A character in the AD&D® game, like anyone else, has a variety of skills and talents. He is good at some things (because they are used in his profession or hobby) and poor at those he has studied casually or not at all. These skills and talents are called proficiencies in the AD&D game.

Proficiencies aren’t exactly like the skills people pick up in school or in the “real” world. They tend to be unrealistically broad or narrow, depending on the subject. The fishing proficiency, for example, assumes the character knows everything about both rod-and-reel fishing and net fishing. In reality, these are two vastly different skills.

At the other end of the spectrum, weapon proficiencies tend to be very precise, highlighting the subtle differences between weapons. A long bow and a short bow differ in size, weight, pull, arrow length, and balance. Each demands different practices to get optimum utility.

When using proficiencies, remember that these rules are not intended to recreate reality. It might have been more realistic to list different proficiencies for each aspect of medieval botany – horticulture, herbalism, mycology, etc. – but in the context of a game, these are much better grouped under a single proficiency. Individually, each pro­ficiency would be of such limited usefulness that all of them would become worthless. Other proficiencies, particularly weapons, go to the other extreme.

Weapon Proficiencies

Sooner or later a player will complain that the weapon proficiencies are too restrictive. But the real complaint may be that the rules don’t allow a character to do everything the player wants.

For example, say a player character is proficient with a long sword. As our example begins, he’s about to be overwhelmed by a horde of kobolds, but he has the sense to retreat. Unfortunately, he trips over his feet and falls face-first to the floor! His faithful, trusted long sword skitters from his grip and the little monsters are upon him. Still full of fight, the character wrests a short sword from the nearest beastie and begins to fight.

At this point, the DM tells the player to apply the nonproficiency penalty. The player howls in outrage. “It’s a sword,” he moans. “My character can use a long sword, I can’t believe you won’t let him use a short sword! It’s the same thing, just smaller!” Before giving in to the player’s protests, consider the differences in what seem to be similar weapons:

The character’s customary weapon, the long sword, is a slashing weapon. It is 3 to 4 feet long, heavy, and balanced toward the blade to increase momentum in a slash. A short sword is a piercing weapon. It is 12 to 18 inches long, light (for a sword), and bal­anced with most of the weight toward the handle for quick reaction.

So, in our example, the character leaps into the fight using the short sword instinctively – the way he would use a long sword. He tries to slash, but the weapon is too short and light for slashing. He tries to block and parry and finds the weapon absorbs much less impact than his massive long sword. He tends to attack the air, because he is used to the longer reach and sweep of the long sword. He throws himself off balance by swinging the light weapon too hard. All these minor errors make him less effective with the short sword, even though it seems similar to his long sword. The nonproficiency penalty begins to make sense.

Furthermore, weapon proficiencies are just some of the many factors that must be balanced for a successful adventure. If a variety of factors combine to give a character excessive combat bonuses, the DM should create situations in which that character’s favorite weapon is not the best choice.

For example, a character who is proficient with all types of swords, but no other weapons, is at a big disadvantage when confronted by skeletons. His sword, even with bonuses, is less effective than a mace. Eventually, the player will have to broaden his character’s weapon proficiencies if he wants to thrive in the AD&D game world.

Min/Maxing

Sometimes players resort to “min/maxing” when selecting weap­on proficiencies. Min/maxing occurs when a player calculates all the odds and numerical advantages and disadvantages of a particular weapon. The player’s decision isn’t based on his imagination, the campaign, role-playing, or character development. It is based on game mechanics – what will give the player the biggest modifier and cause the most damage in any situation.

A certain amount of min/maxing is unavoidable, and even good (it shows that the player is interested in the game), but an excessive min/maxer is missing the point of the game. Reducing a character to a list of combat modifiers and dice rolls is not role-playing.

Fortunately, this type of player is easy to deal with: Just create a situation in which his carefully chosen weapon, the one intended to give him an edge over everyone else, is either useless or puts him at a disadvantage. He will suddenly discover the drawback of min/maxing. It is impossible to create a combination of factors that is superior in every situation, because situations can vary so much.

Finally, a character’s lack of proficiency can be used to create dramatic tension, a vital part of the game. In the encounter with kobolds described earlier, the player howled in surprise because the situation suddenly got a lot more dangerous than he expected it to. The penalty for nonproficiency increases the risk to the player character, and that increases the scene’s tension.

When a nonproficiency penalty is used to create tension, be sure the odds aren’t stacked against the character too much. Dramatic tension exists only while the player thinks his character has a chance to escape, even if it’s only a slim chance. If a player decides the situation is hopeless, he will give up. His reaction will switch from excitement to despair.

NPC Proficiencies

As a convenience for the DM, non-player characters are assumed to be proficient with the weapons they carry. However, this need not always be the case. If you want to make an NPC easier to defeat or less dangerous, rule that he is not proficient with his weapon. This is most likely the case with simple innkeepers or townsmen impressed into the militia. The innkeeper may be adept with a club (occasionally useful in his trade), but the niceties of swordplay are not within the normal realm of his business. By adding to or subtracting from the abilities of an NPC, the game can be balanced and enriched.

Nonweapon Proficiencies

Nonweapon proficiencies are optional, but, if chosen, can be very useful. Their use is highly recommended. If you are uncertain whether to use these proficiencies, the following points should make the decision easier:

Nonweapon proficiencies help determine the success of character actions beyond what is defined by the basic abilities of the character races and classes. They provide a useful gauge when a character tries to build a boat or behave properly at court. This frees the DM to think about more important parts of the story instead of little, perhaps even insignificant, details.

Not everyone agrees with this! Some DMs prefer to handle by themselves all the situations covered by proficiencies. This requires a quick wit and good memory. In return, the DM is freed from the restraints of rules. He can create the scene he wants without worrying whether it breaks the rules. But tread softly here – this is not an easy way to judge a game! Try this only if you are experienced at DMing or are a spontaneous and entertaining storyteller.

Nonweapon proficiencies give a player character more depth. Used cleverly, they tell the player more about the personality and background of his character and give him more tools to work with. Applied judiciously and thoughtfully, nonweapon proficiencies vastly increase a character’s role-playing potential.

Beware, however, because nonweapon proficiencies can have exactly the opposite effect – they can become a crutch for players who are unwilling to role-play, an excuse not to develop a character’s personality or history. Some players decide that proficiencies define everything the character knows; they make no effort to develop anything else.

Avoid this by encouraging players to dig deeper and explore the possibilities in their characters. Ask a player to explain why his character has specific proficiencies. What did that character do before becoming an adventurer? Questions like this stimulate players to delve into their characters’ personalities and backgrounds. Make a note of the player’s reasons and then you can use them during play.

Nonweapon proficiencies can be used to define the campaign and create atmosphere. The proficiency lists can be tailored to match specific regions or historical periods, or to define the differences between nationalities.

If the characters’ home base is a fishing village, the lists can be altered to allow all characters to learn swimming, sailing, fishing, and navigation at the same cost (in proficiency slots). These are common skills among seafaring people.

At the same time, dwarves, who come to this town from the nearby mountains, must devote extra slots to learn these proficiencies. A youth spent in dry, solid tunnels hasn’t prepared them for a life at sea. Instead, they can learn mining, gem-cutting, and other stonework skills cheaply.

The proficiency lists in the Player’s Handbook are only a beginning. Your campaign will develop a much more interesting flavor if separate lists are tailored to different regions.

This still leaves the problem of min/maxing. Players are encouraged to make intelligent and sensible choices for their characters, but not at the expense of role-playing. If tailored lists are in use, encourage players to list the proficiencies they want without getting to see the lists of proficiencies. Then collect the lists and figure out which proficiences the characters can get (some may be unavailable and others too expensive). Players will still request the proficiencies they think are most advantageous, but at least the selections are drawn partially from the players’ imaginations instead of a list of numbers.

Finally, proficiencies are only as useful as the DM makes them. Once a decision is made to use proficiencies in the campaign, the DM must strive to create situations where they are useful. Always remember to design encounters, traps, and scenes where proficiencies have a practical application to the problem at hand. Otherwise, players are going to write off proficiencies as a waste of time and miss out on a wonderful chance to expand their characters.

Ultimately, proficiencies add much richness, detail, and role-playing to a campaign at only a small cost in increased complexity. The DM has to remember a few more rules and the players have to make a few more choices when creating their characters. But in return, the game is bigger, better, and more fun.

Adding New Proficiencies

The proficiency lists in the Player’s Handbook are extensive, but not comprehensive. The proficiencies given are the ones that characters will most commonly want or need, and those that have significant, specialized effects worthy of explanation. DMs and players will cer­tainly think of proficiencies they’d like to add.

Wherever the idea for a new proficiency comes from, the DM is the person who decides whether to include it in the game and what its effects are. This is not a decision for the players, although they can offer suggestions and advice. Only after a new proficiency is approved by the DM can it be used in play.

One important factor to remember is that no proficiency should be beyond the science and technology of the age. There’s no proficiency on the list that allows a character to build a gasoline engine, and with good reason. A gasoline engine is far beyond the pseudo-medieval society presented in the AD&D® game.

At the same time, this is a fantasy game filled with magical effects and strange powers. With magic, it is not impossible to have outlandish and amazing proficiencies if players and DM want them. They may have a serious effect on the game, however, and must be carefully considered.

The majority of new proficiencies are going to be those related to trades. Most of these have a very minor game effect, if any at all. They give the character specialized knowledge, but it is up to the player to make some use of it.

A character with the skills of a glazier (glass-maker) does not gain a great advantage, although, if necessary, he could support himself by making small glass vials and other items for local mages and adventurers. Still, there might come a day when knowledge of glass and glass-making becomes vital to the success of an adventure. A clever player is always looking for a way to tum knowledge to his advantage.

When a player proposes a new proficiency, have him prepare a description of what the proficiency entails and allows. Then consider what the character could gain from it. This is not to say that the player is trying to pull a fast one (some will, but give them the benefit of the doubt). Instead, it is useful to imagine ways the proficiency could be abused. If something horrible or game-busting comes to mind, fix it. Never allow a proficiency into the game if it see ms too powerful.

Make whatever changes are necessary in the description and then offer it to the player. If he still likes it (after all the secret powers are stripped out), introduce it into the game and have fun. Sometimes the only thing that can be kept is the name of the proficiency. Don’t be distressed by this. Most players will be satisfied with DM changes, content simply to contribute something to the game.

Alignment is a shorthand description of a complex moral code. It sketches out the basic attitudes of a person, place, or thing. It is a tool for the DM to use. In sudden or surprising situations, it guides the DM’s evaluation of NPC or creature reactions. By implication, it predicts the types of laws and enforcement found in a given area. It  affects the use of certain highly specialized magical items.

For all the things alignment is, there are some very important things that it is not. It is not a hammer to pound over the heads of player characters who misbehave. It is not a code of behavior carved in stone. It is not absolute, but can vary from place to place. Neither should alignment be confused with personality. It shapes personality, but there is more to a person than just alignment.

Player Character Alignment

It is essential that each character’s alignment be noted in the DM’s records for that character. Look at the alignments of the group as a whole. Can this group work together? Are the alignments too different? Are they different enough to break the party apart? Will this interfere with the planned adventure or campaign?

Sometimes characters of different alignments possess such radically varied world views as to make their cooperation impossible. For example, a strict lawful good and a chaotic neutral would find their adventuring marked by animosity and mistrust. A true chaotic neutral would make just about anyone trying to work with him crazy!

There are two approaches to an alignment problem in the group:

The first is to explain the problem to the players involved. Explain why their alignments could cause problems and see if they agree or disagree. If necessary, suggest some alignment changes – but never force a player to choose a new alignment. It is his character, after all. Wildly different characters may find ways to work together, making adventures amusing (at least) and maybe even successful in spite of the group’s problems.

The second approach requires that players keep their alignments secret from each other. Don’t tell anyone that there might be a problem. Let players role-play their characters and discover the problems on their own. When problems arise, let characters work them out themselves. This approach is best suited to experienced role-players and even then it can play havoc with a campaign. Since secrecy implies mistrust, this method should be used with extreme caution.

Role-Playing Alignment

During play, pay attention to the actions of the player characters. Occasionally compare these against the characters’ alignments. Note instances in which the character acted against the principles of his alignment. Watch for tendencies to drift toward another, specific alignment.

If a character’s class requires that he adhere to a specific alignment, feel free to caution him when a proposed action seems contrary to that alignment. Allow the player to reconsider.

Never tell a player that his character can­ not do something because of his alignment! Player characters are controlled by the players. The DM intervenes only in rare cases (when the character is controlled by a spell or magical item, for example).

Finally as in all points of disagreement with your players, listen to their arguments when your understanding of an alignment differs from theirs. Even though you go to great effort in preparing your game, the campaign world is not yours alone – it belongs to your players as well.

NPC Alignment

Just as a well-played character acts within the limits of his alignment, NPCs should act consistently with their alignments. Judicious and imaginative use of NPCs is what creates a believable fantasy world.

Alignment is a quick guide to NPC and monster reactions. It’s most useful when you don’t want to take the time to consult a page of tables and you haven’t devised a complete personality for every casually encountered NPC. NPCs tend to act in accordance with their alignment (though they are no more perfect in this regard than player characters).

Thus, a chaotic evil gnoll tends to react with threats and a show of might. It considers someone who appeals to its compassion as a weakling, and automatically suspects the motives of anyone who tries to be friendly. According to the gnoll’s view of society, fear and bullying are the keys to success, mercy and kindness are for the weak, and friends are good only for the things they can provide: money, protection, or shelter. A lawful good merchant, meanwhile, would tend to hold the opposite view of things.

The limits of NPC Alignment

Remember, however, that alignment is not personality! If every lawful good merchant is played as an upright, honest, and friendly fellow, NPCs will become boring in a hurry. Just because a merchant is lawful good doesn’t mean he won’t haggle for the best price, or even take advantage of some gullible adventurer who is just passing through. Merchants live by making money, and there is nothing evil about charging as much as a character is willing to pay. A chaotic good innkeeper might, quite  reasonably, be suspicious of or hostile to a bunch of ragged, heavily armed strangers who stomp into his inn late at night. A chaotic evil wizard might be bored, and happy for a little companionship as he sits by the inn’s fire.

To create memorable NPCs, don’t rely solely on their alignment. Add characteristics that make them interesting, adapting these to fit the character’s alignment. The merchant, perhaps feeling a little guilty about overcharging the adventurer, might give the next customer a break on the price. The innkeeper might be rude to the adventurers while clearly being friendly to other patrons, doing his best to make the group feel unwanted. The chaotic evil wizard might discover that, while he wanted some companionship, he doesn’t like the company he got. He might even leave behind a token of his irritation, such as bestowing the head of a donkey on the most annoying character.

Society Alignment

Player characters, NPCs, and monsters are not alone in having alignment. Since a kingdom is nothing but a collection of people, united in some fashion (by language, common interest, or fear, for example), it can have an overall alignment. The alignment of a barony, principality, or other small body is based on the attitude of the ruler and the alignment of the majority of the population.

The alignment of the ruler determines the nature of many of the laws of the land. Lawful good rulers usually try to protect their territory and do what’s best for their subjects. Chaotic good rulers try to help people, but irregularly, being unwilling to enact sweeping legislation to correct a social ill.

At the same time, the enforcement of the laws and the attitudes found in the country come not from the ruler but the subjects. While a lawful good king issues decrees for the good of all, his lawful evil subjects may consider them inconveniences to work around. Bribery might become a standard method for doing business.

If the situation is reversed (a lawful evil king with mostly lawful good subjects), the kingdom becomes an unhappy place, filled with grumbling about the evil reign that plagues it. The king, in turn, resorts to severe measures to silence his critics, creating even more grumbling. The situation is similar to romantic portrayals of Norman England, with the good and true peasants struggling under the evil yoke of Prince John (as in both Robin Hood and Ivanhoe).

The general alignment of an area is determined by the interaction between ruler and ruled. Where the ruler and the population are in harmony, the alignment tendency of the region is strong. When the two conflict, the attitudes of the people have the strongest effect, since the player characters most often deal with people at this level. However, the conflict between the two groups – subjects and lord – over alignment differences can create adventure.

Using Area Alignments

Using a general alignment for an area allows a quick assessment of the kind of treatment player characters can expect there. The following paragraphs give ideas for each alignment.

Lawful Good: The people are generally honest, law-abiding, and helpful. They mean well (at least most of them do). They respect the law. As a rule, people don’t walk around wearing armor and carrying weapons. Those who do are viewed with suspicion or as trouble-makers. Some societies tend to dislike adventurers, since they often bring trouble.

Lawful Neutral: The people are not only law-abiding, they are passionate creators of arcane bureaucracies. The tendency to organize and regulate everything easily gets out of control.

In large empires there are ministries, councils, commissions, departments, offices, and cabinets for everything. If the region attracts a lot of adventurers, there are special ministries, with their own special taxes and licenses, to deal with the problem. The people are not tremendously concerned with the effectiveness of the government, so long as it functions.

Lawful Evil: The government is marked by its severe laws, involving harsh punishments regardless of guilt or innocence. Laws are not intended to preserve justice so much as to maintain the status quo. Social class is crucial. Bribery and corruption are often ways of life. Adventurers, since they are outsiders who may be foreign agents, are viewed with great suspicion . Lawful evil kingdoms often find themselves quashing rebellions of oppressed peasants clamoring for humane treatment.

Neutral evil, neutral good, and true neutral: Areas dominated by these three alignments tend to adopt whatever government seems most expedient at the moment. A particular form of government lasts as long as the ruler or dynasty in power can maintain it. The people cooperate when it suits them or, in the case of true neutrals, when the balance of forces must be preserved.

Such neutral territories often act as buffer states between lands of extreme alignment difference (for example, between a lawful good barony and a vile chaotic evil principality). They shift allegiance artfully to pre­serve their borders against the advances of both sides in a conflict.

