Random Encounters II

Or are there dungeons in your dungeons and dragons?

I thought I might go ahead and follow up my initial foray into random encounter design with some thoughts on dungeon encounters, and how you might go about stocking the dungeon and creating some factions. Let's imagine that the map the bandit leader had in my earlier example leads to a collapsed temple, and inside the temple are several tribes of goblins, loosely allied, engaged in a genocidal war with several tribes of allied squirrel men.

This is going to give my players a bit of a peak behind the curtain and they definitely should ignore the man behind it, or else! But, squirrel men are just goblins. Well, statistically they're goblins, with two added abilities: they can climb just about anything that isn't a shear surface using normal movement, and they can glide short distances with their patagia. And they're less likely to use metal weapons (they can't make them). The gliding bit may never come up - it didn't when my players encountered them, and the reptiloids they allied with helped the group turn the squirrel men in squirrel pelts, so those particular squirrel men's gliding days are over. But, let's take a look at the Goblin entry from the Rules Cyclopedia:

Goblins. Can't live with 'em, but you can kill 'em and take their stuff.

Under the statistic 'No. Appearing' it has two values: 2d8 (6d10). The dice outside the parentheses indicates the average number for dungeon rooms, and the other is for when encountering a party in the wilderness. So, using an average of 4.5 for a d8, the average number of goblins encountered in a given room in a dungeon is 9, and the average war party encountered in the wilderness (using 5.5 for d10s) is 33. This then, is an excellent starting point for determining the size of our goblin tribes, and when we make our random encounter table, we already know how large a patrol might be. You could instead use the AD&D 1e numbers, but it ranges from 40-400 for wilderness encounters, which I think is perhaps a tad large. There aren't guidelines in the 1e Monster Manual for stocking dungeons, so my advice is stick with 40, since there's clear guidelines for what the goblins will have for every 40 members.

I also happen to have B/X Essentials, a retroclone meant to clearly and concisely replicate Moldvay & Cook's version of Basic and Expert, in which the numbers are 2d4 and 6d10. This makes the patrols smaller, being on average 5 strong rather than 9.

Either way, let's stick to the RC goblins.

I'm going to set our factions to two allied tribes for each side, plus a group of hobgoblins who could be convinced (or coerced) to either side. Using an online dice roller of dubious merit, I've rolled 42, 34, 42, and 27. For the hobgoblin mercenaries hiding out from the authorities, there are 11 (from 4d6).

Just to give our example here some spice, I'll lay out some areas for our imaginary ruined temple:

• The two goblin tribes are the Smackjaw and Yellow Spot clans and they have encamped in what was a temple wardrobe (the cultists were a tad theatrical). They've recently cemented an alliance between their two tribes by marrying the Yellow Spot tribe's "princess" to the Smackjaw tribe's "king". The Smackjaw's have 42 warriors (not including the king and his bodyguards), and the Yellow Spot's have 34. They don't exactly fight well together, as their chains of command have not yet synchronized, so their morale is 1 lower than normal.
• The Grey Pelt squirrel men have taken over the altar room, which has high ceilings. They live among the rafters and climb up and glide down as the need or whim takes them. They're in a looser alliance with the other tribe, and do not as yet fight or train together, but each will aid the other if attacked. Both tribes of squirrel men ride large saber toothed squirrels into battle (use the same statistics as the "large wolves" that the goblins ride, but make allowances for climbing). The Grey Pelt are least numerous of the two tribes (27 warriors).
• The Streaked Pelt tribe lives in the sunken store rooms. They've knocked out the floors and built platforms from discarded wood and ropes they've made themselves. The Streaked Pelt tribe has an especial hatred of the goblins, since the tribe matriarch's children were ambushed and then skinned to make the bridal furs. The Streaked Pelt tribe boasts 42 warriors.
• The hobgoblins are the Iron Hounds, a once numerous mercenary band reduced to eleven. They are led by a thoul (a special type of hobgoblin that has regeneration and a paralyzing touch) named Castrahza. Castrahza is feared and respected in a large part due to her resiliency and supernatural powers, but she isn't a fool either, and that counts for a lot. The Iron Hounds can be hired by the PCs (their asking price is 1,000 gp, but they may work for less if the PCs know they're on the run, or if offered shares of treasure - they will work for plunder as well, but the referee should note that in this case, they strip anything they find from the lair of the faction they're sicced on, and won't give up their booty short of battle). The mercenaries have secured the armory that once served the temple guards.
• The temple is filled with idols and bas reliefs showing a golden beetle with three scythe like horns and large mandibles. Inscriptions in a dead language (if using the Lamentations of the Flame Princess system for languages, it would be -2 on 1d6) call it the World Maker, and also the Horned Destroyer. The reliefs showing the Horned Destroyer aspect typically include tiny human figures fleeing from the beast as it blasts walled towns to smithereens with some kind of ray from the posterior of its carapace.

On to our encounter table. Let's make just 12 entries, with a mix of encounters between our factions and some other wandering monsters that may be lurking in the temple:

1. The temple shifts or trembles, dust and small debris falling from the ceiling. Roll 1d4 each time this result comes up. 1-3, nothing untoward occurs. On a result of 4, debris from above falls on the PCs, doing 1d6 points of damage to all who fail a save vs. paralysis. Successful saves halve the damage (anyone wearing a helmet automatically saves).
2. 1d6 fire beetles
3. 1d6 orcs (these orcs do not have a faction per se, but are coming into the temple from a cave system deeper in the earth - the referee could follow up this adventure with some spelunking, if desired)
4. Patrol of 2d8 Yellow Spot goblins. They are armed with spears, short bows, and wear leather armor. If the referee needs to invent a name for individual goblins (because the reaction roll indicates friendliness, or some other reason), Yellow Spot goblins have names like Yeek, Mreek, Kreek, etc.
5. Patrol of 2d8 Smackjaw goblins. They are armed with swords, light crossbows, and wear chain. Should the referee need to invent a name for individual goblins, Smackjaw goblins have names like Brob, Lob, Nob, etc.
6. Battle
7. Battle
8. A patrol of 2d8 Grey Pelt squirrel men. They are armed with clubs and slings. If occasion warrants, Grey Pelt tribal names resemble Nyahtoo, Toothut, Weetee, etc.
9. A patrol of 2d8 Streaked Pelt squirrel men. They are armed with spears and javelins (one javelin each). If the situation deems it necessary, Streaked Pelt names are similar to Lofteb, Kafohd, Gufflot, etc.
10. 1d6 bandits (these outlaws have come into the temple from outside, intent on plundering the ruin - the referee can decide if they are aligned with the outlaws in hex 1x1; note, they may be a source of replacement PCs and/or hirelings)
11. 1d3 zombies wearing the tattered remains of cult vestments; some may have golden beetle necklaces worth 10 gp (2 in 6 chance)
12. An echoing sound like many legs and the scraping of something hard against stone. Do not read the following:  A creature from the depths beneath the temple stirs, and is in search of prey. Make note of this each time it comes up, and mention that the sound seems louder each time. After the 3rd time it is rolled, the players will encounter a battlefield strewn with dead goblins and dead squirrel men - many of them sliced in half (none of the bodies are whole, and the amount of blood implies that there were many more). On the 5th result, they see a green glowing apparition undulating toward them. Once in range of the party's light, they will see a pale, many legged beast whose golden head is armed with scything mandibles of a slightly darker hue. It fills the passage way (it can squeeze itself into tunnels 10' wide but not below this), and has a combat speed of 100'. It is impervious to non-magical weapons, has 10 hit dice, deals 2d6 points of damage with its mandibles (its only weapon), and regenerates 3 hp per round (it cannot die, even if reduced to zero hp or below unless the referee rules otherwise. Under normal circumstances, if reduced to 0 hp or below, the creature ceases activity for 24 hours as it regenerates its damaged body).*

