The Case Against AD&D - Ability Scores, pt. 3

Chasing Higher Ability Scores

 I mentioned that we'd come back to this, and so it comes to pass. In AD&D 1e, Method I was 4d6, drop the lowest, arrange to taste. It carried into 3rd edition as the standard way of generating characters. In 2e, they provided it as an option, but I wouldn't go so far as to say it was the "default assumption" by the book - though doubtlessly many groups who moved on to 2e after 1e simply used the 1e Method I.

Here's what that looks like on AnyDice. Jasper Flick has a neat little examination of attribute generation using the 4d6, drop the lowest method compared to 3d6 here on AnyDice, and I recommend giving it a look see, particularly for the calculation regarding the chances of seeing a natural 18 out of six rolls.

AD&D emphasizes the importance of high ability scores in three ways that affect the manner in which AD&D is played:

1. They provide a distinct mechanical advantage in their own right by being heavily more favorable at the high end of the distribution, and even more dramatically beyond that when you take into account scores of 19-25.
2. They provide access to more powerful races.
3. They provide access to more powerful classes, which reinforces the numbers chase because after all, if you have big numbers in your ability scores, those ability scores will be put to more effective use with a class that can self-buff, or fly, or advance as a Fighter and a Mage, even opening up the more time intensive but incredibly rewarding dual-classed combo.

So, why exactly is this a bad thing? Well, it's due to the fact that it encourages players to attempt to get the best combination of race and class that their ability scores can provide, and then attempt to climb as quickly as possible to the 18+ range of ability scores because these are more effective means of power than other options (outside of spellcasting, which has always been extremely powerful and flexible).

Let's take a look at 18/00 Strength versus the Fighter's weapon specialization ability (note that we're just using the PHB, not any of the grandmastery stuff from later books):

A Fighter specializing in say, the longsword, would be getting a +1 attack adjustment and +2 damage adjustment. Let's just assume for a moment, that he has the "average" roll for 4d6 listed on Jasper's article above, so he has a 16 Strength, which provides him a damage adjustment of +1, but no attack adjustment.

That's a +1 attack adjustment, and +3 damage adjustment. Not a bad character by any stretch of the imagination.

But let's compare him to the very, very lucky Paladin with 18/00 Strength. Non-Fighters don't have the ability to specialize, but Paladins are warriors, so they get to take advantage of the exceptional Strength values. Our Fortunate Paladin is sitting pretty at the best Strength score that can be rolled.

So what are his attack and damage adjustments? +3 and +6, respectively. It's a pretty significant difference, since his base damage is double, and his attack adjustment is more than that.

Fortunately, Fighters also get an enhanced number of attacks for specialization, but it's not as as awesome as it may sound:

Our Longsword Specialist can make three attacks every two rounds (so two attacks in the first round, one attack in the second round, or one attack the first round and two in the second). Conversely, our Fortunate Paladin can only make a single attack each round. Let's assume that they both are using longswords.

The Longsword Specialist does an average of 7.5 damage per attack, and has a THAC0 of 19. The Fortunate Paladin does an average of 10.5 damage per attack and has a THAC0 of 17. Ignoring their THAC0 (let's assume they hit with every one of their attacks), the average total damage of the Longsword Specialist is going to be 22.5 over two rounds, whereas the Fortunate Paladin's is going to be 21. He's only a point and a half behind our specialist.

Assuming we choose not to ignore their THAC0s, the Fortunate Paladin is going to hit more often, thus outpacing our Longsword Specialist. If the Longsword Specialist misses even a single hit out of his three, his damage is going to drop to 15 over two rounds.

Even on critical hits, assuming that optional rule is in play, our Longsword Specialist is getting the short end of the stick. He'll do 12 damage on average (in AD&D 2e, you double the damage dice, but not adjustments to damage from Strength, specialization, or magical enhancement). The Paladin is going to do 15. Having more attacks is only ever so slightly better than just raw Strength.

Furthermore, that's basically the only combat relevant ability the Fighter gets, and it barely allows him to out damage a Paladin with superior Strength. Paladins get an assortment of other powers like enhanced saving throws, immunity to disease, healing powers, a protection aura, and at later levels, a warhorse, turn undead, and priest spells. Fighters get unlimited magic item ownership, can hoard their wealth, build a castle, hire whomever they want, and level slightly faster.

