I’ve been spending quite a bit of time delving through the 1st Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide recently. Which means I’ve spent more than my fair share of time staring at the cover… which I have always hated.

The poses are stiff. The composition boring. The anatomy problematic. It is, in short, a disappointing and amateurish piece of work.

And this is particular true when you compare it to the back cover of the same book, which depicts a glorious, panoramic shot of the City of Brass which seems to invite you to a world of adventure in a dozen different ways.

The interesting thing, of course, is that these are both the same piece of art. It’s a panoramic cover that wraps around the spine. Because of its composition, however, this can be rather difficult to appreciate unless you can look at the whole thing all at once:

I really like the framing effect which the fully visible arch has on the City of Brass. That half of the painting is great.

Sadly, seeing the full piece in context only makes the other half of the painting look even worse. I mean, the composition of the efreeti and the adventurers was already suffering from some internal problems with its perspective. But once you put them into the context of the larger scene, where exactly are they supposed to be standing?

Look at what happens when you draw in the perspective lines of the wall:

As far as I can tell, the efreeti is standing in the wall.

I’m as much a fan of non-Euclidean geometry as the next guy. But this just looks sloppy to me. And it actively repulses my eye.

EDIT: Those of you suggesting in the comments that the efreeti and possibly the adventurers have actually been painted on the wall have an interesting theory. But if that were actually the case, we would expect the cover to look something like this:

Which, of course, it doesn’t.

I suppose one could argue that this is a painting of another painting which has been painted in order to appear 3D from the position which the meta-painter has placed his easel… But, honestly, there comes a point when you’re just making excuses for sub-standard art.

Many moons ago, James Maliszewski of Grognardia put up a short post summarizing the total page count of various editions of D&D:

OD&D (LBBs only): 56 full pages (112 half-sheets)
OD&D (LBBs + 4 supplements): 183 full pages (366 half-sheets)
Holmes Basic: 48 pages
AD&D 1e (PHB, DMG, MM): 470 pages

To this post, I responded by saying:

It would be interesting to do a page comparison between editions without taking into account:

(1) Monsters
(2) Spells
(3) Classes
(4) Races

The theory being that adding more options within these categories is not necessarily adding bulk to the actual rules of the game.

(To that list I would also like to add “magic items”, “sample scenarios”, and “indices”.)

Basically, my thought was that you could take AD&D and strip out all the monsters, spells, magic items, classes, and races that weren’t found in the original OD&D and you would still have a completely playable game. In fact, someone observing you playing that game would have no way of knowing that you were doing anything other than playing 100%-by-the-book AD&D. (Unless, of course, you told them that you had limited the size of the menu.)

In other words, having those extra options doesn’t meaningfully increase the complexity of the actual rules of the game.

I intended at the time to eventually put together such a post, but got distracted by other concerns… until now. So, without further adieu, and for whatever use it may be, the total “rules only” page count for various editions of (A)D&D:

OD&D (LBBs only): 29 full pages (58 half-sheets)
OD&D (LBBs + 4 supplements): 64 full pages (128 half-sheets)
OD&D (including Chainmail): 86 full pages (148 half-sheets)
Holmes Edition: 19 full pages
Moldvay Edition (Basic + Expert): 64 full pages
BECM: 163 full pages
BECMI: 221 full pages
Rules Cyclopedia: 142 full pages
AD&D 1e (PHB, DMG, MM): 192 full pages
AD&D 2e (PHB, DMG, MM): 223 full pages
D&D 3e (PHB, DMG, MM): 257 full pages
D&D 3.5 (PHB, DMG, MM): 294 full pages

NOTES

For more information on the different editions of the game you can check out my Nomenclature of D&D Editions.

The BECM entry total include only the Basic, Expert, Companion, and Master Rules. The BECMI entry includes the Immortals boxed set.

The 2nd Edition entry is based on the original 1989 rulebooks.

I’m not including either the Unearthed Arcana variant of 1st Edition, nor the Players’ Option variant of 2nd Edition.

First Impression: It’s interesting watch the slow, inexorable expansion of the game.

Second Impression: The relative pointlessness of the entire exercise is indicated in the comparison between the BECM and Rules Cyclopedia page counts (which are the same rules, except the former is bloated somewhat by the need to repeat and reintroduce information four times over). It’s also indicated in the comparison between 3.0 and 3.5 (where the expansion was largely due to the WotC’s ever-increasing font sizes).