Neutral evil countries tend to be benign (but not pleasant) dictatorships while neutral good countries are generally “enlightened” dictatorships. Transfers of power are usually marked by shifts in government, though these are often bloodless coups. There is a certain apathy about politics and government. Adventurers are treated the same as everyone else.

Chaotic Good: The people mean well and try to do right, but are hampered by a natural dislike of big government. Although there may be a single ruler, most communities are allowed to manage themselves, so long as their taxes are paid and they obey a few broad edicts. Such areas tend to have weak law enforcement organizations. A local sheriff, baron, or council may hire adventurers to fill the gap. Communities often take the law into their own hands when it seems necessary. Lands on the fringes of vast empires far from the capital tend to have this type of alignment.

Chaotic Neutral: There i s no government. Anarchy is the rule. A stranger to such a town may feel as if he has ridden into a town of madmen.

Chaotic Evil: The people are ruled by, and live in fear of, those more powerful than themselves. Local government usually amounts to a series of strongarm bosses who obey the central government out of fear. People look for ways to gain power or keep the power they’ve got. Assassination is an accepted method of advancement, along with coups, conspiracies, and purges. Adventurers are often used as pawns in political power games, only to be eliminated when the adventurers themselves become a threat.

Varying Social Alignment

Within these alignments, of course, many other government types are possible. Furthermore, even within the same kingdom or empire, there may be areas of different alignment. The capital city, for example, where merchants and politicians congregate, may be much more lawful (or evil, etc.) than a remote farming community.

And alignment is only one pattern of social organization. Not every nation or barony is defined by its alignment. Other methods of describing a group of people can also be used – peaceful, warlike, barbaric, decadent, dictatorial, and civilized are all possible descriptions.

You need only look at the world today to see the variety of societies and cultures that abound in the realms of man. A good DM will sprinkle his campaign world with exotic cultures created from his own imagination or researched at the local library.

Alignment of Religions

General alignments can also be applied to religions. The beliefs and practices of the religion determine its alignment. A religion that espouses understanding, working in harmony with others, and good deeds is more than likely lawful good. Those that stress the importance of individual perfection and purification are probably chaotic good.

It is expected that the priests of a religion will adhere to its alignment, since they are supposed to be living examples of these beliefs. Other followers of the religion need not adhere exactly to its alignment. If a person’s alignment is very different from his religion’s, however, a priest is certainly justified in wondering why that person adheres to a religion which is opposed to his beliefs and philosophy.

Alignment of Magical Items

Certain powerful magical items, particularly intelligent ones, have alignments. Alignment in these cases is not an indication of the moral properties of the item. Rather, it is a means of limiting the number and types of characters capable of using the item – the user’s alignment must match the item’s alignment for the magic to work properly. Aligned magical items, usually weapons, were created with a specific ethos in mind. The item was attuned to this ethos by its creator.

Aligned items reveal their true powers only to owners who share the same beliefs. In the hands of anyone else, the item’s powers remain dormant. An extremely powerful item may even harm a character of another alignment who handles the item, especially if the character’s alignment is opposed to the item’s.

Aligned magical items should be rare. When an item has an alignment, it is a sign of great power and purpose. This creates opportunities for highly dramatic adventures as the player characters learn about the item, research its history, track it across the country, and finally discover its ancient resting place and overcome the guards and traps set to protect it.

Magical Alignment Changes

A second, more insidious, type of magical item is the one that changes a character’s alignment. Unlike the usual, gradual methods by which a character changes alignment, magical alignment changes are instantaneous. The character’s personality undergoes an immediate transformation, something like magical brainwashing.

Depending on the new alignment, the change may or may not be immediately noticeable. However, you should insist that the player role-play his new situation. Do not allow him to ignore the effects the alignment change will have on his character’s personality. Indeed, good role-players will take this as an opportunity to stretch their skills.

Alignment as a World View

In addition to all its other uses, alignment can become the central focus of a campaign. Is the world caught in an unending struggle between the forces of good and evil, law and chaos? The answer affects how the campaign world is created, how the campaign is run, and how adventures are constructed. It also affects players’ perspectives on and reactions to various situations and events.

In a typical campaign, the primary conflict in the world is not a struggle between alignments. The campaign world is one in which passion, desire, coincidence, intrigue, and even virtue create events and situations. Things happen for many of the same reasons as in the real world. For this reason, it may be easier to create adventures for this type of campaign. Adventure variety and excitement depend on the DM’s sense of drama and his ability as a storyteller. Occasionally player characters discover a grand and hideous plot, but such things are isolated affairs, not part of an overall scheme.

However, for conspiracy-conscious DMs, a different world view may be more suitable, one where the powers of alignment (gods, cults, kingdoms, elemental forces) are actively struggling against each other. The player characters and NPCs may be agents of this struggle. Sometimes, they are aware of their role; at other times, they have
no idea of their purpose in the grand scheme of things.

Even rarer are those campaigns where the player characters represent a third force in the battle, ignored or forgotten by the others. In such a world, the actions of adventurers can have surprising effects.

Alignments in Conflict

There are advantages and disadvantages to building a campaign around alignment struggles. On the plus side, players always have a goal, even if they’re not always aware of it. This goal is useful when constructing adventures: It motivates player characters and provides a continuing storyline; it ensures that characters always have something to do (“Go and restore the balance of Law, loyal followers!”). Also, a sense of heroism permeates the game. Players know that their characters are doing something important, something that has an effect on the history of the campaign world.

There are disadvantages to this approach, too, but none that can’t be avoided by a clever DM. First is the question of boredom. If every adventure revolves around maintaining balance or crusading for the cause, players may get tired of the whole thing.

The solution is simply to make sure adventures are varied in goal and theme. Sometimes characters strive in the name of the great cause. Other times they adventure for their own benefit. Not every battle needs to be a titanic struggle of good vs. evil or light vs. darkness.

Another concern is that everything the characters do may affect their quest. An aligned game universe is one of massive and intricate cause-and-effect chains. If X happens over here, then Y must happen over there. Most adventures must be woven into the thread of the storyline, even those that don’t seem to be a part of it.

This is in direct conflict with the need for variety, and the DM must do some careful juggling. A big quest is easy to work into the story, but what happens when the player characters take some time off to go on their own adventure? Are they needed just then? What happens in their absence? How do they get back on track? What happens when someone discovers something no one was meant to know yet? For these problems there are no easy answers. A creative DM will never be idle with this sort of campaign.

Finally, there is the problem of success and failure. An aligned universe tends to create an epic adventure. Player characters become involved in earthshaking events and deal with cosmic beings. Being at the center of the game, player characters assume great importance (if they don’t, they will quickly get bored). This is standard stuff in sword-and-sorcery fiction, so it is natural that it also appears in a sword-and-sorcery role-playing adventure.

Fiction writers have an advantage DMs do not, however – they can end the story and never return to it. At the end of the book, the good guys win, the world is set right, and the covers are closed. The writer never has to worry about it again, unless he wants to. What happens when characters win the final conflict, the battle that puts all to right? What can be done after peace and harmony come to the universe?

Furthermore, the author knows who is going to win. He starts by knowing the good guys will win. There may be many twists, but eventually the heroes triumph. Many DMs make the same assumption. They are wrong.

Never simply assume that the characters will win! What if they don’t? What if the forces of darkness and evil win the final battle? No matter how high the odds are stacked in their favor, there is always a chance that the characters will do something so stupid or unlucky that they must lose. Victory cannot be guaranteed. If it is, players will quickly sense this and take advantage of it.

Never-Ending Conflict

The best way to avoid the problems described above is to design the characters’ struggle so it is never-ending. At the very least, the conflict is one that lasts for millennia (well beyond the lifetimes of the player characters).

To keep the players from feeling frustrated, certain they can never accomplish anything, they must be able to undertake sizable tasks and win significant victories for their side. Player characters fighting for the cause of good may eventually drive back the growing influence of the chief villain, but they defeat only a symptom, not the disease itself.

There can always be a new threat: Perhaps the evil villain himself returns in a new and more hideous manifestation. The DM must always be prepared with a series of fantastic yet realistic threats. These gradually increase in scope as the characters become more powerful.

Thus, it is possible to build a campaign where the forces of alignment play an active role in things. It is difficult and there are many hazards, but imagination and planning can overcome the obstacles.

Alignment as a Tool

Even though it has been said several times already, this point is important enough to repeat: Alignment is a tool to aid role-playing, not a hammer to force characters to do things they don’t want to do!

The DM should never tell a player, “Your character can’t do that because it’s against his alignment,” unless that character is under some type of special magical control. Let players make their own decisions and their own mistakes. The DM has enough to do without taking over the players’ jobs, too.

Despite this prohibition, the DM can suggest to a player that an action involves considerable risk, especially where alignment is concerned. If the player still decides to go ahead, the consequences are his responsibility. Don’t get upset about what happens to the character. If the paladin is no longer a paladin, well, that’s just the way things are.

Such suggestions need not be brazen. True, the DM can ask, “Are you sure that’s a good idea, given your alignment?” He can also use more subtle forms of suggestion woven into the plot of the adventure. Tomorrow the cleric intends to go on a mission that would compromise his alignment. That night, he has a nightmare which prevents any restful sleep. In the morning he runs into an old soothsayer who sees ill omens and predicts dire results. His holy symbol appears mysteriously tarnished and dull. The candles on the altar flicker and dim as he enters the temple. Attentive players will note these warnings and may reconsider their plans. But, if they do not, it is their choice to make, not the DM’s.

Detecting Alignment

Sometimes characters try to use spells or magical items to learn the alignment of a player character or NPC. This is a highly insulting, if not hostile, action.

Asking

Asking another character “So, what’s your alignment?” is as rude a question as… well, it’s so rude that any example we think of, we can’t print. At best, any character who is boorish enough to bring up the issue is likely to receive a very icy stare (turning to shocked horror from more refined characters).

Asking another character his alignment is futile, anyway – a lawful good character may feel compelled to tell the truth, but a chaotic evil character certainly wouldn’t. A chaotic evil character with any wit would reply “lawful good.”

Even if a character answers truthfully, there is no way for him to know if he is right, short of the loss of class abilities (as in the case of paladins). Player characters can only say what they think their alignment is. Once they have chosen their alignment, the DM is the only person in the game who knows where it currently stands. A chaotic good ranger may be on the verge of changing alignment – one more cold-blooded deed and over the edge he goes, but he doesn’t know that. He still thinks he is chaotic good through and through.

Casting a Spell

Casting a spell to reveal a character’s alignment is just as offensive as asking him directly. This is the sort of thing that starts fights and ends friendships. Hirelings and henchmen may decide that a player character who does this is too distrustful. Strangers often figure the spell is the prelude to an attack and may strike first. Even those who consent to the spell are likely to insist that they be allowed to cast the same in return. Using these spells, besides being rude, indicates a basic lack of trust on the part of the caster or questioner.

Class Abilities

Some characters – the paladin, in particular – possess a limited ability to detect alignments, particularly good and evil. Even this power has more limitations than the player is likely to consider. The ability to detect evil is really only useful to spot characters or creatures with evil intentions or those who are so thoroughly corrupted that they are evil to the core, not the evil aspect of an alignment.

Just because a fighter is chaotic evil doesn’t mean he can be detected as a source of evil while he is having a drink at the tavern. He may have no particularly evil intentions at that moment. At the other end of the spectrum, a powerful, evil cleric may have committed so many foul and hideous deeds that the aura of evil hangs inescapably over him.

Keeping Players in the Dark

Characters should never be sure of other characters’ alignments. This is one of the DM’s most powerful tools – keep the players guessing. They will pay more attention to what is going on if they must deduce the true motivations and attitudes of those they employ and encounter.

Changing Alignment

Sooner or later, a player character will change alignment. A character might change alignment for many reasons, most of them have nothing to do with the player “failing” to play his character’s role or the DM “failing” to create the right environment.

Player characters are imaginary people, but, like real people, they grow and change as their personalities develop. Sometimes circumstances conspire against the player character. Sometimes the player has a change of attitude. Sometimes the personality created for the player character just seems to pull in an unexpected direction. These are natural changes. There might be more cause for concern if no player character ever changes alignment in a campaign.

There is no rule or yardstick to determine when a character changes alignment. Alignment can change deliberately, unconsciously, or involuntarily. This is one of those things that makes the game fun – players are free to act, and the DM decides if (and when) a change goes into effect. This calls for some real adjudication. There are  several factors to consider.

Deliberate Change

Deliberate change is engineered by the player. He decides he doesn’t want to play the alignment he originally chose. Perhaps he doesn’t understand it, or it’s not as much fun as he imagined, or it’s clear that the player character will have a more interesting personality with a different alignment.

All the player has to do is have his character start acting according to the new alignment. Depending on the severity of the actions and the determination of the player, the change can be quick or slow.

Unconscious Change

Unconscious change happens when the character’s actions are suited to a different alignment without the player realizing it. As in the case of a deliberate align­ment change, the DM must keep track of the character’s actions. If the DM suspects that the player believes his character is acting within his alignment, the DM should warn the player that his character’s alignment is coming into question. An unconscious alignment change should not surprise the player – not completely, anyway.

Involuntary Change

Involuntary alignment change is forced on the character. Most often, this is the result of a spell or magical item. Involuntary changes are immediate. The character’s  previous actions have little bearing on the change.

Charting the Changes

During the course of play, keep notes on the actions of the player characters. At the end of each session, read through those notes, paying attention to any unusual behavior. Note which alignment seems most appropriate to each character’s actions.

If, over the course of several playing sessions, a character’s actions consistently fit an alignment different from the character’s chosen alignment, an alignment change is probably in order. If small actions are taking a character outside his alignment, the change should be gradual – maybe even temporary. Severe actions may require an immediate and permanent alignment change.

If a paladin rides through a town ravaged by disease and ignores the suffering of the inhabitants, he has transgressed his alignment in an obvious, but small, way. Several such failures could lead to an alignment change.

In the meantime, the paladin could recognize his danger and amend his ways, preventing the change and preserving his paladinhood. If the paladin burns the village to prevent the disease from spreading, he commits a seriously evil act.

In this case, the DM is justified in instituting an immediate alignment change to lawful evil or even chaotic evil. The character eventually may be able to change back to lawful good alignment, but he will never again be a paladin.

Effects of Changing Alignment

Although player characters can change alignment, it is not something that should be approached lightly, since there are serious consequences. When a character changes alignment, he does more than just change his attitudes. He is altering his perception of the world and his relationship to it. Much of what he learned previously was flavored by his alignment. When the philosophical foundations of his life change, the character discovers that he must relearn things he thought he knew.

There are two possible effects of changing alignment, depending on the situation and circumstances of the change. The first results in no penalty at all. This effect should only be used when the player and the DM mutually agree that the character’s alignment should be changed to improve the play of the game.

Most often this occurs with low-level characters. The player character’s alignment may prove to be incompatible with the rest of the party. A player character may simply be more interesting for everyone if his alignment were different. Inexperienced players may select an alignment without fully understanding its ramifications. Discovering they simply do not like the alignment, they may ask to change. Such changes must be made with mutual agreement. As DM, try to accommodate the desires of your players, if those desires won’t hurt the game.

In the second type of voluntary change, the case cannot be made that the alignment change would be for the good of the game. This generally involves more established characters who have been played according to one alignment for some time. Here, the effects of alignment change are severe and noticeable.

The instant a character voluntarily changes alignment, the experience point cost to gain the next level (or levels in the case of multi-class characters) is doubled. To determine the number of experience points needed to gain the next level (and only the next level), double the number of experience points listed on the appropriate Experience Levels table.

For example, Delsenora the mage began the game neutral good. However, as she adventured, she regularly supported the downtrodden and the oppressed, fighting for their rights and their place in society. About the time she reached 5th level, it was clear to the DM that Delsenora was behaving more as a lawful good character and he enforced an alignment change. Normally, a mage needs 40,000 experience points –  20,000 points beyond 5th level – to reach 6th level. Delsenora must earn 40,000  additional experience points, instead of the normal 20,000. Every two experience points counts as one towards advancement.

Delsenora started the adventure with 20,000 experience points. At its conclusion, the DM awarded her 5,300 points, bringing her total to 25,300. Instead of needing just 14,700 points to reach the next level, she now needs 34,700 because of her alignment change!

If an alignment change is involuntary, the doubled experience penalty is not enforced. Instead, the character earns no experience whatever until his former alignment is regained. This assumes, of course, that the character wants to regain his former alignment.

If the character decides that the new alignment isn’t so bad after all, he begins earning experience again, but the doubling penalty goes into effect. The player does not have to announce this decision. If the DM feels the character has resigned himself to the situation, that is sufficient.

For example, Beornhelm the Ranger carelessly dons a helm of alignment change and suddenly switches to chaotic evil alignment – something he didn’t want to do! Exerting its influence over him, the helm compels Beomhelm to commit all manner of destructive acts. Although unable to resist, Beornhelm keeps looking for an opportunity to escape the accu.rsed helm. Finally, after several misadventures, he cleverly manages to trick an evil mage into removing the helm, at which point he is restored to his previous alignment.

He gains no experience from the time he dons the helm to the time he removes it (though the DM may grant a small award if Beornhelm’s plan was particularly ingenious). If Beornhelm had chosen not to trick the mage but to work with him, the change would immediately be considered a player choice. From that point on Beomhelm would earn experience, but he would have to earn twice as much to reach the next experience level.

A character can change alignment any number of times. If more than one change occurs per level, however, the severity of the penalty increases. (The character is obviously suffering from severe mental confusion, akin to a modem-day personality crisis.) When a character makes a second or subsequent alignment change at a given level, all experience points earned toward the next level are immediately lost. The character must still earn double the normal experience.

Delsenora drifted into lawful good. Now she finds lawful good too restrictive. She is confused. She doesn’t know what she believes in. Her head hurts. The character reverts to her earlier neutral good habits. Bedeviled by indecision, she loses the 5,300 experience points she had already gained and now has to earn 40,000 to achieve 6th level!

The Player’s Handbook covers the nuts and bolts of character classes, explaining the mechanics of how they work and what they can do, but there is more to being a DM than just knowing the hard and fast rules. Character classes form the heart of the AD&D® game, so it is useful to understand some of the concepts and relationships that define classes and how they function.

