REVIEW: Dragonbane

Last month, I mentioned that, because of the extended absence of a player in my ongoing Dolmenwood campaign, one of the other players offered to run a short adventure using Free League's Dragonbane rules. Despite my own deficiencies as a player, I welcomed this, both as a nice break from my own weekly refereeing duties and because I'd actually wanted to give Dragonbane a proper playtest. I've had a copy of the game for about two years and it wasn't until now that an opportunity to actually make use of it arose.

We concluded our playtest earlier this week and, as I expected I would, I had a great time. Originally, my intention was to write a short follow-up to the post linked above, in which I offered some further thoughts about the game. However, as I did so, I soon realized that my “short follow-up” was rapidly turning into something closer to full-on review, The result is what you're reading now, though be warned that this will be a somewhat idiosyncratic review based largely on my own interests rather a more "general" assessment of the game.

Case in point: I come at Dragonbane from the perspective of someone who's played a lot of Dungeons & Dragons over the decades. And while it's never been my system of choice, I also have a deep respect for Chaosium’s Basic Role-Playing, upon which Dragonbane's Swedish-language predecessor, Drakar och Demoner, was based. Consequently, I approached Dragonbane with a great deal of curiosity. I was eager to see how it would blend its BRP heritage with a more streamlined framework. After several sessions, I can confidently say Dragonbane delivers a fun, engaging experience that bridges the gap between D&D’s broad fantasy and BRP’s more grounded, skill-driven mechanics.

As I said, Dragonbane is built on the bones of Basic Role-Playing, a system known for its granular, skill-based mechanics. Free League, however, has distilled this foundation into something far lighter and more approachable, swapping BRP’s percentile dice for a d20-based system that might feel more familiar to D&D players. Character creation is quick: choose a kin (human, elf, dwarf, or even anthropomorphic creatures like wolfkin or mallard), a profession (knight, mage, artisan, etc.), and assign points to skills. Unlike the sometimes-fiddly process of building a Call of Cthulhu or RuneQuest character, Dragonbane keeps things brisk, almost rivaling old-school D&D’s straightforwardness even while retaining BRP’s emphasis on skills over character classes.

The core mechanic – roll a d20 under your skill or attribute score – will probably feel like second nature to BRP veterans, but the system’s boons and banes (the advantage/disadvantage mechanic that seems to be in every RPG these days) simplify modifiers in a way that keeps play moving. Opposed rolls and critical successes/failures add further depth without being overwhelming. For a D&D player, the shift from class-and-level progression to skill-based improvement is definitely a change. Even so, Dragonbane never feels too alien, aided not just by its use of d20 rolls but also its reliance on familiar fantasy archetypes (knights, rogues, mages, etc.).

One of Dragonbane’s most distinctive mechanical features is its use of willpower points. These function as a limited but flexible resource that can be spent to fuel both heroic abilities and spells or to reroll a failed skill check. I liked how this gave players a choice during play: burn a willpower point now to avoid a blunder or save it for a special combat move or spell later. It adds a welcome layer of resource management without being overly complex. 

Dragonbane thus feels both flexible and grounded. It lacks the sprawling feat trees or subclass options of, say, WotC-era Dungeons & Dragons, but compensates with a system that rewards player ingenuity. For some BRP fans, it's possible the game might seem too pared down. Where are the hit locations or complex magic systems of RuneQuest? But, for someone like me, more accustomed to D&D’s approach to these things, the streamlined rules felt right, emphasizing speed of play over simulationist detail.

As I noted in my earlier post, combat is where Dragonbane really shines and, as someone who often finds RPG combat a functional but unexciting necessity, I was glad of it. The system strikes a nice balance between simplicity and tactical depth, offering a dynamic experience that rivals D&D’s ease of use while avoiding the slog of overly complex BRP combat.

Each round, players draw initiative cards (reshuffled every round for unpredictability) and can move and act, with heroic abilities or even weapon choices allowing for creative flourishes. The card-based initiative is very simple and straightforward. Players can trade initiative or act out of turn in certain situations, which I found helps to keep everyone engaged. Combat maneuvers like disarming, grappling, or shoving provide further tactical options without requiring constant reference to the rulebook. Mechanics like morale checks and weapon durability add yet more stakes and flavor. For example, a critical hit includes the possibility of increased damage, ignoring armor, or gaining an additional attack.

