic of teachers can't maintain the 'magic' all the time.  And what about the other direction?  Drop down six from the typical 18 bodies and we have the Last Supper, and that's the problem.  12 is small enough to fit around the holiday dinner table - too intimate for many high schoolers to protect their autonomy on the days when they need to, and too easily dominated by the bombast or bully - either of whom could be the teacher herself.  By the time we shrink to six bodies, there is no place to hide at all, and not enough diversity in thought or experience to add the richness that can come from numbers."

In context, Gladwell is discussing that class sizes have been statistically proven (read the book before you disagree) to have no influence whatsoever on a student's ability to succeed in school, whereas of course teachers have preferences that have much to do with what teachers want.  I want to use the passage, however, to highlight those two things that I've put into bold.  The situation that bullies dominate, and where the players lack enough diversity in experience.

Sunday I included an excerpt from the book about emergent behaviour that I don't think I'm going to expand.  I'm don't feel that I am required to go through and point out sentences that people feel were not important enough to read or assimilate in order to understand the point - I put the sentence there and I assume the reader will read IT as well as all the other sentences in the passage.

The sentence I refer to is this:  "To produce synthesis of this kind requires a vast number of interactions . . ."  Vast.  As in, more than the reader can comprehend.  Since I had several people, good and bad, express a misunderstanding about what the word vast means, who feel that 'emergent behaviour' can result from the dialogue of players around the table, I thought perhaps I would try to give a little better explanation here.  For the book itself, it doesn't specifically matter. The passage is there to convey information to people who are somewhat 'up' on the mathematics. For those people who are not 'up,' the passage can sit in the corner like an old shoe until the day the reader comes back to it again with greater understanding.

Look at the passage from teachers again.  Six children are not enough to produce diversity.  There's a number of reasons for this.  First, if there are only six, they are probably very homogeneous in upbringing and culture.  Remember, it took 24 for it to be likely that there's a 'rebel' in the group.  Six children also have a lot of power to influence or dominate each other, as there's no place to escape.  This means that the bully in 12 children is 665,280 times as powerful among only six.  I can prove that mathematically.  Among 12 students (factorial 12!) the number of possible connections between those students is 479,001,600.  Among six students (factorial 6!) the number of possible connections is only 720.  Don't pretend that this isn't the case.  This is a reality of permutations, like God not being able to make a triangle with three sides that add up to anything other than 180 degrees.  [Alexis is wrong in parts here]

The amount of influence that a strong child - or adult - has among a group of six people is incredible compared to the amount of power that same individual has in a larger classroom.  This means that among six children, or the five players of your game + you, if there is one person who's personality is even a little bit stronger than the others, the others are going to follow that strong personality.  That is something you need to be accept.

This also means that, regarding 'emergent behaviour' is concerned, the large proportion of individual, unique moments - far, far too many of the possible random elements - are going to be skewed by that individual pushing or pulling everyone else in one direction.  There won't be enough kinetic energy in the system, there will be too many interactions that will produce null effects, and a critical mass of aberrant behaviour won't be reached.  Not remotely in your dreams.  If you think otherwise, you're not reading the above with a clear head, you don't understand enough about math or people, and you really ought to finish your education before weighing in.

Now let's look at numbers.  Let's start with the most popular example of all time where it comes to talking about the vastness of numbers and the likelihood of emergent behaviour.  Let's talk about cards.

You have a deck of 52 cards.  From this deck, in a truly random fashion, you decide to draw two cards. Let's say, you get first get an 8 of clubs and then a 3 of diamonds.  You put the cards back.  You shuffle the deck.  The deck is truly shuffled.  The deck exists in a universe where there are no flaws on the cards that would make any one card physically different from another card.  What are your chances of once again drawing an 8 of clubs and a 3 of diamonds in the same order?

The answer:  52!  (The exclamation point is not there for emphasis.  The '!' indicates 52 factorial). [Turns out, Alexis has his head up his ass for a lot of this post's math.  Please disregard, and see the comment from Giordanisti below]

In ordinary numbers, 52! = 8.0658175 x 10 to the 67th power.  How many is that?  Well, in round figures, if you wrote each possible combination in very small print onto a hydrogen atom (assuming that were possible), then you would have to write the possibilities on enough hydrogen atoms to make a small galaxy.

