DISCUSSING
In the Shadow of the Spire – Session 40A: Rats of Kennel and of Brain

But it may have been for the best that Tee was watching. A piece of crumpled paper flew past her head and something about it caught her eye. Snatching it out of the air, she unfolded it to reveal a crude map.

Tee cleared her throat and held up the map. Agnarr turned around. His face split into a huge grin. “You see? You do search trash better than me!”

Tee wasn’t sure whether she should think of that as a compliment or not. She suspected not.

RPGs usually include some sort of Help action or Aid Another option, and if they don’t then you’ll probably want to figure out how you’re going to adjudicate it quickly, because it’s a pretty common situation to crop up during play.

(The two broad mechanical approaches are to either (a) have all of the helpers roll and take the best result or (b) have one of the characters “take point” as the primary check and have the helper(s) give a bonus or advantage to their roll. Check out Art of Rulings: Group Actions for a deeper dive on this topic.)

But the mechanical resolution, of course, is only half the picture, and this is where I see a lot of GMs make the same mistake: Someone declares an action, another player declares that they’re helping, the check is rolled… and then the helper disappears from the resolution. When the outcome is narrated, only the point person or highest roller is described as contributing to the success or failure of the action.

This is unfortunate.

First, it disenfranchises the helper. You have the opportunity to put multiple PCs in the spotlight simultaneously — seize it!

Second, it creates a mild dissociation between player and character. If the character’s actions are never reflected in the fiction, then the declaration of “I help!” at the game table has become a purely mechanical catechism that can rapidly degrade into a declaration gotcha.

Finally, as the GM, you’re missing out on the opportunity to draw inspiration from the characters’ collaboration to create novel interactions and descriptions. For example, when you’re describing how a character acting alone is going to “search X,” you can take some degree of inspiration from whatever X is (e.g., rummaging through a pile of garbage is different from tossing hotel room, which is different than searching a mobster’s office when you don’t want them to realize anyone was here), but as this basic action pattern is repeated dozens or hundreds of times over the course of a campaign, you’ll discover that there are only to many ways to describe it.

As soon as you add a second character, on the other hand, the potential dynamics of the check can multiply exponentially.

IN PRACTICE

To put this into practice, start by encouraging the players to work collaboratively and help each other. If your game of choice doesn’t already have an Aid action or the like, don’t just think about how you might resolve these actions, but come up with a concrete solution and let the players know that it’s an option.

Then, when a player announces that their character is going to help on a check, prime the pump for yourself by asking the player how they’re actually helping. The declaration to help is just like any other action declaration: It needs to be actionable in the fiction, and therefore you need player expertise to actually activate character expertise. You need to be able to clearly visualize what the character is doing and how they’re doing it so that you can resolve the action.

Finally, depending on the specific mechanics in your current system, you may be able to pull additional inspiration from the dice results — e.g., who had the best roll vs. who had the worst.

However, don’t fall into a default of simply determining which character “actually succeeded” while the others failed. That’s an option, but it’s only one option among a vastly larger variety of true collaborations in which multiple characters contributed to the final success.

Along these same lines, instead of imagining all the characters doing the same thing, try to think about how they could each be doing completely different things that are all contributing to success in different ways.

One way of doing this is to work backwards: Look at the result of the check (whether success or failure) and think about how that result could be split up into distinct chunks. Then simply give each chunk to a different character and explain how their actions achieved it (or caused it). Gathering information or research is an easy example of this, where you might have three or four different facts about a topic — e.g., where the target works, where they live, who they’re married to, who they’re having an affair with — and if the PCs are all doing the legwork, you just need to assign each fact to a different PC and give a brief explanation for how they found it. Creates a little extra texture for the game world and makes everyone at the table feel included.

(Note how you’ll also get more interesting failures with multifaceted consequences out of this, too!)