Another feature I appreciated is the way Dragonbane distinguishes between monsters and NPCs. While NPCs use the same mechanics as player characters, monsters do not roll to attack. Instead, they act according to randomly determined behavior tables, intended to simplify referee workload and to reinforce the idea that monsters are unpredictable forces of nature. It’s an interesting design choice, but I'm not yet certain whether it works as well as intended. I'd need to play more to see how well it holds up to repeated use.

Compared to D&D and its descendants, where combat can feel like a regular cycle of attack rolls and spell slots, Dragonbane combat feels more unpredictable. Hit point totals are fairly low, which keeps fights brisk and the risk of injury or equipment failure makes every combat potentially deadly. BRP players will recognize the system’s DNA, but Dragonbane trims the fat, avoiding much of the bookkeeping that can bog down RuneQuest battles. The result is a combat system that’s both approachable and exciting, encouraging clever play without relying on too many subsystems or edge cases.

Dragonbane doesn’t come with a very detailed campaign setting of its own. Instead, its implied setting is gritty but evocative and seemed to me to take some inspiration from fairy tales (an impression born no doubt of its artwork, done by Johan Egerkrans, who also provided illustrations for the explicitly fairy tale-inspired Vaesen). The profession options suggest a world where heroism is hard-won, not guaranteed. Magic is potent but rare and monsters feel dangerous. This tone aligns more, I think, with games like RuneQuest than Dungeons & Dragons as it's often played, though the game seems flexible enough to handle varying degrees of character skill and power.

Free League’s production quality is, as usual, stellar. The rulebook included with the boxed set is relatively concise (112 pages) yet comprehensive. The set also includes dice, cards, and a second, 116-page book containing eleven sample adventures that can be strung together to form a campaign, making it a complete package for new players. Compared to a lot of RPGs these days, Dragonbane feels leaner and more focused, while still offering enough material to fuel a campaign. BRP fans accustomed to Chaosium’s dense rulebooks might find Dragonbane’s comparative brevity a relief.

In the end, I came away from our Dragonbane playtest impressed, not just by the mechanics, but by how much fun I had. It reminded me that a well-designed game doesn't need to be complex to offer meaningful choices and satisfying play. As someone who usually sits behind the referee’s screen, it was a pleasure to be a player again, especially in a system that hit such a sweet spot between familiarity and innovation. I’m glad I finally got to give Dragonbane a try and I hope I have the chance to return to it again in the future.

Yet More Thoughts about Skills

Last month, I presented a draft of a proposed new character class for inclusion in Secrets of sha-Arthan, the tomb robber. A common question about the class, both in the comments and in separate emails, concerned my inclusion of skills among the tomb robber's abilities. Long-time readers will no doubt remember that, in the early days of this blog, I was a fairly strong opponent of the inclusion of a skill system into class-based RPGs like Dungeons & Dragons. I was likewise an opponent of the thief class introduced in Greyhawk, viewing it as a self-justifying class for which there is no real need.

In the early days of the Old School Renaissance, such positions were pretty common, maybe even normative. This was, after all, the beginning of the re-evaluation of the virtues of Original D&D (1974), when a lot of us who'd either never played OD&D (raises hand) or who had long ago abandoned it in favor of later elaborations upon it, embraced it with zeal. Remember, too, that the OSR grew up amid the wreckage of Third Edition, whose mechanical excesses served as negative examples of what could happen when D&D's design "strays" too far from the foundations laid down by Arneson and Gygax in 1974. And one of 3e innovations was the addition of a skill system separate from class abilities.

Looking back on it now, I can see that my desire to avoid what I perceived as the flaws of Third Edition often led me to rhetorical intemperance. That's certainly the case with regards to skills, though, in my defense, I started to moderate my stance relatively early. That moderation was the result of play, particularly in my Dwimmermount megadungeon campaign, where I came to recognize just why the thief class and skill systems had organically evolved. Even so, I retained a certain wariness about both, since I continued to feel, as I still do, that character skills should never become a crutch for lazy play, which is to say, interacting with the game world solely through the game mechanic of skill rolls. 

