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).

The roper has a phenomenal reach (50 ft. with its tendrils), but remains excessively vulnerable to the “back off and plink it to death with ranged attacks” tactic. This isn’t really a huge problem, but I have had a couple of roper encounters that landed with dull, wet thuds.

So when I was taking a peek at the artwork from the 4th Edition Dungeon Master’s Screen and spotted this particular roper hanging out evocatively perched next to a fiery lava pit, I suddenly realized what ropers need: Big piles of skulls from their previous victims.

That they can throw.

In 3rd Edition this easy enough: A +11 ranged attack (1d6+4 points of damage) that can be used interchangeably with their normal strand attacks. A typical roper has 4d6 pieces of skeletal ammunition at hand, although particularly successful ropers may have accumulated larger bone piles while younger ropers or one new to a hunting location may have far fewer.

Faceless rage is a magical disease of evil and chaos that affects only humanoids. It transforms its victims by erasing their face and turning them into murderous savages.

TRANSFORMATION: Whenever a victim of the faceless rage suffers ability score damage from the disease, they must succeed at an additional Fortitude save (DC 18) or be transformed according to the faceless rager template.

Fortitude save (DC18); Infection contact/injury; Incubation 1 day; 1d6 Int/1d6 Wis, plus transformation (see above).

TEMPLATE: FACELESS RAGE

Noppera-b? (??????, faceless ghost) from the Buson Youkai Emaki (??????)

“Faceless rager” is a template that can be added to any humanoid or giant (referred hereafter as the base creature).

Size and Type: The base creature’s type does not change, but the creature gains the shapechanger subtype.

Hit Points and Hit Dice: Same as the base creature. To calculate total hit points, apply the faceless rager’s bonus to Constitution.

Attacks: A faceless rager loses the bite attack of the base creature (if any), but retains all other attacks of the base creature and and gains a slam attack (1d6 damage for Medium-size faceless ragers).

Special Attacks: A faceless rager loses the gaze attack of the base creature (if any), but retains all other special attacks of the base creature and also gains the special attacks described below.

Disease (Ex): Any creature struck by the natural attack of a faceless rager (including its slam attack and steal visage abilities) is exposed to faceless rage. The save DC is Constitution-based.

Improved Grab (Ex): To use this ability, the faceless rager must hit a natural attack (including its slam attack).

Steal Visage (Su): If a faceless rager succeeds at a grapple check against any humanoid, its victim must make a Fortitude save or have its face removed. The victim is left blinded, deafened, and mute. As the victim has no mouth, it will risk starvation if its face is not restored. Restoring a victim’s face requires a regeneration spell, just as if it were a severed limb. The save DC is Constitution-based.

Special Qualities: A faceless rager retains all special qualities of the base creature, and also gains those described below.

Blindsight (Ex): A faceless rager has blindsight 60 feet.

Incurable Disease (Ex): A faceless rager can no longer recover naturally from the faceless rage disease that afflicts them. Only magical treatment can restore the victim, specifically a remove disease spell followed by a greater restoration. Once cured, the faceless rager loses this template. A faceless rager’s face can only be restored after the disease has been magically cured, and requires a regeneration spell, just as if it were a severed limb.

Mindless Rage (Ex): A faceless rager must seek out and attack the nearest humanoid. If no humanoids are present, it will attack the nearest creature. If no creatures are present, it will wander randomly until it finds one. In this mindless rage, a faceless rager gains a +2 morale bonus on Will saves, but suffers a -2 penalty to Armor Class. They cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except for Balance, Escape Artist, Intimidate, and Ride), the Concentration skill, or any abilities that require patience or concentration, nor can they cast spells or activate magic items that require a command word, a spell trigger (such as a wand), or spell completion (such as a scroll) to function. They can use any feat they have except Combat Expertise, item creation feats, and metamagic feats.

Abilities: Faceless ragers gain +4 to Strength and +4 to Constitution.

