Dungeons & Dragons White Box 24

For fun, this is the present state of my keyboard. Good thing I touch type, huh? All is fine, I can afford another... it's just that it takes about 8 months of typing for my keyboard to get this way, so I make them last as long as I can.

Usually, I've dumped a drink into it or something, ruining the damn thing before it gets this bad, but I've been lucky... so the abuse of my fingers has had the opportunity to wear the keys away and, I think in some places, I've actually split the surface of the key plastic. Not sure what those grooves in the 'c', 'n', 'm', and comma keys mean. I just know they weren't there when I bought the keyboard. Oh, and the bit of duct tape is so I can find the 'i' key when I want italics.

The effect is entirely a combination of how much I type and how hard I type. I learned on a manual typewriter 50 years ago and I've never quite learned how to soften my keystrokes. Anyway, to continue:

Clerics:

1st Level:

Cure Light Wounds: During the course of one full turn this spell will remove hits from a wounded character (including elves, dwarves, etc.). A die is rolled, one pip added, and the resultant total subtracted from the hit points the character has taken. Thus from 2-7 hit points of damage can be removed.

Every time something odd comes up related to the casting itself, I have to stop and wonder: why specifically is the "cure light wounds" spell designated as requiring one full turn (and do they really mean ten minutes?) to achieve the result. Since none of the other spells, so far, specify how long they take to manifest the magic, it would seem to suggest less than one full turn... which of course causes any player with a brain to immediately ask, if continual light doesn't take a full turn to cast, how much time do I have in that turn to do something else? Either every other spell requires no measurable time to cast, or the one time that casting time is actually imposed actually dictates the casting time for every other spell. Otherwise, our third option is that all the casting times differ according to the DM's whim... and I'd like to be the first to say that doesn't work for me.

Once again this language, "remove hits." Why "remove damage" and not "restore hit points"? What is the point to having "hit points" as a term if we're not going to use it?  It makes far more sense for the spell to "increase" points rather than "remove," since the latter is clearly a double negative construction: damage removes hit points and then the spell removes damage. It's just bad writing.

Of course, we're all used to it now, having been inculcated into the D&D cult for as long as we have, but looked at from the point of view of a 1975 buyer of the product, it's a head scratcher.

And we've said this before, too: a "pip" is a physical indentation in the die. To "add" a pip, accurately according the language, I'd need a point-chisel and a hammer to literally pound a divit into the die, whereupon it would be permanently there. That is NOT what's wanted and is not the correct language for this instruction. In English, when we add something to a number, say a "5" indicated on a die, we add another number, in this case the number "one" to the die, not a "pip." ffs.

There are only 54 words in this passage and there are so many grammatical errors in it that a grade two teacher, getting this, would worry about the student cognitive skills.

Too, it creates an issue that has been endlessly debated, and that issue is right there on the tin. I have been part of endless debates as to what "hit points" really are. Here, it stipulates the answer plainly. A point of damage is a "wound." The spell heals "wounds." Taken literally, it means a hit point, even a single hit point, is not "exhaustion," not "erosion of will" or a reduction in the combatant's grit, not "luck," not "morale"... it's a physical cutting of the skin or a physical trauma of some kind caused beneath the skin which create bruising, which is the suffusion of blood into a part of the body. That begs the question, when the character increases in levels and has MORE hit points, are the commensurate wounds smaller, or does the character actually increase the number of wounds they can sustain without dying — which really makes no sense at all where combatants are concerned.  Yet the text clearly states that we're expected to square the exponential growth of hit points across levels as literal injuries.

Also, since the language is that "hits" are removed, are we to believe that each and every hit point caused is a separate hit? That if I do "8" damage to an orc, I'm actually hitting it eight times for eight separate hits?

This nuttiness makes my head hurt. 

Purify Food & Water: This spell will make spoiled or poisoned food and water usable. The quantity subject to a single spell is approximately that which would serve a dozen people.

Obviously, this isn't going to get better. The spell says the water is "purified," yet the text says the food and water is "usable." That latter extends to nearly the whole of history in which human beings regularly "used" food and water for forty plus years that was anything but "pure." But never mind, words don't mean what words mean, so fuck it, usable, full of parasites and bacteria, slightly tainted with fungal toxins, still has trace mercury in it, counts as "purified." 

And why did the writer have to use the verb "serve."  A glass of water can "serve" a hundred people, feasibly. A "serving" is not a measurement. I assume we're trying to say, "will provide enough water to sustain a dozen people for a day. Presumably, NOT forever. But the spell doesn't SAY that.  It actually SAYS nothing of real value. For all the spell says, the spell purifies enough food and water to serve a dozen people forever. And if I choose to interpret the spell as written that way, point out please where I'm wrong.

It's a bit annoying because the spell has absolutely no value where a wargame combat is concerned. A lot of the spells here have been excusable on some level because it was designed to ford a blue line drawn on a battle map, but this spell has no logical value within that sort of event. The only value this spell has is in an ongoing campaign... and for that, as a game rule, it fails disasterously.

Detect Magic: This spell is the same as that for Magic-Users.

Maybe a page number for where the spell occurs? It's the least the writer could do. The book's spell list isn't even alphabetical. It appears on page 23 and I wrote about it here.

Detect Evil: This spell is the same as that for Magic-Users except that it has a duration of 6 turns and a range of 12".

The spell listed on page 24 has a duration of 2 turns and a range of 6" for the mage. I wrote about it here.

Protection from Evil: This spell is the same as that for Magic-Users except that it lasts for 12 turns.

This spell is also listed on page 23 and has a duration of 6 turns for the mage. I wrote about it here.

Light: This spell is the same as that for Magic-Users, except that it has a basic duration of 12 turns.

This spell is again listed on page 23, where although it has a base duration of 6 turns for the mage, this adds the number of levels per the user, which the cleric version does not do. Thus a 6th level mage's version lasts as long as the cleric's, while a 7th level lasts a turn longer and so on. I wrote about the spell here.

2nd Level:

Find Traps: By means of this spell the Cleric will locate any mechanical or magical traps within a radius of 3". The spell lasts 2 turns.

As opposed to some other class casting this spell. Is a pit "mechanical"? It has no gears, springs or moving parts. What about a sinkhole, or a rockfall set up by stacking loose stones atop a ledge, waiting for a vibration to set them to fall? What about a wasp's nest set under a stuck door in a shed or a house atop a porch? The door doesn't in fact set off the "trap," it just aggravates the wasps if kicked open or banged upon. What about a board laid over dirt, which is actually quicksand that's wider than the board? Is that "mechanical?"

Since we're not defining "traps," either, I'd like to know how extensive that is. "Trap" is an Old English word for a "contrivance for catching unawares," which includes those that are used for taking game or other animals.  A "contrivance" need not be "mechanical," it just apparently means "made" for the purpose. That still leaves out the wasps if they happen to have nested there and weren't in fact placed under the door.

The etymology further extends to the German trappe, treppe, which means "step, stair," from which English gets "tread"... which arguably means that a trap includes anything that is tread upon... this is supported by the Spanish trampa, whic also means a "trap, pit or snare."  It's not a definite straight line, so it really depends on what we want to include.

In short, there's no answer... but for me personally, as a game tool given to the cleric with purpose, it ought to detect any non-sentient physical anomaly capable of causing harm to the passerby. That covers everything, including if the wasps just happened to have settled there. The spell doesn't detect the wasps, which although non-intelligent count as "sentient," (they have nervous system, very unlike ours), but the nest is non-sentient and can be therefore detected as a threat. Arguably, from in-setting logic, the spell ought to exist to protect the cleric, specifically on behalf of the cleric's deity or pantheon, which wouldn't quibble over whether or not the "trap" was engineered, incidental, natural or environmental.

Yet this conclusion is nowhere near what the spell says. The spell depends on a trap being whatever the DM says is one. And DMs are not to be trusted.

Hold Person: This spell is the same as that for Magic-Users except that its duration is 9 turns and its range 18".

This spell is listed on page 25 and for the mage has a duration of 6 turns + the mage's level, plus a range of 12". Since the mage has to be 5th level to obtain the spell, the turn "increase" for the cleric is necessarily less two turns than the mage's minimum, but the range is better. I wrote about it here.

Bless: During any turn the prospective recipients of a Bless spell are not in combat the Cleric may give them this benison. A blessing raises morale by +1 and also adds +1 to attack dice. The spell lasts six turns.

Hm. I had to look up the word "benison." Means "benediction." It's not often a 7-letter word gets past me.

Let's see. No range, no maximum number of beneficiaries. Excellent. I cast "bless" and affect every person on the planet not now in combat. Regardless, I might add, of religious belief. Oh, what the heck. I might as well include every being on every plane of existence, while I'm at it. Why shouldn't the flies and the creatures that crawl not also enjoy my beneficence? Please assume that henceforth, when my cleric casts the spell, this is what I'm want.

Too, we should point out that the words defining the spell do not designate the duration as lasting 6 turns, but that the spell does. In a ruleset where so many other spells go out of their way to specify "duration: X turns" with the effect implied, the choice to state that the spell, rather than the blessing, has duration is a genuine ambiguity. I'm not sure this doesn't mean that it while it takes six turns for me to cast this puppy, it doesn't in fact last until the end of time. I prefer to read it that way, myself.

Speak with Animals: This spell allows the Cleric to speak with any form of animal life, understanding what they say in reply. There is a possibility that the animal(s) spoken with will perform services for the Cleric, and they will never attack the party the Cleric is with. (The manner of handling the probabilities of action by animals is discussed in the next volume). Duration: 6 turns. Range: 3".