Class, Level, and the Common Man

Character class and level are useful game measures of a character’s talents and abilities. Every class outlines a basic role for the character, a position and career in life. Each level defines additional power and provides a system whereby you can quantify and balance encounters.

With only a little practice you learn that characters of X classes and levels can easily defeat monster Y but that monster Z will give them serious problems. This helps you create exciting, balanced adventures for your players.

Yet, at the same time, you know that the concept of classes and levels doesn’t really apply to the real world. The teamster driving the wagon that passes the characters isn’t a 1st-, 5th-, or 100th-level teamster. He is a man, a man whose job it is to drive wagons and haul goods. The chambermaid is not a special class, nor are her abilities defined by levels.

The teamster or chambermaid may be exceptionally skilled and competent, but for them this is not measured in character class­es. There is no such thing as a teamster or chambermaid class, any more than there are merchant, sailor, prince, blacksmith, hermit, navigator, tinker, beggar, gypsy, or clerk classes. These are the things people do, not all-encompassing descriptions.

Nor are all the people in your campaign world fighters, mages, thieves, or whatever. The situation would be utterly ridiculous if every NPC had a character class. You would have fighter chambermaids, mage teamsters, thief merchants, and ranger children. The whole thing defies logic and boggles the mind. Most non-player characters are people, just people, and nothing more.

Only a few people actually attain any character level, no matter how low. Not every soldier who fights in a war becomes a fighter. Not every urchin who steals an apple from the marketplace becomes a thief character. The characters that have classes and levels have them because they are in some way special.

This specialness has nothing to do with ability scores, class abilities, or levels. Such characters are special by definition. The fact that player characters are controlled by players renders them special. Perhaps these special characters are more driven or have some unknown inner spark or just the right combination of talents and desires. That’s up to the players. Similarly, non-player characters with classes are special because the the DM says so. Plain and simple. There is no secret reason for this – it just is.

0-Level Characters

The great mass of humanity, elf-kind, the dwarven clans, and halflings are “0-level” (zero-level) characters. They can gain in wisdom and skill, but they do not earn experience points for their activities. These common folk form the backbone of every fantasy world, doing the labor, making goods, selling cargos, sailing oceans, building ships, cutting trees, hauling lumber, tending horses, raising crops and more. Many are quite talented in the various arts and crafts. Some are even more proficient than player characters with the same training. After all, 0-level characters earn their livings doing this kind of work; for player characters such proficiencies are almost more of a hobby.

For the vast majority of 0-level NPCs you create and use in your game, all you need to know is a name, a personality, and an occupation. When the characters deal with the blacksmith or the innkeeper, there’s no need to create ability scores, THAC0, to-hit adjustments, Armor Class, and the like. This does assume, of course, that your player characters don’t go a ttacking every blacksmith and innkeeper in sight. If they do, you need to know a little more about 0-level characters:

Ability Scores: These range from 3-18. For simplicity, don’t worry about racial modifiers for the demihuman races. Racial modifiers to combat, Armor Class, hit points, etc., do apply.

Proficiencles: At best, a 0-level character will have one weapon proficiency, if that character’s profession reasonably allows for it. For example, a blacksmith could be  proficient with a warhammer and an innkeeper might be allowed skill with a club (the baseball bat under the bar… ), but there’s little chance a clerk is going t o be skilled with any type of weapon.

In nonweapon proficiencies, 0-level characters have as many as are needed (and reasonable) given their profession and age. Thus, a blacksmith might b e quite accomplished at the forge, having spent several proficiencies on the slot. Novices and incompetent craftsmen have the bare minimum training and skill. Typical journeymen spend two or three slots on their main skill. Experts and brilliant artists usually devote all their ability to a single proficiency. Masters, who watch over the work of journeymen and apprentices, are normally no more accomplished than journeymen but have additional proficiencies in other business areas.

Hit Points: The majority of people have from 1-6 hit points. Dwarves and gnomes average from 1-8 hit points. Adjustments can be made for occupation or condition as
indicated on Table 10, below.

Table 10: 0-LEVEL HIT POINTS BY TITLE
Profession	Die Range
Manual Laborer	1d8
Soldier	1d8 + 1
Craftsman	1d6
Scholar	1d3
Invalid	1d4
Child	1d2
Youth	1d6

Some players think it is unrealistic that a typical peasant can be killed by a single sword blow, a fall from a horse, or a thrown rock. In the real world, people can and do die from these causes. At the same time, however, others survive incredible injuries and wounds.

When it is necessary to the success of an adventure (and only on extremely rare occasions), you can give 0-level characters more hit points. The situation could have come about for any number of reasons: magic, blessings from on high, some particularly twisted curse (the peasant who could not die!) – you name it.

It is also useful to make important NPCs, such as 0-level kings or princes, tougher than the average person. This is particularly important in the case of rulers, otherwise some crazed player character is going to overthrow your campaign kingdom with a single swipe of his sword. This is normally not a desirable result.

Adventurers and Society

If most people do not fall into a particular character class, how common are those with character class­es and how do they fit into the society around them?

This is an important question, one you will answer as you create your campaign. You don’t have to sit down and think out an exact answer (“2% of the population are adventurers”), although you can get that precise if you want. More likely, the answer will form over time as you populate villages, create encounters, and DM game sessions – you will unconsciously make your choices about frequency and character role. There are however, differences in how frequently the different classes will logically show up.

Fighters

Fighters are by far the most common character types in normal campaigns. They must meet the least stringent class requirements and are drawn from the biggest pool of talent – soldiers of innumerable armies, mercenary companies, militias, palace guards, temple hosts, and sheriff’s men. In these and other forces, the potential fighter learns his trade. He is taught how to handle weapons and care for them. He picks up some basic tactics and earns acceptance as a fighting man.

From these ranks some go on to become 1st-level fighters. Such men are often given rank in recognition of their talents. Thus, a 1st-level fighter may become a corporal or a sergeant. As the ranks become greater and more influential, the tendency is to award these to higher level fighters. However, this trend is not  absolute and often breaks down at the highest levels. The Captain of the Company may be a 12th-level fighter, but he would still take orders from a 0-level prince!

Level is no guarantee of rank, nor is rank fixed to level. Some people don’t want responsibility and all that comes with it. They would rather let other people tell them what to do. Such characters may become accomplished fighters but never advance beyond the rank of common soldier. Political maneuvering and favoritism can raise even the lowest level character to the highest positions of authority.

Since fighters tend to rise above the level of the common soldier, few armies are composed of high- or even low-level fighters. While there is little difference in ability between the typical foot soldier and a 1st-level fighter, it is just not possible to find an army of 20,000 4th-level fighters. It’s rare enough to find 1,000 or so 2nd-level fighters in a single unit. Such units are elite, superbly trained and outfitted, and are normally held in reserve for special tasks. They may be the shock troops of an assault, a special bodyguard, or the reserve of an army held back for pursuit.

Adventurer fighters (whether player characters or NPCs) are those who have struck out on their own. Not every man is content to take orders or give orders, and fame seldom comes to the common foot soldier. Some men are willing to try to rise through the ranks, but it is by no means an easy or speedy process. There  aren’t many openings, nor is it a path where skill at arms guarantees success.

Given all this, it’s not surprising that most fighters opt for the more direct method of adventuring. In the course of adventuring, though, many fighters find themselves becoming leaders and commanders, assembling men around them as they carve their own place in the world.

Paladins

Paladins are rare, in part because of the statistics of dice rolling and in part because paladinhood is an exacting road for characters to follow. It is easy to err and fall from the special state of grace required. Not every character is up to these demands, but those few that are can be truly special. You will not find units with thousands, hundreds, or even tens of paladins. At best, they form small groups (such as the Twelve Peers of Charlemagne or some of the Knights of the Round Table).

Often, because of the sterling example they set, paladins lead others in battle. But, at the same time, they tend to be ill-suited to the task of ruling, which too often requires compromise of one’s principles. It is common to find the paladin working in association with the clergy of his religion, but lone paladins, carrying their faith into the wilderness, also appear in the tales of bards.

Rangers

Rangers tend to be loners, uncomfortable in the company of “civilized” men. They are also uncommon, again due to the demanding ability require­ments of the class. These two factors make armies or companies of rangers most unlikely, only marginally less common than hordes of paladins.

Although loners, they do not mind the company of other rangers, those who understand the ways of the wilderness and the need for space. Small groups of rangers will sometimes join an army as its scouts, especially if the need is pressing. They will occasionally be found in forest villages or near untracked wildernesses. Here, guides, scouts, woodsmen, trappers, pioneers, and stalkers form the pool from which the ranger ranks are filled. Few can be found in civilized lands – rangers in cities are truly oddities.

Wizards

Wizards are the most iconoclastic and self-important of all the character classes, for they are unique among all character classes. The peasant can pick up a sword and fight; a pious man can hope to serve his faith; a local wag can spin a good tale; and an unprincipled cad can rob the local merchants; but no one other than a wizard can cast magical spells. The need for highly specialized training truly sets them apart, and they know it.

When mages gather, they tend to form societies or associations, organizations for men who speak of things not understood by the common folk (much like scientists today). But wizards are too fractious and independent a lot to organize themselves into proper unions – they can barely manage to form moderately organized guilds.

Generally, their groups exist for such high-minded reasons as to “facilitate the exchange of knowledge” or “advance the state of the science of magic.” Some prepare texts or papers to share with fellow mages, detailing their latest experiments and discoveries or outlining some new theory. They enjoy the recognition of their peers as much as anyone.

To outsiders, wizards seem aloof and daunting. Like craftsmen, they are most comfortable in the company of their fellows, speaking a language they all understand. The untrained, even apprentices, are intruders upon this fellowship and are apt to receive an icy and rude reception.

Wizards are an eccentric, even perverse, lot. They’re likely to be found just about anywhere. Nonetheless, they have an affinity for civilization, ranging from small villages to vast cities. Only a few mages actually care to adventure since it is an extremely dangerous undertaking to which they are ill-trained and ill-suited. The vast majority spend their time experimenting in seclusion or working in the service of others, preferably well paid.

Many mages, especially those of lesser ability, tum their art to practical ends – almost every village has a fellow who can whip up a few useful spells to help with the lambing or simplify the construction of a house. In larger cities, these mages become more specialized, such that one might lend his talents to construction, another to the finding of lost things, and a third to aiding the local jewelers in their craft.

Nearly all major families, merchant princes, and nobles have a mage or two in their employ. A few attempt (generally without success) to have these wizards mass-produce magical items. The problem is that wizards are as difficult to manage as rangers or paladins. They do not care for others bossing them around or encroaching upon their perceived privileges and rights, especially since they have the magical resources to make their displeasure known. Also, they are usually kept busy finding ways to strike at their employer’s rivals (or thwarting such attempts against their own lord). Foolish is the king who does not have a personal wizard and lamentable is the ruler who trusts the wrong mage.

Not all wizards spend their time in the service of others. Some seek naught but knowledge. These scholar-mages tend to be viewed much like great university professors today – noble and distant, pursuing truth for its own sake. While not directly in the service of others, they can sometimes be commissioned to perform some duty or answer some question.

The wealthy often provide endowments for such men, not to buy their services (which aren’t for sale) but to curry their favor in hopes that they will provide honor, glory, and just perhaps something useful. This situation is not unlike that of the great artists of the Renaissance who were supported by princes hoping to impress and outdo their rivals.

There are wizards who spend all their time shut away from humanity in dark, for­bidding towers or gloomy, bat-infested caves. Here they may live in rooms where opulent splendor mingles with damp foulness. Perhaps the strains and demands of their art have driven them mad. Perhaps they live as they do because they see and know more than other men. Who knows? They are, after all, eccentric in the extreme.

Priests

Priest characters are (obviously) not required to take up arms and set out on adventures to smite evil. No, their hierarchies require administrators, clerks, and devout workers of all types. Thus, although there may be many clergymen and women at a temple or monastery, only a few will have a character class and levels.

Not all monks at a monastery are 1st-level (or higher) clerics. Most are monks or nuns, devout men and women working to serve their faith. Non-adventuring  clergy are no less devout than their adventuring brethren, nor do they receive any less respect. Thus, it is possible to have leaders within a religious hierarchy who show no signs of special clerical ability, only proper faith and piety.

Even more so than with military men, though, level is not a determiner of rank. Wisdom and its use, not the application of firepower or the number of foemen smitten, are the true pearls of the clergy. Indeed the goal of some beliefs is to demonstrate the greatest wisdom by divesting oneself of all earthly bonds – power, wealth, pride, and even level abilities – in an attempt to attain perfect harmony with everything.

In the end, adventuring priests tend to form a small nucleus of crusaders for the faith. They are the ones who demonstrate their faith by braving the dangers that threaten their beliefs, the ones who set examples through trials and hardships. From these, others may spiritually profit.

Thieves

Thieves are often people who don’t fit in elsewhere. Unlike other classes, nearly all thieves are adventurers, often by necessity. True, many settle permanently in a single area and live off the local population, but when your life tends to be in defiance of the local law, you have to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice! Each job is an adventure involving great risks (including, possibly, death) and there are precious few opportunities to relax and let your guard down.

Thieves occasionally form guilds, especially in major cities and places with a strong sense of law and order. In many cases, they are forced to cooperate merely to survive. Influential thieves see guilds as a way to increase their own profits and grant them the image of respectability. They become dons and crimelords, directing operations without ever having to dirty their hands.

At the same time, the membership of a thieves’ guild is by definition composed of liars, cheats, swindlers, and dangerously violent men and women. Thus, such guilds are hotbeds of deceit, treachery, and backstabbing (literally). Only the most cunning and powerful rise to the top. Sometimes this rise is associated with level ability, but more often it is a measure of the don’s judge of character and political adeptness.

Curiously, thieves who are masters of their craft tend not to advance too high in the organization. Their talents in the field are too valuable to lose, and their effort is expended on their art, not on maneuvering and toadying. There is, in fact, no rule that says the leader of the thieves’ guild has to be a thief! The leader’s job involves charisma, character appraisals, and politicking – the powerful crimelord could turn out to be a crafty merchant, a well-educated nobleman, or even an insidious mind flayer.

Bards

Bards are rare and, like thieves, tend to be adventurers, but for somewhat different reasons. They do occasionally violate the law and find it necessary to move on to the next town – and the next adventure – but more often they are driven by curiosity and wanderlust. Although some bards settle down in a town or city, most travel from place to place. Even “tamed” bards (as the settled ones are sometimes called) feel the urge to go out and explore, gather a few more tales, and come home with a new set of songs. After all, the entertainment business demands variety.

There are generally no bard guilds or schools, no colleges, societies, or clubs. Instead, bards sometimes band in secret societies, loose affiliations that allow them to improve their art while maintaining an aura of mystery.

Most frequently, however, bards rely on the informal hospitality of their kind. Should one bard arrive in the town of another, he can reasonably expect to stay with his fellow for a little while, provided he shares some of his lore and doesn’t cut into his host’s business. After a time, during which both bards learn a few of the other’s tales and songs, the visitor is expected to pack his bags and move on. Even among bards it is possible to overstay one’s welcome.

Of course, there are times when a bard decides not to leave but to set up shop and stay. If the population is big enough to support both bards, they may get along. If it isn’t, there will almost certainly be bad blood between the two. Fortunately though, one or the other can usually be counted on to get wanderlust and set out on some great, new adventure. Bards do tend to be incurable romantics, after all.

Character Classes in Your Campaign

While the character discussion above provides a structure for adventurers in the game, your own campaign might b e quite different. For example, there is no rule that says mages can’t form strong guilds. Such a group would have a profound impact on the campaign world, however. With their magical might, they could control virtually any facet of life they chose – politics, trade, class structure, even private behavior. Such a group would alter the amount of magic in your  campaign and who possessed it. Organized mages might even attempt to limit the activities of those who present a threat t o their power – such as adventurers. Whenever you alter the balance of the character classes, be sure you consider what the changes could do to your campaign.

High-Level Characters

Along with character classes and levels comes the natural tendency to classify campaigns according to the level of the characters. Experienced players speak of “low-level” or “high-level” games in different terms and, indeed, such games are different from one another. Also differing from game to game, however, is the definition of high level.

Defining “High Level”

What constitutes a low- or high-level game is a matter of taste. Generally, DMs and players find a range of character levels that is comfortable for their style of play. Campaigns that commonly have 4th- to 8th-level characters consider 12th level or more to be high level, while those with 12th-level characters set the limit
closer to 18th or 20th level. While there is no set break-point for high level, character duties and responsibilities begin to change around between 9th and 12th level.

Generally, players find battling monsters and discovering treasure to be less and less satisfying as time goes on. Their characters’ abilities are such that monsters need to be almost ridiculously powerful to threaten them. Treasures must be vast to make an impression. While incredible foes and huge treasures are good once in a while, the thrill quickly wears thin.

Changing Campaign Styles

When players begin to get jaded, consider changing the style of the campaign. Higher level characters have great power – they should have adventures where that power influences and involves them in the campaign world. As leaders, rulers, and wise men, their actions affect more than just themselves, spreading outward in ripples over those they rule and those they seek to conquer. Political machinations, spying, backroom deals, treachery, and fraud become more pronounced. While these elements can play a part in a low-level campaign, at higher levels, the stakes are much higher.

Added intrigue can be introduced into a campaign gradually. For example, Varrack, a mid-level fighter, is appointed sheriff of a local village as a reward for his sterling deeds. He can still adventure as he has been accustomed to, but now he must also watch over the villagers. The DM has the local bandits raid the trade road. As sheriff, Varrack must stop them. He goes, as he is accustomed to, with a small group, only to discover a camp of 500 outlaws. Realizing he’s badly outnumbered, he beats a hasty retreat, raises a small militia, and clears the countryside of the enemy.