That said, what ultimately changed my opinion for good was my House of Worms Empire of the Petal Throne campaign (take a drink). EPT, as many of you probably know, includes a skill system – the first, I believe, to appear in any roleplaying game. The skill system is certainly primitive by comparison to those in later RPGs, like Traveller or RuneQuest, of course. Indeed, the skill mechanic is vague and not very well integrated into EPT's overall play, but it's there. Consequently, when refereeing House of Worms, I made regular use of it.

What I discovered is that none of my earlier, hyperbolic concerns proved true at all. Skills never dominated play, nor did they encourage lazy play. The players rarely initiated skill rolls as a means to avoid having to think in-character or grapple with a problem presented to them. Instead, they might ask, "Does my character's Scholar skill give him any idea about the architectural style of this ruin?" or "Might my Jeweler-Goldsmith skill give me some idea of the value of this gemstone?" Sometimes, I'll call for an actual percentile roll to determine whether the skill grants the character the requested knowledge or not, but many times I'll simply make a judgment as to whether or not the skill is sufficiently expansive to grant it. Ultimately, the decision of how to adjudicate skills rested with me, the referee.

For me, that's the key. I dislike skill systems that demand a referee do something in response to a player-initiated successful roll. I much prefer those where skill use is a negotiation between player and referee and the final decision of whether a skill is relevant – or whether a roll is even needed – lies with the referee. Maybe that's common sense, but it's not the way I've often seen skill rolls used. Instead, they're more likely to be something a player employs to ensure a referee does (or does not) do a given thing within the context of the game. "I made a successful Stealth roll, so my character can sneak across the room without being seen by the guards" or "I got a success on my Persuasion roll and convince him not to report this to his superiors."

Skills – or perhaps competencies might be a better term – can be a good way for players and referees to cooperate in interacting with the setting and events within it. That's how I've been handling skills in House of Worms and I've taken that experience into Secrets of sha-Arthan as well – or at least I hope to do so.

Secrets of sha-Arthan: Study

Although most of the skills a character possesses are determined by his class, species, and ability scores, it is possible to acquire others through study. First and foremost, study requires time and money; it may also require the finding of a teacher. 

Time and Cost

The time and cost necessary to learn a new skill depend on its complexity.

The table below assumes the character is involved in active study: at least eight hours each day during the required length of time devoted solely to study the skill he wishes to acquire. The days need not be consecutive, but the character cannot make a study roll until he has devoted one month (30 days) of 8-hour periods to the skill.

Teachers

The difficulty of finding a teacher is highly variable. Many of the larger cities of sha-Arthan (e.g. da-Imer or Chabaktechel) are home to one or more institutions of learning. Temples or philosophical academies are another source of teachers. Characters might also turn to any groups with which they are currently aligned (see Alignment). Finding an appropriate teacher could even form the basis of an adventure or extended series of adventures. 

 

Alternately, a character might choose to study on his own without a teacher. This option is available only for skills of Complexity 1 or 2. Self-study increases the time required and halves the cost. The values in parentheses on the table above are those for self-study.

Study Rolls

At the conclusion of every month of active study, the character must make a study roll. The study roll is the same as the character’s untrained skill save (see Skill Saves), modified by his Wits (see Ability Scores). If successful, the character advances in his study. Once a character has made successful study rolls for every month required of the skill he is studying, he has acquired the skill.

If unsuccessful, the character has learned nothing during the past month and must redo it (and the skill roll), provided he devotes the required time and money to the task. This process continues until either the character succeeds or he spends three consecutive months not engaged in active study (see Time and Money above), in which case he is considered to have abandoned study of the skill. He then loses all progress made up to this point and must restart the study of the skill from the beginning. 

Learning by Experience

As you've no doubt noticed, I've lately been pondering the way that Dungeons & Dragons handles experience. In particular, I've found myself somewhat dissatisfied by the way the game ties advancement in every field to advancement in level. I fully understand why D&D works this way and can respect the decision. For certain styles of RPG campaigns, I actually think it's a very good choice. For others, particularly those where cultural immersion is an important part of the fun, it's somewhat limiting (and, dare I say, unrealistic?). 