As I coax my headache...

"Animal life" is a pretty big, um, phylum, and hardly limited to Dr. Doolittle's repertoire. It's interesting to note that the book, The Story of Dr. Doolittle by Hugh Lofting in 1920, was something of a children's phenomenon throughout the 1940s, 50s and 60s. The 1967 movie with Rex Harrison, upon which a thousand youtubers have cast aspersions as a "bomb," wasn't actually one... in fact, it was extremely popular and made a lot of money at the box office. It was only that it's high production and marketing costs ended in bankrupting the project. Nevertheless, the film itself remained a phenomenon throughout the 1970s, appearing constantly as a "family movie" event every year.

I bring this up because the spell bears the marks of the concept. These fellows would all have known about the story, they'd have likely read it or had it read to them when they were growing up... and in the culture, any reference to "talking with the animals" would immediately evoke the character. Only, the animals "performed services" for Dr. Doolittle strictly because he was an English Gentleman of the highest possible character, never did anything untoward to anyone, and absolutely never took advantage of an animal in his care (as he was an animal doctor, besides). The idea that animals might do so for a bunch of murder-hobos in a medieval setting is highly doubtful... but unfortunately, the actual mechanics of this spell have been kicked down the road to the next volume, so we must leave of it for now and redress the problems created (for it's almost certain there will be problems) at that time.

3rd level:

Remove Curse: This spell is the same as that for Magic-Users.

The spell is listed on page 26, where it is a 4th level mage spell. I wrote about it here.

Cure Disease: A spell which cures any form of disease. The spell is the only method to rid a character of a disease from a curse, for example.

The spell is fine. It says "a character," so we might reasonably assume that's the spell's limit. Actually stating as much would have been better. 

"Disease" in the whole White Box occurs when a mummy touches, when a lycanthrope does a little more than that, when a green slime needs getting rid of and as a curse resulting from a scroll.  There don't seem to be any rules for the occurrence of ordinary, boring diseases within the game system.

Locate Object: This spell is the same as that for Magic-Users, except that the base range is 9".

This spell is listed on page 24, where it has a range of 6" + 1" per level of the mage. Because it's a 2nd level spell, the minimum range for a mage with the spell is also 9".  I wrote about the spell here.

Continual Light: This spell is the same as that for Magic-Users, except that the light shed is equal to full daylight.

The spell is listed on page 25. No rules of any kind that I know of as yet explain the difference between "not equal to full daylight" (the mage version) and "full daylight" (above), except we may reasonably surmise these are not in fact the same thing. It's possible that goblins and orcs in the game, which when subjected to "full daylight," suffer a -1 from their attack and morale dice, but this isn't as precise as it sounds, since "daylight" can be anything from a cloudless sunny day to the dim of an afternoon thunderstorm.  "Daylight" isn't a measurement. I wrote about the spell here.

4th Level:

Neutralize Poison: A spell to counter the harmful effects of poison. Note that it will not aid a character killed by poison, however. It will affect only one object. Duration: 1 turn.

"Object"? The affected person isn't one, nor is the poison. Are we referring the vial in which the poison was kept?

"Poison" in the whole White Box includes something gotten from medusae, wyverns, yellow mold, living statues, the potion that shouldn't have been drunk, and strong boxes or chests with poison needles. There are no rules for eating poison berries or making poison, or adding poison to someone's food or any other reference whatsoever to poison.

Presumably, if a character is killed by poison, while the spell won't aid that character, it will still neutralise the poison, right? Perhaps the "object" reference refers to potions, which would suggest the poison can be neutralised before it's injected into the victim. That's important, if one can affect the poison glands of medusa, wyverns or whatever living statues are covered with. None of this is stated, of course, so we're left with wondering if the only use of this spell is to automatically cast it on every chest encountered.

I remember early games with some DMs who bought hard into this metric where every bloody chest we encountered was so trapped. It got to be a running gag. The correct way to open a chest, according the "Helpful Adventurer's Guide," is to cover the top with a thick blanket, gently roll the chest until it's upside down, then smash into the chest's bottom with an axe.

Cure Serious Wounds: This spell is like a Light Wound spell, but the effects are double, so two dice are rolled and one pip is added to each die. Therefore, from 4 to 14 hit points will be removed by this spell.

See cure light wounds, above. The language here is just as silly, while the amount of hit points bestowed by the spell, for a 4th level spell, is laughable. The fact that a "2" can be rolled for a first level spell is bad enough, but the possibility, 1 in 36, that a character of 7th level achieves a healing of only 4 h.p. on a given day, and only 9 h.p. on average, not even enough to fully heal a 1st level fighter, is a bloody embarrassment as regards game design. It's four times the spell level, it should be at least 4d6+4. And even that, honestly, would be too little.

I need to catch my breath. There are 11 spells left to write.

Dungeons & Dragons White Box 23

This is going to be a long post. I'm tired of these spells and I'm going to push through them to the last spell (though not in one post). America is off for Thanksgiving and Black Friday, so there won't be comments on these posts anyway. Let's just get the bathwater done with so we can throw it out and keep the baby. 

Reincarnation: A spell to bring a dead character back to life in some other form. The form in which the character is Reincarnated is dependent upon his former alignment (Law, Neutrality or Chaos). Use a random determination on the Character Alignment table, and whatever the result is, the reincarnated character is that creature and must play as it. If he comes back as a man, determine which class, and roll a six-sided die to determine which level in that class, and similarly check level for reincarnation as an elf or dwarf.

Naturally, we don't give a page number for the Character Alignment table, why would we? We passed it in an earlier post, it's on page 9 of men and magic. I suppose the value of the spell is that chaotic persons who die have a 1 in 22 chance of becoming a dragon (there are no numbers on the table), but also an equal chance of getting saddled with ghoul, medusae (there's a party contributor), vampire, wight or "evil high priest", which I assume is... a "men"? (geez, the word "human" existed in 1974, would that really have been so hard? So you have 2 chances in 22 of coming back as a human, though one of them instantly grants you high priest status, which is funny, since usually when you reincarnate you have to go back to the beginning. 

I'll be honest, I've never understood this spell, even with its appearance under the druid in the AD&D Players Handbook. I've never had a druid in any campaign that progressed to a level that could use the spell, nor have I ever had a party with a dead character set out to make use of it. Yet I've always left it as is with the appreciation that perhaps, one day, a player of mine will demonstrate some value in it.

Still, as written here, it actually functions. The results, whatever the dead character's alignment (and we presume it doesn't have to be a player character), would likely just produce chaos in most cases, but what the heck, there's room in the setting for chaos. I think, though, that the difficulties of having your character transformed into a chimera, with three heads, and quite large, would make getting an ale in town a bit difficult. Most likely a non-player character would then attack the party (assigning a very strange value to the spell), while a player character might just say, "Oh fuck it, kill me." I suppose, if I ran this rule (and there's no way I ever would, personally), and the player wanted to stay a vampire, and obey the rules, and not feast on the rest of the party, I could run that. But even if the vampire was the weakest character in the party, thereafter sessions would always be "the vampire show," and I would imagine the other players would get tired of it.

Invisible Stalker: The conjuration of an extra-dimensional monster which can be controlled with merely a word from the Magic-User who conjured him. The Invisible Stalker will continue on its mission until it is accomplished, regardless of time or distance. They cannot be dispelled once conjured, except through attack. Details of the Invisible Stalker itself will be found in the next volume.

This "auto-assassin" produces a few conundrums. Because the actual creature is going to turn up later, in the next book, I'd rather discuss what it does and how much power it has as a monster. Here, it's just relevant to say that as a "spell," it's essentially a walking deus ex machina, a magic that is immune to dispel magic. It does anywhere, does anything, solves any problem... and though only a "word" is needed, since a "mission" can't be conveyed in any way by a single word, we must assume the actual knowledge of the mission is managed through some form of telepathy.

In which, why must a word be spoken at all? What possible addition does that give the spell? That if the mage is bound and gagged, it can't work? The way it's written, it seems to suggest ease of use, however: that "merely" is meaningless if the spell can't be used if the mage is silenced, while as I said, one word hardly lays out a comprehensible battle plan.

The spell is, in a "word", godlike. And who best to use a godlike spell than the dungeon master, nyet? With any spell in the game, we must first and always ask the question, "Is this something the DM should be allowed to use, ever, against the party." The answer here is clearly "No." A creature that cannot be dispelled, never stops, never tires, never loses the trail and executes tasks across arbitrary spans of geography and duration is not a game element, it is a narrative ultimatum, and an ultimatum wielded by a DM is indistinguishable from fiat. It pretends to be available for mages, but it's real function is undoubtedly to signal that consequences can arrive from no where and no, you don't get to know why the invisible stalker appears.

Which makes it a bit of a joke, along the lines of the 19th century parlour game that was literally played in the dark, "the midnight caller," words chosen to impress fear, discomfort or a sense of terror. "Oooooooo... the invisible stalker's gonna getcha!"

Yeah, fuck you Gygax. Because we know it has to be you. No one else could be more in the dark than you, with an idea like this.

Lower Water: Utterance of this spell causes the water level in a river or similar body of liquid to drop 50% of its depth for ten turns. Range: 24".

The physical spells are always trouble, especially when they receive as little explanation as this. Pray tell, what is a similar body of "liquid" to a river? We can't be talking about some other liquid than water, given the title of the spell, so are we talking just brooks, creeks and estuaries? Because lakes and ponds, while also made of water, are in no way like a river, any more than a bookcase, which is made of wood, is like a rowboat, made of the same substance. And what about an estuary? I assume the spell affects the water at whatever level it is at this moment, depending upon the tide; which raises the question, can any tide be affected? Can an expanse of the ocean be lowered, since it too is affected by a tide?