I came to this novel by way of Gary Gygax by way of Appendix N of the 1st Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide by way of James Maliszewski at Grognardia.

I think it’s safe to say that, if not for that rather remarkable (and lengthy) chain of recommendations, I would probably have never read this slim volume — which, as far as I know, was published in 1963 and never seen again.

Sign of the Labrys is a post-apocalyptic tale of the sort commonly found in mid-20th century science fiction. What sets it apart is that it is also, although it doesn’t strictly look like it at first, science fantasy. (This becomes clear fairly quickly, but the exact reasons for its fantastical nature constitute a spoiler so drastic that I won’t even hint at it here.)

The ways in which Sign of the Labrys inspired Gygax’s dungeoncraft become both rapidly and intriguingly apparent: Sam Sewell, the protagonist of the tale, lives in a vast underground complex of modified caverns that was built as a refuge before the collapse of civilization. The apocalypse thinned out the population (killing nine in ten) and eradicated central authority, leaving behind vast catacombs of uninhabited space which small, spontaneous societies have repurposed in a variety of ways.

In short, Sign of the Labrys reads like a strange hybrid of Dungeons & Dragons and Metamorphosis Alpha. Here we find a clear predecessor of Castle Greyhawk: A multi-cultural, subterranean menagerie laid out in a pattern of levels and sub-levels connected by both the well-known thoroughfares and a plentitude of secret passages and hidden ladders.

This, by itself, would have made Sign of the Labrys a fascinating and worthwhile novel for a D&D afficionado like myself. But I also found the novel to be very entertaining in its own right. Addictive, in fact. It’s got a page-turning, pulpy pace mixed together with some nigh-poetic language and a strange, enigmatic mystery that leaves you yearning to know the answer.

Stylistically Sign of the Labrys reminds me quite favorably of Henry Kuttner and C.L. Moore. It possesses the strange, otherworldly, and fantastical approach to matters of science fiction which characterizes the best of their work. Particularly Moore’s. Like Moore’s classic Jirel of Joiry stories, Sign of the Labrys reminds me of Alice in Wonderland smashed through the broken mirror of another genre’s conceits and set pieces. If I were to say that Sign of the Labrys periodically reads as if the author had taken a tab of LSD before sitting down at her typewriter it would not be wholly inaccurate. (It would, however, be rather less than charitable, as St. Clair’s writing is not merely a drug-induced rambling. In fact, it works consistently towards a larger stylistic and revelatory purpose.)

In the end, I found Sign of the Labrys to be delightfully entertaining. And since, like me, you are unlikely to encounter it by chance, I shall pass on the same recommendation that was given to me: From Gygax to AD&D to Grognardia to me to the Alexandrian and thus to you…

Find a copy if you can.

GRADE: B-

Margaret St. Clair
Published: 1963
Publisher: Bantam Books
Cover Price: $0.60
Buy Now!

I had someone drop me an e-mail requesting a quick overview of the various editions of D&D. In the context of the Reactions to OD&D essays, I thought it might be a useful reference for people who are a little less familiar with the history of the game.

If you want more details on the history of D&D, the “Editions of Dungeons & Dragons” article at Wikipedia is a pretty solid resource. If you want an exhaustive detailing of every single change made between each printing of the early rulebooks, then the Acaeum is an excellent resource.

The only important thing you need to remember here is that D&D split into two separate games in 1977: Advanced Dungeons & Dragons and Dungeons & Dragons (with the latter often being referred to as Basic D&D or BD&D).

The terms used below are not official, but they are the most commonly used nomenclature in the fan community.

DUNGEONS & DRAGONS

With the exception of the Rules Cyclopedia, all of these games were sold as boxed sets.

OD&D (Original Dungeons & Dragons, White Box): The original edition of the game designed by Dave Arneson and Gary Gygax, first published in 1974 as a boxed set comprising three volumes — Men & Magic, Monsters & Treasure, and Underworld & Wilderness Adventures. These books would receive various errata in subsequent printings (with the most notable change being the purging of references to Tolkien’s works following a lawsuit from the Tolkien Estate), but remained substantially unaltered.

Holmes Edition (1977): Published as the Basic Set in 1977. Eric Holmes is credited as having “edited” the book, but it’s actually a complete re-design and re-edit of the original game.

Moldvay Edition (1981): A completely revised Basic Rulebook and a brand new Expert Rulebook published in 1981. Tom Moldvay is credited for “editing” the Basic Set. David Cook and Steven Marsh are credited for “editing” the Expert Set. (I’m not clear on why Tom Moldvay is usually the only guy who gets credit for this version of the game. But he is.)