Granted, 18/00 Strength is not something the Paladin or Fighter is likely to obtain. The average roll on 4d6, drop the lowest won't even allow you to qualify for the Paladin class, since you need a 17 Charisma just to be one. But, if you can qualify, and have a 18/00 Strength score, Paladin is by far the more attractive class (mechanically speaking).

And?

Ultimately, both your Fighter and your Paladin are going to be shooting for the highest Strength score they can manage. If our Longsword Specialist had 18/00 Strength, he'd be cruising through dungeon corridors at the brisk pace of the puree setting. THAC0 of 16, average damage of 37.5 over two rounds. The only thing stopping him is that HP inconvenience. And as he levels and finds more gear, he's only only going to get stronger. And gods help his enemies if he manages to get some wishes, or a Manual of Gainful Exercise somewhere. But the Paladin is no slouch either, and while he may not be able to out damage a Fighter who obtains the coveted 18/00 Strength score, there's nothing stopping him from benefiting from wishes or the Manual. Arguably, the Paladin is going to be more flexible once he obtains spells, but that's getting into fairly high levels, even for 2e.

AD&D 2e's emphasis on high ability scores being leaps and bounds better than low ability scores creates something of a problem, where a lucky set of rolls can make the difference between competent mediocrity and nigh unstoppable juggernauts.

Take Basic Fantasy RPG for instance, where the highest ability score is 18, and the highest modifier is +3 (assuming you're not using a race that bumps it up to +4). A character with no modifier is going to do an average of 4.5 damage with a longsword. A character with an 18 will do 7.5. A particularly strong race will do 8.5. It's a little much for my tastes (I think the -2 to +2 range for ability scores is better), but it's not nearly as drastic as the difference between a 10 Strength Fighter and an 18/00 Strength Fighter in AD&D 2e (4.5 damage vs. 10.5; 6.5 vs. 12.5 if they're specialists).

Compound this with multiple attacks, magic items, and the number of wishes necessary to reach superhuman (19) Strength. Assuming he starts at 18/00, a warrior character could use the Manual of Gainful Exercise once, or 10 wishes. A Fighter who started with 16 Strength would need 20 wishes, and one use of the Manual.

Power Gamers, Optimizers, Build Enthusiasts, and
Munchkins

And this is where I have to take a moment to talk about the types of players who care about this sort of thing. Most players will take what they can get, have a good time, and try to roleplay their character as well as they can in the situations they find them in.

Munchkins, Power Gamers, Optimizers, and Build Enthusiasts on the other hand approach the game differently.

Power Gamers are not bad players by default. They just like winning, and winning means making their character as strong as possible, and never turning down an opportunity to get stronger. This is a completely valid way to play so long as the player doesn't step on the other party members to reach the heights of demigodhood. They can, in fact, be great players who help the entire party realize their potential.

Optimizers are not actually looking to make the most powerful character on the table or in the world. They care about making their character as effective as possible given the options open to them, and most of this optimization is done before play starts. They tend to plan their character's advancement far into the future, even if they never get there, because they enjoy playing around with the character numbers. Optimizers and Power Gamers are similar types of players, but Optimizers don't tend to focus on acquisition of power during play - they just try to squeeze every ounce of performance out of whatever they started with, and whatever they have on hand.

Build Enthusiasts may or may not be interested in actually optimizing their character, power gaming, or engaging in munchkinism, but they do like to explore the options and build characters to accomplish specific (sometimes broken) things. There's nothing wrong with this, and they may just use it as a thought exercise, rather than putting it into play. If they do put it into play, then they're either an Optimizer or a Power Gamer.

However, there's a fourth variety of player who is supremely disruptive to play, and AD&D 2e's focus on ability scores enables their behavior. Most roleplayers have encountered a Munchkin, even if they don't realize it. They probably call themselves an optimizer or build enthusiast, and may even go so far as to consider themselves power gamers, but the difference is that they don't care about cooperating with the party. They want to be as powerful as they can so that they can do whatever they want in the game world with as few consequences they can't overcome through raw numbers as possible. These players are generally argumentative and tend toward being rules lawyers (a rules lawyer is not a player who remembers a rule differently than the DM - they're a player who argues for favorable interpretations of a rule when it applies to them or the party, but argues for unfavorable interpretations of the same rule when applied to enemies).