Consequently, I find myself being drawn more and more to the approach to experience in Chaosium's Basic Role-Playing family of games. Now, BRP is quite unlike D&D in its design, being almost entirely skill-based, so there are limits to the lessons that can be drawn from it. Even so, there's a lot I like about its design, such as learning by experience, as presented in this section from the second edition of RuneQuest:

This version of learning by experience is, in my opinion, more complicated than it needs to be in its specifics. Call of Cthulhu – at least in its classical version; I can't speak to the current edition – makes use of a simpler version. Other BRP games employ their own variations. What matters to me is the basic conception of tracking individual advancement in each area of character's competency (skills), not any particular implementation of it. Indeed, I think it might well be possible to come up with a simpler application of it that nevertheless retains the core idea.

I don't know. My thinking is all over the place at the moment and I apologize if my recent spate of posts on experience and levels doesn't completely make sense. I suppose I am thinking aloud in order to decide what I like and want as I puzzle my way through the design of Secrets of sha-Arthan. Ultimately, my goal is a set of rules that is straightforward, if not not necessarily simple, and that is robust enough to handle a setting that's as culturally immersive as Glorantha, Jorune, or Tékumel (all of which are, to varying degrees, influences upon sha-Arthan). 

As always, I appreciate your comments.

Thinking about Skills

In the early days of the Old School Renaissance, much virtual ink spelled on the question of the merits and utility of skills in Dungeons & Dragons and RPGs derived from it. Much of the debate at the time centered on the thief, since it was the first character class in the game to possess explicit skills with a variable chance of success. I don't want to rehearse all the arguments for and against skills in D&D, since I think they're pretty well known by now. More to the point, I don't think many opinions are going to be changed one way or the other by doing so. 

For myself, I don't have any objection to skills per se. I certainly don't think skills are in any way contrary to the spirit of old school gaming, unless "old school" is taken to mean primitivism. Even then, the case against skills is weak, since Empire of the Petal Throne, published by TSR in 1975, a year after the release of OD&D, includes a skill system. Likewise, many other RPGs published within a few years of Dungeons & Dragons, such as Traveller, include skills and skill systems. If they don't qualify as "old school," I'm not sure what the word means.

All that said, I nevertheless do have some reservations about the inclusion of skills in a game with character classes, since I think they can undermine the uniqueness (and indeed purpose) of character classes. A lot depends, I think, on how skills are conceived in a game, but, by and large, it's generally my opinion that, if you have an extensive skill list and a mechanical system to support it, there's really no need for character classes. 

The fine folks over at Chaosium would seem to have shared this perspective, since RuneQuest, an old school fantasy RPG with a skill system, has "no artificial character classes." While I don't agree that character classes are necessarily artificial, I do think that a robust skill system tends, at the very least, to weaken the mechanical role of character classes, if not completely eliminate the need for them. Consequently, I've largely come to conclude that D&D and RuneQuest (or Basic Role-Playing, if you prefer) represent two different but equally coherent approaches to mechanizing characters in a roleplaying game. Neither is inherently better than the other; both have their place. 

My thoughts on this at the moment arise out of my continued work on sha-Arthan, my science fantasy setting. Originally, I thought of the setting as a natural fit for something obviously D&D-like, hence why my initial work included the creation of new character classes, including several intended for solely for the nonhuman species of sha-Arthan. One of those new character classes, the scion, was distinguished primarily by its collection of skills, which, while different from those of the thief, functioned very similarly to them. I tweaked the scion's skill list often and, in doing so, found myself adding a skill here or a skill there to other classes, in order to better represent what I saw as each class's purpose within the setting. Eventually, I found myself pondering an even broader skill system for all classes and the raison d'être of the scion largely evaporated. So, I went back to the drawing board.

Now, I find myself thinking about scrapping character classes entirely and going for something more like Basic Role-Playing, allowing the player to decide what skills his character possesses from a list available to all characters. There are definite advantages to this approach and it's certainly worked well for games like RuneQuest. Still, part of me likes the simplicity of character classes. They're a great way for newcomers to get into a game, especially a game whose setting, like that of sha-Arthan, is a little more complex than that of vanilla fantasy. 

I'm still pondering the issue and have come to no firm conclusions yet. I imagine that, as I develop the setting more, I may get a clearer picture of the best way forward.

The Enduring Appeal of Character Classes

The other day I was looking into a roleplaying game to which I'd recently seen references and was surprised to discover that, despite its having been published in 2022 and not being a fantasy game, it nevertheless made use of character classes. Of course, character classes, like hit points and experience points, to cite just two examples, are well-established elements of RPG design, owing to their having appeared in Dungeons & Dragons at the dawn of the hobby. That even a game published almost a half-century after OD&D makes use of them thus shouldn't be the least bit shocking. 