Challenge Rating: Same as base creature + 1. However, levels in a spellcasting class count only one-quarter towards their challenge rating (since the faceless rager cannot use spells). (For example, a faceless rager based on a 4^th-level wizard would be a CR 2 challenge.)

Alignment: Always chaotic evil.

SAMPLE FACELESS RAGERS

DISEASED CARPENTER (CR 3) – Expert 3 – CE Humanoid (human shapechanger)
DETECTION – blindsight 60 ft., Listen +3, Spot +3; Init +1
DEFENSES – AC 9 (+1 Dex, -2 mindless rage), touch 9, flat-footed 8; hp 23 (3d6+12)
ACTIONS – Spd 30 ft.; Melee slam +4 (1d6+2 and disease); Ranged +3; Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft.; Base Atk +2; Grapple +2; SA improved grab, steal visage (DC 13)
SQ blindsight 60 ft., incurable disease, mindless rage
STR 14, DEX 12, CON 14, INT 12, WIS 10, CHA 10
FORT +3, REF +2, WILL +5
FEATS: Skill Focus (Craft (carpentry)), Skill Focus (Craft (carving)), Skill Focus (Knowledge (wood))
SKILLS: Balance +1, Craft (carpentry) +8, Craft (carving) +8, Diplomacy +8, Escape Artist +1, Hide +1, Knowledge (architecture/engineering) +6, Knowledge (wood) +8, Move Silently +1, Ride +1, Search +6, Sense Motive +6, Use Rope +1

DISEASED SOLDIER (CR 5) – Warrior 5 – CE Humanoid (human shapechanger)
DETECTION – blindsight 60 ft., Listen +3, Spot +3; Init +0
DEFENSES – AC 8 (-2 mindless rage), touch 8, flat-footed 8; hp 33 (5d8+10)
ACTIONS – Spd 30 ft.; Melee slam +8 (1d6+3 and disease); Ranged +5; Base Atk +5; Grapple +5; SA improved grab, steal visage (DC 14)
SQ blindsight 60 ft., incurable disease, mindless rage
STR 16, DEX 10, CON 14, INT 12, WIS 10, CHA 10
FORT +6, REF +1, WILL +3
FEATS: Alertness, Improved Unarmed Strike, Run
SKILLS: Appraise +1, Bluff +1, Climb +3, Craft (wittling) +1, Forgery +1, Gather Information +3, Innuendo +1, Intimidate +8, Jump +3, Listen +3, Search +1, Sense Motive +2, Spot +3, Swim +1

D20 Rules by Justin Alexander
This material is covered by the Open Gaming License.

I’ve recently been reviewing The Esoterrorists by Robin D. Laws with an eye towards how the core design ethos of the system — that the PCs always find every clue that can be found (as discussed in more length as part of my essay on the Three Clue Rule) — could be adapted to more generic purposes. (And quickly coming to the conclusion that is, in fact, so completely antithetical to the reasons that I play roleplaying games that it won’t work for me in any form.)

HARD AND SOFT LIMITS

But the game has prompted me to give some fresh thought to hard limits in system design, and the effect they have on scenario design for and the utility of a roleplaying game.

For example, let’s consider hit points: Imagine a hypothetical system in which the PCs have 20 hit points each. If each PC loses an average of 4 hit points each time they get involved in combat, then after four combat encounters the system is essentially mandating that the PCs stop fighting things (because the fifth encounter will kill them).

For simplicity’s sake, let’s assume that in this hypothetical system there’s no way for a PC to heal or restore their hit points except to rest for 1 week without stressful activity. That becomes a hard limit for scenario design: If you design a scenario that requires the PCs to fight more than four times in a single week, then your scenario is most likely going to end in failure (as the injured PCs either retreat or die).

This is, basically, how D&D 4th Edition is designed. The math is more complicated due to healing and variable encounter difficulty, but when the party’s healing surges run out (or, more accurately, when the healing surges for a single PC run out), the adventuring for the day is over. It has a hard system limit on how many combat encounters you can have per day, and you cannot design encounters with more combat encounters (or more difficult combat encounters) without house ruling the system.