While doing this, try to avoid an unconscious bias about what it means to Help on a check. I, personally, find it easy to imagine the person on point in the check or rolling highest to be the one actually doing the work, while others kind of hover around them, run around as gofers, or offer helpful advice. But, depending on the interaction, it’s just as easy to imagine the experienced character mentoring, overwatching, and/or advising a team effort where it’s actually all the other characters who putting in the work under their guidance.

For example, you might imagine that Agnarr’s player was the one making the check in this scene, since it was Agnarr who was actually digging through the pile. But it was actually Tee’s player who made the check, receiving the +2 bonus for Aid Another from Agnarr. In this case, if I recall correctly, it was actually Tee’s player who proposed that she’d just keep an eye on the garbage Agnarr was throwing around, making my job as the DM describing the outcome incredible easy.

Campaign Journal: Session 40B – Running the Campaign: One Scenario or Two?
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 40A: RATS OF KENNEL AND OF BRAIN

July 25th, 2009
The 22nd Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

The tunnel was long enough to take them out of the bridge, and, judging by the damp stench filling the air, they suspected they were drawing near the sewer system. A little further on the tunnel dipped steeply and Tee, who was scouting ahead of the others, found herself entering some sort of warren-like antechamber: More of the ratmens’ refuse nests pocked the corners of the room, but the filth here was thicker and viler, forming a thick and treacherous carpet of trash on the floor. There were two archways in the far walls of the room, each veiled by a ragged tapestry of blue fabric.

A closer inspection revealed that there were actually two or three ratmen sleeping here and there amid the refuse piles. With a smile, Tee notched an arrow in her bow and fired at the nearest one.

The arrow neatly pierced its jugular, ending its life silently. Tee turned her bow to the next—

Unfortunately, there was a fully awake ratling crouching in one corner that Tee hadn’t noticed. He gave a cry and fired a dragon pistol at her head. Tee narrowly dodged the blast, but the other ratlings were beginning to stir.

Agnarr and Tor came charging into the room. They converged on the ratling firing on Tee, even as he fled towards one of the veiled archways. They easily cut him down as Tee caught another ratling in mid-charge with a second arrow.

Unfortunately, the last of the ratlings managed to duck out of the other archway before they could stop him.

Tor quickly took up a watchful station in the second archway. Agnarr called out for Tee to wait, but she was hot on the heels of the escaping ratling. Passing through the arch, she found herself in another trash-filled chamber –  this one nest-less, but with deeply-rutted paths leading through more tapestried archways. One of these tapestries was still rustling and, in the absence of any wind, Tee guessed that the ratling had gone that way.

Passing through this second archway, however, Tee came face-to-face with nearly half a dozen ratlings who were being rallied in a squeaking, gibbering mass by the ratling she had been pursuing. With a little squeak of her own, Tee backpedaled into the antechamber.

Agnarr, Nasira, and Ranthir, meanwhile, had quickly gathered themselves. As Tee fell back, they came charging forward. A brief and chaotic skirmish erupted as more ratlings – attracted by the sound of the battle – came pouring into the antechamber from the other archway. But once they managed to bring their full force to bear they were able to quickly overwhelm the terrified ratlings.

With Tor and Elestra keeping an eye on the explored archway (to make sure they didn’t have any more uninvited guests), Tee performed a quick, cursory search through the nesting chambers.

She found nothing of interest. But Agnarr, who had been following her around, grunted. “Don’t you want to search more of that?”

Tee eyed the fecal-filled refuse piles. “I want to keep moving. Why don’t you search them?”

Agnarr shrugged. “You search trash better than I do.”

Tee turned towards where the others were waiting, but Agnarr was now convinced that there must be something valuable hidden somewhere under the refuse piles. He started digging through them with gusto and seemingly endless enthusiasm, sending trash flying through the air.

“What’s going on?” Nasira asked.

“Agnarr’s throwing trash around,” Tee said, watching the whole thing with a bemused look on her face. She was trying to keep a safe distance, but Agnarr was achieving some impressive distance on his flurrious cloud of trash.