BECMI (1983 – 1985): Comprising the Basic Rules, Expert Rules Companion Rules, Master Rules, and Immortal Rules. (With the exception of the Expert Rules, these boxed sets each contained two volumes — one for players and one for the DM. The first two sets are, once again, completely revised.) These sets are variously credited as being “edited”, “compiled”, or simply “by” Frank Mentzer.

Rules Cyclopedia (1991): A single-volume hardback which collected the BECMI rules with minimal alteration (basically just applying errata). However, the Rules Cyclopedia lacked the rules for Immortals (which were published separately as the Wrath of the Immortals ruleset).

In addition to these rules, a total of five different Basic Sets were produced between 1991 and 1999 under the names The Dungeons & Dragons Game or The Classic Dungeons & Dragons Game. These all differed from each other in various ways, but all of them were designed to serve as “teasers” or “primers” for the Rules Cyclopedia edition of the game. So if you’re considering distinct iterations of the rules, they can be ignored.

ADVANCED DUNGEONS & DRAGONS

All of these editions were published as three separate core rulebooks: A Player’s Handbook, a Dungeon Master’s Guide, and a Monster Manual (the last of these under various titles, as described below).

AD&D 1st Edition (1977 – 1979): Designed by Gary Gygax. The original Monster Manual was published in 1977, followed by the Player’s Handbook in 1978 and the Dungeon Master’s Guide in 1979. These books were re-issued with new covers in 1983 (which are easily recognizable due to their orange spines), but were not revised. Also referred to as AD&D1.

Unearthed Arcana (1985): TSR officially identified Unearthed Arcana as a core rulebook. Since it included not only expansions but also alterations in the game, it is sometimes referred to as the Edition 1.5.

AD&D 2nd Edition (1989): The 2nd Edition was published in 1989 as the Player’s Handbook, Dungeon Master’s Guide, and Monstrous Compendium. The re-design is primarily credited to David “Zeb” Cook. In 1993 the Monstrous Compendium was replaced with the Monstrous Manual. In 1995, these books were re-issued with new covers and a new layout (but no meaningful change to the rules). Also referred to as AD&D2.

Player’s Options (1995): Also referred to as Edition 2.5. Three optional core rulebooks known as the Player’s Options released in 1995: Combat & Tactics, Skills & Powers, and Spells & Magic. There was also the DM’s Option: High Level Campaigns.

D&D 3rd Edition (2000): Released as the Player’s Handbook, Dungeon Master’s Guide, and Monster Manual. This edition was designed by Monte Cook, Jonathan Tweet, and Skip Williams. Also referred to as D&D3 or 3rd Edition.

D&D 3.5 (2003): Revised versions of the 3rd Edition core rulebooks. The revision team was Rich Baker, Andy Collins, David Noonan, Rich Redman, and Skip Williams.

SUMMARY

So, if you count the Unearthed Arcana and Player’s Options as distinct edition, then there have been 10 editions of D&D:

OD&D (1974)
Holmes D&D (1977)
Moldvay D&D (1981)
BECMI / Rules Cyclopedia (1983)
AD&D 1st Edition (1977)
AD&D 1st Edition + Unearthed Arcana (1985)
AD&D 2nd Edition (1989)
AD&D 2nd Edition + Player’s Options (1995)
D&D 3rd Edition (2000)
D&D 3.5 (2003)

And then, of course, 4th Edition in 2008.

One of the first reviews I ever received for a book I had written was for the mini-adventure The Dragon’s Wish, which was published by Fantasy Flight Games during the early D20 boom. The reviewer hated it. He had several reasons for doing so, but his biggest problem was that he felt that the encounters weren’t balanced: The adventure was designed for 9th level characters, but I had them encountering, among other things, a primitive tribe of kobolds (low CR) and a pair of extremely powerful stone golems (high CR).

Now, The Dragon’s Wish was one of my first published works and it was hardly perfect by any stretch of the imagination. But there were two main reactions that I had to the review.

First, I was frustrated because the reviewer had clearly failed to understand what the adventure was about. He had approached it as some sort of hack ‘n slash affair, but the module wasn’t designed with combat in mind. At the beginning of The Dragon’s Wish, the PCs are asked by a dying dragon to take his heart to the ancient draconic burial grounds in the Valley of the Dragons. The rest of the adventure is a travelogue allowing the PCs to see various facets of draconic mythology. The stone golems aren’t meant to be fought: They were powerful gatekeepers who allow the PCs to enter the valley when their task is made known. The kobolds are a primitve tribe who venerate the dragons without truly understanding them. And so forth.