But then, if we widen it to include ponds and lakes, we must then also include marshes, inlets, bays, gulfs, seas, whole oceans... where exactly do we draw the line. Within the 24" range, I should hope — which I'm fine with, as it creates the effect from the 1956 film, The Ten Commandments... though I can tell you as a DM that issues arise when boats moving along the unaffected section go over the falls into where the water is lowered. And I don't see any rules for managing those situations included here.

Still, the beginning of the White Box does make it clear that DMs are expected to build from the work provided here. It just wasn't quite made so clear that it was going to be this much work. We assumed the authors might do more than the tiniest bit:  the description given for lower water is just 27 words.

Two more things: first, is there a reverse? Doesn't say so, but "raise water" would seem worthy of a 6th spell... on the other hand, raising a circle 480 yards in diameter within a large river, say the Mississippi, half again the depth of that river, in an area where the land itself was mostly just a foot or two higher than the water level, would not only create an immediate catastrophic disaster, the affected water would create a hydraulic event that would disasterously flood the river for the next hundred or so miles, at least. So maybe, on second thought, a reverse of the spell might not be best.

The other question is frivolous, but goes to the simplification imposed by the drop in the water by "50%." Assuming we use a fairly wide definition for the spell, so that it includes, say, a well, surely more than half the level of the water can be reduced, right? I mean, we'd lowering half an entire river... if we count the ground water as an underground river, rationally it should go down at least twice the depth of the well water, allowing us to shut off the water altogether, though for only 100 minutes (10 turns).  But then, suppose I want to apply the 6th level spell to a goblet of water. You're telling me that a spell of this power will only remove 4 fl. oz. of water? That's all. And not even forever? I don't know... seems pretty cheap for 6th level.

Part Water: A spell which will part water up to 10' deep for a maximum of six turns. Range: 12".

Even better. 18 words used.

I'm not clear on the difference between these two spells. Lower water brings the level down to half, putting the water... where, exactly? While part water (no description of the effect is given at all) presumably does not "lower" the water at all, but piles it on both sides of the... wait, it doesn't say how far apart the "parted" area is? Are we talking 10 feet apart? A hundred feet? The aforementioned film seems to suggest it's a good two or three hundred yards wide.

I notice there's no length for the part, either. Can we part the Red Sea? The North Sea? The Caribbean? Hello? We could use some limitations here. It doesn't even matter that the spell lasts long enough for us to actually traverse the Caribbean... just the process of temporarily subdividing the Caribbean for an hour would contribute to disasters of every kind. What is the effect of this spell on hurricane gestation, or an active hurricane. What if a ship sails over the brink?  Smash, I assume, but what are the rules of the ship seeing the sudden hole appearing in the sea and heaving to before going over? And if the sea is "parted", and the water heaped up, does it create a swell that produces a tsunami hither and yon?  That's what an earthquake does, and without dimensions, moving this amount of water around would create exactly that kind of disaster.

Toning all this down, it's evident that the designers could only see "water" as a blue line on a map, not as a hydraulic system. Every feature on a Chainmail miniatures map would be small enough to itself limit the dimension of the spell. This would mean that so long as I only use these spells on such combat setups, a lot of them are perfectly fine.

But it's more than made clear that the White Box wanted to create a campaign concept also... and presumably assumed that the users would somehow limit themselves anyway. It suggests an extremely incestuous, closed group, with few outsiders, and few voices that were ready to just accept everything on precedent. Which is the first, best argument for this thing never being published, since publishing was sure to explode that closed mindset. Creating rules for your friends is one thing, but when you publish for readers... the truth is they rarely cooperate.

Projected Image: By means of this spell the Magic-User projects an image of himself up to 24" away, and all spells and the like used thereafter appear to originate from the Projected Image. Duration: 6 turns. Range: 24".

Fundamentally, the projection itself is not a problem, and has an immediate practical use. You can't kill the mage speaking before you, because this is a projection. Since it lasts an hour, it likewise has the benefit of really being able to mess with the listeners, who might not for quite a while have reason to physically contact the image projected. It doesn't state, and it should, that the projection is non-corporeal. If it is corporeal, then how would that work? Can it "get in the way" of others, thus functioning as an obstruction? Granted, that would be interesting. Knowing one way or the other would be beneficial.

Too, I can see a party mage employing this. I would. It's a great form of distraction, wherein I make noise across the square while the real me is functioning over here. If only the description actually stated that the projection can speak or make noise, or behave as though it were a real person (which I assumed it did with the last paragraph, above this one). If not, then the spell is next to useless, casting a projection of something that can't trick a witness for more than a couple of seconds. That wouldn't be much of a 6th level spell.

Note that the spell plainly states that all spells only "appear" to originate, which can only be interpreted as not actually originating therefrom. That's fine when the range of the spell is also 24", but what if the range of the spell is far, far less?  It must be noticed when the caster's image at the far limit of its range turns around to cast some spell, part water for example, 12" behind the image. Still, a lot of the spells also have a 24" distance, so that's sort of okay... provide the projected image at the extent of its range doesn't want to appear to throw any spells ahead of itself.

Yet, interestingly, where the spells "appear" to originate from seems to be the only thing the designer here is interested in. True enough, if the projection and I align ourselves at two points of a triangle, to cast the spell at the third point, that would misdirect an enemy regarding where I was standing. There's value in that.  Not for a campaign, of course, but certainly for a Chainmail tabletop wargame setting.

In retrospect, this aspect repeatedly reveals the lack of campaign thinking altogether. On a table top, even the invisible stalker makes sense, because then the spell is limited to taking out one enemy opponent, or protecting the caster. It can't be overpowered because on a battlefield, it's of limited use. But the "campaign setting" ruins this, because the choices expand unfathomably... to a point where something like a stalker attains deity-status, while projected image, as written, becomes soft and flimsy. Thus, applied to a game setting as I'm doing, and as players do who claim to be running the White Box "rules as written," it's plain that the rules oscillate wildly depending on which of the game's identities we apply.

Anti-Magic Shell: A field which surrounds the Magic-User and makes him totally impervious to all spells. It also prevents any spells from being sent through the shell by the Magic-User who conjured it. Duration: 12 turns.

Sure. Don't have a problem with it. The limitation is sensible, given the benefit. Something that works.

Death Spell: An incantation which kills from 2-16 creatures with fewer than seven hit dice. The creatures must be within an area of 6" x 6" to come under the spell. Range: 24".

This is fine too. The overpowered aspect is managed by the hit dice limit and the area of effect is plain and evident. By the time a character reached the necessary level to use the spell, however, it's usefulness is suspect. First, because there's not much game in pitting a 12th level wizard against 7 or less hit die monsters, so a lot of the time it's a dead spell slot. Alternately, if such monsters were to appear, they'd likely be in numbers of greater than 25 or 30, so that killing an average of 9 and a maximum of 16 would have dubious benefits. Still, though, it's a flat out attack spell, making it far more useful than part water, which one might never in fact use.

It is a point worth making with a fair number of the "useful" spells. Often, the DM has to create the obstacle intentionally so that the spell can be used against it, which creates a sort of null effect... which in fact isn't very interesting for the player. Once the lower water or part water is used to get to the other side of the river, which might just as well have had a bridge placed across it for all the "game" it provides when we know the caster has the spell available, it's just a thing that happens. There's no tension in it.  Quite a number of spells that are positioned as apparent game changers often don't have much punch by the time the character gets to the level where they're useful. The importance for them, far more often, is as a one-off scroll that a lower level character gets to employ.

Geas: A spell which forces the recipient to perform some task (as desired by the Magic-User casting the Geas). Any attempt to deviate from the performance of the task will result in weakness, and ignoring the Geas entirely brings death. The referee must carefully adjudicate the casting and subsequent performance of the geased individual when this spell is used. Duration: Until the task is completed. Range: 3".

I didn't forget the underline under the second reference to "Geas"... the text did. It is annoying as hell that the spell reference in the same spell's description apparently needs to be underlined, even when mentioned twice in some cases.

This should be rewritten as, "A spell which forces the recipient to perform some task (as desired by the DM imposing the geas..."  For it is, very obviously, a DM's spell. Players could use the spell to cause a bunch of non-players to seek out a McGuffin, but rarely would they choose to do so; how could you know, for one thing, that they'd have any real chance of success? How would you know that they didn't try to ignore the geas and just, in fact, died (since this is worded as an option, as opposed to simply saying, "it can't be ignored," the far more obvious design choice). And once Biff and Jimmy and Banhi and such all went off to get the item, the party has to sit here and wait for them to come back, which is what non-player wizards do when casting geas on the party.

In fact, then, unless you're using this 6th level spell to have the NPCs perform a task like, "walk up to that guard and punch him in the face," or "walk across that ice-covered pool and see if its solid," or "please open the chest in case its trapped," there's not much use for it. On the other hand, the DM can fuck with the party for six, ten or fourteen sessions, which makes it a GREAT spell.

Pointedly, were I to play in a campaign where the DM employed the spell, I'd simply say, "I'd rather die," actually meaning it, because I have no interest whatsoever in playing in any campaign where I don't have agency as a player. I'm willing to leave the spell in place for players to use (that's their choice), but I would never use this spell as a DM for precisely the reason given. It's a bad narrative device and I think any adventure I wanted the players to try could be managed well enough through other enticements than the use of a cheap, controlling spell.