 *As a side note, the referee may want to decide how many HD it has consumed. The simplest way is to roll d%-6. Once the beast has consumed 100 hit dice, it will pupate, a process lasting for one month. Afterward, it burrows its way out of the sunken temple and emerges as a gigantic golden beetle (you may invent the statistics, or use the Tarrasque as a blueprint - instead of fire breath it blasts foes with chemical artillery from a chamber at the aft end of its abdomen, this has a 180 degree field of fire). It also has a fly speed of 30 miles per hour (3 miles per turn, 2,640 ft. per round).

If the referee really wants to be sadistic, the Horned Destroyer can make a terrible cacophony through stridulation (rubbing parts of its carapace together). Anyone within 10 miles of the horrid thing is stricken permanently deaf. Those within 100 miles are effectively deaf (no other sounds can be made out over the noise), and the sound can be heard from as far away as 1,000 miles. It does this to attract a mate. And will do so until it either successfully finds a partner, or is slain. If it successfully mates, both Horned Destroyers die in 1d4 days - but not before the female lays a clutch of a dozen cow-sized eggs somewhere in the campaign world, beginning the cycle over again.

Now that we have our encounter table, we can see that its got a mix of possible friendly and possible hostile encounters, a slower burning threat (with an apocalyptic payoff), and a nuisance. I could perhaps spice up the other encounters, but I think I'll leave them as is, since occasionally, it's nice to make something up on the fly (the orcs could be friendly, or they could be blind albino cannibals like the cave dwellers in The Descent).

Something else to consider: Most dungeons are going to have multiple levels (as imagined, this one would), and each level likely needs its own encounter table. In general, dungeon depth is proportional to the threats on the encounter tables, but this doesn't always have to be so. Personally, if I were actually making the temple as a dungeon, I would probably  take the larva off the table and make it trigger off of something the PCs messed with. I just wanted to throw something cool on the table, since we're using it as an example. Encounter tables should have a mix of tougher and weaker monsters. It's okay to have a stronger monster be on the encounter table for a "shallower" level, so long as you make it less likely than the weaker encounters; in the other direction, it's also okay to put weaker monsters on the "deeper" level encounter tables. Not every fight has to be a challenge.

Importantly, our example encounter table takes into account our factions, which leads toward generating the much vaunted and often misapplied story I hear so many RPG blogs, sites, and forum posters talk about. Factions are integral to providing something for players to get involved in (or not) and provides consequence to the player's choices.

I'll save this tangent for another post down the road, but what most call "story" Carlos and I call plot. Story is what happens to the characters as a result of their interactions with the game world (via the exploration, encounter, and reaction mechanics, but most importantly, from player choices). Plot is what happens when the players cooperate and follow the rails that the referee has laid out. I'm not saying plot is bad necessarily, and plot and story can happen in the same game, but there's a level of nuance that is seriously misunderstood. As I said, I'll come back to this.

Hopefully this example will be helpful. I don't claim to have all the answers where encounter tables are concerned, and I definitely think that this one is a good starting point, but it's not the end-all be-all example I would have preferred. I've been trying to write this blog post for three evenings running after work, and I just can't bring myself to pour any more into it than I already have. As with all writing, you reach a point where you have to stop, else you'll never finish it because there's some detail to tweak, or a better phrase, or a position you want to elaborate on, etc. So, I'm done. Make a dungeon. Put it in a wilderness. Let your players loose on the world, and hope they aren't devoured by something primordial.

Surprise Mid-week Post

I realize it has been some time since I updated. Over the last year or so, I've been working a lot and I've either found myself exhausted and feeling a distinct lack of creativity, or distracted by other obligations. So, I'm taking a free moment to update the blog and address a request from Ezekiel regarding one of the essential mechanics of OSR based games.

Random Encounters

There are three pillars to the way in which B/X D&D (and OSR games based on that framework) is meant to be played: Exploration, combat, and roleplaying. Random encounters interact with all three pillars through a number of mechanics. On the exploration side of things, random encounters are a part of the risk inherent in seeking out the reward (i.e. treasure), since random encounters can (and often do) lead into sticky combat situations where characters and, occasionally, entire parties end up perishing. Such as what happened when we set fire to an altar room to keep warrior women from murdering us through a secret passage - after having spiked the main door shut to keep them from coming in that way. We were not successful in putting out the fire, which spread, predictably, and we could not find the mechanism that operated the secret door in time before we succumbed to the smoke and flame.

It wasn't our best day.

Combat is a deterrent, when you get right down to it. If there aren't safe resting locations, and there isn't sufficient magic to keep restoring hit points, then you've got a rapidly depleting resource, and you really don't want to get into fights if you can avoid it. Fights don't have to be immediately deadly either, just enough to whittle the HP of the party down to the point where any more fights start to look downright unpleasant.

There's a brilliant mechanic that often gets forgotten (especially when someone drags out the "D&D is just a combat game" straw man) that potentially bypasses combat altogether, and leads straight into the roleplaying that characterizes the entire genre. I think reaction rolls might be my favorite part of older versions of D&D, and B/X in particular. It's the missing piece of encounters, random or otherwise, that is lacking from 3rd edition and beyond. See, in 3rd edition, there's no assumption that the reaction roll will happen, it has been relegated to either Charisma checks (in 3.0) or to the Diplomacy skill (in 3.5/PF/Whatever the hell else they're doing now). Charisma checks and Diplomacy are not automatically called for at the outset of an encounter, and thus, encounters are automatically hostile unless the referee says otherwise or the players take it upon themselves to avoid fighting, which, if they're playing as intended, likely won't, because slain monsters = XP.