Second, I realized that something fundamental had shifted in the common perception of what constituted proper encounter design in D&D.

Back in the halcyon, nostalgia-tinged days of 1st Edition, nobody would have blinked twice at the idea of including low-level encounters in high-level adventures. For example, in the Bloodstone modules (the original H-series designed for levels 15 thru 100), the designers had no problem including combat encounters with common orcs.

In fact, this was an attitude that persisted more or less all the way through the latter days of 2nd Edition. The Apocalypse Stone was a high-level adventure published to provide a campaign-ending scenario so that groups could reboot fresh with 3rd Edition. But if you flip through it, you discover quite a few encounters that are virtually identical to the types of encounters found in low- or mid-level modules. (There’s harder stuff too, of course.)

MISREADING 3rd EDITION

So what happened in 3rd Edition?

As far as I can tell, everybody misread the rulebook. Here’s what the 3rd Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide had to say about “Encounters and Challenge Ratings” (pg. 100):

A monster’s Challenge Rating (CR) tells you the level of the party for which the monster is a good challenge. A monster of CR 5 is an appropriate challenge for four 5th-level characters. If the characters are higher level than the monster, they get fewer XP because the monster should be easier to defeat. Likewise, if the party level [….] is lower than the monster’s Challenge Rating, the PCs get a greater reward.

And a little later it answered the question “What’s Challenging?” (pg. 101):

Since every game session probably includes many encounters, you don’t want to make every encounter one that taxes the PCs to their limits. They would have to stop the adventure and rest for an extensive period after every fight, and that slows down the game. An encounter with an Encounter Level (EL) equal to the PCs’ level is one that should expend about 20% of their resources — hit points, spells, magic item uses, etc. This means, on average, that after about four encounters of the party’s level the PCs need to rest, heal, and regain their spells. A fifth encounter would probably wipe them out.

And, at that point, everybody apparently stopped reading. Because this was what seeped into the collective wisdom of the gaming community: Every encounter should have an EL equal to the party’s level and the party should have four encounters per day.

I literally can’t understand how this happened, because the very next paragraph read:

The PCs should be able to take on many more encounters lower than their level but fewer encounters with Encounter Levels higher than their party level. As a general rule, if the EL is two lower than the party’s level, the PCs should be able to take on twice as many encounters before having to stop and rest. Two levels below that, and the number of encounters they can cope with doubles again, and so on.

And if that wasn’t clear enough in saying that the PCs should be facing a wide variety of ELs, the very next page had a chart on it that said 30% of the encounters in an adventure should have an EL lower than the PCs’ level; 50% should have an EL equal to the PCs’ level; 15% should have an EL 1 to 4 higher than the PCs’ level; and 5% should have an EL 5+ higher than the PCs’ level.

But all of that was ignored and the completely erroneous “common wisdom” of “four encounters per day with an EL equal to the party’s level” became the meme of the land.

By the time The Forge of Fury was released as part of the original Adventure Path in late 2000, the meme had already taken hold. The Forge of Fury — an adventure for 3rd to 5th level characters — included, as one of its encounters, a CR 10 roper. You’ll note that this encounter follows the guidelines printed in the DMG precisely. It didn’t matter. The fanboys howled from one side of the Internet to the other about this horrible and unbalanced encounter. And why were they howling? Because encounters should always have an EL equal to the average level of the PCs.

WotC never made that “mistake” again.

REAPING WHAT YOU SOW

The most virulent form of the meme was rarely followed in its strictest form. But the general meme of “an encounter should almost always have an EL equal to the party’s level” sunk pretty deeply into the collective consciousness.

But there are consequences for designing encounters like that:

(1) The average resolution time for any combat encounter increases (because a more challenging opponent takes longer to overcome).

(2) The PCs are more likely to suffer grievous injury during any one encounter, which means they’re more likely to adopt cautious styles of gameplay. This leads to the 15-minute adventuring day becoming more common, along with all the problems that creates.

(3) These factors result in fewer encounters during each game session, which means that it becomes much more difficult and/or tedious to run the classic mega-dungeons and other combat-oriented styles of play.

(4) The utility of any given monster is significantly reduced because the range of levels in which you can build “appropriate” encounters using the creature is narrowed.