By contrast, previous editions of D&D used hit points as a soft limit because there’s no limit placed on how much magical healing a single character can receive in a day. Of course, there are practical limits to the amount of healing any given adventuring party will have available to it in a single day, so you can’t simply ignore the issue of depleting the party’s hit points across multiple encounters. But it’s a soft limit precisely because there are ways (within the rules of the system itself) for overcoming that limitation.

For example, imagine that you wanted to design a scenario in which the PCs were in control of a fortress and needed to defend it from an army of the undead. In 4th Edition the scope of this scenario is dictated by the system: You can’t have more than X encounters of Y strength because the PCs will run out of healing surges. In 3rd Edition, on the other hand, you can make the siege last for any number of encounters, as long as you’re willing to provide the PCs with the necessary resources (like wands of cure light wounds, for example).

The reason I bring this up is that in most traditional roleplaying games there aren’t actually many hard limits to be found. I’ve found them to be quite a bit more prevalent in indie games, but in most cases they’re also fairly obvious in such games.

For example, 3:16 Carnage Amongst the Stars features a core mechanic for each mission in which the GM is given a budget of threat tokens equal to 5 x the number of PCs. The GM constructs encounters by spending threat tokens, and when he runs out of tokens the mission is over. This limit isn’t hidden in any way. Knowing it is recognized as being an integral part of running and playing the game. (Which, when you get right down to it, is true for all hard system limits. It’s just that 3:16 acknowledges it.)

HARD LIMITS IN GUMSHOE

The GUMSHOE system used in The Esoterrorists, on the other hand, looks like a traditional RPG… but its design is riddled with hidden hard limits.

Allow me to explain the two core mechanics of the game:

(1) For any investigative task, the PC uses the appropriate skill and automatically succeeds at finding any of the appropriate basic clues in the scene. In addition, a PC’s ranking in an investigative skill gives them a pool of points which they can spend to buy additional clues using that investigative skill that are non-essential to the adventure, but interesting in one way or another.

(2) For any non-investigative task, a difficulty number from 2 to 8 is secretly assigned and 1d6 is rolled. If the roll is higher than the difficulty number, the PC succeeds. A PC’s ranking in non-investigative skills also give them a pool of points which they can spend on checks using that skill to give them a +1 bonus to their die roll.

Pools for physical skills are replenished every 24 hours. Pools for non-physical skills are only replenished when a scenario ends.

And there’s your hard limit. Or, rather, your many hard limits: Each and every skill is turned into a 4E-style hard limit. For investigative skills this is relatively muted by the “mandatory success” mechanics of the system, but this same mandatory success results in a very flat playing experience if it’s not being periodically spiced by pool buys.

In practice, these hard limits severely restrict the length of an Esoterrorist scenario.

These limits, of course, aren’t entirely without their benefits. For example, once you recognize the hard limit, you’ll also realize that the system is silently mandating a diversity in the design of a scenario (so that you don’t rapidly tap out a single pool) — which, on the balance, is likely to be a positive more often than a negative.

But the negatives seem quite significant to me.

For example, in designing the investigative portions of a scenario you have two ways of dealing with the GUMSHOE hard limit:

(1) You can budget the number of “bonus clues” available in the scenario to make sure that the PCs will always have the points required to buy them. This avoids the problem of running out of points early in the game and then being forced to only engage the scenario at the most passive level available, but it raises the question of why the pools exist at all: It’s like sending you to a typical garage sale and then enforing a strict budget of spending no more than $1,000,000. Theoretically that’s meaningful, but in practice you’ve got all the money you need to buy everything on sale so it’s not a limitation at all.

(2) On the other hand, you can include more “bonus clues” over the course of the scenario than the PCs can afford. This means that the PCs will have to budget their points and only spend them selectively.

But here’s the problem: The players don’t know which of these approaches is true in any given scenario. (Particularly since most GMs aren’t going to read this essay and, therefore, aren’t going to make a deliberate decision in either direction. In practice, it’ll be a crapshoot from one scenario to the next which of these true. And which is true for which pool of points.)

