I will make no apologies for my own preferences. I started role-playing in the era of Moldvay’s Basic Set, Cook’s Expert Set, and 1st edition Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (with the original covers). The illustrations that fire my imagination when I think of D&D — the illustrations that allow me to effortlessly slip the shackles of reality and enable me to be there — are those of Dave Trampier, Erol Otus, Jim Roslof, Darlene Pekul, and Russ Nicholson. Whereas later editions were increasingly dominated by commercial art and comic book art, the classic editions were populated with art that was original and even visionary. It was art that was as creative and liberating as the game it depicted. The artists I mentioned above were responsible for the look of D&D when it was at the pinnacle of its popularity. This is something worth considering.

If Wizards of the Coast really wants to recapture the true spirit of D&D, they would be well advised to choose their artists carefully from amongst those who have a personal interest in fantasy art, and not merely a financial one. This is an excellent opportunity to provide work for many artists who may be outside the mainstream, but who are exactly right for this frankly eccentric hobby. Another option would be to select illustrations from every edition to represent the D&D that encompasses all previous editions (with perhaps some new illustrations as well). And if neither of those options are acceptable, then I would plead for an edition with no illustrations rather than the soulless corporate hackwork that characterized the last two editions.

(It is worth mentioning that, according to EN World, “The Forgotten Realms will be supported from the start, and a video game art studio from China has been hired to fully detail the Realms.” If outsourcing the art to sweatshops in totalitarian nations is to be the strategy for D&D Next in general, then Wizards of the Coast doesn’t deserve custodianship of D&D. Human rights matter.)

Wells was the author of the popular Dragon Magazine column “Sage Advice” as well as the Dungeons & Dragons module Palace of the Silver Princess.

Rest in peace, Ms. Wells. Your sagacity lives on.

[Source: Grognardia]

* It is highly advisable that the original title be retained insofar as the edition is known officially as ADVANCED DUNGEONS & DRAGONS (with all capital letters as it was spelled and enforced by its original publisher, TSR). Changing the title (by dropping the word “Advanced,” for instance) creates confusion and doubt. The game was not then, nor is it now, referred to as Dungeons & Dragons, 1st edition or otherwise (and that reopens and exacerbates yet another can of carrion crawlers regarding the issue of edition numbering). If the title has been changed, gamers will ask, what else has been altered? This will diminish the appeal for those who are interested in a true reprint of the content. D&D Next may be just Dungeons & Dragons (or whatever they decide to call it), but AD&D is ADVANCED DUNGEONS & DRAGONS. If you respect the history of D&D, don’t try to rewrite that history. Most role-playing gamers have long memories.

[Source: Grognardia]

Of particular interest to me is the Design Goals section of the page. The goals are admirable and certainly challenging. If they can be met, I will be very impressed.

The game is at its best when it is yours. For that reason, we want your participation. The goals we have set for ourselves are by no means trivial or easy. By involving you in this process, we can build a set of D&D rules that incorporate the wants and desires of D&D gamers around the world. We want to create a flexible game, rich with options for players and DMs to embrace or reject as they see fit, a game that brings D&D fans together rather than serves as one more category to splinter us apart.

The article above also includes an invitation to sign up “to be notified when the playtest is beginning and how you can participate.”

The solution is Fudge dice. These six-sided three-dimensional randomizers have three symbols repeated twice and lend themselves to the random generation of alignments better than the original alignment dice themselves. For one thing, they are not merely inked, they are incised, which means they last forever. For another thing, only a single Fudge die is necessary, since the “+” and “-” symbols can double as Lawful vs. Chaotic and Good vs. Evil.

For those who like charts, voila:

Combined, we may generate the following results:

Incidentally, all alignment dice are Chaotic. Use them at your own risk.

Roslof was an artist and graphic designer known for his vivid cover art and illustrations for various Dungeons & Dragons and Advanced Dungeons & Dragons modules published by TSR, Inc., where he was employed for a time as Art Director.

Rest in peace, Mr. Roslof.

• Wikipedia entry: Jim Roslof
• Grognardia Tribute

Ah, but there’s the crux of the problem. After all the effort of truly creating a character with a terrific name and an interesting background that explains who that character is and why, what if this character is snuffed out of existence in his first adventure when he falls into a pit lined with stakes? Or when he is swarmed by angry kobolds? Or when he is tenaciously pursued and torn to shreds by a ferocious man-killing rat? (O.K., that last example is from the Intellivision ADVANCED DUNGEONS & DRAGONS Cartridge game, but the idea still applies.)

High mortality is a more of a problem in some games than others. Call of Cthulhu is a popular example, but so is Dungeons & Dragons (and its retro-clones). Most adventure games, in my opinion, are more enjoyable when there is a risk of a character not surviving. It increases a player’s sense of accomplishment when it is not only achieving the goal, but survival itself, that denotes the successful adventurer. Risk is part of the thrill of the game. How then does one reconcile the time spent creating a character with the life expectancy of the average low level adventurer?

I submit that the answer is gradual background building. In most works of fiction, we do not learn everything about a character as soon as that character is introduced. We learn about their backgrounds gradually. By all means they should have a name and a physical description, but perhaps, at first, we know nothing about their background beyond what their accent tells us. Perhaps we know where they are from, or at least where they must have been living for some time. As the story progresses, we may learn something about their religion or philosophy, or their family, or their ancestry. The same can be done in a role-playing game. Once you have rolled up, equipped, described, and named your character, write a single sentence pertaining to the character’s background. If the character perishes from an ill-fated encounter with green slime in the first outing, all you’ve lost is the effort of writing one sentence (backgroundwise). If the character survives the first adventure, write another sentence into the background story. Repeat as needed. The longer the character lives, the longer the background story grows as well as the story that is being created with each succeeding adventure. In a way, your character is growing both forwards and backwards in time. And if your character meets an untimely end after a long career of adventures, the background you have written will make your memories of the character that much richer.

Method 1: Roll 4d6 (drop the lowest die) seven times, discard the lowest result, and assign to attributes as desired.

Method 2: Roll 4d6 (drop the lowest die) for each attribute in order. Once a class is chosen, any attribute that falls short of the prime requisite may be increased to the minimum necessary to qualify for the class.

As you can see, I like to give my players the opportunity to play the class of their choice. This is especially important when chances to play are not as common as they once were.