With this he goes up in level. In addition, his lord is pleased and grants Varrack stewardship of several villages, with sheriffs under his command. The neighboring baron (who organized and sent the bandits) notes Varrack’s success with mild displeasure, planting the seed of a festering hate; More immediately, the craven and vengeful sheriff of the next village on the road (whose incompetence allowed the bandits to flourish) suddenly finds himself out of favor. He blames Varrack and searches for a way to bring the new steward down.

As the campaign progresses, the DM can slowly spin a web of intrigue around Varrack as enemies, open and hidden, seek to block his progress or use him to topple his own lord. Against these odds, Varrack may find himself destined to become the King’s champion, gaining new titles, responsibilities, friends, and  enemies along the way.

Above 20th level

Theoretically, there is no upper limit to character class levels (although there are racial limitations). The material presented here takes characters only to 20th level – experience has shown that player characters are most enjoyable when played within the 1-20 range. Above 20th level, characters gain few additional powers and face even fewer truly daunting adventures.

Consummate skill and creativity are required to construct adventures for extremely powerful characters (at least adventures that consist of more than just throwing bigger and bigger monsters at the nearly unbeatable party). Very high level player characters have so few limitations that every threat must be directed against the same weaknesses. And there are only so many times a DM can kidnap friends and family, steal spell books, or exile powerful lords before it becomes old hat.

Retirement: When characters reach the level where adventures are no longer a challenge, players should be encouraged to retire them. Retired characters enter a “Semi-NPC” state. The character sheets and all information are entrusted to the DM’s care.

A retired character still lives in the campaign world, usually settled in one spot, and normally has duties that prevent him from adventuring. While in the DM’s care, he does not gain experience, use his magic items, or spend his treasure. It is assumed that he has income to meet his normal expenses.

The retired character can be used to provide players with information, advice, and some material assistance (if this is not abused). However, his or her overall actions are controlled by the DM, not the player who originally created the character.

If at all possible, player characters should be encouraged to retire as a group. This way all players can create and play new characters of approximately the same level. If only one player retires his character to start a new 1st-level one while all the others continue with 20th-level characters, the poor newcomer isn’t really going to be able to adventure with them. (If he does, the player won’t get to do much or the character will have a very short life expectancy!)

Some players may be reluctant to retire a favorite character. Explain to these players that retirement doesn’t mean the character can never be used again! Be sure to create special adventures that require those high-level types to come out and do battle.

Every once in a while the old adventuring group may have to reassemble to deal with some threat to the kingdom or the world. It’s the chance to show those upstart new characters just what a really powerful group can do! It also gives the players the opportunity to role-play some of their old favorites.

If the players see the opportunity to use their powerful characters, even infrequently, they will be less reluctant to spend most of their playing time with new, lower-level characters.

Beginning Character levels

If at all possible, start characters at 1st level. The lowest character levels are like the early years of childhood. What happens to a character during these first adventures will do much to determine how that character will be role-played. Did Rath the Dwarf save the day by fool-hardily charging into battle when he was a mere 1st level? If he did, the odds are good the player will try it again and will begin to play Rath as a bold and reckless fellow.

On the other hand, if Rath was clobbered the first few times he rushed in, the player would begin to play Rath as a cautious, prudent fellow. Even the smallest events can have a great effect on low-level characters, so these events sharply etch the behavior of the character. Deny the player these beginning levels and you are stripping him of the opportunity to develop his character’s personality.

Mixing New and Old Characters

Letting players begin at the beginning is fine when you first begin a campaign, and all player characters can begin at the same level. As sessions are played, however, a disparity in character levels will develop. New players will join the game and old players will create new characters. Eventually, you’ll reach a point where the original group of players has characters many levels higher than when they began. How, then, do you introduce new players and new player characters into your game?

There are times when you should allow a character to start above 1st level. A newly created character should begin a campaign no higher than 4th level unless the group is very powerful. If this is the case, he should begin no higher than the lowest level character in the party (and it may be better to start a level or two lower).

The new character should have equipment similar to that of his adventuring companions: If they have horses, he should have a horse, too. Do not give him free magical items! These he must earn. He should start with a small amount of cash.

Sometimes a player can replace a fallen player character by promoting an NPC henchman to player character status. This is a good method because the player is already familiar with the NPC and may have already created a personality for the character. When this happens, the player is given the NPC character sheet and allowed to take full control of it.

Pre-Rolled Characters

It is useful to have a few pre-rolled characters on hand. These should be of several different levels and classes, with equipment and personality quirks noted. These “instant” player characters can be used by guest players (those only able to play in a few sessions) and by regular players whose characters have died during the course of a session.

When the latter occurs, introduce the new character at an appropriate point and then allow the player to control it for the rest of the evening. This keeps that player from being bored throughout the rest of the session. If the player enjoys the character (and you are pleased with the arrangement), you can allow him to continue playing that character in future sessions.

Many factors affect a character’s background. Two of the most important are his race and his character class (see Chapter 3, “Player Character Classes”). In a sense, a character’s class is his profession: Some characters are fighters, some mages, some clerics, and so on. A character’s race affects which character classes are available to him – only humans have unlimited class options. All non-human races are limited, to some extent. There are two reasons for this:

First, the restrictions are intended to channel players into careers that make sense for the various races. Dwarves are, to a certain extent, anti-magical, and incapable of shaping magical energy-they can’t be wizards. Halflings, despite their ties to nature, lack the devotion and physical will to be druids. Similar situations exist for the other demihuman races.

Second, the demihuman races have advantages that are not available to humans. Flexibility-the ability to choose from among all the classes-is one of very few human advantages.

A Non-Human World

The DM can, if he chooses, make any class available to any race. This will certainly make your players happy. But before throwing the doors open, consider the consequences.

If the only special advantage humans have is given to all the races, who will want to play a human 1 Humans would be the weakest race in your world. Why play a 20th-level human paladin when you could play a 20th-level elven paladin and have all the abilities of paladins and elves?

H none of the player characters are human, it is probably safe to assume that no non-player characters of any importance are human either. Your world would have no human kingdoms, or human kings, emperors, or powerful wizards. It would be run by dwarves, elves, and gnomes.

This is not necessarily a bad thing, but you must consider what kind of world nonhumans would create. Building a believeable fantasy world is a daunting task; creating a believable alien fantasy world (which is what a world dominated by nonhumans would be) is a huge challenge even for the best writers of fantasy.

What would non-human families be like? What would the popular entertainments be? What would non-humans value? What would they eat? What would their governments be like? A society governed by nature-loving elves would be a very different place than a human-dominated world!

It is possible that certain character classes might not even exist. Paladinhood, for example, could be a uniquely human perspective. Would elves or dwarves hold the same values of law, order, god, and community to which a paladin aspires? If you only change the image (i.e., have elven paladins behave exactly like human paladins), what you’ve got is the “humans-in-funny-suits” syndrome. Even within the human race there are vast cultural differences. Think how much greater these differences would be if the blood were entirely different!

Also, if humans are weak, will the other races treat them with contempt? With pity? Will they be enslaved? All things considered, humans could have a very bad time of it. If, after considering all the potential pitfalls, you decide to experiment with nonstandard class selections, do so carefully. We offer the following advice:

Allow nonstandard race/ class combinations only on a case-by-case basis. If you institute a general rule – “Elves can now be paladins” – you will suddenly find yourself with six player character elf paladins.

If a player desperately wants to play an elf paladin, ask him to come up with a thoughtful rationale explaining why this elf is a paladin. It must be plausible and consistent with your campaign setting. If the rationale satisfies you, allow that player, and only that player, to play an elf paladin. Explain to the other players that this is an experiment.

Don’t allow any other elf paladins in the game until you have seen the first one in action enough to decide whether the class fits into your game. If it does, congratulations; you’ve broadened your players’ horizons. If it doesn’t, don’t hesitate to tell the elf paladin player that he has to retire the character or convert him to a normal fighter. Never allow someone to continue playing a character that is upsetting your game.

By following this simple rule, you can test new race/class combinations without threatening your campaign. Moderation is the key to this type of experimentation.

Racial Level Restrictions

In addition to unlimited class choice, humans can attain any level in any class. Once again, this is a human special ability, something no other race has. In the AD&D® game, humans are more motivated, indeed driven, by ambition and the desire for power, than the demihuman races. Thus, they advance further and more quickly than others.

Demihumans can attain significant levels in certain classes, but do not have the same unlimited access. Some players may argue that the greater age of various non-humans automatically means they will attain greater levels. That can present problems.

Demihuman characters are limited in how high a level they can achieve both to preserve internal consistency (humans are more flexible than non-humans) and to enforce game balance. ADM, however, can change or eliminate these limits as he sees fit. As with class restrictions, the consequences must be examined in detail.

Given their extremely long lifespans, demihumans without limitations would quickly reach levels of power far beyond anything attainable by humans. The world would be dominated by these extremely powerful beings, to the exclusion of humans. Human heroes would be feeble compared to the heroes of elves and dwarves.

Given their numerous advantages, demihumans would be the most attractive races – no one would play a human. Again, this isn’t necessarily bad, but it’s very different. The resulting game will be completely unlike the standard sword-and-sorcery milieu. You may need to set it in an ancient age, when elves and dwarves ruled the world, before the ascendance of men (though given the situation, it’s unlikely that men would ever become dominant).

Standard Class and Level Limits

Before removing or modifying level limits, familiarize yourself with the game and the balances that currently exist. Only after you are experienced and comfortable with these should you begin alteration of the non-human level limits. The standard level limits for all races and classes are given on Table 7.

Table 07: RACIAL CLASS AND LEVEL LIMITS†
Character Class	Character Race
	Human	Dwarf	Elf	Gnome	Half-Elf	Halfling
Bard *	U	–	–	–	U	–
Cleric	U	10	12	9	14	8
Druid *	U	–	–	–	9	–
Fighter	U	15	12	11	14	9
Illusionist *	U	–	–	15	–	–
Mage	U	–	15	–	12	–
Paladin	U	–	–	–	–	–
Ranger	U	–	15	–	16	–
Thief	U	12	12	13	12	15

* These character classes are optional

U A player character can advance to the maximum possible level in a given class. The Player’s Handbook gives rules for advancing the player characters to 20th level.
– A player character cannot belong to the listed class.
† Player characters with less than exceptional prime requisites cannot advance beyond the listed level.

Creating New Player Character Races

The races listed in the Player’s Handbook are only a few of the possible intelligent races populating the worlds of AD&D® games. Adventurous DMs and players may want to experiment with characters of other races, such as orcs, lycanthropes, ogres, lizardmen, or even dragons.

Before you do this, however, you need to know very clearly what you are doing. Unrestricted or ill-considered use of nonstandard races can easily and quickly destroy a campaign. Always consider a new race from a variety of angles:

How does the new race fit with the other player characters? How does it fit in the campaign in general? What could you accomplish with this race that you couldn’t with another?

The majority of players who want to play an unusual race desire only the thrill and excitement of a truly challenging roleplaying situation. There are, however, a few players who see such races as a way to take advantage of game systems and campaign situations. As with changing level limits and classes allowed, you are well advised to move slowly and carefully in this area.

Allowing player characters of unusual races introduces a whole new set of problems for the DM. In creating a new nonhuman or demihuman player character race, the rules and guidelines below should be followed to preserve game balance.

The race should be humanoid (i.e., it must have two hands, at least two legs, and stand generally upright). The race must be able to move about on land. It must also be intelligent. An ore or a centaur would be acceptable.

The race cannot possess special abilities beyond the scope of those already given for the other player character races. Although a dragon can polymorph into human form, it cannot be a player character because it has a breath weapon, can polymorph and cast spells, and is not humanoid in its natural state. A brownie could not be a player character because it, too, has abilities beyond those of the standard player character races. 

The race cannot be extra-dimensional or draw on extra-dimensional powers. It cannot have innate spellcasting ability, be undead, or possess magic resistance.

The race must be cooperative and willing to interact with the human world. The duergar, a race of deep-dwelling dwarves, have no desire to deal with humans and seek to avoid contact whenever possible. Satyrs resent intruders into their woods and glades, which rules them out as player characters. You must judge this criterion based on the conditions in your game world.

If these conditions are met, the race can be considered as a possible player character race. Some examples of races that definitely fit the profile are half-orcs, orcs, half-ogres, lizardmen, goblins, centaurs, and kobolds.

When experimenting with a new player character race, allow only one at the start. Do not begin your design experiment with a whole party of half-ogres! Start slowly, involving only one player. If the new race is too powerful, it can be easily eliminated.

Once the new race is selected, the real work begins. Examine the race and apply all of the following guidelines to it.

Character Abilities: All races, regardless of type, use the same ability generation method as all other player characters. Their scores will range from 3 to 18 unless modified by pluses or minuses.

Creature sizes, defined in the Monstrous Compendium, affect abilities as follows:

Creatures of tiny (T) size have a -3 modifier to Strength. Creatures of small (S) size have a -1 modifier to Strength. Creatures of large (L) size have a +1 modifier to Strength. Huge (H) creatures gain a +2 to Strength and Gigantic (G) creatures have a +4.

Those with an Intelligence less than average (as determined by the DM or as listed in the Monstrous Compendium) suffer a -1 penalty to Intelligence and those exceptionally Intelligent or greater gain a +1 bonus.

All other ability modifiers are assigned by the DM. Likely candidates include minuses to Charisma and Wisdom and plus or minus adjustments to Dexterity. In all cases, bonuses and penalties should balance out. If a creature has a +1 bonus to Strength, it should have a -1 penalty to another ability. With the exception of Strength, no creature can have a modifier greater than + 2 or -2 to any score.

Racial Ability Requirements: It is possible for a creature to have seemingly illogical ability scores. However, you can set minimums and maximums on these. Table 7 in the Player’s Handbook shows these limits for the standard player character races. It’s the DM’s job to do the same for nonstandard races.

As a guide, creatures of large size should have at least an 11 Strength and, unless they are described as agile or quick, should have a ceiling of 17 to Dexterity. Dull-witted creatures (those of low Intelligence) should have a limit of 16 to Intelligence.

The DM can waive any requirements if, for example, a player wants (or gets) a hill giant character with Strength 6. Some rationale should be offered, however. (In the case of the weakling hill giant, perhaps he was the runt of the family, cast out by his fellows, and forced to take up adventuring.)

Character Classes: The DM must judge what character classes the new race can be. Use the information in the next chapter as your guide, and start with a narrow range of options; you can always widen it later.

Almost any sort of creature can be a fighter. None (except humans) can be paladins. Those favoring the outdoors (centaurs, for example) can be rangers.

Those with penalties to WISdom cannot be priests; others can be priests only if their game description mentions NPC priests and the creature has some type of social organization (a tribe, dan, etc.). No nonstandard creature can be a druid, as this is a human belief system.

Those with penalties to Intelligence cannot be wizards. If the description in the Monstrous Compendium implies that a creature is stupid, dull-witted, or in any way averse to magic and spell casting, it cannot be a priest or wizard.

A Dexterity penalty prevents the character from being a thief. Creatures of large size or greater cannot be thieves. If it is implied that a creature is clumsy or awkward, it cannot be a thief.

A new character race can be multi-classed if there is more than one potential class open to it (e.g., fighter and mage). Classes from the same group cannot combine into multi classes (e.g., fighter/ranger, fighter/paladin, or ranger/paladin). Characters from variant races must also have scores of 14 or higher in the prime requisites of both classes to qualify for multi-class standing. This particular condition does not apply to normal player character races.

Level Limits: Like all non-humans, new player character races have level limits. However, these limits are lower than those for other non-humans, since these races are often unsui ted to adventuring. (Perhaps this explains why player characters of these races are so rare.)

The maximum level a character from a variant race can attain depends on the character’s prime requisite ability score (or scores). Use Table 9 to determine the character’s maximum level.

Table 09: MAXIMUM LEVELS FOR VARIANT RACES
Prime Requisite Score	Level Limit
9	3
10	4
11	5
12	6
13	7
14	8
15	9
16	10
17	11
18+	12

Unlike the standard demihuman races, new character races never gain additional levels for high ability scores. It is unusual enough that a member of the race has become a player character at all! Without the aid of many wishes a character from a nonstandard race can never rise above 12th level.

Alignment: The Monstrous Compendium lists alignments for most races. If an absolute alignment is listed (e.g., “good”), the player character has that alignment. If only alignment tendencies are given, the player can choose any alignment.

Hit Points: All creatures roll their hit points using the die appropriate to their chosen class. At 1st level, Large and greater size creatures gain one additional hit point for every Hit Die the creatures would normally receive (pluses to the die are ignored) in addition to their normal Constitution bonus. Thus, an ogre fighter with a Constitution of 12 would still gain a + 4 hit point bonus at first level, since ogres normally have 4 Hit Dice. (To those who think this is a big advantage, remember that Large size creatures suffer larger-than-man-sized damage from weapons!) Thereafter, all new races earn hit points according to level advancement, Constitution, and character class.

Level Advancement: The character progresses like all others of the same character class. Being a nonstandard race does not give the player character any special benefits to his character class.

Armor: Most creatures (orcs, gnolls, goblins) have an Armor Class of 10 (and thus wear armor for protection). Some creatures, however, have natural armor which is retained by the player character. These characters gain the benefit of a +1 bonus to their AC only if the armor worn is worse than or equal to their natural Armor Class (as per horse barding).

If better armor is worn, natural armor is ignored and Armor Class is determined by the armor being worn. Odd-sized and odd-shaped creatures can’t wear off-the-shelf armor; it must be made to order and costs extra (and take longer to make).

Movement: The creature’s movement rate is the same as that listed in the Monstrous Compendium.

Attacks: The player character is allowed the number of attacks given his character class and level, not the number listed in the monster description in the Monstrous Compendium.

Size Problems: Players who play Large-sized creatures hoping to get an advantage over others should quickly discover many problems they didn’t anticipate. Consider the plight of the player who decides to play a hill giant. Right away, he’ll have a hard time buying basic equipment. Who makes pants for giants in a human town? Everything must be special ordered at two to four times its normal cost (at least).