But it may have been for the best that Tee was watching. A piece of crumpled paper flew past her head and something about it caught her eye. Snatching it out of the air, she unfolded it to reveal a crude map:

Tee cleared her throat and held up the map. Agnarr turned around. His face split into a huge grin. “You see? You do search trash better than me!”

Tee wasn’t sure whether she should think of that as a compliment or not. She suspected not.

RATS OF KENNEL AND OF BRAIN

The archway Tor and Elestra had been watching opened into a much larger chamber. Much larger mounds of garbage were piled high near their end of the chamber, but these petered out a little further to the south, allowing clear access to a western and a southern tunnel out of the room.

The southwestern corner of the chamber had been boxed in with an eclectic assemblage of wooden slats and this immediately attracted Tee’s interest. She stole her way across the chamber (pausing only for a moment when she noticed a green, effervescent glow at the far end of the western tunnel) and peered over the edge of the make-shift fencing.

Inside were several dire rats with leather hoods tied around their heads. She grimaced and pulled out her dragon pistol: The last thing they needed were trained attack rats being used against them.

But then a sudden realization made her stop.

Elestra, who had carelessly followed her across the chamber, looked over her shoulder. “Why don’t you shoot them?”

“I think they’re the kennel rats,” Tee said. “They can take us to Malleck.”

They resolved to come back later and use one of the kennel rats to reach the Temple of the Ebon Hand, but first they wanted to finish routing out this nest. “We don’t want to give them time to reinforce,” Ranthir said.

Tee nodded. “They aren’t expecting us right now. That gives us an edge. Next time they’ll be waiting for us.”

Tee didn’t trust effervescent green lights, so they decided to explore the western tunnel next. The roof and walls of the tunnel were slick and wet, and a thick, turgid liquid was slowly dripping down onto the floor below to form deep puddles. Tee, not wanting to risk an untimely splash, used her boots of levitation to pull herself along.

She stopped at the far end tunnel, looking into a long cavern. Toxic sewage seeped down into a long crevasse that ran the length of the chamber, and it was from this that the sickly green light emanated. Every surface glistened with moisture, and sopping wet refuse had been gathered into mounds here and there.

Situated around the cesspool crevasse were five massive ratbrutes sitting in what appeared to be meditative trances: Their eyes were open, but milky white and seemingly sightless. Crawling over these ratbrutes were swarms of large, over-sized rats – the tops of their skulls translucent, revealing swollen, enlarged brains which glowed with an unearthly blue aura.

“That’s disgusting,” Tee murmured. “Disgusting and disturbing.”

She returned to the others and they decided to try mounting an assault.

They made their way back down the dripping tunnel as quietly as they could, but the rats were waiting for them. As the twisting swarm of bulbous-brained rats rippled towards them, blasts of distorted air struck at them. Agnarr’s senses were immediately dulled at their touch, sending him into a kind of dazed stupor.

“They’re mind blasts!” Ranthir cried.

“Wait,” Tor said. “Mind blasts? Why is Agnarr affected?”

The transparent skulls of the rats revealed brains seething with bursting pulses of pure energy.

Ranthir was the next to feel their stupor-inducing telepathic assault overwhelm his mind, and then the swarms began sending out blasts of magical blue energy – their collective mental might serving as some sort of living focal point.

The cranium rats swarmed under Tee’s floating feet and climbed up like furry fountains around Tor and the quiescent Agnarr – their filthy claws and yellowed teeth tearing at any bit of exposed flesh, while others burrowed into their armor.

“Should we attack the ratbrutes?” Tee asked, trying to dodge the blasts of blue energy.

“I don’t want to risk waking them up!” Tor said, staggering in a desperate effort to keep the rats from reaching Nasira and Elestra.

“I don’t think they’re sleeping! I think they’re controlling these brain rats!”

Tor could give no answer: The mind blasts of the rats had overwhelmed him.

Elestra rallied briefly – in the process managing to blast the swarming rats away from the stupefied fighters – but in that instant Tee saw the blind ratbrutes stagger to their feet.