Worse, they will selfishly take actions that work against the party if they feel that there is some gain in it. These are often the same kinds of problem players who hide behind alignments and loudly exclaim "It's what my character would do!" when the rest of the party calls them on their behavior. Most often, this player is the first to get super angry when others frustrate his character's plans and designs, but is also first in line to smirk and say "It's just a game, man" when they do the same to other players. Munchkins don't care about whether or not the other players are having a good time, so long as they themselves are (this usually involves having the biggest numbers in the room).

I have issues with all the mindsets geared toward playing the numbers game. I'm not innocent of it though, but in general, I'm not terribly worried about mechanical optimization, and any game where I have to worry about it more than my character's personality and history is a game I'm not going to have as much fun with. I can however tolerate Power Gamers, Optimizers, and Build Enthusiastis in my own games, but Munchkins have to go. A player who doesn't respect others isn't welcome at my table.

Unfortunately, AD&D 2e  produced a fair number of Munchkins because the rules encouraged that sort of behavior, despite developer injunctions against it. 3rd edition provided refuge for them, where they could be mistaken for Optimizers, Power Gamers, and Build Enthusiasts. When you have classes, races, alignments, and even ability scores dedicated to disruptive behavior, and then put an irresponsible, selfish oaf in the mix, you get disaster unending. It's partly why Thieves, kender, and Chaotic Neutrals are so hated.

We Get It, You Hate Munchkins

Worry not, I have a point that I'm building to. I'm just going to keep examining AD&D 2e and build my case, and then I'll focus on that rather than my rambling evidence gathering that I'm doing now. To be clear, I don't have an issue with characters getting stronger or there being a clear progression toward excellence. My issue is that the climb to paragonhood ends up being the goal, rather than the journey.

Compare BFRPG's ability score table to the two (and the future scores we'll look at) we've seen so far. Not only is the range of scores slightly more forgiving in the middle range, but it also doesn't ramp up as sharply when it approaches the higher end of the range. More importantly, it's consistent across all six ability scores, and it caps out at the highest natural roll, meaning that there is no reason to seek greater ability scores.

Hopefully you can see what I'm getting at. Stay tuned for further updates.

The Case Against AD&D - Ability Scores, pt. 2

God Stats?

It's slightly unfair to call Dexterity a god stat in AD&D, but only because it doesn't work like 5e's does where it adds to ranged weapon damage, which led to a situation in which Carlos managed to take out an entire encounter by himself by climbing a tree and playing Robin Hood. It's still a universally good ability score, and you'll want it to be as high as possible whether your wearing no armor, or wearing full plate.

Thankfully, unlike other editions, it does not add to saving throws or damage, so it's at least slightly more reasonable in that regard. But like all AD&D ability scores, it scales oddly and sharply at the extreme high end of the distribution, compounding the problem of AD&D's general policy of having ability scores define what characters can do rather than their class. The race to higher and higher ability scores does the game no favors.

A Rundown on Dexterity

There are only three mechanical benefits to Dexterity (aside from non-weapon proficiencies based on the score and raw Dexterity checks, which always benefit from a high score): Reaction adjustment, missile attack adjustment, and defensive adjustment.

Reaction adjustment is initiative. It's a useful combat ability that helps your side go first and decide the way in which combat will unfold in following rounds. At 18, it's only a +2, and there's no bizarre "scores within scores" like with Strength.

Missile attack adjustment is AD&D's rather verbose ranged attack modifier. This too is a reasonable +2 at 18 Dexterity, though you have to have a 16 or more to even qualify for a bonus, which empowers that "high scores or bust" mentality of munchkins, power gamers, optimizers, and builds enthusiasts. Only one of the play styles is terrible (munchkins), but each comes with their own attendant problems that are directly being influenced by how the game itself is built.

We'll come back to this, but just keep it in mind for now.

Defensive adjustment is the modifier to your AC. Because not everyone is familiar with how AC works in older editions, I think I'd better take a moment to explain.

