But I don't believe that the edifice built by Gary Gygax's dreams has completely withstood the test of time. Looking back, while the earliest years spent puzzling through AD&D still shine, I cannot deny a distinct bitterness towards the systems that have inherited its throne.
Now, let's get one thing straight: this is not some "I'm so Indie and Oldschool" retro-rant where I vomit curses upon all things modern and popular. AD&D was, in many ways, an utter monstrosity. The segment of my 8-year-old brain that has survived to this day still places THAC0 upon a mental pedestal with neuroscience and people that can speak read Ancient Sumerian.
No, what I want to talk about isn't mechanics. In fact, if anything, I want to talk about how our love affair as players which defining quality via mechanics has replaced the very things I loved in the first place.
Let me illustrate this with a story I shall shamelessly steal from a good friend of mine. Augusto (let's call him Augusto, because it's an awesome name, and he is awesome) told me of how he was once running a game in the Forgotten Realms system, and his players came to a town. They asked him if it contained a temple. So, like any good 3rd edition group (this was in the mid 2000's), they pulled out their books and looked.
Let's stop for a second, because everything past this point in the story doesn't matter.
I know I've done this before. Not this exactly, but something like it. We all have. We've used an NPC because the sourcebook said existed, copied over a stat because that's what the Monster Manual gave, or given a history to the world because it's what the book contained. Even in original worlds, how many of us have said to ourselves, "I want to play a barbarian warrior from the Frozen Wastes that casts cold spells," and then gone through some copy of Complete Warrior or Warriors of Frost or some other sourcebook to find a prestige class that fit our concept.
Don't get me wrong, I understand why we do it. It is attractive to have things ready-made, systems built and (at least in theory) balanced by experts to ensure fairness. I will also readily admit that I also love and make room in my heart for the dungeon-crawls of the world. I relish take comfort in the long mechanical puzzles and battles they provide.
But if we're talking about ROLEPLAYING, I like to believe we're talking about something more than chess with more varied pieces. We're talking personalities and stories and worlds, not manipulating sets of mechanics to achieve situational advantage.
And in this regard, the development of D&D urges us at every turn to give up ownership of our creative capacity in return for balance.
The business model of Wizard of the Coast (and others) has inundated the roleplaying market with supplements capable of providing ready-made answers. It is so easy, so tempting to don this ready-made clothing and feel relieved from the (admittedly terrifying) burden of actually ROLEPLAYING. Is it any surprise that the experience of playing often becomes more an argument over mechanical subtlety than the development of fascinating and unique characters or stories?
I propose that the answer to "is there a Temple in this town" lies not in any book, but in answering for ourselves: "Does there need to be?" Does a story not become become more interesting by deviating from the proscribed path and entering the unknown?
Certainly a brave few deviate from this path, supping carefully on a limited set of core mechanics in order to form a framework for glorious and original stories. The core materials - the brick and mortar D&D's systems provide - is generally sound. But to do so is to walk a long isle of prefabricated forms and tomes of rules and pluck forth the raw material scattered within. I applaud those who succeed where I, admittedly, cannot.
All of that said, if I am thankful for anything in this context, it is that there are many very smart people who came to these realizations long ago and created systems that provide open canvasses and prompt a user to create something unique (in the place of D&D's paint-by-numbers). My Life with Master, Polaris, Dogs in the Vineyard, Fiaso, and their uncountable brothers and sisters can be credited with saving my very interest in the genre.
I have no doubt that there are many out there that disagree with my assessment. And to those many, I would urge you consider the following:
My assertion has at no point been that a particular edition of D&D is "bad." I am not passing a value judgment and assigning it a place on some arbitrary numerical scale. If what you seek is a system of utter balance into which a group of fighters may enter and engage in stories of combat and conquest, you will find no better home. I look for different qualities, and where this product once suited, it no longer does.