“We’ll leave!” she shouted. “Call off your rats and we’ll leave!”

Everything suddenly fell perfectly still. The moment stretched for a tense eternity, and then the cranium rats swarmed into the middle of the slippery tunnel and stared deliberately up at where Tee clung to the ceiling.

Keeping her eyes focused on them, Tee carefully levitated over them and picked her way back down the tunnel. The cranium rats followed her with their eyes, but held their place. Tee lowered herself to the floor and directed Nasira and Elestra in gathering up Agnarr, Tor, and Ranthir. Together they led them out of the complex and back the way they had come.

Running the Campaign: Show the Help – Campaign Journal: Session 40B
In the Shadow of the Spire: Index

M. asks:

I want to run a post-apocalyptic campaign with the PCs stuck in the middle of a war between multiple factions, but I’m struggling to set it up. I want a lot of inter-factional politics and for the struggle just to survive to be a big part of things. The PCs should start as grunts, but I’d like them to get more involved in the decision-making later on. I’ve read So You Want to Be a Game Master, but what do I actually prep? Should I write up the whole military campaign as a hexcrawl?

To get started, let’s keep it simple.

Your campaign is going to start with an EPISODIC STRUCTURE with mission-based scenarios: The PCs are grunts. Maybe for a specific military. Maybe as part of a small band of scavengers trying to survive w while the larger war rages around them. Or maybe they’re mercs getting orders from different factions each week.

Regardless, your basic scenario hook is simple: They get orders to DO A THING from their commanding officer or scavenge elder or whatever.

And, from that, the basic rhythm of play will flow pretty naturally: They go and do the thing (or fail to do the thing). Then they go back to their commanding officer and they get their next mission.

Each MISSION is a scenario. You told me you have So You Want to Be a Game Master, and that book is primarily designed around scenario structures — how to design and run different types of scenarios.

DUNGEON SCENARIOS

• The enemy has dug a tunnel network; we need you to go and clear it out.
• We’ve discovered an old Fallout-style Vault. We need you to explore it and verify there’s no enemy presence.

RAID SCENARIOS

• We need you to take out the enemy’s mobile transmission tower.
• We’ve found a secret tunnel going into Base Frozen Alpha. Use the tunnel to infiltrate the base, then lower the shields.

And so forth.

As a general rule, though, giving the PCs a specific objective, but leaving the players free to figure out HOW they want to achieve that goal will result in more interesting and engaging scenarios.

After running a couple of these missions, you might want to get a little fancy by experimenting with surprising scenario hooks. (For example, the PCs are sent to clear out a tunnel network suspected to be infested with enemies, but when they arrive they instead find it full of refugees. What do they do?)

But mostly you can keep it straightforward. Expect to run at least a half dozen of these scenarios to kick things off. During this time you’ll be learning a lot about the game, scenario design, your group, etc. Design each new mission based on (a) what the PCs are doing, (b) how their actions are affecting the world, and (c) what the PCs’ goals are/become.

• Look at things they care about, put them at risk, and say: “How do you save them?”
• Plague them with hardship (an enemy has infested their food supply with a bio-weapon), listen to the solutions they propose (“let’s raid their food depots!”), and then design the next scenario so that they can go and do that.

Along these same lines, have the mission outcomes be big and meaningful:

• If they find a large cache of rations, make a point of how the lives of their scavenge band have improved. Little Timmy, who was all skin-and-bones, is actually looking healthy!
• If they fail to take out an enemy communication tower, their unit gets ambushed. Now they’re on the run, pushed back by the enemy (and we need to scout out Death Rock Canyon to make sure there aren’t any muties laying an ambush before we can escape through it!) and their friends are crippled or dead.

Honestly, you could run the whole campaign like this and accomplish a lot of what you want to accomplish, but after running a bunch of episodic scenarios, you may be in a place where you want to reposition the PCs from “somebody tells you what to do” to “you need to figure out what to do.” This means putting the players in the driver’s seat so that you can directly engage them with the type of deep conflicts and meaningful choices you want to happen in this campaign.