Armor Class in older editions uses descending numbers to represent improved armor class, so a negative number on the chart is actually a good thing, because in this case, lower is better. I've written a up concise explanation of THAC0 since it's something I've had to explain a lot over the years, and it's actually much simpler than most would have you believe:

In any case, an 18 provides a very generous -4 adjustment to AC, which is as good as wearing brigandine, scale, or hide armor. If one had chain armor, they'd be comfortably sitting at AC 0, with the option to drop it to -1 with a shield.

Moving On

Dexterity is less insane than Strength, and is one of the more reasonable ability scores, but it still has that nagging problem of how it scales as it runs toward the high end of the natural distribution, and how it ramps up beyond that. My next post is going to discuss this feature of the system in more detail, so keep an eye out.

The Case Against AD&D - Ability Scores, pt. 1

I've done my fair share of bashing 3rd edition, but I think it's time I took a look at Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. This isn't an attempt to be "fair" to 3rd edition - AD&D (1e and 2e) are far more interesting to talk about, and next to my 3rd edition collection, it's the largest amount of Dungeons & Dragons related material I have in my library.

Ability Score Insanity

In 0e and Basic, ability scores range from 1-18, and have (depending on edition) a modifier range of -1 to +1, to -2 to +2, or -3 to +3. This modifier only alters a few things, which are easily written down or remembered. Strength modifies opening doors and melee attack and damage rolls. Constitution modifies HP and Poison saves. Dexterity modifies armor class and ranged attack rolls, etc.

AD&D notes this simple and easily remembered mechanic, and chucks it out the window. And I can't for the life of me understand why. I can (somewhat) understand the use of the 1-25 range for ability scores, but not the needlessly complex way ability scores work. Of particular note is the Strength ability score, because it behaves in a way none of the others do.

A Rundown on Strength

Perusing my AD&D 2e PHB, I see that it has hit probability adjustment (attack rolls), damage adjustment, weight allowance (encumbrance), max press, open doors, and bend bars/lift gates as mechanical aspects of the game that strength modifies. All of this stuff has to be made to fit on a character sheet, and there's enough discrete things that you're unlikely to have memorized it, so that'll necessitate looking up the chart every time Strength gets modified somehow.

Hit probability and damage adjustment do not use the same number. At 18 Strength, hit probability is +1 and damage adjust is +2. Just bizarre stuff. Because these two numbers are different and progress at different rates, it'll be somewhat difficult to remember them off the cuff (though, admittedly, there's very little need to memorize anything other than your own score unless you're trying to figure out an enemy's hit/damage potential).

Weight allowance is more or less going to be a similar function of strength in various RPGs, and I don't feel the need to comment more on it aside from say that it's the least interesting way to account for encumbrance.

Max press is a mostly unnecessary number that feels somewhat arbitrary. I'm not even certain of how useful such a number would be in a dungeon delving game, since what you can lift over your head isn't likely to come up very often. If a fellow PC needs to climb onto your shoulders so they can see over a wall, you aren't lifting them. A player trapped under fallen rubble (or some other heavy thing) might need a strong person to lift said object so that they can be dragged free, but it's unlikely that you'd need to know whether or not your PC can lift said rubble over their head. Currently, my only idea for this is carrying your gear over your head (or balanced on your head) while wading armpit deep in water either in order to ford a shallow river afoot, or to traverse water underground.

Perhaps I'm just having a failure of imagination, but it seems to me that the max press score is unhelpful, really. It's just another thing to write down that may one time be relevant in a specific circumstance that will never come up again. As an aside, the "max press" is an overhead press, not a bench press as my old group told me (a claim not unique to them).

Open doors is fairly straightforward, until it reaches 18/91-99 Strength and adds extra information like the chance to open locked, barred, or magically held doors. I'm not against having a chance to open more difficult doors, but wouldn't it have made more sense to have a penalty for opening those kinds of doors? I'd imagine a locked door is easier to get into than a barred door (I've kicked in a door or two in my time), and a magically sealed door seems like a much more serious obstacle for a non-magical type character than a barred door. So, stuck doors would use the standard progression, locked doors would be say, -2, barred doors would be -6, and magically held doors -10. This would mean that a human with 10 Strength would have a 4 in 20 chance to open a locked door through brute force (a bit low in my opinion), and be unable to open barred doors or magically held doors through muscle alone. As it stands now, you have to have 18/91-99 Strength to have a meager 3 in 20 chance to open locked, barred, or held doors. Seems silly.