Reaction rolls are fantastic because they provide an opportunity to shape the way in which the story will go, and the referee can be as surprised as the other players. Peaceful or even neutral encounters can be opportunities to trade, make allies, gain valuable information, and possibly deceive, steal, double-cross, or ambush NPCs. If you're using factions in your dungeons (highly recommended!), then it gives the players an ability to upset the dungeon's status quo, and be caught up in the intrigues between said factions. The best part, is that survivors of the PC's rampages can become allies and enemies in the future, and while in the dungeon, there is a population that can serve as hirelings, retainers and replacement characters.

So, the question is, how to design random encounters? I'm going to admit my own experience is somewhat limited due to the fact that I have mostly been running pre-made adventures for the Basic Fantasy Roleplaying Game and re-skinning them to suit my bizarre tastes. You can find them here, and best of all, they're free. Chris Gonnerman is a saint. Additionally, the print versions are at or very near cost, so they can be a fiscally responsible point of entry. But, because I've been cribbing from other referee's works, I haven't been flexing that particular muscle, and it doesn't help that I've been pretty fatigued by my day job.

But, as always, I have some thoughts based on the modules I do have.

Encounter Tables & Their Kin

My first suggestion, for anyone who is new to making encounter tables, is that they should have a plan in mind. And we'll outline the things you ought to consider here:

• Location. Is this an encounter table for wilderness areas? A dungeon? An urban area? Frontier? Etc. Consider the space. Urban areas will likely feature humans and demihumans more often than it will feature straight up monsters, but it can depend on what you're going for. A frontier might also feature human encounters, but fewer of them, to reflect that there are fewer people, and animals and monsters will make up the bulk of encounters. Wilderness should feature even fewer humans, if any, and many more monsters.
• Proportion. Not all encounters need be combats, but since the reaction roll already exists to provide an opportunity to forestall the possibility that all encounters will turn violent, you may consider making one or two encounters non-combative by default, such as a trapper who might be willing to trade supplies or information, guide the PCs, or just share his camp site. Urban encounters are trickier. You could make a bunch of non-combat encounters, or just make potentially hostile encounters less likely. You can do either, or both, as you choose.
• Substance. Encounters with beings abstractly represent a population that exists in the space that the encounter table is describing. So, if you have wilderness area that your players are exploring, you may want to have thought about the orc tribes in the hills that are supplying the orc warbands roaming the map (and who may or may not be raiding the outlying settlements in the frontier area to the West). These same bands should have a relationship, which can range the gamut from allied to at war. Something that is important to consider though, is how many warbands they can supply, so how many times can the PCs encounter the Black Tooth tribe's warbands before their forces are depleted into irrelevance?
• Escalation. It isn't necessary for an encounter to immediately begin with opposing parties surprising one another, making reaction rolls, and then either making truce or fighting it out. An encounter can initially be a sighting. The first result could be a glimpse of a Black Tooth warband marching through the forest paths, either returning from a raid or embarking on one. The second result could simply be (depending on the numbers of the band) the orcs jeering and insulting the PCs, possibly throwing things in their general direction. Or, the orcs might try to discover what they want, and what will make the PCs go away as quickly as possible. If the PCs keep encroaching on their territory, or talks break down, the next encounter can turn nastily violent. The same technique can be employed with, say, a dragon. The first encounter could be seeing it flying above the hills to the North. The second encounter, it has a cow or similar large prey animal in its talons and is flying back the other way. The third encounter could feature the mighty beast casually slaying one of the orc warbands. You don't even have to present an opportunity for the PCs to fight the dragon, just dangle the wyrm in front of them and see if they seek it out.

That's all well and good, but what about the nuts and bolts? To start with, don't make a 100 encounter list. It's probably more work than it's worth, and you'll exhaust yourself trying to fill it. There's nothing preventing you from adding new entries to an existing encounter table, or modifying it to suit a new situation or location. I don't think you should make generic tables either, since you can always take a specific table, and scratch out details that don't fit. The best tables are focused and short, with enough detail that they say something about the space they're meant to represent. So, how many entries? My personal leanings are 12 or 20. That way you can quickly roll using either of those two dice and get things resolved. Subtables are fine, but don't make too much more work for yourself if you don't have to.

To that end, let's make an encounter table for the White Drake Hills, a wilderness region with a human frontier to its western edge. Let's say that it spans 6x6 six-mile hexes, and that the western side is "frontier" and the rest is "wilderness". So, the table will reflect that mix, as people are pushing into the wilderness and beginning to tame it. Let's make it a 12 entry table, just to make things easy on me. There are hills to the North, and a scattering of hills, grassland, and forest in the rest of the region. We aren't going to try to "balance" this list against a given level of PCs. It will be up to the PCs to decide whether or not to engage or retreat. Hex locations are length x width of the region, 1x1 being the Northwest most corner and 6x6 being the Southeast most corner.

