Lessons from the OSR Part IV: Rules, Resolution Systems, and Skills (or Lack Thereof)

 "The secret we should never let the game masters know is that they don't need any rules"

-Gary Gygax

 

Rules.  Love em or hate em, they’re part of every game.  Even this game we call Life.

You’re drowning in college debt, your wife just divorced you, and your job has been outsourced to AI.  Your turn, son.

In the first post of this series, I talked about my keys to better understanding old school rulesets.  One of these was the understanding that old school (A)D&D doesn’t need so many rules as much as a skilled GM with resolution systems to adjudicate the game effectively.

But what exactly does that mean in practice?

 

Rules vs. Resolution Systems

I’m going to tread carefully into the Land of Personal Conjecture here, but I want to try and define what I think is the difference between (game) rules and resolution systems for the reader, in the hopes they can understand what I’m trying to convey.

The Land of Personal Conjecture (AI image courtesy of Bing Image Creator.)

To me, rules are the hard to semi-solid boundaries the game imposes to run effectively as such: magic-users can’t wear armor, fighters need 2,000 XP to reach Level 2, monsters and characters have Armor Class, Hit Points, etc., if you do not pass “Go,” you do not collect 200 gp.

This is apparently a thing.  Also, no thank you.

Resolution systems on the other hand, are a little more nebulous.  It’s how one does things and simulates the “reality” of the game, whether players roll d20 to hit, or a GM rolls a d6 to see whether a player triggered a trap.  In some cases, they intersect with the rules (especially in combat,) but more importantly, these are the tools by which a game master (GM) is able to adjudicate the game, and since reality, even a fictional one, can often be unpredictable, the GM needs a way to randomize results.

Enter…the dice.

“Oh boy! Time to earn some liquor money!”  No, Mr. Hobo.  That’s not what we’re talking about.

 

Dice: the GM’s tools

In the Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (AD&D) 1st Edition Dungeon Master Guide, author Gary Gygax spends a page or so talking about dice and probabilities.  Why?  Did he have some weird numbers fetish?  (I mean, he did work in insurance for a time.)  Did he step on a d4 and contract polyhedral lycanthropy, to become a cursed, many-sided horror by the light of the full moon?

Are those little dice its young, or its droppings?  You decide!  (AI image courtesy of Bing Image Creator.)

Of course not!  He’s essentially giving you (A)D&D’s resolution system in a nutshell.  The tools by which you can easily referee any situation that comes up in play.

I’m not going to reprint that stuff here (since I don’t want to get sued, ) and I’m not going to go into a lengthy math lesson, (since I’m not a mathematician and would  just embarrass myself.)  Still, I think I should summarize things so we can get on the same page.

A single die provides a linear percentage chance (which add up to 100%, natch,) depending on the number of sides:

• d4: 25% increments (25%, 50%, 75%...)
• d6: ~16.67% increments (16.67%, 33.33%...)
• d8: 12.5% increments (12.5%, 25%...)
• d10: 10% increments (10%, 20%, 30%,…)
• d12: ~8.33% increments (8.33%, 16.67%, etc.)
• d20: 5% increments (5%, 10%, 15%...)

The d100 (combining two d10s and counting one as the tens and the other as the ones digit) has 1% increments.  

Obviously…

Fun Fact: at the dawn of the hobby, d20s apparently had only the 0-9 digits, so they could be used as d20s by marking one set of digits to indicate 11-20, but could also used as d10s to roll d100.

Fun Fact 2: You’ll notice that a +1 bonus (or penalty) means something very different depending on which die it’s applied to.  Keep that in mind when GMing.

But what happens when you roll two or more dice and add the results?  You get what is (arguably) the most accurate simulator of statistical reality: the bell curve.

What?!  No!  Not that crap!  You wanna get me cancelled?!!!