This is the point where you’ll need to transition to a different campaign structure.

The first thing you’ll need to do, though, is look at how this shift happens diegetically: The PCs have been taking orders, now they’re not. Why?

• Maybe the leaders of their scavenger band get assassinated when they go to a meeting. Or blown up by a radiation bomb. However it happens, the PCs are now in charge of the scavenger band.
• If they’re military grunts, maybe they get assigned as an advanced scout team to explore a new region (where they’ll largely be autonomous in their operations).

You might plan ahead for this, but the nature of the diegetic shift may also develop organically through play.

The second thing, in my opinion, if you’re going to have the players making big, strategic choices that will affect the course of the war, then you need to give them some sort concrete structure to base those choices on.

This doesn’t have to be super robust. You don’t need to design a fully functional 4X strategy game. But you want something that will guide your own rulings and, by extension, let them make meaningful choices instead of just trying to influence your whim.

The most basic structure here is:

• A list of resources (food, ammunition, etc.) and where they’re produced/storehoused.
• A list of infrastructure (population/settlements, military units, etc.) and the cost in resources to maintain it per month, season, year, or whatever other time period makes sense.
• An understanding that a resource shortfall will result in either severe consequences for a piece of infrastructure or cause that infrastructure to collapse entirely.

The exact lists you use here will depend a lot on what you’ve discovered about the world, game, players, and characters while running the episodic portion of the campaign. (And you can actually start laying the groundwork for this stuff and experimenting a bit before the PCs are in a decision-making position.)

I recommend also adding FACTION DOWNTIME to this. A system for this is included in So You Want to be a Game Master, p. 342, and you should be able to adapt it pretty easily. The basic idea is that various factions will have agendas and they’ll be able to pursue those agendas as the campaign clock ticks forward. It’ll be up to the PCs to figure out which agendas they want to support, which they oppose, and which they ignore.

Since this is a military campaign, it’s also likely that you’ll want some sort of structure/system for resolving MASS BATTLES. What exactly this will look like will likely depend a lot on which RPG system you’re using and how large the conflict really is, but it’s once again something that doesn’t have to be super complicated in order to be effective.

Finally, make sure that (a) these three structures are linked to each other (e.g. specific faction projects should require specific resources; claiming those resources — or denying them to another faction — will likely require military action) and (b) the PCs can still take meaningful individual actions (i.e., go on adventures) to influence and/or participate in each structure (e.g., instead of a military action, they can go on an adventure to get the necessary resources; they can participate in the battles; they can provide security for the scientists researching the lunar lycanthrope raygun).

Along these lines, at this stage of the campaign (or perhaps even earlier), you may it useful to start experimenting with troupe-style play, in which each player controls a stable of characters and chooses which character they’ll play in each scenario depending on what the focus of the scenario is.

Go to Ask the Alexandrian #14

I will be making a virtual appearance at Dice Con in Lviv, Ukraine.

RANDOM GM TIPS W/JUSTIN ALEXANDER
Saturday, August 31st – 6 pm

The RPG community in Ukraine is vibrant and growing fast, and I’m really excited to have been invited to be part of it!

The revised 2024 edition of the D&D 5E Player’s Handbook includes a Rules Glossary at the back of the book. This glossary is integral to the organization of the rulebook, as described in a sidebar on page 7:

RULES GLOSSARY

If you read a rules term in this book and want to know its definition, consult the rules glossary, which is appendix C. This chapter provides an overview of how to play D&D and focuses on the big picture. Many places in this chapter reference that glossary.

So, for example, the rules will mention that a spell can have a Cone area of effect, but what this means will never be explained in the text: It will only be defined in the “Cone [Area of Effect]” section of the Rules Glossary.