And, furthermore, the design of the system is such that you often don’t know what you’re buying.

So either I’m giving you a million bucks and saying “buy everything at the garage sale”; or I’m giving you $5 and telling you to buy a random grab bag of stuff. It’s a feast or a famine and you don’t know which it is until it’s too late.

The problem becomes more severe for non-investigative tasks. Here the players need to spend the pool points in an effort to boost a random die roll above a target number that they don’t know. And they have to make that decision without any real knowledge of how many more die rolls of the same type they might be called upon to make.

So you’re bidding in a (frequently life-or-death) silent auction in what may (or may not) be a long series of silent auctions, the exact number of which you have no way of guessing.

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS

Of course, the argument can be made that I’m being relatively harsh on a game system which was probably designed to provide nothing more than a semi-useful scaffolding on which to hang some group improv.

But I belong to that school of thought that believes that system matters. And I don’t come to that belief merely from a background in game design. It’s also derived from my experience as an improv actor: The improv structures you use have an impact on the creativity that happens. Being aware of the strengths and weaknesses of an improv structure is the first step towards (a) choosing the right improv structure and (b) mastering the improv structure you choose.

In any case, hard limits are something to watch out for in a game system. They’re the points beyond which the game either Fails Completely or, at best, Stops Being Fun. That needs to be taken into account: Generally to be steered clear of, but sometimes to be taken advantage of.

So against all common sense, you find yourself hankering to write up a railroad for your roleplaying group. You dream of a land where the rails are straight, the wheels are locked, and the players submissive.

Well, you’re in luck, because today we’re bringing you — courtesy of the Serpent Amphora trilogy — an educational primer in the Art of the Railroad with a step-by-step breakdown of the track-laying process.

STEP 1: MAKE SURE ALL OTHER FORMS OF TRANSPORATION ARE FAILBOATS

Remember: Your goal is not to design a robust scenario which will ensure that the adventure remains enjoyable and usable despite the players trying to make decisions for themselves. Your goal is to design a Disneyland ride to carry them past all the Exciting and Interesting Things you’ve designed for them to see. If the players try to tamper with their teacup, your adventure should throw up its hands in exasperation, take its ball, and go home.

The PCs decide to quickly check out another lead before abandoning it on the say-so of an NPC? They fail the entire mission.

The PCs decide to attack a group of elves preparing to ambush them? They fail the entire mission.

The PCs decide not to hire a guide and trust to their own Survival skill? They die.

You can earn bonus points by issuing Failboat boarding passes on the basis of die rolls that the players have no control over!

They fail a Diplomacy check to convince someone to help them? They fail the entire mission.

They fail an Intelligence check to remember a key piece of information? They fail the entire mission.

No trip by rail is complete unless the train has a casino car where the only game is craps and the penalty for a bad roll is a bullet to the back of the brain.

STEP 2: ALL TICKETS GO TO ALBUQUERQUE

It costs a lot of money to offer train service to all the major metropolitan areas. On the other hand, if you don’t offer that kind of service a lot of people won’t ride your trains. Fortunately, the solution is easy enough: You can advertise that your trains will take people to many different places, but the reality is that there’s only one train and it only goes to one place.

This is particularly effective if you replace the “WELCOME TO ALBUQUERQUE” sign with a welcoming message from whatever town the PCs thought they were going to.

For example, the PCs fail the skill check to convince the boat captain to sail through the night so that they can get to their destination faster. When they finally get there, they discover that the villains got there just before them! Now they’ve had time to set ambushes! Oh no! If only they’d made that check or found a faster way!

… what? They made that skill check? Well, it’s a good thing they did, because this way the villains only managed to get there just before them! They’ve had time to set ambushes! Oh no! It’s a good thing they made that (meaningless) check!

STEP 3: HIRE CONDUCTORS TO TELL THEM WHERE THEY’RE GOING

Remember that both the train and the railroad tracks are invisible. This will occasionally confuse the PCs, who may forget that they’re on a train and will try to head off in their own direction. The quickest and easiest solution is to hire sock pupp– Err… Conductors. Why bother making it possible for the PCs to figure things out for themselves when you can just speak through your “conductors” and tell them what they should be doing?