This is a minor inconvenience compared to other difficulties. Buildings and dungeons are built for humans and other Medium-sized creatures, denying the large fellow the opportunity for both a hearty drink and exciting adventure. Even the toughest character will tire of drinking from measly cups and buying five dinners at a time. Will he enjoy spending the night in a leaky stable while his companions enjoy warm feather beds upstairs in the inn?

Days of traveling will quickly show him the joys of walking while everyone else rides (no horse can carry him), especially when his companions gallop spryly away from oncoming danger, leaving him in its path. The costs of replacing broken furniture will quickly become prohibitive. Ropes will have an annoying tendency to break when the big lunk tries to climb them. And the hill giant better have at least 20 friends handy to pull him out of that 30-foot pit!

NPC Reactions: On the personal side, expect NPCs to have strong negative feelings about unusual player character races, even to the point of bigotry and hatred. These reactions will make life more difficult for the player character, but they are the price the player pays for his unusual choice.

Each player is responsible for creating his player character. As the DM, however, your decisions have a huge impact on the process. Furthermore, you have final approval over any player character that is created. This chapter outlines what you should consider about character creation and gives guidelines on how to deal with some of the common problems that arise during the character creation.

Giving Players What They Want

Players in most AD&D games play the same character over many games sessions. Most players develop strong ties to their characters and get a huge thrill from watching them advance, grow, and become more successful and powerful. A lot of your game success depends on how much your players care about their characters. For these reasons, it is important to let each player create the type of character he really wants to play.

At the same time, watch out for a tendency in some players to want the most powerful character possible. Powerful characters are fine if that’s the sort of campaign you want. The problem arises, however, if players are allowed to exploit the rules, or your good nature, to create a character who is much more powerful than everyone else’s character. At best, this leads to an unbalanced game, at worst, to bored players and hurt feelings.

Therefore, before any player in your game creates his first character, decide which dice rolling method to allow: will you use method I, any of the five alternate methods, or a seventh method of your own devising? Be prepared with an answer right away, because this is one of the first questions your players will ask!

Choosing a Character Creation Method

Despite some similarities, the methods are different from one another. Some produce more powerful characters than others (although none produces extremely powerful characters). For this reason, every player in your game should start out using the same method.

If, at some later point in your campaign, you want to change methods, simply announce this to your players. Try to avoid making the announcement just as a player starts rolling up a new character, less the other players accuse you of favoritism. You know you aren’t playing favorites, but it doesn’t hurt to avoid the appearance.

The advantages and disadvantages of each dice rolling method are described below (also see page 13 of the players handbook). Five sample characters created with each method illustrate typical outcomes the different methods are likely to produce.

Method I (3d6, in order):

This is the fastest and most straightforward method. There are no decisions to make while rolling the dice, and dice rolling is kept to a minimum. Ability scores range from 3 to 18 but the majority fall in a range from 9 to 12.

Typically, a character will have four score is in the average range, one below-average score, and one above average-score. A few lucky players will get several high scores and a few unlucky ones will get just the opposite.

Very high scores are rare, so character classes that require high scores (paladin, Ranger, illusionist, druid, bard) are correspondingly rare. This makes characters who qualify for those classes very special indeed. The majority of the player characters will be fighters, clerics, mages, and thieves. Characters with exceptional ability scores will tend to stand out from their comrades.

Method I Disadvantages

This method has two disadvantages. First, some players may consider the characters to be hopelessly average. Second, the players don’t get many choices.

Using method I, only luck enables a player to get a character of a particular type, since he has no control over the dice. Most characters have little choice over which class they become: only one or two options will be open to them. You may have to let players discard a character who is totally unsuitable and start over.

Table 1: METHOD I CHARACTERS
	#1	#2	#3	#4	#5
Strength	10	8	13	6	16
Dexterity	8	7	8	15	10
Constitution	12	8	9	10	14
Intelligence	13	8	14	9	12
Wisdom	12	10	11	9	13
Charisma	7	12	14	7	8

Method II (3d6 twice, keep desired score):

This method gives players better scores without introducing serious ability inflation. It also gives .them more control over their characters. The average ability is still in the 9 to 12 range, and players can manipulate their results to bring the characters they create closer to the ideal characters they imagine.

Exceptional player characters are still rare, and unusual character classes are still uncommon, but few characters will have below-average scores.

Method II Disadvantages

Creating the character takes slightly longer because there are more dice to roll. Despite the improved choices, a character may still not be eligible for the race or class the player wants.

Table 2: METHOD II CHARACTERS
	#1	#2	#3	#4	#5
Strength	12	11	9	9	15
Dexterity	10	15	12	13	14
Constitution	11	11	16	14	14
Intelligence	13	11	12	13	14
Wisdom	16	13	13	11	13
Charisma	10	11	14	9	12
Suggested Class	Cleric	Thief	Cleric	Mage	Fighter

Method III (3d6, arranged to taste):

This method gives the player more choice when creating his character yet still ensures that, overall, ability scores are not excessive. Bad characters are still possible, especially if a player has several poor rolls. The majority of characters have average abilities.

Since players can arrange their scores however they want, it is easier to meet the requirements for an unusual class. Classes with exceptionally strict standards (the paladin in particular) are still uncommon.

Method III Disadvantages

This method is more time-consuming than I or II, especially if players try to “min/max” their choice of race and class. (To min/max, or minimize/maximize, is to examine every possibility for the greatest advantage.) Players may need to be encouraged to create the character they see in their imaginations, not the one that gains the most pluses on dice rolls.

The example below shows fighters created using this method.

Table 3: METHOD III CHARACTERS
	#1	#2	#3	#4	#5
Strength	15	13	14	15	14
Dexterity	11	12	9	10	12
Constitution	15	13	13	12	14
Intelligence	7	8	8	9	11
Wisdom	8	7	7	6	9
Charisma	7	12	7	7	11

Method IV (3d6 twice, arranged to taste):

This method has all the benefits of methods II and Ill. Few, if any, characters are likely to have poor scores. Most scores are above average. The individual score ranges are still not excessively high, so truly exceptional characters are still very rare. However, the majority of characters are significantly above the norm.

Method IV Disadvantages

This method tends to be quite slow. Players spend a lot of time comparing different number combinations with the requirements of different races and classes. New players can easily be overwhelmed by the large number of choices during this process. 

Again, the examples below are arranged for fighters.

Table 4: METHOD IV CHARACTERS
	#1	#2	#3	#4	#5
Strength	15	14	15	16	15
Dexterity	13	10	13	15	13
Constitution	13	12	15	15	15
Intelligence	13	9	13	12	13
Wisdom	13	9	11	13	12
Charisma	10	9	11	13	12

Method V (4d6, drop lowest, arrange as desired):

Before choosing to use this method, think about how adventurers fit into the population as a whole. There are two schools of thought on this issue.

One school of thought holds that adventurers are no different from everyone else (except for being a little more foolhardy, headstrong, or restless). The man or woman down the street could be an adventurer – all that’s required is the desire to go out and be one. Therefore, adventurers should get no special bonuses on their ability rolls.

The other school holds that adventurers are special people, a cut above the common crowd. If they weren’t exceptional, they would be laborers and businessmen like everyone else. Player characters are heroes, so they should get bonuses on their ability rolls to lift them above the rabble.

If you choose method V for creating player characters, then you agree with this second view and believe that adventurers should be better than everyone else.

This method creates above-average characters. They won’t be perfect, but the odds are that even their worst ability scores will be average or better. More scores push into the exceptional range (15 and greater). It is easy for a player to create a character of any class and race.

Method V Disadvantages

Like other methods that allow deliberate arrangement of ability scores, this one takes some time. It also creates a tendency toward “super” characters without getting out of hand. This can be a problem if your campaign isn’t geared toward that sort of thing.

Unless you have a considerable amount of experience as a DM, however, beware of extremely powerful characters. They are much more difficult to challenge and control than characters of moderate power. On the plus side, their chance of survival at lower levels is better than “ordinary” characters. (See “Super Characters;’ below, for more on this subject.)

One last point about method V: High ability scores are less exciting under this method, since they are much more common, as the fighter characters below indicate:

Table 5: METHOD V CHARACTERS
	#1	#2	#3	#4	#5
Strength	17	15	18/37	16	14
Dexterity	14	14	13	15	12
Constitution	15	14	14	15	17
Intelligence	13	11	10	14	8
Wisdom	13	10	11	15	8
Charisma	9	13	8	7	9

Method VI (points plus dice):

This gives players more control over their characters than any of the other methods. A points system makes it quite likely that a player can get the character he wants – or at least the class and race. However, in doing so, the player must make some serious compromises.

It is unlikely that his dice are going to be good enough to make every score as high as he would like. In all likelihood, only one or two ability scores will be exceptional, and miserable dice rolling could lower this even further. The player must carefully weigh the pros and cons of his choices when creating the character.

Method VI Disadvantages

This method works best for experienced players. Players who are not familiar with the different character classes and races have a hard time making the necessary (and difficult) decisions.

Table 6 shows fighters constructed using this method.

Table 6: METHOD VI CHARACTERS
	#1	#2	#3	#4	#5
Strength	18/15	15	16	18/71	17
Dexterity	12	11	11	13	12
Constitution	12	9	12	18	14
Intelligence	11	9	10	11	11
Wisdom	9	9	10	8	10
Charisma	8	8	9	9	13

Super Characters

One of the great temptations for players is to create super characters. While this is not true of every player, all the time, the desire for power above everything else afflicts most players at one time or another.

Many players see their characters as nothing more than a collection of numbers that affects game systems. They don’t think of their characters as personalities to be developed. Players like this want to “win” the game, somehow. These players are missing out on a lot of fun.

If players are creating new characters for your campaign, you probably won’t have to deal with such super characters. Players can start with ability scores greater than 18 only if the race grants a bonus, but this is extremely rare. Later in the campaign, magic may raise ability scores higher.

The greatest difficulty occurs when a player asks to bring in a character from another campaign where characters are more powerful. Unless you are prepared to handle them, super characters can seriously disrupt a campaign: Players with average characters gradually become bored and irritated as the powerful characters dominate the game; players with powerful characters feel held back by their weaker companions. None of this contributes to harmony and cooperation among the characters or the players.

Cooperation is a key element of roleplaying. In any group of player characters, everyone has strengths to contribute and weaknesses to overcome. This is the basis for the adventuring party – even a small group with sufficiently diverse talents can accomplish deeds far greater than its size would indicate.

Now, throw in a character who is an army by himself. He doesn’t need the other characters, except perhaps as cannon fodder or bearers. He doesn’t need allies. His presence alone destroys one of the most fundamental aspects of the game – cooperation.

Identifying Too-Powerful Characters

There are no absolute rules to define a too-powerful character, since the definition will vary from campaign to campaign. Characters who are average in your game may be weaklings in your friend’s campaign. His characters, in turn, could be frail compared to some other groups. Some experience is required to strike the right balance of power, but characters created using the same method should, at least, be comparable.

When someone brings a character from a different campaign and wants to use him in your game, compare the proposed character to those already in the game. You don’t want him to be too strong or too weak. Certainly you should be wary of a character whose ability scores are all 18s!

Dealing with Too-Powerful Characters

If you decide a character is too powerful, the player has two choices. First, he can agree to weaken the character in some fashion (subject to your approval). This may be as simple as excluding a few magical items (“No, you can’t bring that holy avenger sword +5 that shoots 30-dice fireballs into my campaign!”). Second, the player can agree not to use some special ability (“I don’t care if your previous DM gave your character the Evil Eye, you can’t jinx my dice rolls!”).

If this sort of change seems too drastic or requires altering ability scores or levels, a better option is simply to have the player create a new character. The old character can be used, without tinkering, in the campaign for which he was created. The new character, more appropriate to your campaign, can develop in your game. Always remember that just because another DM allowed something is no reason you have to do the same!

Hopeless Characters

At the other extreme from the super character is the character who appears hopeless. The player is convinced his new character has a fatal flaw that guarantees a quick and ugly death under the claws of some imaginary foe. Discouraged, he asks to scrap the character and create another.

In reality, few, if any, characters are truly hopeless. Certainly, ability scores have an effect on the game, but they are not the overwhelming factor in a character’s success or failure – far more important is the cleverness and ingenuity the player brings to playing the character.

When a player bemoans his bad luck and “hopeless” character, he may just be upset because the character is not exactly what he wanted. Some players write off any character who has only one above-average ability score. Some complain if a new character does not qualify for a favorite class or race. Others complain if even one ability score is below average. Some players become stuck in super-character mode. Some want a character with no penalties. Some always want to play a particular character class and feel cheated if their scores won’t allow it.

Some players cite numerical formulas as proof of a character’s hopelessness (“A character needs at least 75 ability points to survive” or “A character without two scores of 15 or more is a waste of time:’). In reality, there is no such hard and fast formula. There are, in fact, few really hopeless characters at all.

Dealing With Hopeless Characters

Before you agree that a character is hopeless, consider the player’s motives. Try to be firm and encourage players to give “bad” characters a try. They might actually enjoy playing something different for a change.

A character with one or more very low scores (6 or less) may seem like a loser, like it would be no fun to play. Quite simply, this isn’t true! Just as exceptionally high scores make a character unique, so do very low scores. In the hands of good role-players, such characters are tremendous fun. Encourage the player to be daring and creative. Some of the most memorable characters from history and literature rose to greatness despite their flaws.

In many ways, the completely average character is the worst of all. Exceptionally good or exceptionally bad ability scores give a player something to base his roleplaying on – whether nimble as a cat or dumb as a box of rocks, at least the character provides something exciting to role-play.

Average characters don’t have these simple focal points. The unique, special something that makes a character stand out in a crowd must be provided by the player, and this is not always easy. Too many players fall into the “he’s just your basic fighter” syndrome.

In truth, however, even an average character is okay. The only really hopeless character is the rare one that cannot qualify for any character class. The playability of all other characters is up to you.

Dealing with Dissatisfied Players

All of the above notwithstanding, you don’t want to force a player to accept a character he really doesn’t like. All you will do is lose a player. If someone really is dissatisfied, either make some adjustments to the character or let him roll up a new one.

When adjusting ability scores, follow these guidelines:

• Don’t adjust an ability score above the minimum required to qualify for a particular class or race. You are being kind enough already without giving away 10 percent experience bonuses.
• Don’t adjust an ability score above 15. Only two classes have ability minimums higher than 15: paladin and illusionist. Only very special characters can become paladins and illusionists. If you give these classes away, they lose their charm.
• Don’t adjust an ability score that isn’t required for the race or class the player wants his character to be.
• Think twice before raising an ability score to let a character into an optional character class if he already qualifies for the standard class in that group. For example, if Kirizov has the scores he needs to be a half-elf fighter, does he really need to be a half-elf ranger? Encourage the player to develop a character who always wanted to be a ranger but just never got the chance, or who fancies himself a ranger but is allergic to trees. Encourage roleplaying!

Wishes and Ability Scores

Sooner or later player characters are going to gain wishes. Wishes are wonderful things that allow creative players to break the rules in marvelous ways. Inevitably, some player is going to use a wish to raise his character’s ability scores. This is fine. Player characters should have the chance to raise their ability scores. It can’t be too easy, however, or soon every character in your campaign will have 18s in every ability!

When a wish is used to increase a score that is 15 or lower, each wish raises the ability one point. A character with a Dexterity of 15, for example, can use a wish to raise his Dexterity to 16.

If the ability score is between 16 and 20, each wish increases the ability score by only one-tenth of a point. The character must use 10 wishes to raise his Dexterity score from 16 to 17. The player can record this on his character sheet as 16.1, 16.2, etc. Fractions of a point have no effect until all10 wishes have been made.

If a character of the warrior group has Strength 18, each wish increases the percentile score by 10 percent. Thus, 11 wishes are needed to reach Strength 19. 

When an ability score is greater than 20, each wish raises it only one-twentieth of a point.

This rule applies only to wishes and wishlike powers. Other magical items (manuals, books, etc.) and the intervention of greater powers can automatically increase an ability score by one point, regardless of its current value.

Players with Multiple Characters

Each player usually controls one character, but sometimes players may want or need more. Multiple player characters are fine in the right situation.

Once your campaign is underway and players learn more about the game world, they may want to have characters in several widely scattered areas throughout that world. Having multiple characters who live and adventure in different regions allows a lot of variety in the game. The characters usually are spread far enough apart that events in one region don’t affect the other.

Sometimes players want to try a different class or race of character but do not want to abandon their older, more experienced characters. Again, spreading these characters out across the world is an effective means of keeping them separate and unique.

Whenever possible, avoid letting players have more than one character in the same area. If, for some reason, players must have more than one character in an area, make sure that they are of significantly different experience levels. Even this difference should keep them from crossing paths very often.

If multiple player characters are allowed, each character should be distinct and different. It is perfectly fair to rule that multiple characters controlled by one person must be different classes – perhaps even different races. This helps the player keep them separate in his imagination.

If a player has more than one character available, ask him to choose which character he wants to use for the adventure before he knows what the adventure is about. If a single adventure stretches across several playing sessions, the same character should be used throughout. All of the player’s other characters are busy with something else during this adventure.

Avoid letting players take more than one player character along on a single adventure. This usually comes up when the group of characters assembled for the planned adventure is too small to undertake it safely. The best solution to this problem is to adjust the adventure, use a different adventure entirely, or supplement the party with NPC hirelings.

Multiple Character Problems

Playing the role of a single character in depth is more than enough work for one person. Adding a second character usually means that both become lists of numbers rather than personalities.

Shared Items

One single player/multiple character problem that needs to be nipped in the bud is that of shared equipment. Some players will trade magical items, treasure, maps, and gear back and forth among their characters.

For example, when Phaedre goes adventuring she takes along Bertramn’s ring of invisibility. Bertramn, in exchange, gets the use of Phaedre’s boots of speed. In short, each character has the accumulated treasure of two adventurers to draw on.

