Dungeons and Dragons, the Tactical Game

At some point the focus of Dungeons and Dragons changed.  I can remember when I played with my friends over lunch with nothing in front of us except character sheets and a pencil.  No battle mat.  No dry-erase markers.  No one inch figurines.  We probably had some rulebooks lying around, but they were rarely consulted.  An optimized build was something we never even considered.  The most min-maxing we did was taking a bastard-sword instead of a regular long sword for its increase in damage (and its hilarious name).

Since the advent of 3E and now into 4E the game has changed for me in a fundamental way.  Instead of a role-playing game where the focus is on the characters and their actions, the game has become a tactical game – more reminiscent of a table-top war game.  Building your character can feel more like allocating your points for the greatest tactical advantage than developing a new person.  What happened?

The Tactical Pendulum

Somewhere along the line combat became the focus of Dungeons and Dragons.  This of course was always true, in the background – but we’ve gone ahead and admitted it, blessed it, and canonized it with the newest incarnations of the rules.  The pendulum has swung slowly but steadily toward the tactical enjoyment of gaming and away from the immersion enjoyment of the hobby.  I know some people who would get more upset with a fellow player who purposefully selected non-optimal actions during combat for role-playing reasons than a player who spends 10 minutes each turn determining the proper actions.  Even skill challenges, as much as we appreciate those tasty bread crumbs that show the game is more than just a series of combats, are designed with a mathematical underpinning that assumes, necessarily, that non-combat goals will be approached with the same tactical persistence.

The vocabulary of the game bears this out.  How often do you hear “I use Diplomacy to convince the guard to let me in,” or “I use Perception to search the lake.”  In skill challenges the GM will inevitably field questions like “Can I use intimidate instead of bluff to convince the solider I’m really in charge?”  Why?  Because they have a +10 to intimidate and only a +8 to bluff.  Aiding another has no immersion either.  It’s simply an easy way to get a major statistical advantage.  It makes complete sense and is a tactical mistake to avoid.

Paladin: “I use my Religion skill to see if I know anything about this strange symbol on alter…”
Wizard: “I have some religion knowledge, I’ll aid.”
Paladin: “Anyone else?”  *crickets*  “Come on, we should all try!”
Rogue: “But Rassa doesn’t know anything about religious symbols.”
Paladin: “So what? You might as well try.  It can’t hurt.”
Rogue: “Ok…” *rolls a 12* “Nice, you get an extra +2 from Rassa.”
Paladin: “That’s a +8 for my skill, and an extra +4 so far, who else is going to aid?”

Is this a Problem?

I like playing tactical games as much as the next person.  Really.  I enjoy them so much that when I get ready to play this so-called Role-Playing Game I often can’t help myself from min-maxing.  I get into combat and get my power cards ready.  I’ll send my wizard in first because I can soak the damage from a few hits then teleport to the back lines.  I’ll proclaim to everyone that I use “Fire Shroud” and that I’m saving my Daily for an action point when I get a +3 for Human Action Surge.  I’m glad I pumped an 18 for my INT and an 18 for my WIS so that my Orb of Imposition Sleep spell is at +4 to hit and -4 to the enemy save.  The ability itself already has a description of what it looks like, so I can simply read it off the card instead of imagining it.

Is this fun?  Yes.

But I miss role-playing games.

Role-Playing Made Difficult

I have slowly but surely changed my expectations of what Dungeons and Dragons feels like.  The joy used to be the wildly free range of actions you could have at any time and the immersion that choice allowed.  It is now far more rewarding for its tactical feel and it’s brilliant play balance – even if the rules create a situation where you’re trying to find the best way to use your move, minor, standard, and potentially action point actions each round.

A fan of 4E might point out that there is nothing in the rules that says you can’t role-play.  In fact, I am that fan of 4E!  But it has, I think, become more difficult.  Would you select for your character a feat which let your eyes glow red when you’re angry and gives you a +1 bonus to Intimidate checks?  Or would you select a Skill Focus in Intimidate?  Is this even a difficult choice?  Are you or your fellow players willing to make sub-optimal builds, and I don’t mean a feat here or there, to make a character concept come alive?  The balance and design of the game encourages you to make tactical choices rather than role-playing choices or else you will fall behind the curve.

But all is not lost.  A well-balanced game with a chore mechanic should not stop you from enjoying what made the game so powerful in the first place.  But it takes an effort to get that back, and the effort has to come from more than just one person.  It can’t start and end with the GM.  The players must be on board and think of the game as more of a story that they get to drive.  Discussion in-game should be rules-light and action focused.  Let the GM tell you what skill your action requires.  You’ll have to stop worrying about the tactical ramifications of using weaker skills or making sub-optimal characters or forgetting to use that minor action.  You’ll need to remember that failure can be as rich and entertaining as success.  Sometimes more so.

How many of you would even really like to play this way?

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About the Author

At the age of eight JackOfHearts was invited to play Dungeons & Dragons during summer camp by kids that were much cooler than him. When he wasn't working on the family farm or practicing tennis, he spent much of his teen years reading fantasy novels and playing games of the role playing, collectible card, tabletop, and video varieties. He's now a nine-to-fiver who never forgot the joy of descending into a tomb for forgotten treasures.