It’s important to remember that “providing meaningful assistance” is not in the conductors’ job descriptions. Their job is to make the passengers jump through hoops, not listen to reasonable requests.

To make sure that the PCs understand who’s boss, try to make the conductor’s failure to supply necessary support completely irrational. For example, when a conductor shows up and tells them that the Gods Themselves(TM) have conjured up a coastal tsunami so that the local river will reverse its flow and speed their boat journey, then by god they are going to turn around, get back on their boat, and head upstream.

If the PCs ask why the 16th-level spellcaster telling them this divine message couldn’t just cast a teleport spell and instantly send the entire party to their destination, you might think that the correct answer is, “Shut up! That’s why!” You would be wrong. The correct answer is, “Think you I am sitting by idly? I and many others labor even as you do against the machinations of the Serpent Mother, assisting you in ways you cannot see, on battlefields other than this one.”

If the PCs point out that casting a teleport is surely easier than summoning hurricanes and reversing the flow of entire rivers, then they clearly haven’t learnt their lesson. And since they haven’t learned their lesson…

STEP 4: IF THE PASSENGERS GET OFF BEFORE THEIR SCHEDULED STOP, PUNISH THEM

The PCs respond to the encounter you’ve carefully crafted to show that they’re completely outmatched by your NPCs to conclude that they’re completely outmatched and go for help (despite the fact they aren’t supposed to go for help)? Then you should feel “no guilt” for killing them.

Arrest them, cripple them, or kill them — doesn’t really matter. They’ve been naughty, naughty children and they deserved to be punished for their willful ways.

STEP 5: IF THE TRAIN IS RUNNING OUT OF STEAM, ADD MORE ENGINES

Okay, you’ve done everything right: You’ve created an overwhelming combat encounter that the PCs can’t possibly defeat so that they’ll have no chance of stopping the NPCs from stealing the artifact and kidnapping their friend.

But the passengers have thwarted you by either (a) clever planning or (b) lucky rolling, and now the monsters who were supposed to be stealing the artifact and/or kidnapping their friend have been killed with their mission unfulfilled.

Don’t panic. The solution is simple: Add more monsters.

Should the dragon somehow be stopped from reaching [their friend], don’t worry — the PCs will still have to recover the [artifact]. The results, ultimately, are the same. If it didn’t get the [artifact], though, [their friend] should be captured instead, so that the PCs still have reason to go to the Hornsaw. If the dragon can’t take him, for some reason, and also didn’t get the [artifact], then simply have two more storm hags bear [their friend] away instead.

That didn’t work? Don’t worry. You can just keep adding monsters until it does!

STEP 6: PUT A BRICK WALL ON YOUR TRACKS

Everybody knows that the best railroad tracks are built with brick walls, right? Trains never run better than when they run into a wall.

To achieve this all-important effect you can make really poor assumptions about what the PCs are likely to do. For example, if you design an adventure in which they need to make a copy of a powerful magical ritual from the walls of an ancient tomb and then return that magical ritual to their employer, it’s probably a safe bet that they won’t spend a few extra hours to make a copy for themselves. That way you can assume that the bad guys will be able to steal the “only copy” of the ritual by kidnapping an NPC and “force them” to pursue the bad guys to get back the “only copy”.

You can score bonus points by making the assumption ludicrously easy for the PCs to overcome. For example, there’s no logical reason for PCs preparing to engage in a long overland journey to buy horses; therefore it’s perfectly reasonable to make the timing of events depend on them definitely not buying horses. And since that’s not ridiculous enough, you should make sure to plan for encounters (mandatory ones, of course) in which the PCs will fight mounted opponents… and still continue to assume that they won’t have any horses to ride after defeating them.

The important thing is that it doesn’t matter what the PCs do. You’ve got a schedule to meet and a story to write, and no one is going to get in your way.