1. A green dragon can be seen flying South. It is little more than an emerald glint against the sky, but its silhouette is unmistakable. A second result will feature the dragon flying North, a kicking moose dangling from the beast's raking talons. A third result finds the dragon on the ground, slaughtering one of the orc warbands in the area.
2. An orc crashes through the underbrush and stumbles into the party's path. The orc is a survivor from the Cloud Face tribe, annihilated in a recent war, and is wounded, possibly feverish, and starving. Assuming the PCs don't kill the orc on sight, roll reaction. Even if hostile, the orc does not try to fight the PCs, but does distrust them. The survivor speaks both the common tongue and the languages of the region's orc tribes. If the PCs decide to be friendly, the orc can act as a guide and interpreter. The orc can be male or female, as the referee chooses, and any age that is appropriate. An aged orc shaman might be an interesting and fearsome guide, but the referee may want to design the orc with an eye toward being a possible PC replacement.
3. In a forest clearing, there is a lone bull woolly rhinoceros cropping the new spring grass. If he spots the PCs, he will charge at them until they leave, or he loses 1/3 of his hit points (at which point, he quits the field unless pursued).
4. On the initial result, the PCs spot a warband of 5d6 Black Tooth orcs marching (1-3) West or (4-6) East at some distance. On the second result, another warband spots the PCs and approaches. They send a small group forward under a flag of truce, and try to ascertain what the PCs want in their broken common, using gesture where vocabulary fails them. If the PCs desire free passage, they will need to give the orcs tribute of 500 gp. In return, the orcs will give them a filthy orange banner with an emblem meant to be blackened teeth. If the PCs do not want to pay it, the orcs warn them to leave. Further results: Roll reaction. If neutral or friendly, proceed as above, but keep track. After two more encounters, relations sour and further encounters are hostile. The Black Tooth tribe has 10 warbands of warriors operating in the region (to determine their maximum number of combat forces, roll 5d6 and multiply by ten, removing warbands from that total as the PCs encounter and defeat them).
5. An amorous pair of hill giants (one male, one female). They are young adults, sneaking away from their tribe (or tribes?) to the South to tryst in the hills and woodlands in the region. They can be variously encountered: 1-4 on 1d6 (In Hills) Laughing and frolicking among the wildflowers adorning the hilltops; (In Forest) Hunting game with their throwing clubs; (In Grassland) Playing games hurling stones as close as they can to a thick post; 5 on 1d6, as above, but having abandoned the previous activity for a loud and vigorous intimacy; 6 on 1d6, both giants are splashing and playing in a large pond, nude, as a prelude to romantic athletics. In any case, the giants, once they spot the PCs, will throw stones and large branches at the PCs until the PCs give them privacy, or, if the PCs persist, the two giants will inflict their frustration on the PCs with clubs and fists.
6. A trapper and his mule. He is friendly, and has furs to trade for supplies, if the PCs choose. If the PCs are cordial and companionable he will invite them to his camp in hex 3x2, which is a safe place to rest. He gives his name as Eustace, but it may be an alias (the referee is free to rename the trapper). There is fresh water at this location from a natural spring. If this encounter comes up again, ignore it twice. Every third result brings the PCs back into contact with Eustace, and he may be checking his traps, hunting, or have news from the frontier areas.
7. A band of human and demihuman outlaws 3d6 strong. Roll for surprise. If they get the drop on the PCs, they attack immediately. If surprised by the PCs, the outlaws are encamped and playing at dice. If neither side is surprised, the outlaws approach brazenly. Either way, roll reaction. If friendly, the outlaws will make polite demands for the party to pay their toll of 100 silver. If neutral, the outlaws make the demand for 200 silver at arrow point. If hostile, the outlaws simply demand "Your money or your life!" Defeat sends the survivors fleeing to hex 1x1, where their hideout is located. If the outlaws are encamped when they are encountered, they will instead invite the PCs to play dice, and when the PCs tire of it, follow them and attempt to murder and rob them in the night. There are sixty outlaws living in a crumbling fortress, along with their women and children. The leader is a 3rd level Thief with a map detailing the entrance to a dungeon in hex 5x4. Further encounters deplete the outlaw reserves until they dwindle to half. The next encounter after that results in a band with the leader in command. He offers peace to the PCs, since the outlaws are his responsibility. If the PCs accept, he may offer the map as a goodwill gesture. If they desire, the PCs may resupply at the outlaw hideout, though they may not receive warm welcomes (they have, after all, killed approximately half the men).
8. A cougar stalks the PCs, surprising on a 1-5 on 1d6. If spotted, it retires. If not, after one hex of travel, it strikes, pouncing on the smallest party member or the last party member in marching order if PCs are of similar size. It then attempts to drag the PC into the forest to kill and eat at its leisure. It fights to keep its prey until it breaks morale (let morale determine how... hungry it is). Further results can be ignored, or non-predatory wildlife at the referee's discretion.
9. As 4 above with the Black Tooth tribe, except that it is the Thunder Foot tribe instead. The banner they offer is maroon with a green foot and yellow lightning bolts flying from the heel. The Black Tooth and Thunder Foot tribes are mortal enemies, and if the PCs are found to be carrying the other tribe's banner, violence ensues.
10. A large shadow passes over the party. Searching the sky reveals only a lone eagle riding the thermals. A second result is much the same, but the eagle appears closer, and something seems off about its size. The third result may be a strike if it occurs in either the hills or grasslands hexes - but not the forest hexes, as the giant eagle cannot maneuver in the trees and risks injuring itself. If a strike, the giant eagle attempts to carry off a random PC. If it misses, or the PC frees themselves before they get too high, the eagle will make a second attempt, but will cut its losses if it cannot snatch a PC. Alternatively, if the PCs have pack animals or mounts, the referee may have the giant eagle try for such a target.
11. A band of bugbear slavers 3d6 strong with 2d4 slaves (human and demihuman) in tow. If friendly, they will offer to buy any captives the PCs might wish to sell, and may sell their slaves to the PCs for a fair price. If neutral, the bugbears will attempt diplomacy, potentially leading to the offer to buy captives, and sell slaves. If hostile, the bugbears will attempt to capture and enslave the PCs. The bugbears have a fortress/trading post at hex 3x6. Their leader is a 5th level Magic-User.
12. A great roaring sound and lines of red and green fire arc between two silvery darts in the sky. After a furious assault lasting a quarter of an hour, one of the darts veers drunkenly toward the ground, leaking flames. It crashes with thunderous noise in hex 6x3. Ignore the next 10 results of 12. The 11th time it comes up, the PCs encounter a band of Grey Men in silver ship suits with various injuries. They are armed with directed energy weapons, but are in bad need of supplies, and will want to talk rather than fight. Their leader, a 2nd level Fighter, has a handheld translation device. It is possible that the PCs will never encounter the survivors, or they may explore the smoking ruins of the craft and encounter them there.

Unfortunately, I have to cut this a little short. I wanted to elaborate on a few things, but I'll have to save them for a follow up post (no promises for how soon that might be). I hope that this gives Ezekiel some direction (more than I gave him in that email a while back, anyway), and I hope any others who find their way to my neglected blog find some use for it. For now, adieu.

Spies and Pirates, Part V

In the wake of the Elf's death, the Dwarf and Specialist tended to the Crusader's wounds. He would make it, if they could get him back to Aldentown. The Dwarf explored the cavern where they had first encountered the goblins. He examined the mining automaton, and noted the extensive damage its right arm had received. Leery of reactivating it, he continued his searches until he discovered a bit of stonework that didn't look quite right.

The stonework turned out to be a facade, and behind that facade was a small workshop meant for repairing the mining automatons. Most of the tools and spare parts were gone, but there was a spare right arm. The Dwarf and Specialist set to work repairing the machine. After accomplishing their goal and reactivating the machine, the Dwarf set to work on an unpleasant task.

He searched through the rubble and bodies caused by the Elf's explosive end, looking for their letter of authority and the sword that the Crusader had hidden it in. With some very messy effort, he found it. Unfortunately, it was now mangled, and the force of the explosion had cracked the hilt where the papers were stored. Blood had soaked them into illegibility.

While he toiled, a goblin woman came forward bearing a ring, speaking in broken dwarven. She made placative gestures and and said the dwarf word for "surrender". The Dwarf's angry shouts and hostile body language sent her fleeing, but not before she dropped the ring*. Troubled by the heroic death of the Elf, the Dwarf used the rest of the gunpowder the party had to make demolition points in the unexplored tunnel. When he was done, the explosions collapsed the tunnels, possibly forever.

