Deep in its DNA, Dungeons & Dragons has a fundamental mismatch between the expectations of its players and the design of the game that goes back to its very earliest days.
If you look all the way back to Arneson’s Blackmoor campaign, the original tabletop roleplaying game and the world from which D&D was born, the game was designed with a structure of zero-to-hero-to-king: The PCs went into the dungeon beneath Castle Blackmoor. Those who survived earned money and power with which they would raise armies and eventually fight vast wars for the fate of the empire before being retired as the next best thing to legendary demigods.
But those earliest players also talk about how Greg Svenson was really smart because he never allowed his character to level up high enough to get retired.
Fast forward a quarter century to D&D 3rd Edition, and you’ll find the E6 variant — which capped leveling at 6th level, but allowed PCs to continue gaining new abilities through feats — resonating with a goodly portion of the fanbase (and probably would have resonated with even more if they’d known about it).
Through D&D’s history, we see this same pattern again and again and again: The game holds out the promise of characters advancing into truly epic levels of power — founding kingdoms in AD&D, becoming literal gods in Basic D&D, the Epic Level Handbook in 3rd Edition, the Paragon and Epic tiers of 4th Edition — but a significant portion of the fanbase has mostly been interested in playing Aragorn and Conan (i.e., fairly gritty fantasy heroes rooted pretty firmly in reality). And when the mechanics of the game have tried to push them into those epic levels of play, they have mostly just kept playing Aragorn and Conan while getting cranky that the high-level mechanics are returning “nonsensical” results.
The one exception to this is combat: They still want to play Aragorn and Conan, but they want to be able to solo Smaug.
D&D 4th Edition tried to square expectations with mechanics by having the world level up with the PCs: The numbers get bigger as you level up, but the stuff the PCs are doing doesn’t fundamentally shift except for the set dressing.
D&D 5th Edition, on the other hand, went the other direction: Just don’t let the numbers increase. Lock the target numbers in with bounded accuracy and unlock Smaug-tier monsters by increasing the number of hit points monsters have and the amount of damage characters can do.
Between the two, the 5th Edition approach is almost certainly preferable, but not entirely successful, because you can also think of this problem as, “The players don’t want to leave the dungeon.”
Which makes sense: Dungeons are fun. We enjoy playing them. So why would we want to stop playing them?
But as you gain the powers of a demigod, the scenario structure of the dungeon — exploring an unknown location one room at a time — begins to fall apart: Teleportation. Scrying. Divination. Planar travel. All of this shreds the dungeon structure. This shift in play was entirely intentional in how the game was designed, but despite trying to move away from that shift in play, 5th Edition nevertheless inherits the spells and abilities that make it inevitable.
THE FIRST SOLUTION
The first solution would be to fully commit to what at least one part of 5th Edition’s schizo identity is trying to do: Eliminate all of those high-level abilities that shred dungeons and low-level structures of play.
This is basically what the E6 variant does, but arguably even better, because you can still use damage and hit point escalation to let the PCs level up into soloing Smaug.
But, frankly, I hate it. Not only do I enjoy taking characters into truly epic spheres of play, but I find the 5th Edition dynamic — where you can trivially dispatch celestial titans and fight your way to the throne of Asmodeus, but knocking down a wooden door? Man, that’s a tough ask! —to be kind of ridiculous. But I would really hate to see the game cripple itself by lopping off the epic modes of play for those of us who enjoy them.
It would be a failure of imagination.
So I think the first true solution to this problem would be for D&D to offer an E(X)-style option so that groups can lock in the style of play they enjoy — whether that’s what we currently think of as Tier 1 or Tier 3 or whatever — with or without the option of continuing to boost combat performance for the all-important soloing of Smaug.
THE SECOND SOLUTION
But I think it might also be worthwhile to take a slightly deeper look at this problem.
Why, exactly, have players been so reluctant to move into the various “endgames” that D&D has offered over the years?
I said they wanted to play Aragorn and Conan… but both of those characters ended up being kings. So why does realms-based play seem to so often lie fallow, even in editions of the game that have tried very hard to include it?
Ultimately, I think it comes back to scenario structures. I’ve talked in the past about the fact that the only two game structures most DMs really know are dungeon crawls and railroading (and the DMG doesn’t even teach you how to run dungeons any more). We’ve already discussed how high-level D&D abilities shred dungeons, but they also shred railroads: It becomes increasingly difficult for a DM to force their players to do stuff as the power level and options available to the PCs proliferate.
If the only scenario structure the rulebooks teach is railroading, the game will fall apart at the point where PCs become powerful enough that it’s difficult or impossible for the DM to constrain their choices.
In addition, dungeons kinda become irrelevant to kings and gods. In order to go on a dungeon crawl, a king and/or god would really need to take a break from being a king or god to go on the adventure. So if the only adventures you’re running are dungeon adventures, being a king or god ends up just being a decorative element in the campaign; a distraction from what the game is actually about.
This spills over into official support products: If you don’t have a scenario structure for running a realms-based campaign, then you can’t publish adventures that will slot into that structure. So DMs end up with a nigh-infinite supply of books filled with dungeons, but nothing for would-be kings or demigods fighting interplanar conflicts.
It also spills over into mechanical design! High-level D&D characters get plied with abilities and spells all aimed to support the robust combat scene structure at the heart of the game, but it’s been more than two decades since there was an official edition of D&D that hardcoded realms-based play or any other post-low-level alternative into character advancement.
To boil this down, what you ultimately have is a DM problem: Even if you had players who wanted to, for example, become dukes and rule a realm, DMs aren’t being given the tools they need to successfully create and run those adventures. If they nevertheless decide to take the plunge, they’re basically just tossed into the deep end. Some of them might spontaneously figure out how to swim, but most of them will just drown and end their campaigns.
So the other solution would be to fully support the shift in play. Not just with rules, but with the scene structures, scenario structures, and campaign structures that would support realms-based play or divinity or whatever other styles of play you want to unlock at Tier 3 or Tier 4.