The reason that I was surprised is that, for as long as I've been involved in the hobby, there have been loud complaints about character classes and their supposed deficiencies. One of the commoner complaints is that classes are too "restrictive" in some fashion. Others argue that the classes are "arbitrary" or even "unrealistic" in the way they categorize the skills and abilities of different adventuring professions/vocations. Still others say that classes are "simplistic," a relic of an earlier phase of game design before more "sophisticated" approaches had been imagined. Like training wheels on a bicycle, the hobby should abandon character classes now that it finally understands how to build a better game. 

Seeing a new RPG make use of characters would seem to run counter to these long-stated complaints, not all of which are without some merit. Indeed, I have at various times been sympathetic to many of them, particularly those that focus on the limiting nature of character classes. Why shouldn't a fighter be able to learn how to pick locks or climb walls? Why shouldn't a magic-user be able to pick up a sword and fight? This is the line of thought advanced by Chaosium in its early advertisements for RuneQuest, which decried character classes as "artificial" and, on that basis, ought to be rejected in favor of "a realistic set of fantasy rules based on experience and reality rather than an arbitrarily developed abstract mathematical system."

Truth be told, I understand Chaosium's perspective well, especially of late, as my appreciation for the elegance of the design of Basic Role-Playing has increased. As I continue to (slowly) chip away at my Secrets of sha-Arthan setting, I'm seriously considering the abandonment of character classes altogether, opting instead for something much looser and closer to BRP's skill-focused design, since it more closely approximates the kind of weird science fantasy that inspired sha-Arthan in the first place.

Yet, there can be no denying that character classes, whatever their putative flaws, have stood the test of time. The very simplicity that critics decry is, in fact, one of their virtues. Classes are quite helpful for newcomers, since they narrow the range of choices during character generation to a flavorful handful of easy-to-understand archetypes. In a similar way, their artificial restrictions and limitations help to ensure that every character has a delineated mechanical role. This, too, is important to newcomers, who can sometimes be overwhelmed by the freedom inherent in roleplaying games, where there is no obvious "right" answer to the referee's perennial question of "What would you like to do now?"

Now, to those who've played RPGs for years, particularly those suffering from D&D fatigue, character classes may well seem like a played out concept that's no longer fit for purpose, one that's been superseded by a number of alternative ways to build a player character. I wouldn't dare to deny this, though I would point out that, except for a handful of exceptions – GURPS being one of those with which I have great familiarity – most roleplaying games include some sort of mechanical frame around which a player builds his character, whether it's the prior services of Traveller, the occupations of Call of Cthulhu, or even the clans/tribes/traditions/etc. of White Wolf's World of Darkness games. Some of these alternate approaches are a little more flexible than D&D's character classes certainly, but are they wholly different? (It's worth noting, too, that, like many other elements laid down by D&D, many video games make use of character classes and do so for the very reasons I've outlined here.)

In the final analysis, I think it's fair to say that character classes work. They might not "make sense" according to some lines of thoughts, but they serve the purpose for which they designed, namely to make it relatively easy to generate a character and to give that character a ready-made niche within the play of the game. That's not nothing. Indeed, it's a genuinely clever bit of design that I don't think gets as much praise as it deserves. 

Adventuring Skills

As I'm sure nearly everyone who reads this blog knows, I'm not a big fan of adding skills to D&D, which I think works just fine without them. This is partly due to my understanding of character classes and partly due to the fact that D&D already includes a number of mechanical systems that handle most of the skills needed by adventurers. In my Dwimmermount campaign, I've simply formalized the systems present in OD&D and added one (climbing) that seemed to make sense, though its use actual use in play has been very limited.

Break Locks: Dwarves, elves, and Men can break open a lock on a roll of 1–2 on 1d6, while gnomes and goblins can do so on a roll of 1. This roll can be modified by Strength. Note that locks opened this way are broken, not picked, which makes a loud noise, particularly when applied to locks on doors, and may alert nearby monsters of the character's presence.