And with that, the Specialist and Dwarf, carrying the Crusader in a makeshift travois and the automaton stomping behind, made their way back toward Aldentown, and were joined by Ebrulf.

When they arrived, the townsfolk were saddened to hear of the death of the Elf, and they were very concerned for the Crusader. The Dwarf and Specialist let the villagers take the Crusader away to the Moosefoot so that he could be tended by whatever alchemists, witches, or healers existed in the place. As for the automaton, the Dwarf chose to hide it in an abandoned barn. He made the risky choice to deactivate the great old machine, not knowing for sure if it would ever roar to life again.

It was many days before the Crusader was well, but he was also wounded in spirit. He had lost his holy symbol along with his sword, and felt keenly bereft. The healer who had tended his wounds relayed his hurt to the village's goldsmith, and they fashioned him a new one, though the church fathers would likely have despised it for its pagan imagery. The Crusader though was gladdened however, and felt the kindness and generosity of the villagers of Aldentown was a worthy reason to keep it.

And this is unfortunately, the last part of the tale, because Carlos has yet to make a replacement for his Elf. But that's okay. Because we've also played a few other games, notably, one involving ray guns and aliens.

*The ring was a ring of protection +1.

The Case Against AD&D - Ability Scores, pt. 8

After a bit of a hiatus, I'm back with the final word on ability scores in AD&D 2e. I've been dealing with a situation at home that's been something of a disaster, and been having to make time for physical therapy appointments, so less time for examining a roleplaying game older than I am.

Ability Score Requirements

We've talked about the ability scores themselves, but we've only briefly touched on ability score requirements, which will inevitably lead into my examination of the races and classes, but let's just talk about the requirements for those for now. Personally, I'm not a fan, and I'm not a fan because  they made humans the default with unlimited potential, but with higher ability scores you can play something right now that starts more powerful and won't actually have to pay the price for it unless you somehow manage to actually get to the racial maximums.

So, if you're fortunate enough to roll good ability scores, there's not really a reason not to play a better race or class, or combination thereof is there? 

 

Racial Minimums

Well, let's take a look at racial minimums. Taking into account the average roll for 4d6 drop the lowest (16, 14, 13, 12, 10, 9), you can see that in general, there's no race you can't qualify for with that array. This is genuinely to the good. However, things get more complicated as we go along.

Class Minimums

 Here we have the class minimums, which throw a big ol' wrench into the process of picking a race and class.

With the average array, you can't qualify for Paladin or Ranger. You would also be required to sacrifice your highest ability score in order to play most of the Mage specialist classes, leaving you with a significantly less impressive 14 for your prime requisite, Intelligence.

For a further wrinkle, there are just some class and race combos you can't choose at all. But, let's do a bit of an experiment.

We have the average array (16, 14, 13, 12, 10, 9), and we want to play an elf. Thus, we can add a +1 to Dexterity and a -1 to Constitution to the final ability scores. In this case, we could qualify for the Ranger class, so long as we put our 16 in Constitution, our 12 in Dexterity, our 14 in Wisdom, and our 13 in Strength. The 9 can go to Intelligence, and the 10 to Charisma, our "dump stats". Either way, we're stuck with a max level of 15 as a Ranger unless optional rules are in play (level restrictions were the way in which the game "balanced" the superior starting abilities of demihumans - which is to say, not at all in any realistic sense).

On the other hand, we could have played a generalist Mage and put that 16 into Intelligence. Or a Fighter and had the 16 in Strength. Another option (which I think is superior) is to play a Fighter/Wizard, placing 16 in Strength, 13 in Intelligence, and 14 (now a 13) in Constitution. This is because elves can multiclass, gaining all the benefits of the two classes at the cost of having to level both classes by splitting XP between them. They only need to qualify for the classes to do this (though they're restricted to Fighter/Mage, Fighter/Thief, and Mage/Thief combinations).

A human character with the same array is unable to qualify for Ranger at all, and can't multiclass.

Comparing Characters

I should save some of this for my comparison of the races, but I think it illustrates the point I'm getting at. Without going into huge amounts of detail about racial abilities, let's start off by stating that humans have no advantages and no weaknesses. They are a blank slate. Their largest "advantage" which is more like a remote option, is that they are the only race that can take the Paladin class (I'm sure some Planescape fan is waving their arms and saying "But-!" But nothing. Save it. We're talking just the PHB here, and have been since the beginning. I may touch on campaign settings at some future date, but not right now).

Elves, on the other hand, are all but immune to sleep and charm effects, they get a small bonus (+1) to fighting with bows (but not crossbows) and small and long swords. They can surprise enemies if not wearing metal armor. They can see in darkness up to 60 feet. They have a better chance to detect secret doors in dungeons. And lastly, as I discussed above, elves get a +1 to Dexterity and a -1 to Constitution (maximum is still 18, despite many house rules I've encountered over the years). They also have level restrictions according to the table above, if you want to consider that a true limitation.

So, keeping this in mind, you can play a human Fighter with 16 Strength, 14 Constitution and the other stats distributed how you like, or an elf Fighter/Wizard with 16 Strength, 13 Con, and 13 Intelligence. Or you could play a Ranger, and be really cool, because the human can't even qualify for it. Rangers, if you're not aware, get dual-wielding (a melee weapon in each hand), better attacks with bows, animal companions, and eventually, druid spells. They also have a bunch of skills directly related to "solving" wilderness encounters. Straight Fighters really only have weapon specialization going for them (which is again, another reason why you shouldn't take it away from them and give it to all the warrior classes. You could call it "Fighters Now Suck" the house rule).

Do I even have a conclusion?

To answer the question, yes, I do have a conclusion. Looking back on all of my ruminations on the ability scores, I'm of the opinion that how AD&D approaches them is flawed. It has made them way, way more important than they should be, and restricts interesting class options behind a wall of requirements that almost ensures your character is going to "suck" compared to someone who picked a more straightforward class and put their highest ability scores into the prime requisite.

On the other hand, there's combos like the elf Fighter/Wizard that basically screams "I'm the best option you'll get at 1st level!" You can fight well, and you can cast spells, have superior senses, and are practically immune to common spells and effects that can shut down an entire encounter. The XP splitting could potentially be considered a crippling disadvantage, except of course, you now have more tools in your toolbox to solve problems with, and can resort to just Fighting your way out if you have to. Sounds to me like the elf Fighter/Wizard has a strong chance to live to see the fruits of all that XP gathered.

By making ability scores as important as they are (in particular high ability scores), the AD&D game creates this tiny niches for characters to fall into. Our average array human will never get to play a Paladin or Ranger. The elf can only be certain classes, and while one of them is potentially interesting to play, it's clearly an inferior option to the Fighter/Wizard. Moreover... the level limit doesn't actually matter at all at 1st level, or even 10th level. If you managed to reach 12th level as a Fighter/Wizard, then (and only then) does it become a potential issue. But, bear in mind that this is 1,750,000 XP. A single classed Ranger is 13th level, a single classed Fighter is 15th, and a single classed Mage is 14th level. Not as huge a difference as it seems.