Bend bars/lift gates is a statistic meant to simulate great feats of strength, but bizarrely uses percentile dice to accomplish this. Non-fighters (I'll come back to this) with 18 Strength have a flat 16% chance to succeed, and it will never improve without magic. DMs are arbiters of the rules, and it would probably be fair to improve a PC's chances of accomplishing these feats of strength if they have pry bars or other tools... but then, I'm not really sure what the point of this statistic is if the players use tools and sense to overcome the challenge rather than brute strength. As well, if max press is a thing, wouldn't gates have an "effective weight" that can be compared to the PC's max press to determine whether or not they can lift it?

I'm not wholly opposed to a "mythic feat of strength" type deal for martial characters, but I don't think it should be part of the raw Strength score everyone gets in D&D. Additionally, there's the issue that it doesn't work the same way the rest of the Strength subsystem mechanics do.

Exceptional Complexity

Unlike the other ability scores, Strength has a sub-ability score that only "warriors" (an ill-defined catch-all term for Fighters, Rangers, and Paladins, multi-class Fighter/Whatevers, and later Barbarians and Gladiators) can benefit from. This "exceptional strength" acts as an additional 5 ability score points that settle in between non-warrior 18 and 19 like some kind of parasite.

I can understand wanting to make warrior-types more effective at their shtick, but putting it here in the Strength ability score means that there's an additional roll for determining Strength, and it complicates raising ability scores on the rare occasion that it happens. Yes, even an 18/01-50 is better than a straight 18 (by +1 damage, the only metric that actually matters), but it seems so damn pointless to have this here rather than give Fighters an "exceptional strength" ability at 1st level that ensures that they always have +1 or +2 to damage over and above anyone else with the same Strength score. Hit probability can be protected by giving Fighters the best damn attack bonus/THAC0 in the game.

It's also incredibly unlikely that a PC will roll 18/00 and get the coveted +3 to-hit, +6 to damage. Depending on ability score generation, they have to snag an 18, and then snag a 00 on 2d10. Those are rough odds. That +6 bothers me too, since it's a very, very large increase to base damage with every weapon, and magic items are going to further enhance this. A Fighter with 18/00 Strength is going to do 8.5 damage on average (7 minimum!) with just a dagger, and using a two-handed sword provides an average of 11.5 damage.

I'm not against subsystems or rules compartmentalization, but I think that AD&D went too far in this direction. There's too much to keep track of when simpler, more concise rules would have been better. The approach taken for Fighter/warrior role protection emphasizes the importance of ability scores over everything, which only means that the warrior-types (like Paladin and Ranger) are going to excel to the detriment of the Fighter. Specialization thus becomes their only refuge from the stronger abilities of the Paladin and Ranger, a refuge my old group stripped from them by allowing any warrior class to do it because it was more "fun".

I don't know if other groups resorted to that, but it made the Fighter a poor second to any other warrior class or multi-class Fighter. Since I'm drifting off topic now, I think I'll say some final words about Strength.

Advancing Strength, and a Conclusion

I wanted to address how advancing ability scores works generally in AD&D. Wishes at a certain point (starting with 16 I believe), only advance ability scores by a 10th of a point per application, so for a non-fighter to get 19 Strength, they'd need to have a natural 18, and then get 10 applications of wish. They wouldn't get the warrior classes' exceptional Strength, just a regular 18 with a decimal point. This is a RAW reading, though. Some DMs, I'm told, allow exceptional strength, but I personally wouldn't due to it being a benefit that the warrior classes are supposed to receive.

For warrior classes, each decimal point does improve their exceptional strength %. However, it's unclear whether or not a character with 18/00 Strength only needs a single application of wish or needs the full 10.

The fly in the ointment is that manuals such as the Manual of Gainful Exercise directly raises an ability score by a point; in this case, Strength. So, now the DM has to make a ruling: Can a non-warrior go from 18 to 19, skipping past the exceptional strength bits, or are they going to force the player to take decimal increments? Or are they going to count the five exceptional strength scores as valid ability score points between 18 and 19, but without the warrior benefits?