Multi-die rolls have results where the averages at the height of the curve occur most often, and the extreme outliers at both ends of the curve occur less often.  Here’s an example of the probabilities of a 2d6 roll and a 3d6 roll respectively.  You may know 3d6 from its previous work in Ability Scores: The Disappointening and Ability Scores 2: You Didn’t Really Roll those 18s! 

Need to adjudicate a “swingy” situation with mostly equal chances?  Roll a single die or a d100.  Have a situation where a character’s competency matters more, or need the numbers to skew more towards the average?  Use more dice.  If you think old school is brutal?  Try attack rolls and saving throws with 3d6.

I'll ruin more than your Christmas... (AI image courtesy of Bing Image Creator.)

Falling asleep?  I know, just bear with me.  At the end of his essay, Gygax mentions that he had a d6 with poker suit faces (Hearts, Diamonds, etc.,) and presents a situation in which he used them.  He then ends with this:

“…keep in mind that the dice are your tools. Learn to use them properly, and they will serve you well.”

What I believe Gygax is saying is that it is up to YOU, the GM, to create your own resolution systems for your (A)D&D campaigns, which is exactly in the spirit of the free Kriegsspiel games it was based on.  This is why he takes the time to explain dice probabilities.  He’s both inviting you to do this and arming you with the skills to do so.  He even liberates the GM to try fun ways of resolving things (like in the poker dice example.)

Now, newer versions of the game (from Third Edition onwards,) made things easier on the GM by using a linear, d20 system as the standard for everything.  The upside of this is that yes, it is simpler and easier to grasp (especially for new and inexperienced players and GMs.)  The downside is that it constrains the GM to only one way of resolving things, which could result in weird outcomes during play.  For example, take a Basic/Expert style reaction roll (2d6) versus a player rolling a “Diplomacy” skill (linear d20 +/- bonuses.)  Both get the job done, but only one takes into account the most likely reactions of the NPCs, while the d20 example can have results that function weirdly like a charm person spell just because the player invested heavily in that skill.

Here’s an example of how a GM can adjust the rules and probability for such a situation in their old school games.  Say the local Queen is a surly type, especially when it comes to unwashed murder-hobos making demands of her.  You (as the GM) could decide your reaction roll table for her (or NPCs like her) looks like this instead of the standard table in the book:

2    “Guards!”
3-5    Gets visibly angry; guards grip their halberds
6-8    Indifferent to the character’s plight
9-11    Needs further convincing
12    Reluctantly agrees to requests

It takes into account the Queen’s default demeanor, while leaving room for high/low Charisma characters to either excel or fail miserably.  You could just tack on a hefty penalty in the d20 example, but I think this example is a little more elegant (and fun!)  I hope the reader agrees.

One might still prefer (or find it more efficient) to just do things simply with one type of resolution system (most modern games do,) but the point I’m trying to make is that the old school way of playing (A)D&D empowers the GM to be a true master of the game by enabling them to adjust even the probability of their campaign’s “reality.”  That’s pretty heady stuff, and with that great power, comes great responsibility.

Player Skill, Resolution System Obfuscation, and GM Responsibility

So far, I’ve talked about how old schools GMs resolve things on the “back end” (to borrow a programming term.)  What about the players?  What can they do?  I believe there’s a paradox in regards to old school versus new school games:

The more stuff a player has on their character sheet, the less they can actually do in the game.

In A Quick Primer to Old School Gaming, author Matt Finch discusses the topic of “player skill.”  In old school games, players tend to use their own knowledge, intellect, and ingenuity to face the challenges laid forth by the GM, rather than just rolling a die to solve everything.  This is similar to an escape room, where players work together and use their personal skills and abilities to figure out the solutions to the puzzles.

Tip: Don’t play escape rooms like you play D&D, unless you want to spend some time lying low in a foreign country with no extradition treaty.  My court date is next Tuesday (AI image courtesy of Bing Image Creator.)

This seems to be firmly in the “game” part of “roleplaying game” (RPG.)  Or is it?  A common complaint I’ve seen of the old school “rulings over rules” is that some players don’t like having to play a game of Mother-May-I  with the GM to do things.  It might seem player-empowering to dictate what your character can do (to the GM) via the rules, but I’ve found that it just means both the players AND the GM end up playing Mother-May-I with the rulebook.