And now we are talking about numbers vast enough to produce emergent behaviour.  Humans interacting with each other just doesn't amount to beans.  If all the atoms of all the objects and persons at the gaming table could break apart and interact with each other, then yes, we would have enough big numbers.  But that's not what's happening.

The dice, on the other hand, like cards, are producing incomprehensibly vast random associations without our having any awareness that this happening - because numbers as big as these are just beyond our ability to cope.  That is why, thankfully, we have math to cope for us.

I continue to be astounded by people who think that math isn't important.  Or that math is the last thing that should be used to describe or explain something, or that somehow the power of the will can be used to prove that math isn't the master of all things.  Even as I write this post, there are wholly ignorant readers who are shaking their heads, thinking that I've somehow pulled a fast one, or invented a straw man, because they're damned resistant against any idea that mere numbers could control everything they do or see. They sit here on this internet and spit on the math and spreadsheets I make for my world and yet they just don't get it.

They sit on the internet.

The internet.

And pooh pooh math.

That is an amazing demonstration of sheer stupidity.

I'm going to end this post with a favourite quote from Robert A. Heinlein, that appeared in Time Enough for Love:

"Anyone who cannot cope with mathematics is not fully human.  At best, he is a tolerable subhuman who has learned to wear his shoes, bathe, and not make messes in the house."

UPDATE:

It occurs to me just now, a few hours after writing the above post, that there is a way of demonstrating this difference between player personalities and their effects upon possible behaviours as compared to the dice.

Try an experiment.  Sit down with your players and have them fight out a combat where no dice are thrown. Instead, tell your players that each round, they should just "go with their gut" on whether or not they hit. Then, when it comes around to the monster's turn, as the DM the reader should do the same.

Having done it once, whatever the result, set everything back to the start and have the players do it again. Take note of any differences.  Try it a third time.  Now a fourth.  How long will it be before you start to see that things are becoming very boring and silly and repetitive, as certain players either predictably change things up or predictably go with the same decisions as before.

Now, have the combat with dice.  Then have the combat again, with dice.  Take note of any difference. Take particular note of how the DICE, and the players reacting to the dice, force unpredictable behaviours from your players.

This is the difference.  This is why player decisions do not produce emergent behaviour, whereas the dice do.

Roll 'Em

Because we are setting up a fundraiser in June to pay for printing costs and the price of travelling to Toronto this August, we are looking for additional things to sell.  My daughter commissioned this T-shirt design, which we plan to have on sale within six weeks.  Let me know what you think of it, and make a suggestion or two about what catchy expression it needs:

The Power, Oh The Power

This is going to sound absurd given recent posts upon the subject of dice, but lest we forget that I use dice to play D&D every day, I do have some opinions on their effect in the game.

I see the poll I ran last week ended with 52% of the votes asserting that watching other people roll dice produced a lot of physical effect.  I'm not certain the actual 'watching' is what people answered, but be that as it may, I'm willing to go along with there being psychological effects.  I'm simply not sure it takes dice to get those effects ... but for the benefit of the majority, I'll talk a bit about the psychological effects I try to cause.

I don't know how I adapted to using dice to promote terror.  It seemed to be something that came naturally.  There is a sense of power involved in pointing to a random person during a game and commanding them to "roll a d6" without explaining why or what the die is for.  The less they know, the better really.  They should be able to figure out that its either initiative or surprise - but either way, the fact that is it probably one of those is a bad thing for the party, isn't it?  Particularly for those voodoo artists who think they can make a d6 roll high or low at will.  If they don't know what the die is for, which should they hope for?  Is it to see if they are surprised, or is it to see if they surprise?  They just don't know.

It is a powerful moment ... like god putting the finger on a player.  "ROLL A D20, MINION," booms the voice.  The chosen player feels a moment of tension as they search for the d20 of their choice.  The fate of the whole party depends upon this roll.  The other players lean in to see what will come up.  The DM looks on benignly, his face revealing nothing.  The die tumbles and falls, revealing a 17.  The DM says "Oh."  He does not explain the exclamation.  He shakes his head, consults a book, then proceeds forward with whatever had been happening.

