A couple of months ago, The Alexandrian made a post about OneD&D in which he took issue with "bounded accuracy," the idea in 5e and some older D&D and OSR variants that the character's statistics for attacking, skills, and the like are going to remain within a narrow range throughout a character's development. (Contrast with a game like 3e, where a character's statistics can theoretically scale infinitely such that lower-level threats do not meaningfully concern higher-level characters.)
Among his other points, Justin Alexander argues that bounded accuracy is a myth, that certain abilities in the game break it by making characters too good at certain activities. I'll let him explain:
"The more fundamental problem is mechanical: There are a handful of class abilities which trivially — but hilariously! — break bounded accuracy.
"The rogue, of course, makes an easy example here. Expertise doubles proficiency bonuses, changing a range of +2 to +6 into a range of +4 to +12. Combined with ability score modifiers, this almost immediately turns most reasonable DCs within the system’s bounded accuracy into an automatic success for the rogue, and it gets worse from there.
"Reliable Talent then comes in for mop-up, making the rogue’s minimum die roll 10. The rogue is now auto-succeeding on every proficient check, and in their chosen Expertise any DC that could challenge them is probably impossible for every other PC.
"Of course, those are exactly the DCs these hilariously broken abilities pressure the DM to assign. Partly because they want to challenge the PCs. Partly because it just makes sense that these PCs should be able to achieve things the PCs without the hilariously broken abilities can’t do."
This, in turn, reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend years ago, in which he was talking about running D&D and worrying about the fighter's armor class and hit points. He posited that one has to ensure the monsters are tough enough to routinely hit said character's high armor class so that they deduct hit points, otherwise the players are not properly engaging with the rules system.
But I don't think those approaches are the right way of looking at things. It's perfectly acceptable — and likely even good — for player characters to be good at certain things. If the rogue can pick almost any lock with a single action, or if the fighter routinely doesn't have to worry about being significantly challenged in melees, that's fine. As a Game Master, if you seek to "challenge" your players (whatever that means to you), making the numbers scale infinitely is the laziest way to do it.
You can only begin to challenge the players when you establish real stakes for success and failure. My oft-mentioned high-level D&D game could defeat any fair challenge I throw at them (and quite a few unfair ones!), but they could still be challenged with stakes: retrieve an item, save the prisoners, delve the dungeon on a time limit. Your rogue can pick any lock and disarm any trap, but can she disarm the traps and pick the locks before the room fills with water? The fighter can stand tall against any challenger, but what about a distant wizard lobbing fireballs and mind control sorcery? Your diplomat can talk his way out of any situation, but can he stall the unfriendly cultists long enough for your allies to arrive before the cult starts executing hostages?
What if one of the hostages is a beloved and trusted hireling?
I have had plenty of Game Masters in the past who seem to like to punish players for their choices: they invalidate your character abilities, steal your resources, threaten every ally you have, and turn every victory into ash in your mouth. And while that sort of game can be fun with appropriate buy-in — Black Sun Deathcrawl, Call of Cthulhu, Delta Green, and Ten Candles all come to mind as fun games when you learn to embrace the catharsis inherent in nihilism — that often turns a fun, engaging game into a grimy slog. (Incidentally, that's usually about the time when I lose interest. Always winning is just as much a bland and uninteresting railroad as always losing.)
Don't punish your players for smart choices they made, and don't make a hard game harder for everyone. If a character is good at something, you know you're only going to target that thing with luck or by making the game unfair. Instead, challenge something else. Employ distractions, challenge multiple abilities simultaneously, play foes as intelligent and reactive forces who adapt to changing circumstances.
Establish real stakes, then build on what you've established. Character stats don't make mistakes, but players certainly do when the clock starts ticking.
You might be able to support yourself and maybe even your allies, but can you accomplish your goals?
Can you save everyone?
Gaining levels and becoming better at your job is baked into the intent of D&D, if everything always scales with the character the players are losing the benefit of their character's gaining levels. Being successful is a reward and it's odd many people seem to miss that. It's okay if players win most of the time as long as they can lose based on their bad decisions and not just getting whomped by arbitrary numbers.
ReplyDeleteI totally agree. Having run a 4e game for a few years nearly a decade ago, I can safely say that there's still a sense of progression when the threats and challenges scale with you, but not nearly so great as one when certain threats are entirely in the rearview mirror.
DeleteFor that matter, having run plenty of RPGs outside the class-and-level fantasy RPG paradigm, this never changes. Every player gets a little giddy when they realize hard stuff from their early career is now routine or even trivial. When an Unknown Armies cabal starts getting comfortable throwing weaponized symbolism at everything, or when a Vampire: The Masquerade coterie really learns how to apply political leverage, that's when the game starts to get really interesting.
I suspect a full delineation of factors is outside the scope of a humble blog comments section, but forgetting the "game" part of a role-playing game probably has something to do with it. Some GMs emulate the escalation of action novels (without examining why that works in written fiction but not collaborative table-top games) while others emulate the scaling of video games (without examining why that works in computerized games but not analog ones).