And what about the warriors anyhow? Do they go straight to 19 whether they have an 18/01 or an 18/00?

This hasn't even touched the insanity of having rolled an 18, playing a race with a Strength adjustment (like a half-orc) or the adjustments for age. Do they improve the score by a decimal, like a wish? Do they improve the score directly, like a manual? Do they do nothing at first level because of racial maximums? What about warriors and exceptional strength?

There's too much going on with the Strength ability score, and that'll become more apparent as this series goes on and addresses the other ability scores. When I've gotten through all six, I'll compare an OSR character sheet to an AD&D 2e one. It'll clearly demonstrate my ultimate point to all this. Until then, here's to hoping I post more regularly than I have of late.

I am Seduced by the Dark Side, and Some Opinions on 3rd Edition D&D

Those of us who were teens or adults when Wizards of the Coast brought forth their first foray into the roleplaying game market with their take on the Dungeons & Dragons game occasionally forget that 3rd edition is now an old game. When D&D 3rd edition first reared its misbegotten head in 2000, I was fourteen. Roleplaying games were something I'd only just been introduced to, so these were heady days for me. I'd discovered an outlet for my imagination that I never could have conceived existed (though it's entirely possible that had I not known of their existence, I might have reinvented the wheel given time).

Vampire the Masquerade: Redemption (a PC game) was being advertised in the gaming magazine I had a subscription to at the time. I was really excited, it seemed like everything I could ever want: vampires (still to this day one of my favorite monsters from our collective human folklore), crusaders fighting demons and creatures of the night, maidens in need of rescuing, and a story that would span time - taking advantage of the titular vampire's cursed vitality.

One fateful day, I was on my way to Dirk's house (my best and oldest friend) to hang out and possibly play video games or whatever it was we did then (Diablo, Starcraft, Mario Kart, and Goldeneye most likely). We were in the backseat of the truck and I was telling him about VtM: Redemption, and how excited I was for the game to come out. And then he dropped a bombshell on me that likely altered the course of my life forever: he invited me to come and play with his group. I hadn't even known he played roleplaying games at the time, or that they existed aside from the article mentioning that Redemption was based on some other game. I was vaguely aware that Baldur's Gate (a game my younger brother Nigel owned a copy of) was based on something called Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, but I didn't really know what that meant other than the game seemed complicated. If only I had known.

And that's also how I met my eventual brother in law Dan. Dan ran the group's games of Vampire the Masquerade, Shadowrun, and AD&D. I only played Vampire (and very briefly 3rd edition) with Dan at the helm, and eventually he left us all to join the army, and later participate in the second invasion of Iraq (rumors of his demise fortunately, were just that). That is, however, another story. 3rd edition Dungeons & Dragons had just arrived, and the group was starting to collect the books, and we eventually started playing. I believe my first ever D&D character was a half-orc monk, who was nearly killed by a rat. As I said, Dan joined up, so DMing eventually fell into the hands of others in the group who, despite their exuberance, were not very good at it, having unfortunately a dearth of talent, and having picked up terrible habits from our older mentor, now gone.

That sounds really critical, and perhaps unfair to them, but if you've ever experienced NPCs whose personalities range from egomaniacal to smugly superior with no deviation, huge monsters crammed into impossibly small spaces, and goblins that explode with treasure, then you know that what I, and the rest of the group were experiencing was effectively roleplaying Hell.

I eventually took up the mantle of Storyteller for our World of Darkness games, running Vampire the Dark Ages and Werewolf for several years in a medieval city. I ran things mostly off the cuff with as little dice rolling as possible. I tried to be fair in my arbitration, and in general I think I was both successful and an abysmal failure. Successful in that everyone was having a good time, but failing to challenge them, and in fact, being a little too much on their side, allowing fudges and all sorts of things I consider cheating nowadays.

It was during this time that I met a person who for a time was one of my best friends, and is now something of a bitter enemy. I don't hold that much animosity toward Jeremy, and I've always tried to be fair about his faults, and virtues even when my instinct was to be as vicious, and awful as possible, but I have heavily disliked him for several years now, and no apologies will change that even if they were forthcoming (which they aren't). I suppose I should have realized our friendship was doomed from the start when he didn't want to tell me about his science-fiction "masterpiece", because (as he would later confide) Jeremy's initial impression of me was that I was a plagiarist, despite having zero prior knowledge of me.