Infuriating, compelling, emotional.  This is what dice give you.

For those who might think I don't understand this, I could only suggest you play in my world.  Drama is built upon such things - and I love the production, manipulation and escalation of drama.  It is a hammer banging on a drum shifting up to ramming speed; it is the unexpected interloper; it is the tiny thing you didn't notice that is just about to kill half the party.  It is the statistical chance that the die will save the party vs. the statistical chance the die will kill the party.  It is the HEART of D&D ... mwa-hu-hahahaha!!!!

Or, you know, it's just dice rolling on a table.

Don't get me wrong.  The dice manufacture player involvement and perceived player agency.  I'm just not sure they are the only way both can be accomplished.

Just Keep the Damn Earth Flat

Let's talk about the player's weapon.

Above we have what I am sure at three completely modern-produced swords, despite the website they came from (not important).  The origin of the swords does not matter.  What matters are the blemishes and the nicks and chips that the sword may be conjectured to have lost or gained.  Did that black spot come from a dragon?  Was it discolored when it came into contact with the polar worm's gullet?  Were the carvings added later, by the King of Wisteria?

We have no idea.  All we have is a word, "sword," written on a character sheet.  We can't begin to know the effects of combat on the weapon, because to work out the effects of combat on a weapon with dice would take a ridiculously long time.  It would take a long time to throw the dice, it would be painstaking to write out said effects - and it would take far too fucking long to draw out the sword every time the "visuals" changed.

Hey, you know what doesn't take a long time to do shit like this?  Computers.  A computer can compute two swords hitting one another; it can compute (given perameters) the damage one sword does to another sword; and it can RENDER the image of both swords, so that as you fight, you can see minute, moment to moment changes affecting your weapon.  In this marvelous age of computer graphics and terabytes, this is possible.

Oh no, wait, it isn't.  We mustn't replace dice with anything closer to reality.  That would be wrong.

Still, it might be sort of interesting if everyone's weapons were recorded on their lap tops; if we incorporated a kinect-like graphic into the system so that you chose the weapon you were going to use, you reached towards your laptop, you 'grabbed' the handle of the weapon ... and then swung the weapon, generating those random numbers and then waiting, breathlessly, while the computer calculated the effect.  You could play the system both ways - incorporating your actual swing into your chance to hit ... or simply retaining the swing for the sense of doing something, and letting the computer roll the effect strictly randomly.

Oh, wait.  Yeah, that would be boring.  Why should it happen that the mace I have in my equipment list swings different or odd compared to someone else's mace?  That's boring.  Why should it be that my sword hits a bit less now since it was bitten by that gorgon, leaving that big scorch mark that sort of looks like that bitch Kardashian.  Fuck, that is SO boring.  What I really don't want is a sword that has complex modifiers that change and develop over time, depending on how the weapon is reforged or how long I've had the weapon, and how used to the handle I am.  Heck, I don't want to have to put up with slightly shittier effects from a NEW weapon I haven't broken in yet.  How fucking boring is that?

Yep, just give me those dice.  Those static, inflexible, limited, unchanging, nuance-free dice that give me all of twenty possibilities when I roll them.  Wow, just think:  TWENTY.

Fuck, that's enough for any game.  I don't want animals with complicated personalities that require me to make careful choices about how long to ride them and what food to feed them and what I say before I mount them.  "Horse" on my equipment list is ALL the information I need, thank you very much.  Anything more than that and I start to feel, well, inadequate.  It's just too much information, you know?

Yes, true, the computer handles all that information and I just get an answer that says the horse is a bit "spooky"this morning - but fuck, just because the computer can automatically account for my class, level, wisdom, previous experience with the animal and so on, and instantly flash that up on a screen for me, that doesn't make it better than writing things on paper.  Damn, I just so love writing things on pieces of paper, especially when I've forgotten to bring my character or I can't find the sheet that's important right now or I forgotten to write it down.  You know what's even better?  When the four other people at the table are rifling through their character sheets to find three words written about the mule they bought last week.  Now that's goddamn roleplaying!

Look, it's your game.  You can be happy with this two dimensional approach forever, or you can ruin the game by incorporating tools that have been invented since 1990.  Obviously, we know where I stand.