Do not allow this! Even though one player controls both characters, they are not clones. Their equipment and treasure is extremely valuable. Would Phaedre loan her boots to a character controlled by another player? How about an NPC? Probably not, on both counts. Unless the character is (foolishly) generous in all aspects of his personality, you have every right (some might call it a duty) to disallow this sort of behavior.

Shared Information

Information is a much more difficult problem. Your players must understand the distinction between what they know as players and what their characters know. Your players have read the rules and shared stories about each other’s games. They’ve tom out their hair as the entire party of adventurers was turned into lawn ornaments by the medusa who lives beyond the black gateway. That is all player information. No other characters know what happened to that group, except this: they went through the black gateway and never returned.

The problem of player knowledge/character knowledge is always present, but it is much worse when players control more then one character in the same region. It takes good players to ignore information their characters have no way of knowing, especially if it concerns something dangerous. The best solution is to avoid the situation. If it comes up and players seem to be taking advantage of knowledge they shouldn’t have, you can discourage them by changing things a bit. Still, prevention is the best cure.

And remember, when problems arise (which they will), don’t give up or give in. Instead, look for ways to turn the problem into an adventure. 

Character Background

When you look at a completed character, you will notice there are still many unanswered questions: Who were the character’s parents? Are they still alive? Does the character have brothers and sisters? Where was he born? Does he have any notable friends or enemies? Are his parents wealthy or are they poor? Does he have a family home? Is he an outcast? Is he civilized and cultured, or barbaric and primitive? In short, just how does this character fit into the campaign world?

There are no rules to answer these questions. The Player’s Handbook and Dungeon Master’s Guide are designed to help you unlock your imagination. The AD&D® rules do not presume to tell you exactly what your campaign world will be like. These decisions are left to you.

Consider what would happen if the rules did dictate answers to the questions above. For example, suppose the rules said that 50% of all characters come from primitive, barbaric backgrounds … and you’re running a campaign set in a huge, sophisticated city (the New Rome of your world). Even more ridiculous would be the reverse, where the rules say 50% of the characters are city dwellers and your campaign is set in a barbaric wilderness. Or how would you explain things if 20% of all characters were seafarers and you had set your adventures in the heart of a desert larger than the Sahara?

This book provides guidelines and advice about how to create a campaign, but there is nothing that says exactly where this campaign must be set or what it must be like. This does not mean that a character’s background shouldn’t be developed – such background adds a lot to the depth and role-playing of your players and their characters. However, it is up to you to tailor character backgrounds to the needs of your campaign.

Letting Players Do the Work

Of course, you don’t have to do all the work. Your players can provide most of the energy, enthusiasm, and ideas needed. Your task is to provide direction and control.

Allow players to decide what klnd of people their characters are – one may be a rough nomad, another an over-civilized fop, others, homespun farmboys or salty seadogs. Let the players decide, and then tell them if, and how, that character fits into your campaign world.

When a player says, “My dwarf’s a rude and tough little guy who doesn’t like humans or elves.” you can respond with “fine, he’s probably one of the Thangor Clan from the deep mountain regions.” This type of cooperation spurs your creativity, and involves the players in your world right from the start. You have to think of answers to their questions and ways to make their desires work in the campaign; they are rewarded with the feeling of getting the characters they want.

A carefully worked out character background can do more than just provide emotional satisfaction. It can also provide motivation for the player characters to undertake specific adventures:

Just what is a dwarf of the Thangor Clan doing outside his dan’s mountainous homeland? Is he an outcast looking for some way to redeem himself? Maybe he’s a restless soul eager to see the bright lights of the big city and the world.

A character can have parents to avenge, long-lost siblings to track down, a name to clear, or even a lost love to recapture. Background can be used to build sub-plots within the overall framework of the campaign, enriching character descriptions and interactions.

Background should not be forced: Do not insist that a player take upon his character a crippled grandmother, three sisters stolen by gypsies, a black-hearted rival, and a stain on the family name. Instead, see if the player has any ideas about his character. Not every player will, but the AD&D® game depends as much on the players’ fantasies as it does on yours.

Characters that players are happy with and feel comfortable about will create their own special excitement and interest. Players who are interested in their characters’ backgrounds can be a source of creative energy, as they offer you a constant stream of new ideas.

Problem Backgrounds

Certain points of background can and do create problems in campaigns, however. First and foremost of these is nobility, followed closely by great wealth.

Problems of Nobility

Some players like the idea of their character being Prince So-and-So or the son of Duke Dunderhead. All too often this leads to an abuse of power.

The player assumes, somewhat rightfully and somewhat not, that the title endows his character with special privileges – the right to instant income, the right to flaunt the law, the right to endless NPCs, information, and resources, or, worst of all, the right to use clout to push the other members of the party around. This kind of character quickly becomes tiresome to the other players and will constantly find ways to upset carefully planned adventures.

Titles can be allowed, but the DM will have to put some controls on noble characters. The easiest and most effective method is to strip the title of all benefits that, by rights, should go with it.

The noble character could be the son of a penurious duke. The son may be next in line to inherit the title when his father dies, but he’s also in line to inherit his father’s debts! Instead of seeking to impress others in public, the poor son might be quite happy to keep a low profile so as not to attract his father’s creditors. After all, it’s hard to amass a fortune through adventuring when the bill collectors are always on hand to take it away.

Likewise, a princely character could be the son of an unpopular and despotic or incompetent king – perhaps even one who was overthrown for his abuses. Such a son might not want his lineage well-known, since most of the peasants would have Jess than happy recollections of his father’s rule. 

Of course, these kinds of manipulations on your part soon become tiresome, both to yourself and the players. Not every duke can be impoverished, nor every throne usurped. Going too far with this strategy will only destroy the validity of nobility and titles in your game.

In the long run, it is better for your player characters to begin untitled, with one of their goals being the possibility of earning the right to place a “Sir” or “Lady” before their names. Imagine their pride as you confer this title on their character (and imagine the trials they must have gone through to earn this right!).

Problems of Wealth

Another problem you may have to deal with is characters from wealthy, upper-class families. (This is often associated with the problem of titles since the nobility normally is the upper class.) Such characters, being wealthy, lack one of the basic reasons to go adventuring – the desire to make a fortune.

Indeed they see their own money as a way to buy solutions to their problems. Often they will propose eminently reasonable (and, to the DM’s carefully planned adventures, quite disastrous) schemes to make their adventuring life easier. It is, of course, possible to hire a wizard to construct magical items, and a wealthy 1st-level character could buy a vast army, but this sort of thing will have undesirable effects on your campaign.

There are ways to control these problems while still allowing players the character backgrounds they desire. Think of the real world and how difficult it is to convince family and friends to give you money, especially sizeable amounts of cash. You may have a loving family and generous friends, but there is a limit.

In your campaign, parents may grow tired of supporting their children. Brothers may grow upset at how the character is cheating them out of their share of an inheritance. Sisters may take exception to the squandering of their dowries.

Standard medieval custom called for inheritances – land and chattels – to be divided equally among all of a man’s sons. (This is one reason Charlemagne’s empire crumbled after his death.) You can use this custom to whittle a wealthy character’s purse down to size.

Further, families are not immune to the effects of greed and covetousness – many a tale revolves around the treachery one brother has wrought upon another. A rich character could awaken to discover that his family has been swindled of all it owns.

Background as Background

A character’s background is a role-playing tool. It provides the player with more information about his character, more beginning personality on which to build. It should complement your campaign and spur it forward. Background details should stay there – in the background. What your characters are doing now and will do in the future is more important than what they were and what they once did!

You are one of the very special group of people: AD&D game Dungeon Masters. Your job is not easy. It requires wit, imagination, and the ability to think and act extemporaneously. A really good Dungeon Master is essential to a good game.

The Dungeon Master’s Guide is reserved for Dungeon Masters. Discourage players from reading this book and certainly don’t let players consult it during the game, for two reasons.

First, as long as players don’t know exactly what’s in the Dungeon Master’s Guide, they’ll always wonder what you know that they don’t know. It doesn’t matter whether you have secret information; even if you don’t, as long as the players think you do, their sense of mystery and uncertainty is maintained.

Second, this book does contain essential rules that are not discussed in the Player’s Handbook. Some of these the players will learn quickly during play: special combat situations, the cost of hiring NPCs, etc. Others, however, cover more esoteric or mysterious situations: the nature of artifacts and other magical items, for example. This information is in the Dungeon Master’s Guide so the DM can control the players’ (and hence the characters’) access to it. In a fantasy world, as in this world, information is power. What the characters don’t know can hurt them (or lead them on a merry chase to nowhere). While the players aren’t your enemies, they aren’t your allies, either, and you aren’t obligated to give anything away for nothing. If characters go hunting wererats without doing any research beforehand, feel free to throw lots of curves their way. Reward those characters who take the time to do some checking beforehand.

Besides rules, you’ll find that a large portion of this book is devoted to discussions of the thinking and the principles behind the rules. Along with this are examinations of the pros and cons of changing rules to fit your campaign. The purpose of this book, after all, is to better prepare you for your role as game moderator and referee. The better you understand the game, the better equipped you’ll be to handle unforeseen developments and unusual circumstances.

One of the principles guiding this project from the very beginning, and which is expressed throughout this book, is this: the DM has primary responsibility for the success of his campaign and he must take an active hand and guiding it. That is an important concept. If you are skimming through this introduction, slow down and read it again. It’s crucial that you understand what you were getting into.

The DM’s “active hand” extends even to the rules. Many decisions about your campaign can be made by only one person: you. Each DM must tailor his campaign to fit his own style and the style of his players.

You won’t find pat answers to all your questions in this book. Certainly you will find a lot of information, but it doesn’t include solutions to all your game problems. Sometimes, a single answer just isn’t appropriate. In those cases, what you will find instead is a discussion of the problem and numerous triggers intended to guide you through a thoughtful analysis of the situation as it pertains to your campaign.

Rules to the AD&D 2nd edition game are balanced and easy to use. No role-playing game we know of has ever been played tested more heavily than this one. But that doesn’t mean it’s perfect. What we consider to be right may be unbalanced are anachronistic and your campaign. The only thing that can make the game “right” for all players is the intelligent application of DM discretion.

A perfect example of this is the limit placed on experience levels for demi-humans. A lot of people complained that these limits were too low. We agreed, and we raised the limits. The new limits were tested, examined, and adjusted until we decided they were right. But you may be one of the few people who prefer the older, lower limits. Or you may think there should be no limits at all. In the chapter on character classes, you’ll find a discussion of this topic that considers the pros and cons of level limits. We don’t ask you to blindly accept every limit we’ve established. But we do ask that, before you make any changes, you read this chapter and carefully consider what you are about to do. If, after weighing the evidence, you decide that a change is justified in your game, by all means make the change.

In short, follow the rules as they are written if doing so improves your game. But by the same token, break the rules only if doing so improves your game.

A Word About Organization

Everything in this book is based on the assumption that you own and are familiar with the Player’s Handbook. To make your job easier, the Player’s Handbook and Dungeon Master’s Guide have parallel organization. Chapters appear in the same order in both books. That means that if you know where to find something in the Player’s Handbook; you also know where to find it in the Dungeon Master’s Guide.

Also, the index in this book covers both the DMG and the Player’s Handbook. You can find all the references to any specific topic by checking this index.

The Fine Art of Being a DM

Being a good Dungeon Master involves a lot more than knowing the rules. It calls for quick wit, theatrical flair, and a good sense of dramatic timing, among other things. Most of us can claim these attributes to some degree, but there’s always room for improvement.

Fortunately, skills like these can be learned an improved with practice. There are hundreds of tricks, shortcuts, and simple principles that can make you a better, more dramatic, and more creative game master.

But you won’t find them in the Dungeon Master’s Guide. This is a reference book for the running of the AD&D game. We try to minimize material that doesn’t pertain to the immediate conduct of the game. If you’re interested in reading more about this aspect of refereeing, we refer you to DRAGON® magazine, published monthly by TSR Inc. DRAGON® magazine is devoted to role-playing in general and the AD&D game in particular. For over 10 years, DRAGON® magazine has published articles on every facet of role-playing. It is invaluable for DMs and players alike.

If you have never played a role playing game before but are eager to learn, our advice from the Player’s Handbook is still the best: find a group of people who already play the game and join them for a few sessions. If that is impractical for some reason, the best alternative is to get a copy of the Dungeons & Dragons basic game. The Dungeons & Dragons game is a less detailed role-playing game. The D&D basic set includes an introductory role-playing adventure that you can play by yourself. This will show you what goes on during the game and give you step-by-step instructions on how to set up and run a game with your friends.

This is the DMG. That is all.

As in the real world, time passes in all AD&D® game worlds. Weeks slip away as wizards research spells. Days go by as characters ride across country. Hours pass while exploring ruins. Minutes flash by during battles. All of these are passages of time.

There are two different types of time that are talked about in these rules. Game time is the imaginary time that passes for the characters in the game. Real time is the time in the real world, the time that passes for the players and DM as they play the AD&D game. The two times are very different; players and DMs should be careful to distinguish game time from real time.

For example, when the character Delsenora researches a spell for three weeks, this is three weeks of game time. Delsenora is out of action as three weeks passes in the campaign world. Since nothing interesting at all happens to Delsenora during this research time, it should require only a minute or two of real time to handle the situation. The exchange in real time is something like this:

Louise (Delsenora’s player): “Delsenora’s going to research her new spell.”
DM:okay, it’ll take three weeks. Nothing happens to her. While she’s doing that, the rest of you get a chance to heal your wounds and do some stuff that you’ve been ignoring. Johann [pointing at another player], you’d better spend some time at the church. The patriarch’s been a little upset that you haven’t been attending ceremonies.”
Jon (Johann’s player): “Can’t I go out and earn some more experience?”
DM (Not wanting to deal with a split-up group): “The patriarch mumbles something about failing in your duties to your deity, and he rubs his holy symbol a lot. You know, it’s not very often that low levels like you have personal audiences with the patriarch. What do you think?”
Jon: “Marvelous. Subtle hint. I’ll stay and be a good boy.”
DM: “Well, great! The three weeks pass. Nothing happens. Del, make your roll for the spell research.”

And so three weeks of game time flash by in brief minutes of real time.

The importance of game time is that as a campaign progresses, characters tend to become involved in different time-consuming projects. Three characters may set off on a four-week overland joumey, while a mage researches for six weeks. At the inn, a fighter rests and heals his wounds for two weeks. It is important to note how much time passes on different tasks, so the activities of different characters can be followed.

Campaign time is measured just as it is in real life: years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds. But, since this is a fantasy game, the DM can create entirely different calendars for his world. There may be only ten months in the year or 63 days to a month. When beginning play, these things are not tremendously important, so players need not worry about them right away. With continued adventuring, players eventually become familiar with the calendar of the campaign.

Rounds and turns are units of time that are often used in the AD&D game, particularly for spells and combat. A round is approximately equal to a minute (it is not exactly one minute, so as to grant the DM some flexibility during combat). A turn is equal to ten minutes of game time. Turns are normally used to measure specific tasks (such as searching) and certain spells. Thus a spell that lasts ten turns is equal to 100 minutes or 1⅔ hours.

Movement

Closely related to time is movement. Clearly your character is able to move, otherwise adventures would be rather static and boring. But how fast can he move? If a large, green carrion crawler is scuttling after Rath, is the redoubtable dwarf fast enough to escape? Could Rath outrun an irritated but heavily loaded elf? Sooner or later these considerations become important to player characters.

All characters have movement rates that are based on their race. Table 64 lists the movement rates for unencumbered characters of different races.

Table 64: BASE MOVEMENT RATES
Race	Rate
Human	12
Dwarf	6
Elf	12
Half-elf	12
Gnome	6
Halfling	6

A character can normally walk his movement rate in tens of yards in a single round. An unencumbered human can walk 120 yards (360 feet), slightly more than a football field, in one minute. A dwarf, similarly equipped, can walk 60 yards in the same time. This walk is at a fairly brisk, though not strenuous, pace that can be kept up for long periods of time.

However, a character may have to move slower than this pace. If the character is carrying equipment, he may move slower because of the encumbrance (see page 76), if this optional rule is used. As the character carries more gear, he gradually slows down until he reaches the point where he can barely move at all.

When a character is moving through a dungeon or similar setting, his movement rate corresponds to tens of feet per round (rather than the tens of yards per round of outside movement). It is assumed that the character is moving more cautiously, paying attention to what he sees and hears while avoiding traps and pitfalls. Again, this rate can be lowered if the optional encumbrance system is used.

Characters can also move faster than the normal walking pace. In the dungeon (or anytime the character is using his dungeon movement rate) the character can automatically increase his movement to that of his normal walking pace. In doing so, however, he suffers a -1 penalty to his chance of being surprised and gives a +1 bonus to others on their chance of being surprised by him (the rapidly moving character is not taking care to conceal the noise of his passage in the echoing confines of the underground). Furthermore the character does not notice traps, secret doors, or other unusual features.

It is also certainly possible for a character to jog or run – an especially useful thing when being chased by creatures tougher than he cares to meet. The simplest method for handling these cases is to roll an initiative die. If the fleeing character wins, he increases the distance between himself and his pursuers by 10 times the difference in the two dice (in feet or yards, whichever the DM feels is most appropriate). This is repeated each turn until the character escapes or is captured. (If this seems unrealistic, remember that fear and adrenaline can do amazing things!)

Cross-Country Movement

A normal day’s marching lasts for ten hours, including reasonable stops for rest and meals. Under normal conditions, a character can walk twice his movement rate in miles in those ten hours. Thus an unencumbered man can walk 24 miles across clear terrain.

Characters can also force march, intentionally hurrying along, at the risk of exhaustion. Force marching enables a character to travel 2½ times his movement rate in miles (thus a normal man could force march 30 miles in a day). At the end of each day of the march, the character or creature must roll a Constitution check. Large parties (such as army units) make the check at the average Constitution of the group (weaker members are supported, encouraged, and goaded by their peers). Creatures must roll a saving throw vs. death at the end of each day’s force marching (since they lack Constitution scores). A -1 penalty is applied to the check for each consecutive day spent force marching. If the check is passed, the force marching pace can be continued the next day. If the check fails, no more force marching attempts can be made until the characters have completely recovered from the ordeal. Recovery requires ½ day per day of force marching.