He, more often than not, took over the job of DMing for us with D&D. Unfortunately for me, our group had several players who had been playing characters from 2nd edition, and they weren't quite ready to give up on those characters whom they'd played for at least a year before I joined. They also did something rather unthinkable: They converted their characters to 3rd edition by comparing their experience point totals from 2nd edition to the ones in 3rd edition. This is a massive problem, since XP in 2e and XP in 3e are not only calculated differently, but the classes and levels use the same XP chart in 3e while in 2e the classes have differing experience charts. So... they were something on the order of 80th level characters, having extrapolated the XP needed for that by reverse engineering the 3e XP tables, and comparing their many hundreds of thousands of XP gained for being elven fighter/wizards, and taking that as their objective measure of power.

At the time, there was no rulebook capable of reigning this in (though there was a conversion guide they likely didn't read). Eventually, the Forgotten Realms Campaign Setting came out, and since they'd been playing in the Forgotten Realms in 2e, they were able to take advantage of the tentative "epic" rules in the FRCS. But, then, near the end of 3e, the Epic Level Handbook came out, and suddenly, the characters needed to be reworked to fit into this monstrous new power level (which is actually significantly less of a jump in power from non-epic to epic than it is from 1-20th level). And there's me. Relegated to making epic level characters (which could take hours) just so that I could play with the group, never actually properly learning the game because I was never given the opportunity to level up, and learn what everything did at the pace the game reasonably expected you would.

To top it off, one Christmas, Jeremy got me the Epic Level Handbook with a snide "Too bad you always make epic level characters" written in it, as though it were my fault that no one wanted to play 1st level characters, and I was stuck doing something I wasn't particularly good at for an hour or more: Math.

I later got my hands on the Wheel of Time RPG. I was really into the Wheel of Time series way back when, and it seemed like the right and proper thing for me to run D&D with, since I knew the setting, the book was gorgeous, and it was in many ways, 3rd edition lite. Of course, I didn't understand the rules properly, and when Jeremy joined the WoT game I put together on Tuesday afternoons at my then-girlfriend Rachel's house (a girlfriend who fell asleep nearly every time), I got to hear all about how I had read the rules wrong, and etc.

And it was true, I had. But I wasn't entirely to blame. I'd never been properly taught the rules, and as a result, my first forays into DMing 3rd edition were effectively disasters. However, I learned from my mistakes, and I got better, and eventually I was the only person willing to DM regularly. The burden fell more or less to me, with occasional DMing from the others when they felt like it, but three out of four weekends it was my ass warming the DM's chair. During that time, I chose to kill off my "epic" character, whom I'd grown attached to, but whose existence kept pulling me back into DMing epic level adventures which required a lot more prep than I wanted. This upset Jeremy's brother Taylor, a friend I'd known for a lot longer, was a fellow artist I admired, and was someone I very much liked for his wit and kindness. And yet, how dare I kill off my own character, and ruin everyone's fun, despite having repeatedly told him that I wanted to retire the character, since his motive to adventure had been completely resolved in a game Taylor himself had DMed for me.

This was, I think, the beginning of my fallout with the group - or at the very least, the first time I noticed. It may have actually started when I got a girlfriend I really was into, and thought I loved. I remember a day early in Rachel and my relationship when Jeremy and Dirk drove over to my house while Rachel was over, and confronted me about how I wasn't hanging out with them anymore in favor of my girlfriend. What I didn't realize at the time, was that it was because I wasn't DMing for them as regularly. I made them say it in front of her, because I had nothing to hide from her, and I wanted to make sure Rachel and I were on the same page where our relationship was concerned and who it might affect and whatnot. It was, sadly, one of the few actually mature choices I made in that relationship. A relationship that ended badly thanks to yours truly. But that's another, rather less interesting story that doesn't at all paint me in a good light.