Fuck those computers.  Let's have a sword just be a word on paper.

The Limitations of Dice

Well done, well done!  The cause of dice has been bravely defended!  Long live the die!

I am not surprised that so many people missed the point.  A fetish is a very powerful influence upon a person's belief system - enough to terrify people, enough to send them to war ... and certainly enough to make them stamp their feet and raise their voices.  And make no mistake about it - dice are a fetish.

Many people seem to think that I am advocating the use of electronic randomizers to replace dice.  Some of the comments spoke about using a phone to generate a die roll instead of rolling die - and since the electronic die replaces the substantial die, it possesses the same limitations of the substantial die.

What are those limitations?  Hm.

Gentle reader, the game is not the dice.  The dice are the tool by which we create a random element in the game, which is necessary for creating uncertainty and drama - the "unexpected" which forces every action taken by the players to be one of RISK.  Without risk, there is no game.

The game requires that the players possess SOME control over what they wish to risk, and to what degree they wish to risk.  In the main, it is similar to a player at a craps table deciding upon what odds they wish to bet.  The will to play long odds vs. the will to play short odds is also a fundamental part of the game.  The good player learns when to play long and when to play short - and balances their play against the odds they choose to play at.

So long as these elements remain part of the game, everything else can be changed.  If the change improves the game, the change OUGHT to be made.

The question isn't, "Is die rolling a lot of fun?"  The question, dear readers, must be, "Are dice the last word in how to play the game?"

The answer to that question is No.

People speak about "roll-playing games" - which result due to the limitation of dice.  IF I wish to increase the number of variables which can be rolled for - and therefore nuance the unexpected and in turn the element of risk, I must roll MORE dice to compensate for the new possible variations.  As I increase the game towards greater and greater nuance, I must roll more and more dice.  As I roll more and more dice, the game becomes increasingly complicated, as each new set of dice rolls requires more human computation to determine their outcome.  Human computation in the game is dull!  There is a limit to how much human computation players are prepared to do.  As long as we must rely upon human computation to determine the level of nuance in a game, the game can only be nuanced to a certain degree.

Once more for the sleepers in the back - if you only want to know if your sword hits, and how much damage it does, that only takes one die roll.  But if you want to know where your sword hits, that's a die.  If you want to know if you drop your sword, that's a die.  If you want to know where your dropped sword lands, that's a die.  If you want to know what your blow to the enemy's head dies, that's a die.  Everything you want to add is a DIE.  And every die that's added is another moment with other players at the table are watching a die roll bounce and flip its way to its conclusion.  It's another five seconds in the game, while Billy picks the yellow dice he rolls for "drops & breaks," and for Billy to wind up, and for Billy to throw too hard and bounce it off the table, and for the players to debate on the modifiers and for the DM to look the results up on another chart.

It's another five seconds YOU don't play, gentle reader, while Billy does.  It's five seconds multiplied by the number of other players, further multiplied by the number of rounds, further multiplied by the number of other nuanced rolls, all resulting in more confusion and debate and disagreement.  It's more shit for the new players to learn and it's a further obstacle in the reward mechanism of success.  More rolling just fucking sucks.

So we don't do it.  We limit ourselves TO THE DICE.  We limit the game TO THE DICE.

That's okay ... because we love the dice, don't we?  Yes, we love them.  Fuck the goddamn game - we have all the risk assessment we can handle anyway.  We don't need more.

About the dumbest thing I've heard over the last four days is this idea that dice create a physical/emotional effect by the time it takes for them to fall.  This isn't dumb because it isn't true.  This is dumb because people seem to think ONLY dice can have this effect.

By this time, three decades into the widespread availability of computers, people ought to know that human response can be programmed.  It's not like this is new!  You want to incorporate a time element?  No problem.  You think your animal brain can tell the difference?  It can't.  You respond chemically the same way to watching a fake die on the screen as you do to a real die ... the only difference is, when you hold the real die in your hand, you develop a mythical, imaginary attraction to it which you confuse with reality.  When you decide that you'd rather retain that imaginary attraction over and above the possibilities and principles of the game, then you make the die your game.  And in that case your game, my dear reader, is NOT D&D.  It's something you might consider doing alone and then washing your hands afterwards.