Inevitably, AD&D 2e has a propensity to encourage higher ability scores, both for qualifying for classes, but also for races, and then taking those and combining them to the strongest effect. This is exacerbated by the occasionally nonsensical ability score progressions (exceptional strength), or the bizarre upward scaling of the post 18 scores.

I've known and encountered plenty of players who either played 2e or ran 2e games, and almost universally, they ignore things like level limits, racial restrictions, and ability score requirements. For my part, I can't blame them. However, there is something charming about playing a game as it was intended to be played, rather than "fixing" it because we don't agree with some of the choices that were made. It would be akin to "fixing" chess by removing the knight's ability to move over pieces in it's path.

As for me, if I didn't like the knight's abilities, I'd just play a different game. Which is exactly what I already do with D&D. I prefer Basic and its variants to AD&D's maddening exceptions and obtuse subsystems. But if you like AD&D, more power to you. I'm not here to attack your choice of game, merely to present the case of why I in particular abandoned the system in my quest for the flavor of Dungeons & Dragons that would satisfy me.

The Case Against AD&D - Ability Scores, pt. 7

Dump Stat?

Charisma has an interesting history, and depending on the edition, had the most mechanical effect, or the least. It was also the most likely of the ability scores to be forgotten during play. In Basic D&D, Charisma determined NPC reactions, the morale of henchmen, and in some iterations, the maximum number of henchmen that could be hired. It changed very little with AD&D, but AD&D 2e's focus on story XP rewards and fighting monsters instead of hauling treasure (relegating that rule to an option in the DMG), it became less important for the PCs to hire henchmen. Additionally, the more immediate gains of exceptional Strength and high Constitution or high Intelligence and Wisdom meant that players were less likely to want to share treasure and XP with henchmen.

A Rundown on Charisma

So what exactly does Charisma do in AD&D 2e? Let's take a look.

The first derived score we have on the chart is the maximum number of henchmen. Henchmen in AD&D are essentially adventurers of lower level who are attracted to the PC's reputation. They are paid in shares (half a share) of treasure. There's a bunch of assumptions in there that are key to how all of this works, and before I move on to the other components of Charisma I'd like to talk about them.

First off, shares. Shares of treasure, specifically. In older editions, XP is determined by treasure being removed from dungeons and other adventuring locations, and brought back to civilization (some groups have a variant of this where you have to spend the treasure on frivolities to get XP out of it). How does a group go about dividing the treasure among themselves and their NPC staff? There are some guidelines in both editions of AD&D, but the simplest is to divide treasure into equal shares among the PCs. Henchmen would get either a full share, or half a share, and retainers and hirelings would get paid their wage (some classes attract retainers, warriors and others attracted to the charisma and reputation of the PC, but not as reliable or capable as henchmen; hirelings are just that, hired help. They could be laborers, guards, or specialists like sages and smiths. They too are paid a wage).

So, you can see how in an older edition like the various flavors of Basic or even AD&D 1e, where treasure equals XP, divvying up the XP to NPCs can seem like a blow. In 2e however, it becomes mostly a case of losing some cash and moving on. Since being introduced to OSR, my opinion on treasure as XP has changed. I had been aware that it was used in AD&D 1e, and that 2e had an optional rule, but I had been against the whole idea because it seemed to unnecessarily focus on treasure and its acquisition.

But, like all things, if you dig a bit deeper there's usually more to it than that.

Treasure as XP is a fast and fair method of determining risk vs. reward. Since monsters generally give less XP in systems that use treasure as XP, the reward for the risk is very poor. But, retrieving treasure without fights or without tripping traps can provide a great deal of wealth and XP. Interestingly enough encumbrance becomes more important where treasure as XP is used, since it not only constricts your ability to bring tools to deal with challenges in the adventuring location, but it also restricts your ability to bring treasure out without getting into fights (the longer you spend in the dungeon, the higher the chance you'll encounter hostile wandering monsters).

So, henchmen, retainers, and hirelings can alleviate this situation somewhat, at the cost of having to pay wages and shares. But, with more hands, you can carry more tools and carry more treasure. It also potentially spreads damage among the party. All of this interacts, and if you remove one portion of it, as AD&D 2e does, it causes the other portions to have a smaller, less impactful role in the rule set. Without treasure as XP, it's less important to have more hands to retrieve treasure. With more XP for fighting monsters, there's less reason to avoid them and more reason to ambush them with the intent to kill them for the XP. There's thus, less reason to bring XP and treasure siphoning NPCs along for the ride.

Bloody minded players might say "Yes, but you don't have to pay wages or shares to dead NPCs", but that leads directly into the discussion of the remaining derived scores.

Loyalty Base determines the bonus to the morale score of any given NPC. Morale checks are made by rolling 2d10 and anything below the NPC's morale score is a successful check (in other words, they don't panic or run or fail to do what they were ordered to do). Obviously, some roleplaying should inform how this works, but that's the quick and dirty of it. So, as you've likely surmised by this point, treating NPCs badly or putting them into suicidal situations will generally cause their morale to deteriorate until they fail a check and either balk, or flee.

Which in turn will harm the PC's reputation, leading to henchmen being less likely to seek employment under them. I suppose, yes, you could kill henchmen and NPCs who balk or attempt to flee, thus preventing them from spreading their stories of the PC's cruelty and insanity, but mysterious deaths and the fact that few if any people come back from expeditions involving that PC or party is going to be grist for the rumor mill.

The final derived score is Reaction Adjustment, and although carrying the same name with Dexterity's Reaction Adjustment, it applies to rolls similar to morale and loyalty checks, but it affects how NPCs react to the PCs. Rolling low is better, but there's no score you have to roll under, and it isn't a simple pass/fail. In specific, Reaction Adjustment is not for general PC/NPC interactions, but specifically for dungeon encounters. Even then, it's not always necessary to roll, since some NPCs are going to be hostile regardless (for example, if the PCs desecrated a temple as we did in one of Carlos' games).

Final Words

I dislike how it scales (what else is new?) and it doesn't follow any sort of internal logic that I can discern. Particularly where the number of henchmen are concerned, there's an enormous gap between the 10 of 17 Charisma, and the 15 of 18 Charisma. Reaction Adjustment and Loyalty Base also scale rapidly at the high end of the range.