Disintegrate: This spell will cause material of any kind — other than that of a magical nature — to Disintegrate. It will blast a tree, dragon (if it fails to make its saving throw against magic), wall section, or whatever. Range: 6".

I assume a snail can also avoid being disintegrated if it makes it's saving throw. I note that the tree, also a living thing, doesn't get one.

Because no definition is provided for what the spell actually does, er hem, again, "disintegrate" is a word coined in 1796 (cough cough, anachronism) that means to "separate into component parts, destroy the cohesion of;" by 1851, this was given an intransitive sense, "to break apart." It is undoubtedly not a coincidence that the word emerges about the time that artillery begins to expand into explosive grenades as opposed to mere cannonballs. A word was needed for things and people that were literally blown apart in a way that language had never needed to express before.

By this reading (and no other reading exists), the spell invokes violent obliteration, not tidy vanishing, which creates dust, fragments, perhaps a crater, the disassembled "parts" of the dragon scattered across everything, with no actual mass lost in the process. Since the time period in which the word gestated generally meant a considerable amount of extremely messy fallout, as it still does in war, it's not a nice spell, generally. If you don't want to be picking dragon off every coin in it's horde, you might want to think of another way of killing it. Plus, it would be fair if your pal Gregory were to turn to you and say, "Fuck, Zapan, now I need a bath! AGAIN! Stop using that spell!"

Because the spell names a wall section, we may assume it can't do an entire wall... but we're stuck, again, with no real limitation to the spell's reach. Presumably, the entire planet would be a bad idea, so we're looking for some dimension smaller than Earth and perhaps about the size of a tree (a really good sized poplar, for example, like the ones just down the street from me that stand 60 feet high with canopies of 40 feet wide, would be larger than a dragon, even a very big one). Though, by my book, a part of a tree would be sufficient to rend it asunder, while the whole dragon wouldn't need to be disintigrated to kill it. So... it's really indefinable given the text.  A section of wall could be three bricks. These aren't very useful examples, I must say.

Move Earth: When above ground the Magic-User may utilize this spell to move prominences such as hills or ridges. The spell takes one turn to go into effect. The terrain affected will move at the rate of 6” per turn. Duration: 6 turns. Range 24".

A "ridge" is pretty enormously large, particularly in places like the Appalachians or the Ozarks, where ridgelines can stretch out ten or twenty miles without interruption. In ranges like the Rockies near me, a ridgeline can run fifty miles.  Additionally, a single hill in many parts of the world can easily be anywhere from two to six miles wide, depending on it's formulation. The city of Calgary surrounds a hill, Nose Hill, which is a big city park that's 4.3 square miles in area and stretches 2.5 miles wide.

It's very obvious from this that the writers of the White Box were located in Wisconsin, Illinois and Michigan, places where I have been and travelled around. It's pretty obvious that the designers were thinking of little bumps on a wargame map, with their minds affected by the little bumps of the sort of flatland-geography they lived in.

Imagine if you were able to move the Palatine Hill in Rome; it's just 50 acres, but the consummate resultant catastrophe would be incomprehensible, any time after the settlement of the city. Never mind a "death" spell, you're free to kill hundreds of thousands as you destroy the homes on the hill and then roll the hill onto the neighbourhoods beside it.

In short, there's no way at all to include the spell in any believable sense using "hill" and "ridge" as a measurement, which is perhaps the most egregious assumption I've yet encountered in these rules. And that really is saying something.  Too, compare how much "earth" this moves to the amount of water moved with two other 6th level spells. Surely, it ought to be harder to move earth than water.

Control Weather: The Magic-User can perform any one of the following weather control operations with this spell: Rain, Stop Rain, Cold Wave, Heat Wave, Tornado, Stop Tornado, Deep Clouds, Clear Sky.

Without rules to impose weather, or define what weather is, or the effects of ending a cold wave, or what "deep clouds" refer to, this is a sloppy, silly, useless spell. The caster utterly relies on the DM to impose a form of weather that needs to then be changed... but though it is raining, "stop rain" doesn't making it warmer or cooler, it doesn't adjust humidity, it doesn't adjust wind speed, or how much cloud remains in the sky, or even if the rain doesn't just stop in mid air and become fog. 

And, again, as stated above, for me to "stop tornado," the DM has to create one for me to stop, while if I can just "make tornado," the spell doesn't indicate in any way how I "control" it. Am I able to, again, just wipe out the city of Rome with it?  A tornado is an unaccountable power to just hand to someone who can't even kill more than 16 monsters with seven or less hit dice.  "Stand back, I'm going to slaughter everything in a path a mile wide."  Hell, it doesn't even say how large a tornado it creates.  A small tornado can be no more than a few feet wide and last for just seconds. Is this what's created?  No idea.

Of course, there are endless problems with climatic zones, the availability of water in the air, air pressure, convective air movement... and a total ignorance regarding the area of effect that the spell can touch. As written, I can make it stop raining every where on the globe, just by saying so.

That, thankfully, is the last mage spell. I'm going to stop now and pick up the cleric with a new post.

Dungeons & Dragons White Box 22

Contact Higher Plane: This spell allows the magical-type to seek advice and gain knowledge from creatures inhabiting higher planes of existence (the referee). Of course, the higher the plane contacted, the greater the number of questions that can be asked, the greater the chance that the information will be known, and the higher the probability that the question will be answered truthfully. Use the table below to determine these factors, as well as the probability of the Magic-User going insane. Only questions which can be answered "yes" or "no" are permitted.

If a Magic-User goes insane, he will remain so for a number of weeks equal to the number of the plane he was attempting to contact, the strain making him totally incapacitated until the time has elapsed. For each level above the 11th, Magic Users should have a 5% better chance of retaining their sanity. The spell is usable only once every game week (referee’s option).

I want to imagine a party that is so desperate to learn some crucial piece of information about a situation that they're in, that they're prepared to allow the caster to suffer insanity for as many as 12 weeks, or three months, to get it; and that this information, once obtained, doesn't need to be acted upon at once, because the caster won't be available to engage in that adventure should that mage go insane. Then I try to think of any official adventure that I've ever heard of where this sort of adventure was proposed or even outlined... for, certainly, there's nothing in the White Box set that I've encountered so far that carries both (a) the level of demand this suggests; or (b) the lack of immediacy that would concommitantly be assumed. And I just can't. Which would mean, for me, this spell as written has no use whatsoever in game, and therefore exists merely as an author's indulgence.

This spell reads like one of those little private fantasies designers sometimes wedge into an early draft: big cosmic flavour, no functional scaffolding. The numbers are there not to produce play but to conjure a mood. High planes, madness, the brush with transcendence that topples the mortal mind. It’s mythic… and totally unmoored from any form of adventure pacing. What party, running any scenario published between 1974 and, frankly, the present day, pauses the action for twelve weeks so someone can drool in a blanket after asking "Is the lich in the west tower?"

The game as written simply doesn't have problems that require a sacrifice of some excessively high magnitude to solve. Everything is built for immediacy. The dungeon is pressboard: small rooms, nearby monsters, low-resolution danger. The politics of the world aren’t fleshed out; the cosmology is a sketch. There's no machinery for long-term scenarios that hinge on procuring one world-shattering yes/no answer. And if we did build such a scenario, we'd need to rewrite the entire framework of pacing just to let the party survive the caster's convalescence.

But let's accept the premise as written. Why should this spell be limited to once per week? Is it not just another spell, like any other spell? It does say, "referee's option" — but the very proposal suggests that this spell is SO powerful, that not only must we impose the insanity consequence, but we must FURTHER limit it in availability. Exactly why, I ask. Is the DM's "secret knowledge" so earth shattering that such lengths must be gone to so that it's kept out of the player's hands? I have been studying D&D for 46 years and I know of no game detail I have ever had about my setting that must be so carefully protected from a party. I'm honestly baffled. What unutterable revelations about hit dice and gelatinous cubes require quasi-Lovecraftian safeguards?

Knowledge is a strategic resource. In a well-run campaign, more knowledge ought to deepen the stakes, it ought to increase the party's tension, it ought to enliven their imagination. There's no game if it must always exist in the dark. The approach to the game this spell reveals counters every rational philosophy about DMing and game play that there is... and tells, plainly, that the writers here did not have the capacity to truly understand the game they'd designed. Or even, for that matter, how a plain old story arc in a book works. As designers, they are the worst kind of amateurs.

Passwall: A spell which opens a hole in a solid rock wall, man-sized and up to 10' in length. Duration: 3 turns. Range: 3".

It's fine. It could use a comment on what happens to the subject if they're inside when the wall collapses. It also reveals the problem with recent discussions I've been having elsewhere regarding how long a "turn" lasts; in Chainmail, it's a minute, whereas in the White Box, it's 10 minutes. A spell like this, if it only lasts for three minutes, that's a problem. But we've already discussed the problems that are created by several spells with a turn lasting 10 minutes. Overall, time issues abound, and there's just nothing that we can do to fix it, except to redesignate the unit then correct every spell, including those for which time is not included... which is what AD&D would later try to do.

We have to ask, however... if wall of stone, also a 5th level spell, can make an instant wall a hundred feet long, why isn't passwall just permanent?

Cloudkill: This spell creates a moving, poisonous cloud of vapor which is deadly to all creatures with less than five hit dice. Movement: 6"/turn according to wind direction, or directly away from the spell caster if there is no wind. Dimensions: 3" diameter. Duration: 6 turns, but the cloud is dispelled by unusually strong winds or trees. Note that the cloud is heavier than air, so it will sink to the lowest possible level.