Oh, I realize there are a lot of really stupid people who would rather fetishize their dice and play the game the way its always been played.  If this kind of reaction wasn't rife in the human population, we'd have tossed religion out on the doorstep centuries ago.  People will hold onto their bullshit no matter what you say - which is fine for them.  Doesn't change the fact that it IS bullshit.  No matter how many sentimentality flags are stuck in its steaming pile.

The Age of Dice

Dice are like any other technology.  When people start talking about the sensual quality of its use, then you know the technology is already dead.

The current arguments about paper books, for instance, in which people talk about their smell, or the tactile feel of a book in their hands.  I happen to think books have a purely technological superiority - I can upload the page I want in a book in about two to five seconds, thank you muchly ... about the time it takes the e-book to stop showing the company's marketing logo.  Still, that's not the argument you hear - it's all about a book's feel.

So it goes with dice.  Carl, in a comment yesterday wrote,

"You can't shake a number generator in your hand and blow on it. You can't throw it soft so it barely rolls or hard so it bounds around for an eternity. There is no moment of suspense as the rotation slows and the final tumbles produce a result."

There it is.  The pathetic bleat of the last ditch argument.  It feels better.

I don't want to bad mouth dice too much.  People worship them.  But if we're going to propose that dice are so special that an instant video of a result isn't as interesting, we're going to be quickly up shit creek.

Has anyone invented a video game that includes a reader pad for dice?   This is totally possible.  You plug the pad into your USB port, you throw the die on it, the pad reads the grooves in the downside of the die and declares you've thrown the obverse side.  There you go!  A video game that takes into account the moment of suspense that can only be gained by ROLLING A DIE.

Ridiculous.

Tradition is a beautiful thing.  Here's the thing about tradition.  Most of the time, it is only tradition because at the time of its creation, that's all there was.  This is a good reason because it is the ONLY reason.  Usually, when it ceases to be the only reason, the tendency is for human beings to concoct additional, backward-in-time justifications towards the argument that IF there were other options, we would still have taken the one we did, because its better.

Fact is, we don't know that.  Some people just wish that.  But I promise you, if TSR could have made money in 1979 by producing a really keen electronic device that randomly rolled any number you wanted, that was small and self-portable and made a really cool Star Wars beeping sound when you punched a big red button, we would be arguing about the value of that.

Dice are going to be around a long time.  No one has to worry they won't be able to use dice in their games.  But it isn't because they're "better" ... that is just bullshit.  It is because dice are older.

Randomness

The resident genius that runs in my offline campaign does not like computer-driven random number generators.  They do not, in his correct estimation, produce 'true' random numbers.  The most flexible, familiar one on your system would be in your excel program, in which you can obtain a random number either by typing either formula:

=randbetween(x,y) - which will give you whole numbers between x & y
=rand()*x - which will give you all numbers between zero and x.

There are ways to play with these formulas, but I'll let you look it up elsewhere.  I mean only to address the problem that these number generators (which use the clock in your computer as the initial 'seed') are only good for ONLY tens of thousands of random numbers.  Hm.  I don't know about you, but tens of thousands sounds like a lot.

If we presume that the time it takes to roll a die, watch it bounce on the table and stop, read the number, and snatch up the die preparatory to roll it again is only one-and-a-half seconds, it would take you four hours and ten minutes to roll the die 10,000 times.  This is assuming the die never takes too long to roll, and never rolls far enough away that you need to lean forward (wasting precious tenths of a second) and that you never drop it.  So, under those circumstances, it is possible to make 10,000 rolls in the space of an ordinary D&D session.

But even if we argue that the second set of 10,000 numbers is precisely the same as the first set (because we have a really crappy number generator), it hardly makes a difference ... because those die rolls will be applied to so many possible tables that the repetition becomes meaningless.  The only concern would be that you or the players knew what the next number in the sequence was going to be - and that they modified their behavior to take advantage.

Try an experiment.  Write out a list of 100 d20 rolls, print them and hand them to each player.  Do not keep a list for yourself.  If at all possible, don't look at the list you give your players.  Tell your players that these are going to be the next rolls that everyone is going to you - DM included.  Then run your game, designating when your players should roll dice to hit, save or whatever else as usual.  Do not let your players choose the order in which they attack - go right to left around the table, or whatever usual method you use to keep order in your game.