The scores over 18 scale in a regular and predictable fashion, but they scale to heights that are in a word, absurd. You end up with 50 henchmen at 25 Charisma, Loyalty Base becomes 20, which effectively means none of your followers can ever fail a morale or loyalty check, and the Reaction Adjustment ensures that it will almost always be the most favorable outcome depending on the PC's behavior.

Granted, these scores are meant for gods, but it is possible for PCs to attain them, either through magical items or spells.

So, here we are, at the end of the ability scores. But is this series done? No. Not quite yet. I've got some more things to say, and that'll be saved for Part 8. After that, I intend to take a look at the classes, but there might be a break in between for catching up on stories I've related before.

The Case Against AD&D - Ability Scores, pt. 6

Getting Wise

Piety. Serenity. Willpower. Perception. Wisdom has always had something of a broad collection of things attributed to it, and it hasn't always made a huge amount of sense. Something that has stayed true though is that Wisdom generally allows a character to resist spells, whether it be all spells, or just mind control.

As an ability score, Wisdom has nearly always felt like an appendage, but in AD&D 2e, it has something of a redundant grab bag of subabilities, some of which that are only relevant if you have a higher score than can be rolled on the dice. So, let's talk about them.

Navel Gazing

 The first derived statistic or subability is Magical Defense Adjustment, which modifies saving throws against spells that attack the mind (the examples given in the book are beguiling, charm, fear, hypnosis, possession, suggestion, and etc.). This is fairly consistent with most editions of D&D, generally modifying the Spell save (in 3rd edition and beyond, it would modify the Will save). In AD&D, this bonus only applies at the highest scores of the ability score. You can see where I'm going with that if you've been following this series, but I will say that it's one of the more acceptable progressions among the six.

The second is Bonus Spells, and the entries on the table are cumulative. This is a derived statistic that would be carried over to 3rd edition, though it would take a different form, and apply to all spellcasting classes. In both AD&D 1e and 2e, this applies only to Clerics and priests. A starting Cleric with an 18 would be entitled to two 1st level, two 2nd level, one 3rd, and one 4th level spell slots in addition to their normal slots per day. Considering that they would need to wait until 7th level to make use of these, it doesn't seem like it would help much. But, at 1st level, it more than doubles their available spell slots. Note that Paladins do not gain extra spells for high Wisdom.

The third is Chance of Spell Failure. I do understand why there are failure percentages below 9 Wisdom (the minimum for the Cleric class), but what I don't understand, is why this exists at all. Essentially, any Cleric or priest with a 13 or lower Wisdom is extremely unattractive to play, though I wouldn't go so far as to say unplayable. It does though beg the question: Why discourage players from playing Clerics? Clerics have always been powerful and versatile, able to wear heavy armor and cast spells, and being capable of fighting well and surviving on the front line with their decent hit points. However, they already have a rather slow spell progression. You'll notice that the previous derived statistic, Bonus Spells, also doesn't bring benefits until 13 Wisdom.

To me, it really does discourage anyone with less than 13 Wisdom. Furthermore, it can't be to discourage Paladins, because Paladins are required to have a minimum of 13 in Wisdom. Ultimately, there's a narrow range between 9 and 12 where the Cleric is playable, but is handicapped by a spell failure chance. I'm baffled as to why this is, and it's one of the things I would drop were I interested in running 2e.

Spell Immunity is the final category, and it only applies to scores over 18. Personally, I feel like this is doing double duty, since there's already a bonus to saving throws, but ultimately, I know exactly why this exists, and it's to protect deities from these spells by granting them complete immunity. There's a lot I could say about gods and the folly of statting them out, but that isn't the focus of this series. For the most part, I just think it's a waste and that it's unnecessary since gods could just be immune based on their status as Lesser, Intermediate, or Greater.

Curiously, the only two categories that increase or change after 18 are bonus spells and the spell immunity. Bonus spells are fairly important advantages, and being immune to various spells that can take control of your character is attractive. So, once again, chasing higher ability scores is encouraged by these boons.

Enlightenment?

  

Wisdom as an ability score leaves a lot to be desired. While I'm happy that the spell save modifier doesn't increase past 18, we're still left with needless fat like the spell failure chance that only applies to a handful of potential characters. The spell immunity is messy and unnecessary for player characters. Bonus spells are a powerful advantage, but it scales in a strange way that complicates book keeping.

If spell immunity is necessary for NPCs or deities, then it would have made far more sense to have guidance for NPCs and a separate quality for immunity for deities. Bonus spells scale bizarrely, and I'm of the opinion that they're unnecessary and could have just been scaled better in the Cleric/priest class's spell progression. As far as spell failure is concerned? It shouldn't exist. It only applies to a small percentage of beginning characters, and even taking ability damage into account, I find myself at a loss to find a reason for it to exist and be tracked. It's extra book keeping for no reward.

The Case Against AD&D - Ability Scores, pt. 5

Smarts

Dungeons & Dragons has a bit of a complicated history with ability scores, and they went from having barely any mechanical effect to becoming the core of each character's abilities, over and above their class or race. Obviously, I prefer them being consistent, and consistently small in their mechanical effect, since a character's class should have more of an effect on their abilities, otherwise you wind up with incompetent characters (which admittedly can be fun in the right sort of game). The issue of competency has no more stark example than does Intelligence.

Intelligence also has implications for roleplaying, since a "smart" character can generally be assumed to be clever, logical, inventive, and a plethora of other nice sounding descriptions. The truth of the matter is, however, that the "cleverness" of a given character is poorly modeled by roleplaying game mechanics, and in general, their actual cleverness will be a confluence of the player's cleverness, and the DM's permissiveness. Take for example, the quintessential notion of using Intelligence to determine whether or not a player character can solve a puzzle, remember a clue, or come up with a tactically sound plan.

Solving a puzzle through a check sort of seems reasonable on the surface, since a "smart" character will have a greater chance to succeed. In practice, it removes any real engagement with the environment, and creates the additional problem of there being a flat chance that a "smart" character will fail to solve an extremely easy or obvious puzzle thanks to the dice.

Using Intelligence as a measure of memory also seems like it would be a good fit, but I've known plenty of otherwise smart people who have terrible recall for any number of things (grocery lists, something they just read, where they put their keys, etc.). In addition, I think it's more than fair to allow players to keep notes, and to remind them of something their character should know if the situation warrants it.

Now, a tactically sound plan on the other hand is so vague that it's completely useless. I've seen it modeled in games as bonuses to attack and defense for the side whose commander made the appropriate check, but then you get weird situations where both sides have tactically sound plans, or both sides have made blunders. Worse, a side may have rolled that it made a catastrophic blunder, but then the players make tactically brilliant moves in the actual combat play, and still manage to snag a victory. You could retcon the situation to be that the plan was poor, but they managed to adapt and improvise during the battle to eke out a win, but this is for me, unsatisfying and artificial.