Climb: All characters can climb sheer surfaces on a roll equal to or under their Dexterity score on 1d20, if they have rope and a grappling hook to aid them. Only thieves can do so without such aids. Likewise, the referee should apply penalties to particularly difficult climbs or when conditions make the ascent unusually hard.

Find Traps: Elves, goblins, and Men can find non-magical traps by actively searching on a roll of 1 on 1d6, while dwarves and gnomes can find them on a roll of 1–2.

Listen: Men can hear sounds from behind a door on a roll of 1 on 1d6, while nonhuman characters hear them on a roll of 1–2.

Observation: If actively searching, non-elves discover secret doors and other hidden features on a roll of 1–2 on 1d6, while elves discover them on a roll of 1–4. However, if elves pass within 10' of a secret door or hidden feature, there is a 2 in 6 chance they take notice, even when they are not actively searching.

Some Observations on Skill Systems

For as long as I've been aware of the existence of games other than Dungeons & Dragons, I've also been aware that there are "class gamers" and "skill gamers" -- the "dog people" and "cat people" of our hobby. I suppose, if push came to shove, I'd classify myself as a "class gamer," since I've spent so much time playing D&D and gamers similar to it, but I've also clocked a lot of hours playing games like Traveller and Call of Cthulhu too. The main reason I'd say I'm not a "skill gamer" is that, in my experience anyway, true devotees of skill systems are vociferous in how much they don't like class-based games, deriding them as "limited" and even "primitive" compared to their preferred approach.

Me, I don't really care one way or the other and will happily play either type of game without much fuss. It's rare that I dislike a game based on whether it uses classes or skills as opposed to the alternative. In playing skill-based games, I have noticed a couple of interesting things, though, both in myself and even in those who are strong advocates of the "superiority" of skill-based over class-based systems. First, I don't demand rolls for trivial uses of a skill, unless they're done under extreme or challenging circumstances. This is, of course, standard procedure and has been for a long time. For example, there's this passage from Chaosium's Basic Role-Playing:

This term [automatic actions] describes activities which are always successful under normal circumstances. There is no need to roll any dice for these. They are assumed 100% successful. These include walking, running, talking, seeing, hearing, and any other normal basic function.

Attempting to do these things under extraordinary conditions, or trying to do them with close scrutiny, requires a die roll, as outlined in the next section.

Of course, we all remember referees -- we may have even been them ourselves -- who didn't abide by this advice and required skill rolls for everything: "I ride to the next town." "Make a skill roll." "I fail." "Oops, you fall off your horse and take 1D6 damage." "But I'm a knight; I've been riding a horse since I was a boy." "Too bad, you failed your skill roll." That rather narrow-minded interpretation of skill use doesn't long survive contact with actual play, so the advice quoted above only makes sense. In these circumstances, there is no actual difference between a class-based or a skill-based game, except that a character sheet in the latter lists a level or percentage associated with riding horses, while in the former it's just assumed.

The second interesting thing I've noticed about skill-based gameplay is a consequence of the first one already discussed. If we accept that skill rolls ought not to be demanded under "normal circumstances," it follows, then, that, as BRP suggests, "extraordinary circumstances" are when a skill system is actually needed. What I've found, though, is that, in such extraordinary circumstances, referees are often quite prone to fudging the results of a skill roll; I know I used to do this unashamedly and I was not the only one to do so. Part of the reason, I think, is that it seems wrong to many gamers to have the outcome of some extraordinary circumstance hang on a single dice roll. "You have to defuse the bomb quickly or everyone will die. What's your Demolitions skill?" "35%" "Make a roll." "Uh, 74." "Boom!" The situation is even more common when the skill rolls in question pertain to finding hidden or unusual things, like secret doors or clues. "I search the room." "Make an Observe check." "I fail." "You don't find anything out of the ordinary." And so we see elaborate rationalizations as to why the skill roll didn't really fail or even a further narrowing of the definition of "extraordinary circumstances," all in the name of seeing a character succeed at something the rules otherwise say he'd failed.