Apart from the same movement problems already discussed in relation to other spells, this is more or less the same spell as would appear in later versions of the game. A 60-minute duration is, in role-playing terms, not D&D-as-wargame structure, a simply phenomenal length of time. But we've pounded this drum already. There are so many cases where we can easily point out which rules were plainly designed for a miniature-based battlefield (where six turns happen as six "moves" for each side), and the role-playing game as character narrative arc, where the players have to sit around for an hour for the spell to dissipate... for, even if they are high enough level to just move on, a "cloud of vapour" would logically disrupt vision. And suppose I were to open a potion while inside such a cloud, or a vial of holy water? Would the magical vapour of the cloud affect these substances? A vaporous toxin that fills thirty feet of space and persists for an hour should render the environment uninhabitable, disrupt vision, taint consumables, corrode reagents, probably drop the pH of holy water — unless we invent a metaphysics where "poison" doesn’t interact with anything except hit dice. And that's the handwave the game settles into: Cloudkill isn't poison as poison. It’s "poison" as a game token, a little yellow marker sliding across a battlefield.

With each handwave the environment has less substance, less gravitas, and therefore less value to organic, not wargame-based, engagement-based play. It came up in a comment-string with the last White Box post whether a caster can dispel their own spell, without the need of the dispel magic spell. I have to argue that yes, they must, otherwise there's no real way to control the most dangerous sorts of magic. While true enough, not being able to wink out one's own elemental might seem a reasonable way to balance the power of the creature against the mage's use of it... but that same logic creates problems where I have to ask: if I have six questions because I'm contacting the 6th Plane (whatever that actually means), am I allowed to dispel the spell after I've asked four? There's no duration listed. Does it just continue to exist until I've asked 6 questions? I should think that would matter.

There's a logic here that the rules as written simply ignores, that I've noticed the entire industry of D&D ignores where spells are concerned. According to the game's own canon, spells are "researched" and thus logically manufactured by some wizard, somewhere, in the game setting's past history. Thus, we must assume the design of every spell was intentional; but why would someone EVER make a spell where the caster could not simply dispel their own conjured effect? That would be like designing a car where the engine has to run for 20 minutes, whereupon it turns off on its own, requiring that we drive around the block and time our arrival perfectly, so that the car rolls up our driveway with its last bit of momentum. Adding an off-switch to everything we design is an absolute must. The invention of spells that would not do this, simply because some DM imagines a clever way to fuck over the mage and limit the spell, is just idiocy on a grand scale where the setting's logic is concerned. And I for one, no matter what the rules say, just won't buy it.

If it turned out that I could only make a spell, say cloudkill, in a manner that it couldn't be dispelled at will, then I wouldn't accept the spell as is and I'd go back to the drawing board. And yet this is the common argument: "Well, they had to make the spell that way because that's the only way the magic would work." Then the magic isn't working, that's my point. It's stupidly dangerous as is. It would never be counted a success by the original maker, it would never become a canon spell that any mage in the setting could pick... until that design flaw was repaired.

It goes to show that the spells designed in the White Box, and in pretty much every other version, were for the DM, NOT the player. And that's unacceptable to me. If it's acceptable to you, that's fine. You have a higher tolerance for looking like a fucking moron than I do. I prefer to look and sound like someone whose words make sense.

If Contact Other Plane is so dangerous to the campaign that insanity has to be risked to use the spell, why not just limit the number of questions, or the quality of the information received, or the kind of information received, until the caster can use the spell reasonably? If teleportation is so dangerous that death must be a risk, why not just limit how useful the spell is by distance or the places that can be teleported to? If conjure elemental is so dangerous, why not just lower the number of hit dice or the damage the creature can cause, until it's "safe" within the bounds of the caster's deserved and earned level of power? Why this stupid "gotcha" mechanic? How vulnerable were Gygax's balls that he needed to keep both hands so tightly on top of them?

The gotcha mechanics are a confession: the original designers didn’t trust the players and didn't trust themselves to design around player agency. So they did everything they could with the upper level spells to protect the DM's authority, with the tacit belief that the DM's authority is what mattered most.

I beg to differ.

Feeblemind: A spell usable only against Magic-Users, it causes the recipient to become feeble-minded until the spell is countered with a Dispel Magic. Because of its specialized nature the Feeblemind spell has a 20% better chance of success, i.e. lowers the Magic-User's saving throw against magic by 4, so that if normally a 12 or better were required to save against magic, a 16 would be required against a Feeblemind. Range: 24".

Anyone else notice that the above does not explain the effects of the spell? Presumably, from the spell's name, that the mage can no longer cast spells. Arguably, however, the precise definition of the word goes further than that, particularly if we're speaking with 1974 lexicography. Then, "feebleminded" still carried the full ugly freight of a medicalised diagnosis. It meant someone whose intellectual capacity had collapsed to the level of a young child or below, someone who was no longer capable of coherent reasoning, independent decision-making, or even meaningful self-care. It was a term used by state institutions to categorise the "unfit." The meaning was not metaphorical.

Since the word is NOT defined in game terms, we must assume this is the meaning assigned to the spell. Which, then, asks why it's limited to mages? Fighters and clerics also have minds, do they not? And if the spell causes profound cognitive impairment, then restricting it to magic-users is nonsensical. Anyone, monsters too (it is a 5th level spell, so why not monsters, since we can charm them at 4th), should be capable of being cognitively impaired by the spell. Arguably, that should include anything with a nervous system, even a basilisk.

It's a completely ad hoc limitation and, again, an obvious in-world magical design flaw. Would you not, as a designer, having invented this spell, automatically go back to the drawing board and make sure it applied to everyone? Why would you spend months, perhaps years, crafting a spell that only ruins the minds of the one category of beings least likely to be marching at you with a spear?

It exists here as a rule written solely for gameplay convenience, not to simulate a world. It exists because wizards were perceived as the "dangerous" class and needed a direct countermeasure. Speaking just for myself, I prefer my magic to be more egalitarian.

Also, last month we went round and round about how a modifier of +4 does not equal "20%." Thus I feel duty bound to post the link. We can move on.

Growth of Animals: A spell which will cause from 1-6 normal-sized animals (not merely mammals) to grow to giant-size with proportionate attack capabilities. Duration: 12 turns. Range 12".

Funny how this 5th level spell becomes a 1st level spell in AD&D, enlarge.

Is it a roll?  If I have two dogs that I want to transform, do I roll a d6 to see if I just get one or if I roll a 2 and up?  And since this set of books doesn't include stats for the giant versions of quite a lot of potential animals (how dangerous is a "giant" gazelle?), how do I as a DM run the spell when the time comes? An elephant is already a pretty big creature. Assuming there are elephants in the campaign, does this translate the "elephant" into an 18-foot high "oliphant"?

And what about an animal that is already a "giant." Does the spell have any effect on them? The spell name is "growth of animals," not "create giant animals," so I assume a giant crocodile that just happens to find the party can be altered into a super-giant crocodile. What are the stats for that? Yes, true, it does say the spell affects "normal-sized" animals... but isn't an "oliphant" the normal size that it is for that species of fictional animal?

Too, if I can't control the animal, presumably, why would I want to do this? To make a fight more... um... challenging?  Do I get extra experience for killing a creature that I could have killed more easily if I hadn't used the spell?

The spell is sort of fine as written... but it's like being handed a special wrench for a machine that doesn't exist yet. Later D&D would add a sufficient number of giant-sized creatures to give a DM at least a ball-park idea of how to use this; but as we'll see when we get to the monster pages in the second book. Such does not exist in the White Box.

6th Level:

Stone to Flesh: This spell turns stone to flesh, and it is reversible, so as to turn flesh to stone. It is particularly useful in reviving characters who have been "stoned" by some monster. It is permanent unless a reversed spell is used. Range: 12".

Not only is it "particularly" useful for this purpose, the direct use of this is only useful for reversing "stoned" creatures.

While it seems powerful to transmogrify a monster into stone, and needing a 6th level spell to do it, charm monster is a 4th level spell and is, in fact, more useful. The least good way to use an enemy monster that could be very useful is in making it stone, which is useless. Although, point in fact, you'll notice there's no saving throw here. Nor is there a limit on how much flesh can be so transformed. Can I transform all flesh in a 12" radius? If so, wow.

Consider: you're accompanying an army in the field and you have this spell. Do you, (a) cast the spell, knowing that the enemy might also have a mage that has this spell, who can then simply reverse your spell (presumably, "dispel magic" isn't sufficient, or else there's no need for this spell to even exist)... or do you (b) save your spell for when the enemy mage uses theirs?  It's sort of a stand-off, isn't it? Even if you don't know the enemy has the spell, can you cast the spell, knowing the enemy might themselves cast it, in which case you won't have the spell to reverse their effect?

Obviously, it's only sixth level to make the basilisk and medusa more quantifiably powerful. The harder it is to get this spell, the longer in game terms those monsters remain relevant. That's not necessarily a flaw, but it's worth noting, so that we understand why the spell exists at all.

Sigh. Let's just stop there. These spells feel like they'll never end.

Let's Think about This

I'll take a moment for a breather.

I want to start by saying that I have empathy for those readers who have felt their perception of the White Box set somewhat challenged of late. It's understandable that they'd want to push back, at least a little, so that while sure, ten criticisms I've said have merit, I really ought to reconsider this one example, "...which can be understood if only we..." and so on. That's fair. If the house is shifting and about to slide into the canyon, why not grab that snow globe from the Grand Canyon on your way out the door. It's only natural.