In the case of a stupid player rolling Intelligence in order to "do smart things" it's literally just the DM telling the stupid player what they need to do in order to win, rather like having a grandmaster sitting next to you telling you how to beat your opponent at chess (I know, the analogy is weak - chess is competitive, D&D and most other RPGs are not). At this point, you're not actually playing the game, someone else is, and you're just going through the motions. I may be a bad person for this, but I feel that stupid players should just fail over and over again if they keep acting like an idiot. That they're incapable of doing anything else is not really my fault, or my problem.

Mechanical Effects of Intelligence

So what exactly does Intelligence actually do in AD&D 2e, aside from gauge how "smart" a character is? Well, let's take a look.

The first derived ability of a character's Intelligence is the number of languages that they can know. According to the Players Handbook, this can represent either the number of languages your character can speak, or the maximum potential languages your character can know. Additionally, it's the number of bonus non-weapon proficiencies a character can have in addition to the ones granted by their class. I'm not super fond of this (or the way it scales), but for the most part, it's reasonable that there should be a way of determining if a character knows more than just their racial or cultural languages.

Next is spell level, which is the highest level spells a character with the Wizard class can cast. This is one of my biggest gripes with AD&D, since having high enough Intelligence implies that a.) anyone can become a Wizard if they just applied themselves, and b.) that any Wizard with less than 18 Intelligence is incompetent by default. Let's examine that a bit further.

According to the table, 9 Intelligence (the minimum for being a mage of any stripe) allows you to cast up to 4th level spells. This by itself, goes the logic, should be enough to encourage anyone with any sense or ambition to be a mage or Wizard, since it allows them access to reality bending powers than can make their life easier, more interesting, and they would have access to powers that allow them to become even more powerful over time. I've seen this argument in many forms over the years, generally used for 3rd edition, but the same logic applies here. AD&D 2e still has 0-level NPCs, and 3rd edition has NPC classes, but proponents of the Intelligence = Ultimate Cosmic Power/Anyone Who Didn't Choose the Wizard Class is Retarded argument seem to ignore that in early editions, anyway, PCs are exceptional (due to training, bloodline, whathaveyou) and that magic isn't necessarily open to everyone.

But I can see where the Wizard or Bust! camp gets the idea, since the rules do in fact reflect how things work in the game world (it's one of the reasons why having the rules separate from the lore is potentially disastrous). Exceptionalism in heroes is not a new idea, and previous editions of D&D have reinforced this idea with 0-level characters. 2nd edition retains this feature, though a later splatbook, Sages & Specialists exists - and I'm not jazzed about it. It was a prelude to the stupidity of NPC classes in 3rd edition. Speaking of, 3rd edition has no clear divide between heroic characters and non-heroic ones aside from the fact that PCs are always heroic, and NPC classes are generally worse than PC ones. They're built the same way as PCs, and this adds weight to the Wizard or Bust! camp's argument (at least, for that specific edition).

Whether or not this implication is true is going to be determined by what the DM prefers and has chosen for their particular campaign world. Either way though, the DM is going to have to grapple with the this, because those assumptions are implicit in the rules, and Intelligence's role in determining spellcasting proficiency is explicit. They're going to have to have either a good explanation for why the lore doesn't match up with the rules, or players who are willing to play along.

As far as being competent or incompetent is concerned, note that in order to have the potential to cast 9th level spells, a Wizard or mage needs 18 Intelligence, the highest possible natural roll. In 3rd edition, spell level was directly a factor of Intelligence, in that the highest level of spell you could cast was determined by [(Intelligence-10) greater than, or equal to (spell level)]. This is further compounded in 3rd edition because your Intelligence modifier directly determines your spell save DCs, so higher Intelligence equals spells that are harder to resist. AD&D 2e mages and Wizards do not have this, but having a low Intelligence certainly does prevent a Wizard or mage from realizing their true potential.

Contrast all of this with Basic and retroclones: Intelligence has nothing to do with spellcasting, not even as a requirement to take the class. They're completely decoupled, and as a result, there are two things we can draw from this:

1. Intelligence has nothing to do with being a Magic User. There are smart Magic Users, and dumb ones. Maybe anyone can become a Magic User with the right training, but it's equally possible that they require some kind of special bloodline, or must transcend to a more enlightened state, or truck with dark powers beyond the mortal ken. Any or all of these can be true.
2. A Magic Users's competency is a function of their experience level rather than a single ability score.

Personally, I think this is to the system's advantage, both mechanically and for roleplaying purposes because it not only allows Magic User to be competent at their role despite rolling poorly for Intelligence, but it also allows the player and the DM to have leeway to explain what powers the Magic User's spells.

Moving on, we have the Chance to Learn Spell. This is the chance a character can successfully copy a spell from a scroll, which again, means that low Intelligence Wizards and mages are falling into that incompetency accusation. In all the retroclones that I have, scribing scrolls into spellbooks only costs money and time. In the D&D Rules Cyclopedia, this still holds true. I'm not sure about Holmes Basic, Mentzer Basic, or even OD&D, but I can ask Carlos when I get the chance.

The Maximum Spells per Level section is optional, but it limits a Wizard to a certain number of spells per each level, as advertised. There's an optional spell research rule that would allow them to bypass this, but frankly, I think that it shouldn't exist and if there's a spell research rule, you may as well require them to research any spell that they don't have a scroll to copy from.

Illusion Immunity is only relevant for gray elves and other creatures that can conceivably have a 19 in Intelligence to start with. However, that immunity is just another reason to accumulate a high Intelligence score, even for non-Wizards. Like I keep harping on, this is not a good thing, and encourages a style of play where everyone seeks every opportunity to acquire more ability score points.

Final Thoughts

While Intelligence affects more than just spellcasting, spellcasting arguably dominates any conversation you could have about Intelligence. Having an ability score that so completely determines a character's capability to perform their role in the party ends up being harmful to the game. It also has implications for how the campaign world works, which may or may not appeal.

If we consider the average roll of 4d6 drop the lowest, a 16 is not terrible. It would allow up to 8th level spells, something a Wizard won't have to worry about until 18th level (hilariously, this is one of the areas in which AD&D is superior to 3e). However, they have a 70% chance to scribe scrolls into their spellbooks, and while that seems like it would be a pretty high chance, it's still a greater than a 1 in 4 chance to fail to scribe the scroll, raising questions of the Wizard's competency.

Whether it bothers you from a mechanical, lore, or roleplaying perspective, or all three, Intelligence is an ability score that comes with a whole bunch of issues. Obviously, not everyone is bothered by the assumptions implicit in the score, but for my part, I'd rather that Intelligence be a rough roleplaying guidepost, or non-existent, rather than an integral pillar of the game's mechanics given the way it is presented in AD&D and later editions.