Taylor and I drifted apart, partially due to my investing time in Rachel, partially due to my decision not to play my epic level character anymore, and partially due (later) to his use of weed. At the the time, I was very against it, and I was disappointed that he seemed more interested in smoking weed and being popular than he was with being my friend. But perhaps it was my fault for not being open minded, and for cultivating a friendship with a female, and for not wanting to play a character loosely modeled on myself whom I had killed for the sake of not having to play epic level characters anymore. It's possible that I'm just an asshole, and he was right to be offended. Just ask my ex. If anyone knows whether or not I'm an asshole, she would.

So, I took up the DMing mantle once again, and due to popular demand, I wrote an epic level adventure that would allow the group to resurrect my old dead character and thus restore harmony to the group. It was forty pages long. I spent days writing it. And when the time came to run the game itself, we postponed for several hours waiting for Dirk, who now had a pregnant girlfriend (he and Jeanette are still together, and while not legally married, did at least have a ceremony) and was less and less interested in playing roleplaying games with us guys. I bring this up, not because I feel he was wrong to want to spend time with the now expectant Jeanette, but because this was the beginning of his attempts to push us all away. Something that he has finally successfully done with me, more than ten years later. I suppose I should have gotten the hint a long time ago.

Even so, he came, and we played for eight solid hours. It was the longest I had ever DMed, and stands still as my record. We had six players that night. During an especially dicey encounter with a devastation spider, my brother Nigel's character failed a fortitude save vs. poison, and promptly died from the huge amount of constitution loss that resulted. The house of railroady cards I had built came crashing down, and I rather boorishly threw a tantrum before going to bed. We didn't continue the adventure I'd put so much work into, an adventure I had been forced to balance around characters whose levels varied wildly between 26th and 80th level because some wouldn't reduce their levels and others wouldn't level up their characters!

This was not to be the end of our days playing 3rd edition (or 3.5 as it was then). Eventually we all graduated high school, moved out or ended up in parent's basements as unsuccessful nerds often do. For a time, Dirk and Jeanette lived in an apartment complex not far from Jeremy's apartment, which he shared with his brother, who was no longer my friend, even though I was dense enough not to see it. By this time, my relationship with Rachel had gone sour, which was almost entirely my fault and I won't be recounting here. My heart was raw, and I wasn't the best of company, so that likely contributed to the continuing slide toward falling out with my friends.

I was humorless, and volatile. It isn't really any wonder to me now, looking back on my early twenties from the vantage point of a third decade, but at the time, I was blinded by my feelings, and so the cycle continued. Still, I was expected to DM. That had become the social contract. I DMed in Jeremy's apartment for several years, with a rotating cast of persons who sometimes would show up, and sometimes would not. I believe I once DMed for a group of ten people. It was a nightmare. Not only was I picking up the pieces of my rather co-dependent personality that had been shattered by Rachel finally having enough of my shit, and leaving like a sane person, but I was also now the "forever DM", expected to produce on demand the fun for whomever was invited.

Hilariously, this is where I met two principle members of my current group. In a fun little game of who knows who, they'd been invited because they were friends with Taylor. One of them, Carlos, the player of Lady Nora in the ASoIaF game, also the player of the elf in our Spies and Pirates game, immediately rubbed me the wrong way. Probably because he's smarter than I am, or at the very least, quicker of wit. We didn't like each other much, and he rightly thought I was a humorless jackass. That association ended when Carlos, and Taylor made a pile of drawings that were lewd puns about cocks, and inserted them between the pages of Jeremy's roleplaying games.

That prank caused him to accuse Carlos of sexual harassment, going so far as to call him when he was on vacation, and banned him from playing D&D with us. Jeremy then had us come over, and instead of playing D&D or just hanging out, and venting about the rather harmless prank, made us search his books for the drawings, and remove them rather than doing it himself. We all thought it was a funny prank, and several of the drawings were rather clever. Cockthulhu, with penises for tentacles, Cock Norris, whose hat was the head of a penis while his balls were the infamous Norris chin complete with pube beard, etc. The sheer amount of time and effort put into the prank was admirable, and even those of us who didn't like Carlos (even Roger and I) thought it was hilarious. But not Jeremy, oh no. I guess we found the actual humorless jackass in the group.

I hear that cock pictures occasionally fall out of Jeremy's roleplaying books to this day. I savor this thought.

Since it seems I've gone farther afield than I had meant to, I'm going to write a second part to this, not only to continue where I left off, but also to make up for my lack of activity in the previous weeks.