Even if the Constitution check fails, the character can continue overland movement at his normal rate.

One drawback of force marching is that each day of force marching results in a -1 penalty to all attack rolls. This modifier is cumulative. Half a day’s rest is required to remove one day’s worth of force marching penalty. Characters who have managed to force march for eight straight days suffer a -8 penalty to their attack rolls; it takes four days of rest to return to no attack roll penalty.

Overland movement rates can be increased or decreased by many factors Terrain can speed or slow movement. Well-tended roads allow faster marching, while trackless mountains slow marches to a snail’s pace. Lack of food, water, and sleep weaken characters. Poor weather slows their pace. All these factors are detailed in the DMG.

Swimming

All characters are either untrained swimmers or proficient swimmers.

When the DM determines the swimming ability of characters, the decision should be based on his campaign. If the campaign is centered around a large body of water or if a character grew up near the sea, chances are good that the character knows how to swim. However, being a sailor does not guarantee that a character can swim. Many a medieval mariner or black-hearted pirate never learned how to swim and so developed a morbid fear of the water! This is one of the things that made “walking the plank” such a fearful punishment. Furthermore, some character races are normally suspicious of water and swimming. While these may vary from campaign to campaign, dwarves and halflings often don’t know how to swim.

Untrained swimmers are a fairly hapless lot. When they are unencumbered, they can manage a rough dog-paddle in relatively calm waters. If the waters are rough, the current strong, or the depth excessive (at sea or far out on a lake), untrained swimmers may panic and sink. If weighed down with enough gear to reduce their movement rate, they sink like stones, unable to keep their heads above water. In no way do they make any noticeable progress (unless, of course, the object is to sink beneath the surface).

Proficient swimmers are able to swim, dive, and surface with varying degrees of success. All proficient characters are able to swim ½ their current land movement rate times 10 in yards, provided they are not wearing metal armor. A character with a movement rate of 12 could swim 60 yards (180 feet) in a round. Characters whose movement rates have been reduced to ⅓ or less of normal (due to gear) or who are wearing metal armor cannot swim – the weight of the gear pulls the character under. They can still walk on the bottom, however, at ⅓ their current movement rate.

Proficient swimmers can double their swimming speed, if a successful Strength check is rolled (vs. ½ the character’s normal Strength score). For a character with a movement rate of 12, a successful check means he can swim 120 yards in one round, an Olympic-class performance.

Like running, swimming is not something that a character can do indefinitely. There are several different speeds a character can choose to swim at, thus moving in either short sprints or a slower, but longer-lasting, pace.

* If swimming at ½ normal speed or treading water, the character can maintain this for a number of hours equal to his Constitution score (although he will have to abandon most of his gear). After a character swims for a number of hours equal to his Constitution, a Constitution check must be made for each additional hour. For each extra hour of swimming, 1 Constitution point is temporarily lost (regaining lost ability points is explained in the next column).

Each hour spent swimming causes a cumulative penalty of -1 to all attack rolls.

All this assumes calm water. If the seas are choppy, a Constitution check should be made every hour spent swimming, regardless of the character’s Constitution. Rough seas can require more frequent checks; heavy seas or storms may require a check every round. The DM may decide that adverse conditions cause a character’s Constitution score to drop more rapidly than 1 point per hour.

If a swimming character fails a Constitution check, he must tread water for ½ hour before he can continue swimming (this counts as time spent swimming, for purposes of Constitution point loss).

A character drowns if his Constitution score drops to 0.

As an example, a freak wave sweeps Fiera (an elf) overboard during the night. Fortunately she can swim and knows that land is nearby. Bravely, she sets out through calm water. Her Constitution score is 16. After 14 hours of steady swimming, she makes out an island on the horizon. Two hours later she is closer, but still has some way to go. During the next hour(her 17th in the water), her Constitution drops to 15 (her attack penalty is -17!) and she must make a Constitution check. A 12 is rolled – she passes. In the last hour, the 18th, the seas become rough. Her Constitution is now 13 (the DM ruled that the heavy seas made her lose 2 points of Constitution this hour), and the DM decides she must pass an extra Constitution check to reach shore. She rolls a 5 and flops onto shore, exhausted.

* Characters can also swim long distances at a faster pace, although at increasing risk. Swimming at the character’s normal movement rate (instead of the usual swimming speed of ½ the normal movement rate) requires a Constitution check every hour, reduces Strength and Constitution by 1 point every hour, and results in a -2 cumulative attack penalty for each hour of swimming. Characters can swim at twice this speed (quadruple normal swimming speed), but they must roll a check every tum and suffer the above penalties for every turn spent swimming. Again, when an ability score reaches 0, the character sinks and drowns.

* Upon reaching shore, characters can recover lost ability score points and negate attack penalties by resting. Each day of rest recovers 1d6 ability points (if both Strength and Constitution points were lost roll 1d3 for each ability to determine points recovered) and removes 2d6 points of attack penalties. Rest assumes adequate food and water. Characters need not be fully rested before undertaking any activity, although the adjusted ability scores are treated as the character’s current scores until the character has rested enough to fully recover from the swim.

To continue the earlier example with Fiera, after a bad last hour in the water, she reaches shore. Her Constitution is  13 and she has a -18 penalty to her attack roll. Exhausted, she finds some ripe fruit and collapses in the shade of a palm tree. All the next day she rests. At the end of the day she rolls a 4 on 1d6 and regains 4 points of  Constitution, restoring it to normal. An 8 is rolled to reduce her attack penalty, so the next day she suffers only a -10 penalty to her attack roll. The next day of rest lowers this by 6 to -4 and the third day erases it completely. So in three days she has fully recovered from her 18-hour ordeal in the water.

Holding Your Breath

Under normal circumstances (with a good gulp of air and not performing strenuous feats), a character can hold his breath up to ⅓ his Constitution score in rounds (rounded up). If the character is exerting himself, this time is halved (again rounded up). Characters reduced to ⅓ or less of their normal movement because of encumbrance are always considered to be exerting themselves. If unable to get a good gulp of air, these times are reduced by ½. All characters are able to hold their breath for one round, regardless of circumstances.

While attempting to hold his breath beyond this time, the character must roll a Constitution check each round. The first check has no modifiers, but each subsequent check suffers a -2 cumulative penalty. Once a check is failed, the character must breathe (if he cannot reach the surface, he drowns).

Diving: All characters can dive to a depth of 20 feet in a single round. For each encumbrance category above unencumbered (or for each point of movement below the character’s normal rate, if this optional system is used – see page 76), two feet is added to this depth (the additional weight helps pull the character down). A short run or a few feet of height adds 10 feet of depth to the first round of a dive. For every 10 feet of height above the water, an additional five feet of depth is added, up to a maximum addition of 20 feet. Thus, with a run and from a height of 40 feet or more, an unencumbered man can dive 50 feet in a single round.

Surfacing: A character can normally rise at the rate of 20 feet per round. This rate is reduced by two feet for every encumbrance category above unencumbered or for every point of current movement below the character’s normal rate (if this optional system is used). Note that, under the optional encumbrance system, heavily loaded characters (those who have lost 10 or more points off their normal movement rate because of their current encumbrance) cannot even swim to the surface. Those simply floating to the surface (unconscious characters, for example) rise at a rate that is five feet per round slower than someone similarly encumbered who is actively swimming up to the surface. It is quilte possible for a moderately weighed-down character to sink if he makes no effort to stay on the surface.

Climbing

Although thieves have specialized climbing abilities, all characters are able to climb to some degree or another. Climbing ability is divided into three categories: thief, mountaineer, and unskilled.

Thieves are the most skilled at climbing. They are the only characters who can climb very smooth, smooth, and rough surfaces without the use of ropes or other equipment. They are the fastest of all climbers and have the least chance of falling.

Mountaineers are characters with mountaineering proficiency or those the DM deems to possess this skill. They have a better climbing percentage than unskilled characters. Mountaineers with proper equipment can climb very smooth, smooth, and rough surfaces. They can assist unskilled characters in all types of climbs.

Unskilled climbers are the vast majority of characters. While they are able to scramble over rocks, they cannot use climbing equipment or negotiate very smooth, smooth, and rough surfaces. They have the lowest climbing success rate of all characters.

Calculating Success

The chance of success of a climb is calculated by taking the character’s skill level (given as a percentage) and modifying it for his race, the condition of the surface, and situational modifiers. Table 65 lists the percentages for the different categories of climbers.

Table 65: BASE CLIMBING SUCCESS RATES
Category	Success Rate
Thief with mountaineering proficiency *	Climb walls % +10%
Thief	Climb walls %
Mountaineering proficiency *	40% +10% per proficiency slot
Mountainteer (decided by DM)	50%
Unskilled climber	40%

* Only if optional proficiency system is used.

The chance of success given in Table 65 is modified by many factors. Some of these remain the same from climb to climb (such as a character’s race) and can be figured into the character’s base score. Others depend on the conditions of a given climb. All of these are listed on Table 66.

Table 66: CLIMBING MODIFIERS
Situation	Modifier
Abundant handholds (brush, trees, ledges)	+40%
Rope and wall * *	+55%
Sloped inward	+25%
Armor
– Banded, splint	-25%
– Plate armors (all types)	-50%
– Scale, chain	-15%
– Studded leather, padded	-5%
Character race *
– Dwarf	-10%
– Gnome	-15%
– Halfling	-15%
Encumbrance	-5%/†
Surface condition:
– Slightly slippery (wet or crumbling)	-25%
– Slippery (icy, slimy)	-40%
Climber wounded below ½ hp	-10%

* These are the same as the modifiers given in Table 27. Make sure that thief characters are not penalized twice for race.
* * Rope and wall applies in most climbing situations in which the character is able to brace his feet against the surface being climbed and use a rope to assist in the task
† This is -5% per encumbrance category above unencumbered, or per movement rate point lost off normal movement rate.

The final result of Tables 65 and 66 is the number the character uses for Climbing checks. A Climbing check is made by rolling percentile dice. If the number rolled is equal to or less than the number found from Tables 65 and 66, the character succeeds with the Climbing check. Rolls above this number indicate failure.

A Climbing check must be made any time a character tries to climb a height of 10 feet or more. This check is made before the character ascends the first 10 feet of the climb. If the check is passed, the character can continue climbing. If the check is failed, the character is unable to find a route and cannot even attempt the climb. No further attempts can be made by that character until a change occurs. This is either a significant change in location (a half mile or more along the face of a cliff) or an improvement in the character’s chance of success.

For example, Brondvrouw the gnome is an unskilled climber. Her normal chance of success is 25% (40% – 15% for being a gnome). She has been cut off from the rest of the party by a rugged cliff 50 feet high. Fortunately, the cliff is dry and the rock seems solid. She makes an attempt, but a 49 is rolled on the percentile dice. She cannot climb the cliff. Then one of her friends up above remembers to lower a rope. With the rope, Brondvrouw can again try the climb, since her percentage chance is now 80%. A 27 is rolled and she makes the ascent.

On particularly long climbs – those greater than 100 feet or requiring more than one turn (10 minutes) of climbing time – the DM may require additional checks. The frequency of these check is for the DM to decide. Characters who fail a check could fall a very long way, so it is wise to carry ropes and tools.

Climbing Rates

Climbing is different from walking or any other type of movement a character can do. The rate at which a character moves varies greatly with the different types of walls and surfaces that must be climbed. Refer to Table 67. Cross-reference the type of surface to be climbed with the surface condition. Multiply the appropriate number from the table by the character’s current movement rate. The result is the rate of climb for the character, in feet per round, in any direction (up, down, or sideways).

All the movement rates given on Table 67 are for non-thief characters. Thief characters are able to climb at double the movement rate for normal characters.

Ragnar the thief and his companion Rupert (a half-elf) are climbing a cliff with rough ledges. A recent rain has left the surface slightly slippery. Ragnar has a movement rate of 12 and Rupert’s is 8. Ragnar can cover 12 feet per round (12 x 1 since he is a thief), but Rupert struggles along at the pace of 4 feet per round (8 x ½). If Ragnar had gone up first and lowered a rope to Rupert, the half-elf could have climbed at the rate of 8 feet per round using rope and wall (8 x 1).

Table 67: RATES OF CLIMBING
	–––Surface Condition–––
Type of Surface	Dry	Slightly Slippery	Slippery
Very smooth *	¼	– **	– **
Smooth, cracked *	½	⅓	¼
Rough *	1	⅓	¼
Rough with ledges	1	½	⅓
Ice wall	–	–	¼
Tree	4	3	2
Sloping wall	3	2	1
Rope and wall	2	1	½

* Non-thief characters must be mountaineers and have appropriate tools (pitons, rope, etc.) to climb these surfaces.
** Thief characters can climb very smooth, slightly slippery surfaces at ¼. Even thieves cannot climb very smooth, slippery surfaces.

Types of Surfaces

Very smooth surfaces include expanses of smooth, uncracked rock, flush-fitted wooden walls, and welded or bolted metal walls. Completely smooth walls, unbroken by any feature, cannot be climbed by anyone without tools.

Smooth and cracked walls include most types of well-built masonry, cavern walls, maintained castle walls, and slightly eroded cliff faces.

Rough faces are most natural cliffs, poorly maintained or badly built masonry, and typical wooden walls or stockades. Any natural stone surface is a rough face.

Rough with ledges is similar to rough faces but is dotted with grips three inches or more wide. Frost-eroded cliffs and natural chimneys are in this category, as are masonry buildings falling into ruin.

Ice walls are cliffs or faces made entirely of frozen ice. These are different from very smooth and smooth surfaces in that there are still many natural cracks and protrusions. They are extremely dangerous to climb, so a Climbing check should be made every round for any character attempting it without tools.

Trees includes climbs with an open framework, such as a scaffold, as well as trees.

Sloping walls means not quite cliff-like but too steep to walk up. If a character falls while climbing a sloping wall, he suffers damage only if he fails a saving throw vs. petrification. If the save is made, the character slides a short distance but is not harmed.

Rope and wall require that the character uses a rope and is able to brace himself against a solid surface.

Actions While Climbing

Although it is possible to perform other actions while climbing, such as spellcasting or fighting, it is not easy. Spellcasters can use spells only if they are in a steady, braced position, perhaps with the aid of other characters.

Climbing characters lose all Armor Class bonuses for Dexterity and shield and most often have rear attack modifiers applied against them also. Their own attack, damage, and saving throw rolls suffer -2 penalties. Those attacking from above gain a +2 bonus to their attack rolls, while those attacking from below suffer an additional -2 penalty to their attack rolls. A climbing character cannot use a two-handed weapon while climbing. The DM can overrule these penalties if he feels the player character has reached a place of secure footing. If struck while climbing (for any amount of damage), the character must make an immediate Climbing check. Failure for a roped character means he spends a round regaining his balance: an unroped character falls if he fails this check.

Climbing Tools

Tools are an integral part of any mountaineer’s equipment and all climbs can profit from the use of tools. Mountaineering tools include rope, pitons (spikes), and ice axes. However, it is a mistaken belief that the main function of tools is to aid in a climb. The main purpose of pitons, rope, and the like is to prevent a disastrous fall. Climbers must rely on their own skills and abilities, not ropes and spikes, when making a climb. Accidents happen when people forget this basic rule and trust their weight to their ropes and pitons.

Therefore, aside from ropes, other tools do not increase the chance of climbing success. However, in the case of a fall, climbing tools can reduce the distance fallen. When a character falls, he can fall only as far as the rope allows, if being belayed, or as far as twice the distance to the last piton set (if the piton holds – a piton pulls free 15% of the time when a sudden stress occurs). The distance fallen depends on how far apart the pitons have been set. Falling characters fall twice the distance to the last spike that holds.

For example, Rath is 15 feet above his last piton. Suddenly he slips. He falls the 15 feet to his piton, plus another 15 feet past his piton since there’s 15 feet of rope between him and the piton, for a total of 30 feet fallen and 3d6 points of falling damage.

Roping characters together increases individual safety, but it also increases the chance that more than one person falls. When a character falls, the character(s) on either side of the falling climber must roll Climbing checks (a penalty of -10 is applied for each falling character after the first one to fall). If all checks are successful, the fall is stopped and no one suffers any damage. If a check is failed, that character also falls and Climbing checks must be repeated as before. Climbing checks are made until either the fall is stopped (the climbers on either side of the falling character(s) successfully roll Climbing checks or the last non-falling climber succeeds with his check), or all the roped-together characters fall.

For example, a party of five is roped together as they go up the cliff. Suddenly Johann falls. Megarran , immediately above him, and Drelb, following him, must roll Climbing checks. Megarran passes her check. But Drelb fails and is snapped off the wall. Now Megarran must make another check with a -10 penalty (for two falling characters), and Targash, who’s bringing up the rear, must also roll a check with a -10 penalty. Both succeed on their rolls and the fall is stopped.

Getting Down

Aside from jumping or flying, the quickest way to get down from a height is to rappel. This requires a rope attached at the top of the climb and a skilled mountaineer to set up the rappel and to hold the rope at the bottom. When rappeling down a surface, a Climbing check with a +50 bonus must be rolled. Free rappels (the end of the rope unsupported at the bottom) can also be done, but the modifier is only +30. Of course, a failed check results in a slip sometime during the rappel (the DM decides on the damage suffered). A character can rappel at a speed equal to his normal dungeon movement (120 feet/round for an unencumbered human). One other thing to bear in mind is that there must be a landing point at the end of the rope. Rappelling 60 feet down a 100-foot cliff means the character is either stranded at the end of the rope or, worse still, rappels right off the end and covers the last 40 feet much faster than he did the first 60!

Before a character can do anything in the dungeon or the wilderness, he has to be able to see what he is doing. If a character can’t see a target, his chances of hitting it are very small. If he can’t see, he can’t read a scroll or a large “Keep Out” sign on the wall. In the AD&D game, characters can see set distances and often by fantastic means that defy logic.