I'm guessing that foreknowledge of the rolls won't be that much of an advantage.  I'm also guessing the players will get frustrated at the enemy "stealing" their rolls.  They might be able to strategize a little, since they will hold a physical list in their hands which they can think about in advance.

Imagine how hard it would be to make it work if they had only their memories to rely upon, and could not compare memories with each other.

The reality is that we're not complex enough to take advantage of a repetition even if there was one.  If there was some Rain Man at the table with perfect memory, and he was restrained from shouting out the numbers ahead of time (I know a number of people who would like Hoffman gagged), he wouldn't have that much of an advantage, since those really good numbers were going to be stolen from him most of the time.  Perhaps some genius would like to write and tell me how they'd manage it - for myself, I think that one more elf standing behind a tree taking one unexpected bow shot would totally fuck up Rain Man's whole plan.

Tell me how I'm wrong.

From my experience, I believe the game itself is unpredictable enough to counter-balance any lack of randomness that might be present in a pseudo number generator.  There are too many human variables influencing the exact course of action from minute to minute that doesn't exist in the static computer codebreaker/statistics manager that needs 'real' random numbers.

Perhaps there's a future in cyphers based on four D&D players fighting a red dragon that the Russians are working on right now.

ADDENDUM:

You can try this experiment too.  Tell your players you're going to use a random number generator for every roll all night.  Make lists of 150 x d20, d12, d10, d8, d6 and d4 rolls, and use that list over and over again - using multiples for when more than one die is rolled (3d4 for instance).  Don't tell them you're doing this.

See if anyone notices a repetition.  If they do, see if they can make use of it in the course of one session.

(You can always justify these things by handwaving their justification with magic)

Die Police

For those of you who came expecting a diatribe against the police, and why they must all be killed, you're going to be disappointed.

Over the years I have developed some definite rules about the die throwing in games, not because I like rules, but because every once in awhile it helps to retain a certain degree of order when six people all want to talk and take action at the same time.  And where it comes to rolling dice, there are certain guidelines that I apply that helps keep control ... namely, over players who are too exuberant, wily or otherwise aberrant.

For this post, I've broken down these rules into who, when, why, how and where dice should be rolled.  I've been playing according to the principles below for so long that it has actually taken me some deep thought to dredge up just what those rules are.  Everyone at my table plays habitually according to them, and most new players seem to adapt quickly.

They all have reasons for being, which I will include in the description.  Incidentally, 'what' isn't included because it seems very clear to me what die players should roll ... at least so far as maintaining order is concerned.

Who should roll?

This isn't always clear.  When a player is in the bathroom, or temporarily involved with something otherwise distracting - and I want the game to continue - I'm prepared to allow a pinch roller in any situation that's non-life threatening.  Thus, if the party is rolling to find out who gets a particular treasure, or if anyone can identify what the animal tracks are that have just been discovered, I have no problem with someone else rolling a die for Jeremy in the bathroom.

But where it comes to combat, or a saving throw, or anything critical, I'd rather everyone waited until said player is able to return to the table.  I don't care how long that takes.  There's something important about a player rolling for their own life ... and it saves on the inevitable argument, and long-term whining, when Christopher fucks up Jeremy's saving throw.  But this should be obvious to anyone.

When do they roll?

When I fucking say so.  Something that bothers me is when John stumbles into a room, sees Mook 1 and says, "I kill it." and starts rolling his d20 ... before I've even spoken.  Um, anyone heard of 'surprise'?  'Initiative'?  Distance from target?  I need John to realize the world does not revolve around his d20, but that D&D is a thinking game.  It's not like it's a matter for groveling ... I'm only asking for John to say first, "Can I hit it?"  So I can say, "Yes, roll."  It takes two seconds, and saves a wide variety of misunderstandings and re-rolls, all of which bollixes up a good running.