I’m in charge now, biotch!  Penalties for everyone!  PENALTIES  (AI image courtesy of Bing Image Creator.)

An interesting feature of the AD&D 1st Edition rulebooks is that the majority of the rules (including combat) are in the Dungeon Master Guide rather than in the Player’s Handbook.  Now, this might seem harsh (and quickly fell out of favor,) but it implies that the GM is the one that should do the heavy lifting in regards to the rules (and resolution systems.)  In other words, system mastery is for the GM, not necessarily the players.  By leaving said heavy lifting to the GM, it truly frees and empowers the players to think creatively about the play environment rather than looking to the constraints of their character sheet.  That, to me, seems to fit quite nicely into the “roleplaying” part of “RPG.”  Furthermore, it makes things easier overall for players:

• Character creation tends to be quick, so players can get to playing right away (I personally abhor the concept of Session Zero.  It’s like: let’s play a game, but also not play a game!  *snore*)
• New players can understand the game quickly, without having to read copious amounts of rules.
• World peace is achieved.  (Ok, that one isn’t true, but I forgot what my third point was.)

The other side of this coin is that the proficient GM has a responsibility to be open to possibilities and come up with reasonable ways for players to accomplish things within the consensual “reality” of the game.  This is known colloquially as "say yes," "yes, and," or "yes, but."  The players should trust the GM, but this trust must also build over time with fair and consistent rulings.  Sore losers and unsporting, immature players need not apply, and no amount of rules can protect players from “bad” GMs (or vice versa.)

There's a reason the GM needs to wear a Viking helmet sometimes.

“But Weregrog,” you say: “how can I do anything if I don’t know what my character can do?  Don’t I need some indication of my character’s background and associated abilities?”  Let’s talk about that.

Skill vs. Ability

Most modern games, including modern D&D, have skill lists as part of the rules for characters (and often NPCs.)  These tend to be tied to the character’s personal attributes (Strength, Intelligence, etc.,) and are in essence, extensions of these attributes that indicate the character’s areas of expertise with a higher degree of granularity.

Word.

Old school (A)D&D characters tend to not have lists of skills (I’ll get to secondary skills and proficiencies in a moment,) which seems like a major oversight, until you realize that characters in D&D don’t have “attributes,” they have “ability scores.” 

The American Heritage® Dictionary defines ability as: “1. The quality of being able to do something…,” and “2. A skill, talent, or capacity.”  

What can we conclude from this?  (A)D&D ability scores encompass both personal attributes AND skills!

I find it ironic that D&D started with no skills, then later editions flirted with the concept, from “secondary skills” in early AD&D 1st Edition, and “proficiencies” in late 1st and 2nd Edition, slowly increasing their number, then reducing them for the most part in the post-2000 editions of the game, as the designers probably realized that most were redundant or unnecessary save for what characters actually do in-game.

*From the Wilderness Survival Guide and Dungeoneer's Survival Guide.
**2e also has the 1e secondary skills as an option, but defaulted to proficiencies in their products (which added more!)
***The 3e Knowledge skill includes multiple areas of knowledge, which renders the list feasibly infinite.

****I know 5e Tool Proficiencies technically add more, but you get the point.

I’m not the only one to come to the conclusion that ability scores include character skill.  Castles & Crusades bases the entirety of their resolution system (which they call the SIEGE Engine) on character ability scores, using a d20+Level against a difficulty number based on whether the ability score tested is “Prime” or not.  Players determine which ability scores are their character’s best (“Primes”) to determine their areas of specialty beyond character class.

I can’t speak to all RPGs, but I posit that old school (A)D&D doesn’t really need skill lists so much when one can just default to a character’s ability scores.  I feel this easily simulates fantasy fiction or film, such as Star Wars, where characters like Han Solo and Luke Skywalker tend to be pretty versatile. They can do many things appropriate to their “class” or profession and then some!