There is also, of course, an Index where you can look up various topics. This is, thankfully, MUCH improved over the 2014 version of the Index, which suffered from a multitude of sins. (The most frustrating, in my experience, was that you’d look something up in the Index and it would tell you to go look at a different Index entry. And sometimes when you looked up that entry, it would tell you to go look at another entry. And then, when you finally followed the daisy chain to its end, there would only be a single page reference which could have just as easily been included at every single entry along the daisy chain! This is completely absent from the 2024 Index.)

Splitting the rules for a game into an explanatory text and a “definitive” rules glossary isn’t a new technique. It’s a format that’s been used by a number of board games over the last couple decades. (For example, Fantasy Flight Games was a big fan of this for a while, and even D&D 3^rd Edition published a separate Rules Compendium that used a similar approach in an effort to “simplify” and “clarify” the rules with a “definitive” reference.)

And, to be blunt, my experience with these glossary-based rulebooks, as I’ll call them, has pretty consistently sucked. They have a pretty easy fail-state in which the rules glossary ISN’T actually authoritative, so you end up with rules split up across multiple locations, which means that

• you’re forced to flip back and forth between different pages trying to piece together the full set of rules you actually need; and
• even when the glossary IS authoritative, there’s no way that you can be sure that’s true, so you end up flipping back and forth anyway.

This fail-state is generally made worse because you need to play Guess What We Named This Entry, which can be capricious at best. Furthermore, these failures seem to be endemic because, in my experience, game rules are inherently procedural (if A, then B, then C), whereas a glossary is organized by topic.

Note: None of this applies to a rulebook which simply includes a Glossary. A normal glossary can be a useful resource for quickly understanding key terminology, and can be even more useful if it includes page references pointing you to the full and primary discussion of the topic. You could remove such a glossary and the game would still be complete.

A glossary-based rulebook, on the other hand, has rules which are ONLY found in the Rules Glossary. This glossary is not merely a reference tool; it’s integral to the presentation of the game. Removing this glossary would change the game.

With all that being said, I tried to go into the 2024 Player’s Handbook with an open mind. At first glance, in fact, it seemed that the Rules Glossary would be a useful reference tool (although it was immediately obvious that its utility would be greatly enhanced if it had page references).

After using it for a little bit, unfortunately, I’m forced to conclude that…

IT SUCKS

To demonstrate, let’s consider a spell’s Range and Target.

“Range” is not, as far as I can tell, covered in the Rules Glossary. (I can’t be 100% sure of this because sometimes you have to guess how the term is being alphabetized — i.e., “Range” vs. “Spell Range”. But the Index doesn’t have a Rules Glossary page reference for it, so I’m fairly confident.) This means that all of the rules for a spell’s Range are located on page 236 in Chapter 7: Spells.

That’s simple enough.

What about a spell’s Target?

Well, that does have a Rules Glossary entry, on page 376, which is:

TARGET

A target is the creature or object targeted by an attack roll, forced to make a saving throw by an effect, or selected to receive the effects of a spell or another phenomenon.

Great! At first glance, we’ve found the rules for Targets!

… except, of course, I have a certain degree of system mastery, and I know this cannot, in fact, be the totality of the Target rules.

Okay, so let’s hit up the Index:

target, 376

Huh. Only one page reference and it’s pointing to the Rules Glossary entry. Maybe the 2024 revision massively streamlined the Target rules and those are the only rules for targets.

Let’s double-check by looking up “spells” and “spell target” in the Index and see if there’s anything there.

Nope.

The reality is that the Index, although much improved, has actually failed here. The rules for a spell’s Target are located on page 237-8. These rules are fairly bulky and, at first glance, seem complete.

But wait, there’s more!

In the Target section, for example, there are rules for areas of effect:

Areas of Effect. Some spells, such as Thunderwave, cover an area called an area of effect, which is defined in the rules glossary. The area determines what the spell targets. The description of a spell specifies whether it has an area of effect, which is typically one of these shapes: Cone, Cube, Cylinder, Emanation, Line, or Sphere.