None of the foregoing is meant to suggest there's anything wrong, let alone bad, about skill systems in RPGs. I mention this simply because I've noticed that, in practice, skill systems are rarely used much differently than the non-quantified skills assumed to exist in class-based games. The primary difference between the two approaches is esthetic and, believe me, I'm not one to knock esthetics. When I designed Thousand Suns, for example, I didn't hesitate to use a skill system, because, as a sci-fi game, it seemed to make more sense to have characters defined by their areas of training and knowledge rather than by an archetype-based class. It's the same reason why the game uses the metric system -- it feels right in a science fiction game, even though the game would have worked just as well if I'd have adopted US standard measurements. It's the feel of a skill system that appeals to a lot of people, not its actual mechanics. It's the sense that skills are somehow more "realistic" or better reflect reality, and I can raise no objection to such subjective notions. But they are subjective and that needs to be borne in mind in discussing the merits of skill vs. class systems.

This brings me to a broader, final point. I don't think we can underestimate the impact that conceptualizing "adventures" as "stories" has had on RPGs and how they're played. If we see an adventure as having a definite, specific end before play even begins, it seems inevitable that, rather than being an aid to play, a skill system, with its quantification of many activities and areas of knowledge, is an impediment to it. On the other hand, if we see an adventure as simply being a situation into which the PCs are thrown, whose ultimate outcome depends on a combination of choice and luck, a skill system -- or, indeed, any random element -- is a contributing factor to that ultimate outcome.

In my second Thousand Suns session last weekend (which I'll post about eventually), a character failed an important skill roll and I let it stand without any fudging. As a result, the PCs could not achieve their current objective and were forced to move on. Had I conceived the "climax" of that adventure as depending on the success of that skill roll, I'd have been disappointed and might well have succumbed to the urge to fudge its result. But the adventure was just a situation in which the PCs found themselves at that moment. Failure meant only that one particular outcome to the adventure was closed off, but there were other possible outcomes, not to mention other adventures/situations. Rather than being an obstacle to our fun, the failed skill roll enabled it, pushing the characters and thus the campaign in a direction the players might not have chosen if they'd had the choice. Speaking only for myself, that's what all the best game systems do, regardless of whether they use classes or skills as their foundation.

Space Opera Help Requested

As I have admitted, I've lately been oddly obsessed by both Chivalry and Sorcery and Space Opera, two FGU games I never played back in the day and that each have the reputation of being "unplayable." I was all prepared to put the lie to the notion that Space Opera at least was unplayable by creating and posting a character I'd created for the game. And, though a bit confusingly worded and organized, the character generation rules work, more or less, so that much of the game at least is viable.

In creating my character, though, I soon realized that, so far as I could see, there's no skill mechanic in the game whatsoever. There are "characteristic rolls" (CRs), which are 1D20 rolls under inconsistently variable target numbers (i.e. some CRs use the characteristic itself as the target, while others have a fixed target and have modifiers derived from the characteristic being tested), but there don't appear to be any skill rolls, unless I'm missing something. The descriptions of skills sometimes note specific game mechanic benefits (e.g. "build structures 5% faster for every level of experience"). Other skill descriptions provide no such guidance, despite the fact that all skills have levels and its implied that having, say, Advanced Mathemetics/5 is better than having Advanced Mathematics/4.

So, does anyone out there have any idea what I'm missing? I confess that a big part of the problem is that Space Opera is simply horribly organized and needed information is often difficult to find. Once you know where everything can be found in the two rulebooks, it's not so bad, but the trick is figuring out where everything can be found. In this case, I confess I can't quite figure out if there are rules for skill use I simply haven't found or there are no rules at all, at least none beyond the jumble of sub-systems found in some of the skill descriptions. As I said, if anyone knows better, please enlighten me.

Thanks!

Skills I Can Live With

Despite suggestions to the contrary, I don't "hate" skill systems or think they're anathema to old school game design. Rather, I don't see a lot of point in having a skill system in a class-based RPG, since they're either redundant or, worse yet, undermine the logic of classes. Consequently, when I play a class-based game, I generally assume that members of a given class can be expected to know about things related to that class. So, magic-users are knowledgeable about arcane lore and clerics are conversant in theology, etc. Specific character concepts, such as an illiterate, back woods wizard or a scholar-turned-fighting-man, might lead me to rearrange my assumptions a little, but, overall, I prefer to stick with them and view such specialized knowledge through the lens of character classes and run with it from there.