Yes, I’m familiar with West End Games’ Star Wars RPG, the D6 System, and their use of skills.  It’s also one of my favorites, so just cut me some slack, ok?

In this spirit, old school (A)D&D characters can pretty much do anything it makes  sense for them to do, within reason.  First and foremost, old school (A)D&D characters are adventurers.  They are not expert cattle ranchers, tailors, blacksmiths, or gong farmers.  They may have started life as such, but abandoned those professions when they became adventurers.  In my opinion, (A)D&D characters have two, general areas of expertise:

• Those that are implicit and explicit based on their class.
• Any other “skill” the player can imagine (or imagine their character having,) but not necessarily any specialized, professional, or deep knowledge.  That is the purview of hired, NPC specialists (who have neither time nor wherewithal to adventure in dank holes underground.)

For example, fighters (titled “Veterans” in most games at first level) likely know military matters: how to march in formation, make camp, care for their arms and armor, and build simple fortifications (trenches, berms, etc.)  Clerics might know both military and ecclesiastical matters related to their own religion and mythos (rituals, etc.) as well as basic matters of magic (how their spells work) and even how the known types of undead relate to each other in power (based on the turn undead table.)  A magic-user might know the practical nature of magic, their spells, and have a rough conception of more powerful magic (via the spell lists,) but not necessarily how to use this power…yet (that’s why they adventure.) 

“But what about backgrounds?!  I decided my fighter was an apprentice blacksmith so he should be able to forge a masterwork sword!”

*SCREEECH* (AI image courtesy of Bing Image Creator.)

Hold on there, sparky!  That may be true, but how did said fighter become a "Veteran?"  He probably got called up to serve by his liege-lord, somehow survived, and perhaps developed a taste for plunder (that starting gold, you see,) and thus his previous life ended.  He may be able to do some basic things (help around a forge, make simple metal items, judge basic quality,) but that’s about it.  A magic-user might have started as a shoemaker’s apprentice, but once he heard the siren’s song of: “You’re a Wizard, Harry!” and followed his teacher to a life of arcane wonder and mystery, that moment became the proverbial nail on the coffin for the Versace life.

Your fashion-conscious PC may not be able to make these, but they’ll be able to buy plenty of them one day; even have the shoemaker on retainer!  (Image from versace.com)

So how does a GM judge all this in play.  This might be an in-depth topic for a future post, but if you’ve been paying attention, you know that all it takes is some common sense.  When that is not enough, use some dice, and a probability appropriate to the situation and referenced with the character’s ability scores.  Old school products do tend to present a few options and ideas:

• Simple, statistical analysis and comparison: hmm...I think only someone with Strength of 15 or better could feasibly move that large rock.  No need to roll anything.  It just happens (or not.)
• The ability check (described in Basic/Expert): roll a d20 and get equal or below the ability score to succeed.  This is a simple, percentage mechanic (in 5% increments.)  You could also roll 3d6 instead, to get more painful, but realistic results, like in Steve Jackson Games' GURPS, or even multiply an ability score by five to get the percentage chance of success and then roll d100 (Chaosium games such as Runequest and Call of Cthulhu do this, but also expand with skill lists.)
• *Sigh* I guess you could also use secondary skills, proficiencies, make/use skill lists, or any other method of your devising.  Hey!  Golden Rule!  You do you, boo!  You have the power!  That’s old school.

 

Conclusion

In old school (A)D&D, the GMs have the power and responsibility to determine how situations are resolved.  The GM has myriad ways to judge situations by deciding probability, using dice, and relying on the characters’ ability scores or other statistics to determine competency and success.  This is generally done on the “back end” or behind the screen, so that players are empowered to think creatively and immerse themselves in what their character is doing, without the constraints imposed by data on a character sheet or metagame thinking.  In the end, that requires trust from the players and both fairness and consistency in rulings from the GM.