I'm a little surprised that people haven't seen, plain as day, that these problems have always been there. I've been trashing this set off and on for 17 years and I've always assumed it was nostalgia... but apparently, users have been grafting onto the books materials learned somewhere else, published later, presuming without looking that these things originated in Men & Magic and so on. It's a splash of cold water to find out that, no, in fact, the books were a complete mess.

So, I sincerely apologise for the popped balloons. I'm not here to trash D&D as an idea. I've dedicated my life to this game, I love this game, I've written extensively about it, I've defended the ability of any reader to get better at being a DM by fundamentally understanding the game and its principles better. The failing of this game, if there is one, isn't how poorly the White Box was written, or how any of the books were written, but rather in the resistance against learning how to play that was instituted from the start by some bad actors, and has since been perpetrated and insisted upon throughout every generation since.

A chessboard consists of sixty-four squares and six piece types. There are just 32 pieces altogether. Yet the total scholarship that has been applied to chess in just the last 50 years dwarfs the total written output of D&D by far, despite the latter being a game without any board, solely in the imagination, that has hundreds of potential combat variations, hundreds of monsters, scores of game play options and unimaginable variance with regards to things players might do in game. There is so much written about how to play chess that the game has its own section in most any large book store (where those still exist). Yet the total scholarship on D&D extends to about 40 recognisable books, the authors of which are so concerned about their names being attached to what they've written that they're more likely to be known by a pseudonym than their real names. And most players of the game don't know their names. While chess players who play above 1600 in chess can often discuss, at length, the works of half a dozen authors they've read.

D&D players refer to trade works only in so far as to say, "Yeah, it was good" or "It just said the same old things." There's no discussion, no extrapolation of the material, no context where it is visibly applied in game and no learning that takes place. D&D players and DMs, from their behaviour, from the amount of effort they put into themselves to improve what they do, measures on the same scale as players of Candyland. For all the magnificence and capacity of this game to reproduce a live, human experience, we can't begin to understand why chess players care so much about how a knight's movement on the game board matters so much.

Chess demands improvement. Sitting down to play a game of chess against a stranger carries a threat of embarrassment. It's inherent in a competitive game. Just as a junior league team whose baseball coach won't get serious about practice condemns a bunch of kids to the experience of losing 27 to 0, by the third inning, by which time civilised people will call the game on account of a bad contest, you can have your ass handed to you by an everyday player in just four moves. And, assuming you don't walk right into that, you may still find, to your chagrin, that you've just been brutally outmatched by a five-year-old. You can't hide your mistakes behind a narrative or improvise grace. You lose material, you wallow, you have no idea what you're doing and then you've lost. For those who love the game anyway, there's a motive to get better. To learn what it feels like to win instead of lose. To fix your game and improve, which in turn sets a pattern for everything else in your life. We teach chess to children because it helps them understand that application produces tangible, measurable results. If you can get better at chess, it follows that you can get better at anything.

D&D doesn't have that. There's no reason to teach it to children, because it's just play. It has no cachet of improvement; rather than grace, it encourages self-indulgence and performative attention grabbing. The rules are treated with disdain. Even if we count those who believe in the rules, they quote only those that fit their worldview. There's no effort to deconstruct what's going on and seek to understand why it happened that way. No one who plays chess says, "It's just a game." In my day, when we had to scare the dinosaurs off the field so we could play, if you said to the coach, "It's just a game," he'd either bench you or ask you not to come back. Today, if you said it in earshot of the team, the coach wouldn't climb on your ass, but he/she would probably have to get between you and the rest of the team, who would not appreciate your lack of engagement (to put it politely).

But D&D? Sure. Sure, why not. It's just a game. The participants in the game act in as lackidaisical manner as possible, nowadays expecting the game to bend to their weaknesses. And it does. D&D accomodates, it protects egos. A table can run for ten years without a single participant ever receiving the neutral, external correction that a chessboard delivers in seconds. And because the culture evolved around that softness, people mistake the absence of humiliation for the presence of mastery. Long-time D&D players pat themselves on the back because they've played a long time. But they have no other metric. The internet is replete with people who have been participating in role-playing games for forty years, who regularly say things of such unrelenting, abiding stupidity about game play that it's hard to believe they've ever actually sat at a table. I can think of half a dozen such people off the top of my head. They don't have any respect, and they don't care. Because this game isn't about getting better, its about getting your badge that declares you play. After that, you've accomplished the only threshold that anyone in this community cares about. You've identified yourself as a D&D player. Congratulations, you're in the club. Automatically.

It's what allows players to assume they're "really good at role-playing," because this game gives them every reason to believe it. Its why the vagueness of the White Box is a feature: the variation in which it can be interpreted creates an ambience where no one is ever wrong, no one ever has to question... and ultimately, no one ever has to feel humiliated because their opinion was stupid.

The phenomenon arises out from the detritus-like community that came to embrace it. Those not good at sports, those not good at relationship-checkers, those not committed enough to excel in grades, those not interested in the chess club or the visual media club, those without artistic leanings... and yet who had some sense of aesthetic or imagination, who were smart enough to at least read the occasional low-brow fantasy novel, who liked games, who had pretensions to act but not the balls to actually stand in front of judging audience, they found their way here. To this game. Where they could be safe from having to measure themselves against anything except to warm a chair and roll a die when told to.

Hell, even a spelling bee has a level of public humiliation D&D doesn't have. That's how low the bar is for this game.

I have to assume I'm not like everyone else for the things D&D didn't teach me. I was an actor before I was a D&D player, granted though it was in school parts. I was in track and field, I played hockey and baseball competitively, with people who were deadly serious about it, before D&D. I was a social outcast, but I was one because I was angry and spiteful and willing to fight, not because I was a wallflower terrified of speaking to a girl. I wanted to write and knew I was a bad writer before I played D&D. And I was a chess player, a very serious one, starting when I was 10.

So I don't really fit into this crowd. I don't think that pretending to be a character in front of five people is "acting." I don't think winning a fight against a bunch of orcs, knowing that if my character dies I can roll a new one, is "competitive." I don't think that making a DM reinterpret a game rule is "winning."  I have different definitions for those things. And when I look at the White Box, I don't see a game I love. The game I love exists in spite of that document. The game I love is in the time I've personally spent reworking, rebuilding, redesigning, clarifying, detailing and improving D&D, not in what some non-specific writer 52 years ago meant when they totally failed to explain the haste spell. None of my ego (which is formidable), none of my thinking, none of my game play, none of my interest or love for the game, none of the impetus I feel to write these posts, none of the defense I'll put up to try to help others be better at this game, is invested in those 96 pages of trash that I'm deconstructing.

Which is why I don't care about pointing out the stupidity of this line, or how this could be conflated into something ridiculous, or that I might be hurting someone's feelings by pissing on this sacred document. If your feelings are hurt... that's just evidence of how rarely you've allowed your feelings to be hurt — or perhaps, more precisely, how unwilling to you are to have yourself measured against any viewpoint but your own.

I'm not insulting the White Box. I'm measuring it. And measurement always feels like an attack to people who have never voluntarily stepped onto a field where measurement happens. If someone's feelings or emotional attachment is threatened because I've pointed out that some writing is incoherent, poorly designed or laughable in its pretense, that shows only that the person's identity has been overbuilt around an object that can't withstand pressure.  They're defending the fragility of their nostalgia, not the integrity of the work itself.

I've been getting pushback from people on a level I'd expect from the authors themselves, who, being actually responsible for the work, might rightly be hurt at the way I'm deconstructing it (with humour and such). When a person not specifically responsible for this work acts like this, it's evidence of something much more problematic than the White Box as a thing. It's dependency. And really, what a thing to be dependent upon, for a game that demands more of the individual than this set can remotely hope to provide.

Really. For the love of the game, learn to at least depend on something that is worthy of you. Or be worthy enough not to have to depend on this trash.

If there is any value in D&D, it comes from recognising its early flaws, it's failed efforts, both then and now, and improving what we know. Only a fool would think otherwise.

Watching a Film with Women without Losing My Manhood

Going to take a short break and write another post today. I just finished watching Madame Web. I'd like to talk about it.

Went into it with the attitude, "Well, let's see how bad it really is." Because I had every reason to expect it to be. The internet buzz was vicious, incendiary and unrelenting on this film: it was bad, bad, bad. Some of my sites that I subscribe to deconstructed this film and found it loathsome, irrational, you name it. I was told it was another Marvel misfire, that Dakota Johnson gave an "awkward performance," that it was a "2000s throwback" and a lot of other things that essentially had buried this film for me.

But... was coming off Death By Lightning, which I watched yesterday, and had no more gas to do anything else tonight. Blog post written, other content designed... feeling up for something and found nothing to watch. So, like I said, "Oh what the hell, let's see how bad it is. Bet I don't last ten minutes."

I have to start by saying that cultural commentary just now is on autopilot. People see a cape, a studio logo, a few stills... and the next thing you know they're creating a bunch of "stickers" with words on them, ready made to slap on the product sight unseen. I've been told that Dakota Johnson had an "odd, detached delivery." Nonsense. She spoke like Dakota Johnson. Now it's fine if you don't like her, I don't really care, but anything about the way she delivered lines is just made up. That "2000s vibe." I've seen all those 2000s superhero movies. This isn't like any of them. It's not X-men or Sam Raimi or Constantine, all of which I've seen this compared with. The atmosphere? It doesn't have an "atmosphere," unless for some reason "filmmaking" is now somehow not what it has always been. 