I used to play D&D with my friends during lunch hour, and in these short sessions we would still routinely get through 3 or 4 combat encounters. But with 3rd Edition people were routinely reporting relatively simple encounters taking hours to resolve.

A lot of people blame the system for that. But, in my experience, it’s all about the encounter design.

DESIGNING BETTER ENCOUNTERS

When I looked at the design of classic modules from the ’70s and ’80s, I discovered that most of the encounters in those modules would actually equate to an EL at least 2-5 levels lower than the party. And when I duplicated that encounter design in 3rd Edition, combat predictably speeded up.

With that in mind, here are my tips for designing encounters:

(1) Design most encounters around an EL 2 to 4 lower than the party’s level.

(2) Don’t be afraid of large mobs (10+ creatures) with a total EL equal to the PCs’ level. The common design wisdom is that these creatures are “too easy” for the PCs. This is true if you’re thinking in terms of the “common wisdom” that sprang up around misreading the DMG, but in practice these types of encounters work just fine if you’re looking for fast encounters and lots of them.

(3) Encounters with an EL equal to the PCs’ level should be used sparingly. They should be thought of as “major encounters” — the memorable set pieces of the adventure. It actually won’t take very long before the expectations of your players’ have been re-aligned and these encounters leave them thinking, “Wow! That was a tough encounter!”

(4) And that means you get even more bang for your buck when you roll out the very rare EL+2 or EL+4 encounter.

Basically what you’re doing is creating a wider dynamic range for your encounter design.

OTHER CONSIDERATIONS

FLEXIBLE DESIGN: I like to design large complexes of opponents who will interact with each other and react, as a group, to the presence of the PCs. And this works a lot better if I can take two encounters and add them together without ending up with something that will completely devastate the party. If the PCs are level 5 and the goblin warband is only EL 3, then it become much easier to have the goblins call on a second warband to reinforce them: If the PCs prevent the reinforcements from showing up, they have two standard encounters. If they don’t, then they have one harder encounter.

EXPERIENCE POINTS: The designers of 3rd Edition increased the pace at which XP was accumulated and levels were gained. I understand and even support the reasons behind this change, but I personally found the result to be simply too fast for my taste. For example, I tend to run long 8-12 hour sessions, and the pace of 3rd Edition experience usually meant that the PCs were leveling up once per session. This meant that the power level of the campaign shifted very rapidly (making it difficult to tell coherent stories). It also meant that the players never really had a chance to get comfortable with their characters (they had barely learned one set of abilities before being given new ones).

I now play with halved XP rewards and have had good results with that. But, really, that’s just a matter of personal taste.

However, with that being said, using the encounter design recommended here, you’ll find that your players will be overcoming many more combat encounters in the course of an average session. And even though the EL of each encounter will be lower, this will still generally result in accelerating the already accelerated pace of XP accrual. Whether you’ll need to adjust the XP award accordingly will depend on your personal tastes.

A PERIOD OF ADJUSTMENT: If your group has already grown accustomed to the “typical” design of 3rd Edition encounters, it may take some time before your expectations have adjusted to the new system. The typical encounter will feel easier to you… and that’s okay. It is easier.

But you should also be aware that some of the secondary effects will also take awhile to sink in for your players. If you’ve been playing with “typical” 3rd Edition encounters, then your players have probably learned to take a very cautious approach — every encounter has been potentially deadly and, therefore, every encounter has been carefully analyzed and handled.

So for the first couple of sessions, for example, you may only see a slight increase in the pace of gameplay. But once your players internalize the change and loosen up, you’ll see that pace increase again.

Pay attention to your own expectations, too: You might find yourself getting a little frustrated with the fact that your villains are missing the PCs more than they’re hitting them. There’s a sense that a lot of us develop that says “if hit points aren’t being lost, then nothing happened”. This isn’t actually true. And, in fact, if the PCs aren’t losing hit points the more stuff will happen.

DIFFERENT TOOLS FOR DIFFERENT JOBS: The exact balance of combat encounters you choose will depend largely on the type of adventure you’re designing. For example, if you’re designing an intrigue-laced adventure in which the only combat encounter is likely to be the big show-down at the end… well, that single encounter should probably be a doozy. If you want to encourage a loose, rapid-fire style of play with the players feeling like major heroes… well, crank up the number of low-EL encounters.

If there’s one message to take away from this essay it’s that variety is the spice of encounter design. By extending the dynamic range of encounters, you’re expanding the variety of the encounters you can (and should) design.