Okay, so then we go to the Area of Effect entry in the Rules Glossary. This includes essential rules about the area’s point of origin, how to determine if certain parts of the area of effect are blocked, etc. and then it cross-references Rules Glossary entries for each individual shape. (So you might then flip to Cube to figure out the specific rules for how a Cube area of effect works.)

But what if you were coming to this from a different direction? For example, let’s say you were looking at the Thunderwave spell, where it says:

Each creature in a 15-foot Cube originating from you makes a Constitution saving throw.

You don’t know what that means, but “Cube” is capitalized, which indicates a term that’s located in the Rules Glossary. Here you get the specific rules about Cubes which, at first glance, seem complete… but don’t actually include the stuff about how certain parts of the area might be blocked. This is probably okay-ish, though, because even though “area of effect” isn’t capitalized, the entry is titled “Cube [Area of Effect]” and the square brackets indicate that there’s another glossary entry. Yes, you now have multiple pages open and are cross-referencing them to figure out how the rules work, but at least you were able to find everything by following the breadcrumb trail!

But let’s go back to the rules for Targets on page 238 and look at this section of the rules:

A Clear Path to the Target. To target something with a spell, a caster must have a clear path to it, so it can’t be behind Total Cover.

Well, that seems complete and, unlike the “Areas of Effect” section of the same rules, there’s no reference to an entry in the Rules Glossary, so we must be good to go!

… except I know that in the 2014 version of the rulebook, this section reads:

A CLEAR PATH TO THE TARGET

To target something, you must have a clear path to it, so it can’t be behind total cover.

If you place an area of effect at a point you can’t see and an obstruction, such as a wall, is between you and that point, the point of origin comes into being on the near side of that obstruction.

Hmm. What happened to that whole second paragraph?

Well, once again, maybe they removed it from the rules. It did, after all, give rise to the endless debates about whether or not you could target someone standing behind a window. (And, if so, what would happen.)

But by this point I’ve gotten suspicious, and so I go digging a bit and discover that this part of the rule can, in fact, be found hidden in the Rules Glossary! (Although, obviously, not in the entry about Targets!)

Finally, all of this is made much, much worse because Wizards of the Coast is allergic to page references, and so even when they do tell you where you can find more rules, this takes the form of, “See also chapter 1,” and you’re left flipping through a thirty-page chapter trying to figure out what where you’re supposed to look.

CONCLUSION

On the one hand, you can argue that all of the rules are, in fact, in the rulebook, and can eventually be found if you just look in the right place. So what’s the problem?

On the other hand, I want you to think about how many times during this relatively simple rules look up:

• You could falsely conclude that you had all the relevant rules and, therefore, never go looking for the rules hidden away in a different part of the book.
• You needed to have multiple pages open at the same time in order to have all the relevant rules for a single topic. (Then add to this, for example, the spell listing that prompted you to go looking for these rules in the first place.)
• You’re re-reading the same text in multiple places because each entry is partially redundant.

But, also, once you’ve lost trust that either the Rules Glossary or the main text can be trusted to give you a full set of rules, how much time do you waste fruitlessly double-checking to make sure you’re not missing something that’s been hidden from you? (Remember how in one case the partial rules were in the Rules Glossary and the full rules were in the main text, but in the other case the opposite was true?)

Think about the impact all of that has in the middle of a session.

Ignore the broken Index entry and assume we successfully navigated our way through the blind turns: We nevertheless went to page 376, then page 237, then page 364, and then page 361. (And then probably back and forth between them.)

Meanwhile in the 2014 Player’s Handbook, all of these rules were located in a single place on page 204. Look it up and you’re done.

As I mentioned, the 2014 Player’s Handbook is not without its own flaws and shortcomings. My point here isn’t that perfection hasn’t been achieved. My point is that glossary-based rulebooks are systemically flawed, and the 2024 Player’s Handbook is just one example of a fundamental problem, which means that the impact on you and your game will also be systemic and pervasive, affecting it in every part.