Limits of Vision

The first limitation on vision is how far away an object can be before it cannot been seen clearly. Size and weather have a great effect on this. Mountains can be seen from great distances, 60 to 100 miles or more, yet virtually no detail can be seen. On level ground, the horizon is about five to 12 miles away, but a character usually cannot see a specific object that far away. The limit of vision for seeing and identifying man-sized objects is much less than this.

Under optimum conditions, the maximum range at which a man-sized object can be seen is about 1,500 yards, if it is moving. If the object doesn’t move, it usually cannot be seen at this distance. Even if it is moving, all that can be seen is a moving object. The character cannot tell what it is or what it is doing.

At 1,000 yards, both moving and stationary man-sized objects can be spotted. General size and shape can be determined, but exact identifications are impossible. It is not likely that creature type can be identified at this range, unless the creature has a very unique shape.

At 500 yards, general identifications can be made. Size, shape, color, and creature type are all distinguishable. Individuals still cannot be identified, unless they are distinctively dressed or separated from the rest of the group. Livery and heraldic symbols or banners can seen if large and bold. Most coats of arms cannot be distinguished at this distance. General actions can be ascertained with confidence.

At 100 yards, individuals can be identified (unless, of course, their features are concealed). Coats of arms are clear. Most actions are easily seen, although small events are unclear.

At 10 yards, all details but the smallest are clear. Emotions and actions are easily seen, including such small actions as pickpocketing (if it is detectable).

Of course, conditions are seldom perfect. There are a number of factors that can reduce visibility and alter the ranges at which things can be spotted and identified. Table 62 lists the effects of different types of conditions.

All ranges are given in yards.

Table 62: VISIBILITY RANGES
Condition	Movement	Spotted	Type	ID	Detail
Clear sky	1,500	1,000	500	100	10
Fog, dense or blizzard	10	10	5	5	3
Fog, light or snow	500	200	100	30	20
Fog, moderate	100	50	25	15	10
Mist or light rain	1,000	500	250	30	10
Night, full moon	100	50	30	10	5
Night, no moon	50	20	10	5	3
Twilight	500	300	150	30	10

“Movement” indicates the maximum distance at which a moving figure can be seen. “Spotted” is the maximum distance a moving or a stationary figure can be seen. “Type” gives the maximum distance at which the general details of a figure can be seen – species or race, weapons, etc. “ID” range enables exact (or reasonably exact) identification. “Detail” range means small actions can be seen clearly.

There are many factors other than weather that affect viewing. Size is an important factor. When looking at a small creature (size S), all categories are reduced to the next lower category (except the “detail” range, which remains unchanged). Thus, under clear conditions, the ranges for seeing a small creature are “movement” at 1,000 yards, “spotted” at 500 yards, “type” at 100 yards, and “ID” and “detail” at 10 yards.

When sighting large creatures, the “movement,” “spotting,” and “type” ranges are doubled. Exceptionally large creatures can be seen from even greater distances. Large groups of moving creatures can be seen at great distances. Thus it is easy to see a herd of buffalo or an army on the march.

The ranges given in Table 62 do not take terrain into account. All ranges are based on flat, open ground. Hills, mountains, tall grass, and dense woods all drastically reduce the chances of seeing a creature. (The terrain does not alter sighting ranges, only the chances of seeing a creature.) Thus, even though on a clear day woods may hide a bear until he is 30 yards away, it is still a clear day for visibility. The bear, once seen, can be quickly and easily identified as a bear. The DM has more information on specific terrain effects on sighting.

As a final caveat, the ranges in Table 62 assume Earth-like conditions. Sighting conditions on one of the lower Planes, or the horizon distance on another world, could be entirely different. If your DM feels he must take this into account, he will have to learn more about the subject at his local library or make it up.

Light

Most characters cannot see much without light. Some night conditions (those for the outdoors) are given in Table 62. But all of these assume some small amount of light. In totally lightless conditions, normal vision is impossible, unless a source of light is carried by the party.

Light sources vary in the area they affect. Table 63 gives the radius of light and burning time for the most common types of light sources.

Table 63: LIGHT SOURCES
Source	Radius	Burning time
Beacon lantern	240 ft. *	30 minutes/pint
Bonfire	50 ft.	½ hour/armload
Bullseye lantern	60 ft. *	2 hours/pint
Campfire	35 ft.	1 hour/armload
Candle	5 ft.	10 minutes/inch
Continual light	60 ft.	Indefinite
Hooded lantern	30 ft.	2 hours/pint
Light spell	20 ft.	Variable
Torch	15 ft.	30 minutes
Weapon**	5ft.	As desired

* Light from these is not cast in a radius, but rather in a cone-shaped beam. At its far end, the cone of light from a beacon lantern is 90 feet wide. A bullseye lantern has a beam 20 feet wide at its far end.
* * Magical weapons shed light if your DM allows this optional rule.

Of course, while a lantern or fire enables characters to see, it does have some disadvantages. The greatest of these is that it is hard to sneak up on someone if he can see you coming. It is hard to remain inconspicuous when you have the only campfire on the plain, or you are carrying the only torch in the dungeon. Furthermore, not only do creatures know you are coming, they can generally see you before you see them (since the light source illuminates the area around you, those outside this area can see into the area). Characters should always bear these risks in mind.

Infravision

Some characters and monsters have the power of infravision. This can mean one of two things, depending on whether the standard or the optional rule is used (this is discussed in detail in the Dungeon Master’s Guide). The choice is left
to the DM and he must tell the players how he wants infravision to work. Regardless of how the power functions, the range of infravision is at most 60 feet unless otherwise noted.

Using Mirrors

At times it is useful for characters to look at objects or creatures via reflections in a mirror. This is particularly true of those creatures so hideous (such as a medusa) that gazing directly upon them might tum the viewer to stone. When using a mirror, a light source must be present. Second, attempting to direct your actions by looking in a mirror is very disorientmg (try it and see). Thus, all actions requiring an ability or proficiency check or an attack roll suffer a -2 penalty. The character also loses all Dexterity bonuses to Armor Class if fighting an opponent seen only in a mirror.

Player characters cannot fight, survive, wheel, deal, plot, or scheme without interacting with non-player characters (NPCs). Indeed, the very heart of the AD&D game is the relationship between player characters and non-player characters. How the player characters react to and treat NPCs determines the type of game the group plays. Although many choices are possible, players quickly find that consideration and good treatment of NPCs is the most frequently successful route.

An NPC is any person, creature, or monster that is controlled by the DM. Most NPCs are either people (intelligent races that live in local society) or monsters (intelligent and unintelligent creatures that aren’t normally found in towns and villages). The term “monster” is only a convenient label. It doesn’t mean the creature is automatically dangerous or hostile. Likewise, NPCs who are people aren’t uniformly helpful and cooperative. As with all things, the range of possible reactions of NPCs to PCs covers the entire spectrum.

In the course of their adventures, player characters will be most concerned with three groups of NPCs: hirelings, followers, and henchmen. It is their aid that helps player characters vanquish deadly monsters and accomplish mighty deeds. As their names imply, these NPCs can be persuaded in various ways to join the player characters in their adventures. The most common methods of persuasion are money and loyalty.

Hirelings

The most frequently employed NPC is the hireling. A hireling is a person who works for money. Most hirelings have fairly ordinary skills, while others are masters of a craft or art, and a few are experts of specialized adventuring skills. Typical hirelings include the following:

Archer	Architect
Armorer	Assassin
Baker	Blacksmith
Bladesmith	Foot Soldier
Jeweler	Laborer
Messenger	Minstrel
Sage	Sailor
Spy	Thief

Hirelings are always employed for a stated term of service or for the performance of a specific task. Thus a mercenary contracts to serve for a season. A thief can be hired to steal a named item. A sage works to answer a single question. A blacksmith may indenture himself for a term of years. A sailor works for a single voyage. Quite often these contracts can be renewed without difficulty, but the only thing that binds a hireling to the player character is regular pay and good treatment. Hirelings do not serve a PC out of any great loyalty.

Thus there are some things hirelings will not do. Most hirelings do not foolishly risk their lives. There are soldiers willing to take their chances on the field of battle, but even these courageous (or foolish) few do not willingly undertake the greater hazards of adventuring. They man castle walls, guard caravans, collect taxes, and charge the massed foe well enough, but they often refuse to accompany a PC on an adventure. Even a hireling who regularly undertakes dangerous missions (a thief or an assassin, for example) normally refuses to join player character parties. These hirelings are loners. They contract to do a job and get it done in their own way, without interference from anyone else.

Hirelings are no more loyal than human nature allows. For the most part, if paid and treated well, with opportunities to realize their ambitions, working for a charismatic leader, hirelings can be relied on to do their jobs faithfully. But poor pay, injustice, discrimination, threats, abuse, and humiliation at the hands of their masters make them somewhat less than reliable. A smart leader sees to the comfort and morale of his men before hls own concerns. With less savory characters – those hired to perform dark deeds – the player character takes even greater chances, especially given the questionable morals of such characters.

Whatever their personalities, hirelings generally need to make morale checks (explained in the DMG) whenever they are faced with a particularly dangerous situation or are offered a bribe or other temptation.

Finding hirelings is not difficult. People need jobs. It is simply a matter of advertising. Under normal circumstances, applicants respond to ads. Only when trying to employ vast numbers or hire those with unusual specialties (such as spies) does the process become complicated. Just what needs to be done in this situation depends entirely upon the DM’s campaign. Your character may have to skulk through the unsavory bars of the waterfront, rely on questionable go-betweens, or pay a visit to the thieves’ guild (if there is one). Just employing one of these characters can be a small adventure in itself.

Employment costs of hirelings vary from a few gold pieces a month to thousands of gold pieces for an especially dangerous task. The skill and experience of a hireling has a great effect on his salary. A learned sage researchmg some obscure piece of lore can charge hefty sums. Costs can also be affected by the conditions of the campaign – the setting, the recent events of the world, and the reputations of the player characters (if any). Most hirelings sign on for what they think is fair. While few will turn down more money, most will drive the best bargain they can. Your DM has more information about employment costs, since he may need to alter these to fit his campaign.

Followers

More reliable than those who are motivated purely by money are those characters who, while they expect pay, were originally drawn into service by the reputation of the player character. These are followers, usually a unit of soldiers of one type or another. Followers serve only those of significant power and reputation, thus the construction of a stronghold is necessary to attract followers.

Followers have the same needs and limitations of hirelings. Most must be paid and well-treated. They also do not accompany the player characters on group adventures. They have some advantages over hirelings, however. Followers do not serve for a specific term of contract. They remain with the player character as long as their basic needs are met. They are more loyal than the average hireling and are treated as elite troops. Unlike most hirelings, followers can increase in level (although this occurs very slowly since they act only as soldiers). All followers in a unit advance to the next level at the same time. Finally, the player character need not seek out followers – they come to him, seeking positions within his illustrious household.

Followers appear only once. Replacements do not arrive to fill the ranks of the fallen. (Massive losses of followers in combat only gives the character a bad reputation, discouraging others from flocking to his banner.) Player characters should take care of their followers, perhaps treating them as an elite bodyguard.

Some characters attract unique followers such as animals or magical beings. Although termed followers, these creatures are more properly treated as henchmen in terms of loyalty and what they will and will not do. They do not count against the character’s limit on henchmen, however, since they are technically followers.

Henchmen

Henchmen are much that hirelings are not. They are adventurers who serve out of loyalty. They are willing to risk their lives for those they respect. They are also hard to find.

Henchmen are powerful allies to a player character. Unlike hirelings, they have the nerve and ability to become powerful adventurers. Although they expect their share of treasure, they do not usually join a player character for money. They are attracted to the PC because of his reputation or other qualities he possesses. As such, henchmen cannot be expected to flock to the banner of a neophyte adventurer. He may gain himself one or two companions, but others come only when he has earned a greater reputation, met more people, and proven himself a true friend and ally to these NPCs.

Henchmen can come from any source. Most often they are at first mere hirelings or followers who, through distinctive actions, come to the attention of the player character. Some may be higher level, more skilled hirelings who develop a bond to the player character through long employment. Others may be followers who have sound advice for the player character.

A henchman is always of lower level than the PC. Should he ever equal or surpass the PC’s level, the henchman leaves forever; it is time for him to try his luck in the real world. In some ways, the player character is the mentor and the henchman his student. When the student has learned as much as the teacher, it is time for him to go out on his own.

Henchmen are more than just loyal followers; they are friends and allies. Naturally they expect to be treated as such. They have little need for those who do not trust them or treat them coldly. Abusiveness or taking advantage of the friendship quickly ends the relationship. Just as players must with their own friends, player characters must be sensitive to the needs and feelings of their henchmen. Furthermore, henchmen attach themselves to a particular player character, not a group of player characters. Thus it is only under the direst of circumstances that a henchman accepts the orders of another PC. Should his friend (the player character) fall, the henchman sees to his needs. He doesn’t abandon him and continue on with the other player characters unless this is clearly the only way to aid his friend.

A PC’s Charisma determines the maximum number of henchmen he can have. This is a lifetime limit, not just a maximum possible at any given time. In a world where the fallen can be restored to life, it is expected that a man would make this effort for his dearest friends, both player characters and henchmen. For example, Rupert the half-elf has had seven henchmen, but all have fallen for one reason or another. Rupert’s Charisma is 15, so with the death of his latest henchman, no more come to join him. (Word has obviously gotten around that Rupert’s friends tend to meet unpleasant ends, and he doesn’t even have the decency to bring them back to life! Even if he had tried to raise his henchmen and failed, Rupert would still be viewed as a jinx, bad luck for those around him.)

Attracting a henchman is fairly difficult. One cannot advertise for friends with any great success. They grow and develop from other relationships. A henchman can be found by placing trust in a skilled hireling. Heroic deeds (saving the life of an NPC) can create a strong and instant bond. Love certainly can form this bond. The player and the DM must trust their own judgment to determine when an NPC becomes a henchman. There is no clear line an NPC must cross to make the transition from hireling to henchman. Instead, it is a slide from one status to the other.

Once an NPC becomes a henchman, the player gains a high degree of control over the character. He should be responsible for the record keeping for that character. It is almost, but not quite, like having a new PC for the player. If the DM allows it, the player can have all information regarding the abilities of the henchman, although the DM may choose not to reveal this information. The player is allowed to make nearly all decisions for the NPC, but the DM can overrule any action as being out of character.

There are certain things henchmen do not do. They do not give away or loan out magical items. They do not allow others free access to their spell books. They do not tolerate spell use that questions their loyalty (detect lie or know alignment cast upon them). They do not accept less than their due share. In general, within these limits, henchman do what is desired of them. The DM can at any time dictate the actions of a henchman, since the character is still an NPC.

If a PC is not attentive to the wishes and needs of his henchmen, or if he abuses and humiliates them, he can expect the worst. This is the stuff mutinies and rebellions are made of. Should an abusive player character fall at the hands of a once-loyal henchman, he has only himself to blame.

On the other hand, not all henchmen are paragons of loyalty. The player character must always be aware that henchmen are sometimes not what they seem. They can be a means to get at the player character. Throughout history, many a cruel and cunning villain has posed as a true companion, waiting his chance to strike or spy on his friend.

Player Character Obligations

Whenever a player character takes on a hireling, follower, or henchman, he has committed himself to certain obligations and customs that surround such agreements. Some of these are obvious, having been worked out between the player character and the NPC in advance. Usually the wage and term of service are settled upon before any agreement is reached. For hirelings and followers, this is a set amount of money each day, week, or month, or a fee for a specific task. Henchmen commonly receive a portion (½ a normal share) of all treasure and magic found on adventures. A player character is normally expected to contribute a little more from his own funds, however.

Other obligations of the player character are varied. Some must always be considered, while others almost never come into effect. A player character is expected to provide meals and boarding (unless the NPC has a home nearby). This is the most common obligation and applies to NPCs of all walks of life. For those engaged in more dangerous pursuits, however, additional concessions must be granted. Since horses are expensive, player characters should be ready to cover the cost of mounts lost in combat or on campaign. It is unreasonable to expect a mercenary to buy a new mount from his meager savings. Likewise, other items of war craft – weapons and armor – must be replaced by the player character. All soldiers are expected to provide their own equipment when they are first employed, but the player character must replace all losses. Certainly all player characters are expected to pay the cost of special transport – securing passage on ships and arranging wagons for baggage. Of the grimmer duties, player characters are expected to pay for a decent (though hardly lavish) interment.

One of the more unusual obligations of a player character is to ransom his men. This is especially true of men lost during a campaign. The greater number of soldiers lost in a battle are not slain but captured. Common practice of the medieval period was to officially ransom these prisoners for well-established prices. A common yeoman footman might ransom for 2 gp, a minor priest for 80 gp, a knight’s squire for 200 gp, and a king’s man for 500 gp. These are paid for by the lord of the prisoner. A player character (as a lord and master) is expected to do the same. Of course, the player character can pass much of this cost on to his own subjects and the relatives of the prisoner. Thus men might languish for long periods in the hands of the enemy before their ransom was raised. Furthermore, should a player character ransom a hireling, follower, or henchman, he has every reason to expect loyal service from that man in the future. After all, he has demonstrated his willingness to save that NPC from hardship and death.

In a fantasy world, a player character is also expected to bear the cost of magical spells cast to the benefit of his men. He may arrange to have his men blessed before battle or healed after it. He shouldn’t grumble about the expense, because the spells also make good tactical sense. The bless spell increases the success of his army in the field. Magical cures get his army back on its feet quicker. All these things can make him very successful while also making him popular with his hired men.

Finally, the player character is expected to make an effort to raise or restore slain henchmen. This is not a normal expectation of hirelings or followers (although it can happen in extreme cases). The effort should be honest and true. A player character shouldn’t fool himself into thinking no one will notice if he doesn’t do his utmost. The player character who returns from an adventure minus his henchman is automatically under a cloud of suspicion, despite his most vehement protests. A player character must take great care to maintain his reputation as a good and upright employer.