Now, over the course of my Dwimmermount campaign, the players have occasionally expressed an interest in their characters' learning something, such as a foreign language. Gaztea, Brother Candor's thief henchman, is in the process of learning Ancient Thulian, for example, and she's also experimenting with basic alchemy by virtue of the fact that we'd established she was a failed wizard's apprentice turned criminal (and has 17 Intelligence to boot). Since there's no formal way to handle the acquisition of such knowledge in the game, I've been winging it, expecting that time, money, and a tutor are what's needed for learning.

Then, just recently, I was re-reading my copy Empire of the Petal Throne and I saw a rule I'd forgotten about. Section 420 of the rulebook includes rules for "Original Skills," which are background skills not unlike the secondary skills of AD&D. At creation, a player rolls percentile dice to determine how many such skills his character starts with and from what categories. EPT has three categories: "plebeian," which covers ordinary arts and crafts, like baking and tailoring, "skilled," which covers more advanced arts and crafts, such as animal training and ship-building, and "noble," which covers very specialized knowledge requiring considerable study to acquire, such as alchemy or mathematics.

There are several things I like about EPT's "original skills" system. First, with very few marginal exceptions, the skills don't undermine the class system but rather complement it. Second, there's no universal mechanic associated with skill use. Possession of the skill brings with it no mechanical expectations; indeed, many of these skills have no means of resolution beyond referee fiat. And the skills that do have mechanics are tied closely to level, which I find quite agreeable. Finally, the system includes a means of acquiring new skills -- actually, it includes two. The first is based on level, as it's assumed characters will acquire new skills from various categories as they increase in level. The second is through the expenditure of time and money, with plebeian skills taking 2 months and 1000 gold pieces to learn, while noble skills take 6 months and 10,000 gold pieces.

EPT's system isn't without flaws and when/if I adopt it for use in my Dwimmermount campaign, I'll likely make some changes to it, but, taken as a whole, it's an approach to the question of specialized knowledge of which I approve. It's built to work in concert with the skill system without either weakening class archetypes or introducing mechanics uncongenial to my refereeing philosophy. I'm glad to was reminded of it.

Musings on RuneQuest Skills

For various reasons, my thoughts have been turning to RuneQuest a lot lately, particularly RQ II, which is the edition with which I have the most familiarity. RQ is a game that attracts a lot of attention from gamers dismissive of the concept of "old school gaming." I presume it's because RuneQuest has both a skill system and a highly detailed game world associated with it, which they mistakenly assume to be contrary to old school design principles -- but that's a topic for another post.

Anyway, while looking at my RQ II rulebook today and I paid careful attention to the skills it includes. If one leaves out combat-related skills, here is the standard complement of adventuring skills:

• Camouflage
  
• Climbing
  
• Evaluate Treasure
• Hide in Cover
  
• Hide Item
• Jumping
• Listen
  
• Lock Picking
• Map Making
• Move Silently
• Oratory
  
• Pick Pockets
• Read/Write Foreign Language
  
• Read/Write Own Language
• Riding
• Speak Foreign Language
• Speak Own Language
  
• Spot Hidden Item
• Spot Trap
  
• Swimming
• Tracking
  
• Trap Set/Disarm

There are also a handful of very specialized skills, mostly pertaining to crafting. Now, when I looked at the list above, what I immediately noticed is that, with very few exceptions, the skills are those I'd associate with D&D's Thief class (even Oratory, which is primary about swaying the emotions of others for one's own benefit), that is, physical/athletic skills and larcenous/"adventuresome" skills. That's not what I was expecting to find.

On the one hand, I suppose I shouldn't have been at all surprised. Despite its subsequent development, RuneQuest in its early days shared a lot with Dungeons & Dragons, Tunnels & Trolls, and other fantasy games, where characters were assumed to be ne'er-do-wells in search of fame, fortune, and power by delving into ancient ruins and contending with foul monsters. In that context, the skills make perfect sense. On the other hand, it's still striking to see how different one's perceptions of a game don't always match up to the reality of how the game is actually presented. When I think of RQ nowadays, I am almost always thinking not so much of the game itself but of the game world with which it is associated, Glorantha, and the full-bore Glorantha that only came to pass after many years and many supplements describing it -- the serious mythopoeic Glorantha that seems to have pushed aside the wild and woolly gaming Glorantha of yore.

I'm not sure there are any deep insights to be gleaned here, but I thought I'd share my thoughts nonetheless. I'll have more to say about RuneQuest and the role it plays in the old school renaissance in the days to come.