I've seen arguments that if a thing doesn't "fit" with everything else, then it must be a new "species" of film. Like films must have a genealogy, they can't be defined as a moving process of narrative, character discovery, exposition, introspection and resolution. No, films "gestate." They're not deliberately fashioned by hard working individuals who have a vision. They come out of the womb instantly and fully made, and if they don't fit preconceptions, then it's the film that's wrong. 

What a pile of steaming horseshit the critical part of this culture has become.

I'll go into why I think the internet dumping ground didn't like this film. There are some unfortunate special effects choices that happen in the first few minutes. It accepts an invented cultural structure that seems like it's going to strongly influence the plot of the film... except it doesn't, at any point, actually do so. The structure exists to give exposition. But if a person watched the beginning of the film, and did not go on watching... then they would almost certainly extrapolate the wrong expectation from the film's first ten minutes. I think this alone accounts for a least a third of those who "didn't like it." They never saw the film at all.

A shaky CGI spider, an unfamiliar mythos, and they assumed they knew the whole thing.

It takes too long to get started. Most superhero powers of this genre function like a vending machine. Punch button, get powers, kick ass. This doesn't do that. More than half-way through the picture, the character still cannot "just turn her powers on." I think that drove quite a lot of people absolutely fucking nuts. The character is confused; she acts confused; she has every reason to BE confused. Anyone in the same situation would be. And when you're confused, you speak in a "detached, stumbling, slightly fearful manner." This is where the detached shit comes from. All you have to do is ignore the plot and assume it's the actress, and there you are. How do you arrive at that conclusion? You watch the entire film skipping 10 seconds/30 seconds at a time and assume you know everything that's going on. You don't know, but you write and present a youtube video anyway.

This is also where you get the "2000s vibe" shit... because in the same way, Raimi's Peter Parker needed time to "figure it out." Rachel Weiss in Constantine needed time to "figure it out." Wolverine was struggling with "figuring it out." That's not a fucking "2000s vibe." That's how films have been made since Buster Keaton's The General. Characters get information, figure it out, and we figure it out with them. But the vending machine of DC/Marvel cut-scenes have ruined filmmaking and characterisation. That's NOT the fault of a film that decides to pursue it.

Now, let's get down to the so-called real problem of Madame Web. It's not about a man. I don't exactly know when or how it became acceptable or even reasonable to decide that a little better than half the population of the planet were defacto unworthy of respect or conceptual storytelling, but this is where we've gotten, isn't it? Yeah, I know, the fucking gamers give a shit. And the little incels do too, the poor belated pillow humpers that they are. But I am totally unclear on how the rest of us are expected to actually get on board this train. Some of us have women in our lives, whom we love a lot, whom we would happily sacrifice ourselves for should it come to that. Quite a lot of us, actually. And daughters and sisters and mothers... and so I'm not really clear on why I'm supposed to forget things like what it's like to have a daughter, or care about girls or women, or such like, because some diddly-fuck with an internet channel screams about how "boys don't get attention any more." I'm getting pretty tired of that long-playing record (reference from another time, ignore it), and the time it's being given by the not-even-remotely-mainstream television media (also a relic of some 30 years ago). I'm just as happy to sit and watch a movie about a woman character figuring things out as a man character. If others aren't, well... I'm just very glad to say I don't have any males in my life like that. Not a one. I told the last to take a hike coincidentally 30 years ago, because I was tired of carrying him.

Sorry.  I feel somewhat incendiary about this, because I was very much misled by what I heard online, and since everything I heard online was bad, I'm not very keen with that community just now. And though I am 61, I'm fundamentally Bohemian, fundamentally a misanthrope of my own variety, and fundamentally not especially respectful of prudishness. So, when angry, I swear a lot.

Madame Web commits the SIN of having most of its lines spoken by four humans of the female gender. There are two supporting actors in the film that are male, and one villain that is male. The actor playing the villain is Tarim Rahim. He tends to play parts where he has a quiet intensity, an authority that radiates rather than bluster. Obsession, instinct, not high-testosterone coded. He's also pretty. Pretty doesn't sell well with the incels.

One of the supporting males, Mike Epps, gets about six lines and then... well, no spoilers. The other, Adam Scott, is well known for playing the basic sympathetic male he's playing in this film, notably in Severance. Thus — and this is stupidly important — this makes all the males in this woman's film all "pussy-boys." Un-Ak-ceptable!

The men don't drive the plot, the men don't achieve any important success, they don't contribute the hyper-key thing that the women critically need to succeed... they are the Captain Dunsel of film characters and that just is not how films have to be made as per the internet. There are rules we're supposed to follow, dammit (fuck knows why) and this movie didn't even come close to following them.

As such, there's no possible way this could be a good film. It doesn't matter what the women do, or what they believe or what they figure out without needing a man to propel, protect or sacrifice himself for them... the sin of doing it all on their own absolutely violates the first principle of The Protect the Male's Significance code! (Don't blame me if it's the PMS code for short).

I am a man. And weirdly, watching women figure things out without help, and come together to care and protect each other, doesn't make me feel emasculated. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I think with the lump above my shoulders, and not about using my hands to protect the tinier lump below my hips.

Yeah, it's "tinier." It's not bigger than my fucking head, is it?

I'm not going to talk about the plot. I enjoyed the film. It takes its time, it provides rational reasons for action, there are no significant plotholes... I'd watch it again. No, it's not a "great" film. It's not The Graduate. But it is a good film. And if you're an adult, and you haven't tried it yet because you're worried about what's been written about it... and you don't need to have your plot injected at warp speed, I think you'll have a pleasant time with it.

Dungeons & Dragons White Box 21

Continuing with this Demosthenean exercise...

Hold Monster: Same as Hold Person but applicable to Monsters.

On some level one has to admire the restraint here. It's a bit like describing a car as, "same as a bike but for more persons," but I can't actually complain about the accuracy of what's here.

Conjure Elemental: A spell to conjure an Air, Water, Fire or Earth Elemental. Only one of each type can be conjured by a Magic-User during any one day. The Elemental will remain until dispelled, but the Magic-User must concentrate on control or the elemental will turn upon its conjurer and attack him (see CHAINMAIL). Conjured elementals are the strongest, with 16 hit dice as is explained in Vol. Il, MONSTERS & TREASURE. Range: 24"

Chainmail has the following to say about elementals:

Conjuration of an Elemental: Wizards can conjure Elementals, but no more than one of each type can be brought into existence. (Note: This does not apply to Djinn and Efreet.) If the Wizard who conjured the Elemental is disturbed (attacked) while the Elemental is still in existence, he loses control of it, and it will then attack the conjurer. An Elemental created by a Wizard who is subsequently killed will attack the nearest figure. Such Elementals must be dispelled by a Wizard or (killed) by combat.

ELEMENTALS (including Djinn and Efrett): In order to bring these creatures into a game, it is necessary that they be conjured up by a Wizard. There are two classes of Elementals, those subject to fire (Air and Water Elemental) and those subject to electricity (Earth and Fire Elementals). Note that fire breathing Dragons will not affect the latter kind of Elementals.

Air Elemental (including Djinn): Fly 24", attack as four Light Horse, are impervious to normal attacks against them,and add two to their dice roll when combating airborne opponents.

Earth Elementals : Move 6", attack as four Heavy Horse, are impervious to normal attacks against them, and add 1 to their dice score when fighting earthbound opponents.

Fire Elementals (including Efreet): Move 12", attack as four Medium Horse, are impervious to normal attacks against them, and add two to their dice score when combating opponents who normally employ fire (Dragons and Wizards who cast fire balls).

Water Elementals: Move 6" outside water, 18" in water (must remain within 6" of water at all times), attack as four Light Horse on land and as four Heavy Horse in water. Water Elementals are impervious to normal attacks against them, and they add 2 to their dice score when fighting within or in 3" of a large body of water (river or lake).

Only one Elemental of each kind may be brought into any game in play at the time. If an Elemental is uncontrolled by the Wizard who summoned it, it will attack the Wizard who conjured it, moving towards him in a straight path, attacking any figures in its path.

Add to this a note from page 40 that says the earth elemental causes 6 points to wooden structures.

The amount given to these creatures, compared with other more common features of D&D, verges on fetishism. It's clear from the Chainmail rules that elementals were a major part of the game. The writers clearly thought these beings central to the idea of fantasy combat, that they should pop up all the time, despite their incredible, overarching amount of power.

According to the way the spell is worded, four elementals per day can be dredged up, so long as we don't exceed one of each.  That's rather fantastic, since it amounts to 64 hit dice. Teleportation is so strong we have to impose a "chance of death" for just using it, but this spell is fine. It's fine! It's not overpowered in any way. After all, the mage must cease personally fighting and do nothing... except allow a marauding hulk to go around smashing everything. Until dispelled. That's more than enough balancing of the mage's power.

I'd like to argue that they were trying to say, "You can pick just one of four possible choices each day..." but that's not what the language in fact does. The problem is later fixed by assigning one elemental per spell of specifically that name, but here, we have a ridiculously overpowered spell. No doubt there are readers saying right now, "YEAH? SO WHAT?"

True enough. I clearly remember how such overpowered elements were seen as "just reward for waiting until reaching the level that would let us wreck all purposeful game play." Even a whiff of, "That's stupid, I'm rolling that back," would get blasted with outrage, demands to let it stand — so long as the DM doesn't use it. There were a lot of players in those days who wanted to be "One Lone Dutchman" as per the joke.

They forget that it was always possible for the DM to be two of them, or four, or ten. Then it's just a bunch of stupid elementals fighting every session and it's boring... for nearly everyone except the dumbass that never gets tired of it.