Similarly, during combat it annoys the shit out of me when every player at the table rolls out their dice, holding onto it until I call out to see what they've done.  I tend to go around the table, in order, every combat ... or around the combat representation, if that's sometimes easier.  And I have noted, through long experience, that there is a particular kind of clever fellow who surreptitiously rolls the die while I'm paying close attention to Fred's action ... keeping that die if its good or making the decision to roll when I get around to that player's turn.  Even if none of my players think they would do this, if the temptation is there, one will eventually fall for it.

Why allow the temptation.  It is easiest to simply have me point to people and say, "Your turn," have them roll the die and continue.  The time consideration isn't relevant.  And meanwhile, players learn to pay attention to other players, which is polite.  Plus John up above learns self-restraint, not to mention giving other people an opportunity to make suggestions, causing everyone to better enjoy the game, together.

Why roll?

Because I fucking told you to, that's why.  It is not the player's place to question why.  I haven't had anyone bitch about this one in years and years.  But when I say "roll a d10" ... it is for SOME reason, and just now I don't want you to know.  Most times, it's not in my interest (in order to keep up the suspense) to tell a player why they're rolling a die at this moment.  The player's hate it, obviously ... every roll feels like they've just made the worst mistake possible, killed themselves, etc.  A very low roll, and they expect the DM to say, "Oh, that's bad, you've just cut off your own leg.  Roll another d20.  Oops ... apparently you've just stuffed it into your asshole.  Well, these things happen."

It isn't in my interest to explain how these things happen until, well, that information becomes obvious ... and I am a demon for withholding information.  I believe it's the biggest part of the game.  So roll the damn die, and good luck.

How are they rolled?

Legally.  Which means, I want to see those fuckers bounce.  I've played with players who I swear have spent months sitting in rooms working out just how to let the dice roll gently off their fingers, so that if they start with this face up and let the thing skip a bit over the table, they're going to get whatever number they want.  The reason why I know this is true is because when you make these people throw with a cup, they suddenly start missing.  One fellow, in fact, was stupid enough to admit it to two other players, and everyone kicked him out from their games.

A short half skip across the table isn't enough.  And the player's hand better be at least three or four inches off the table.  If the rolls are consistently bad, I'm not going to quibble, but some players will take advantage.

I'm not saying I'm not paranoid.  I have been flat out wrong about these things now and then, and hard feelings have resulted ... but I roll the dice with a good bounce, and I expect the same from others.  It's a die game, and until I have the money to incorporate a craps table into the die rolling experience (which would be cool), I'm going to have to police some people a bit.

Where are they rolled?

Ah, and here's the biggest issue.  Dice rolled on the floor don't count.  Dice that are not absolutely sitting on a flat surface don't count.  I don't care how close it is to one side or the other, and I don't care how important the roll is.  Roll the damn thing so that it lands flat.

I have considered invoking a rule so that the die must come to a rest on the actual table surface, and not on top of keyboards, binders, folders, D&D books and so on ... and the reason for that has much to do with the amount of bounce a die produces.  The harder the surface, the more likely the die has been completely rolled.  But so far, I've never gotten that picky.

The reason why not the floor is simple ... it's to calm the rambunctiousness of players who insist on making all their most important rolls the thirty-yard fling down whatever hallway is most convenient.  It also reduces time wasted as the whole table gets down on hand and knee to find out what the crucial roll was, or that the die has rolled under the stove which must now be lifted to reveal the result.

I know there are those out there who love these moments, but for me it's a waste of time.  Knowing that the roll isn't going to count if it's not on the table actually seems to keep the die ON the damn table ... like it matters or something.

Controlling excited, rebellious D&D players is usually a near-impossibility, particularly with young players such as I have.  Most everyone I play with is under the age of 25.  Keeping them seated for twenty minutes at a time is an effort ... so to my mind, anything that helps control their tendencies to flamboyance is helpful.

I've also considered applying a rule that says if you can't make the die roll legal with three tries, then you miss or fail.  Again, I'm not quite that much of a bastard.

There you have it.  Simple rules, simply adhered too.  And no one complains.

Die

Two weeks ago I posted pictures of my Player's Handbook and DM's Guide. I mentioned my 30-year old die, and regretted that I had not had a picture taken of it.

Here it is:




This proved harder than you'd think. Ever tried to take a picture of a white die on a dismally dark day, when the die has no contrasting features whatsoever?