This is the entropy of early D&D design... which still plagues those who cannot understand how "end game" sessions function. They're caught in the loop of players-vs.-orcs at first level and they think that translates into players-vs.-gods are 28th level. But this expansion doesn't make the game "better" or more "epic," it just makes it longer to run the combats, what with all the bells and whistles now attached. Omnipotence is a slog of mutual annihilation... of game structure and meaning. The higher you climb, the thinner the air gets, until the game suffocates under its own mechanics. The problem is that power breaks tension. The orc encounter works because the players can fail. Once that risk disappears, so does the meaning. High-level D&D becomes an actuarial exercise — mathematically determining how many rounds it takes for omnipotent beings to slowly whittle each other down. No wonder so many tables eventually "reset to factory settings," back to first-level danger, where swords can still miss and death still matters.

And yet, designers chase the horizon, promising an endgame that — this time, makes omipotence compelling. But omnipotence is, by definition, static. The demonstration we have of that is in how the Marvel universe has lost any and all sense of how to make any of the battles mean anything. For a brief period, they made it about people in suits. Now it's just the suits. And the suits, though pretty, don't feel anything. I could say a lot about that, but I won't. Let's just move on.

Telekinesis: By means of this spell, objects may be moved by mental force. Weight limits are calculated by multiplying the level of the Magic-User by 200 Gold Pieces weight. Thus, a "Necromancer" is able to move a weight equal to 2,000 Gold Pieces. Duration: 6 turns. Range 12".

20 pounds. Multiply the level of the necromancer by 20 lbs. Isn't that clearer?

Going through these spells one by one, I can't help noticing that the "speed" at which the items are moved does not appear here. And we know, if we compare this spell to "levitate," "fly" or "wizard eye," we're talking literal inches (not game inches) per second. 10 minutes to send it 120 yards away. That is, about the distance across the street. Piano movers go faster than this. Mind you, there is no speed indicated, like I said. So what are we talking about? I have no idea.

Without velocity, there's no spell, and all velocity measures provided for other like spells are for shit. The spell can't be played as written... and if the writers had a sense of shame, they should certainly be red-faced over this one. Where's Steve Urkel when you need him?

Transmute Rock to Mud: The spell takes effect in one turn, turning earth, sand, and, of course, rock to mud. The area affected is up to 30 square inches. Creatures moving into the mud will become mired, possibly sinking if heavy enough or losing 90% of movement otherwise, unless able to fly or levitate. The spell can only be countered by reversing the incantation (requiring a Transmute Rock to Mud spell) or by normal process of evaporation (3-18 days as determined by rolling three six-sided dice). Range: 12".

I love how the mechanics of evaporation are random. Is there a hydrologist in the house?

Too, can't let that "use this spell to reverse this spell... what spell? Why, the Transmute Rock to Mud spell, in case you didn't know. You readers can't be trusted with anything.

That extra effort, that real push to make sure this spell is clear as day... could have been spent on telekinesis. Once again, I argue that these two spells were written by the same person, and that the latter, while having the number-infatuation of Gygax, has that easy-going "...and, of course..." followed by the "30 square inches" physically written out (which Gygax would NEVER do), and the clarification "...by the normal process..." which is also too conversational to be Gygax. That makes three writers of this thing. The reader could argue that telekinesis was written by Gygax, but I'm sure that if it was, there'd be another three lines in it about why the spell can't be used as a weapon. Since that's missing, NOT Gygax.

Side note. I don't know if it really means 30 ten-foot by ten-foot squares. If so, that's 3000 actual square feet, which is a stunning amount of area to transform. Just saying. About the size of a suburban home lot, and more than enough to literally wreck a giant 30 by 30 foot tower, which covers less than 900 feet. The amount of curtain wall this would just wipe away would be... catastrophic in a siege. You don't need to siege, you just need a bored mage with an afternoon free. No one would ever build castles again.

The author knows that earth and sand are, like, little rocks... right? Or maybe the author thinks maybe we don't know that. I love that monsters just "walk into mud" utterly unaware that they'll get mired by it. Usually things that walk into environments, even if non-intelligent, know whether or not they'll get mired in it. A spider, by the way, even a big one, would just cross the top of it, if it's thick enough to mire things. Most stuff will just walk around it. I admire the two D&D characters saying of the giant, "Cast rock to mud, and when the giant just walks into it..."

Don't talk about the obvious, practical uses of it. Getting rid of a wall, or a pillar, causing a building to collapse, or obliterating a rock bridge, or creating a bomb by transforming lava (burst of 140 degree celsius steam), or causing a cliff overhang to just melt away... no, no, that's just nonsense. This is all about whether or not the creature so transformed can "fly" or "levitate"... because all creatures that do either immediately walk into mud first. It's their thing.

In Chainmail, numbers are given, as per the elemental above, for how much point damage is done to fortifications. That book does not mention rock-to-mud as an attack mode. Wouldn't it have been nice if they'd included that information here?

Wall of Stone: The creation of a stone wall two feet thick with a maximum length and height equalling 10 square inches. The wall will last until dispelled, broken down or battered through as a usual stone wall. Range: 6".

I just love it. There's rock to mud literally on the page above this, and not one reference to it in this spell description.  Not even, "...dispelled, broken down, melted or battered..." The rock-to-mud spell would get rid of three of these. Despite that both spells are the same level.

If the range is 60 feet, and the length of the wall is 100 ft., then I assume that since at least some of the all can occur outside the spell's range, you only need the last foot of the wall to actually be inside that range. So that, when I cast this right down the middle of an ordinary street in a town, I can be 59 ft. away, perhaps standing in a doorway. That's right, isn't it?

Imagine tormenting a town with this, knowing they have to physically take the wall apart each day, while you can just produce another one tomorrow. This is why spells have to have durations. Or at least some kind of actual in-person engagement. Permanence is a plague.

And before you point out "dispel magic," it's your level vs. the caster's... so, yes, thankfully, a town usually has a lot of casters, but if they form a union and they want compensation... then the whole wall appearing, wall coming down thing begins to look suspiciously like this isn't just chance... it’s protection racketeering in ritual form: "Nice thoroughfare you’ve got here, shame if a wall appeared across it overnight." The wizards get a steady income, the mayor gets plausible deniability, and the citizens get to feel both grateful and powerless while they queue up for the morning dispelling.

Wall of Iron: Like a Wall of Stone, but the thickness of the wall is three inches and it's maximum area 5 square inches. Duration: 12 turns. Range: 6".

This one has a duration. However, given the technological development of the time, iron is significantly better than stone. Neither can be removed easily, so that in terms of a spell slot, this one offers really nothing the other one doesn't do better. And with more coverage. Though it will resist rock-to-mud.

Obviously, the real reason for the duration is that iron, compared to stone, is valuable. A permanent iron wall could be frozen, broken up and then melted into more useful things. Also, while I'm on that, this is wrought iron, right? Not steel.

Animate Dead: The creation of animated skeletons or zombies. It in no way brings a creature back to life. For the number of dead animated simply roll one die for every level above the 8th the Magic-User is, thus a "Sorcerer" gets one die or from 1-6 animated dead. Note that the skeletons or dead bodies must be available in order to animate them. The spell lasts until dispelled or the animated dead are done away with.

The dissonance with this one is truly stunning. This fifth level spell produces 1d6 skeletons at 8th level, one time only, which can be hit by normal weapons and are essentially the same combat value as orcs, at a time in the game when same-level clerics can destroy 2d6 skeletons per round without needing to roll. There's a brilliant spell economy at work. Well done, morons!

Not only that, we can't even conjure them out of thin air. I can't even be bothered with the idiocy of this.

Still, kudos. Every sentence is, amazingly, clear.

Magic Jar: By means of this device the Magic-User houses his life force in some inanimate object (even a rock) and attempts to possess the body of any other creature within 12" of his Magic Jar. The container for his life force must be within 3" of his body at the time the spell is pronounced. Possession of another body takes place when the creature in question fails to make its saving throw against magic. If the possessed body is destroyed, the spirit of the Magic-User returns to the Magic Jar, and from thence it may attempt another possession or return to the Magic-User's body. The spirit of the Magic-User can return to the Magic Jar at any time he so desires. Note that if the body of the Magic-User is destroyed the life force must remain in a possessed body or the Magic Jar. If the Magic Jar is destroyed, the Magic-User is totally annihilated.

That is actually not a bad description either. The explanation of the jar, the manner in how the possession takes place, the consequence of the possessed body being destroyed, even the consequence of the jar's destruction, all clear. The compulsion to capitalise "Magic" over and over for two different things IS headache inducing. Five of these sentences includes both "magic user" and "magic jar" in the sentence... and there are only seven sentences altogether. But language is a trainwreck sometimes.

One of my favourite instances occurs in Heinlein's novel, Time Enough for Love. The character is parsing out the probability of two "twin" clones, derived from the same genetic material rather than from sexual reproduction, having a healthy offspring. It gets into the fertilisation of the ova, or egg, which the paragraph then produces in such abundance that if you hold the book at arm's length, you can see "egg" repeated like someone scattershot a hundred "g"s onto the page. Just a little trivia. Not relevant here.

As a spell, a player character would have to be nuts to use it. It's well enough to trust the DM to invent a magic jar the characters must find to kill the dangerous mage villain, what with the characters NOT being omnipotent. But trust a DM to leave my mage's jar alone? You must be joking. The moment you separate your soul from your body, you've essentially handed the DM a note that says, "Please make my continued existence contingent on your mood."

You know it's going to end up with the jar being held hostage and the party being put through hell to get it back. There's just no way I'm doing that. I'd rather give car keys to a 13-year-old and tell him/her to "Go on, have a good time."