(This post continues a discussion I started in “What does D&D have to do with ironclad ships?”)
In my last post, I wrote about how to-hit and damage bonuses contributed to Dungeons & Dragons’ power curve. When we compare D&D Next to early editions of D&D, we see a key trade off: The Next design reins in the to-hit bonuses characters gain as they advance. In compensation, characters gain greater bonuses to the damage they inflict. This trade off stems from something the designers called bounded accuracy, which spurred controversy. While most of the discussion focuses on bounded accuracy’s place in combat, in “Two problems that provoked bounded accuracy,” I wrote about bounded accuracy and ability checks.
Months ago, I wrote to explain that the influence of ability bonuses was too small for ability checks, so you might suppose I would like to see characters earning big to-hit pluses as they advance levels. But characters engage in many combats and make countless attack rolls, so even small bonuses earn big payoffs, and I’m fine with that. However, I understand that aspects of the bounded-accuracy controversy hinge on matters of taste.
In fourth edition, as characters leveled, they enjoyed steep increases in to-hit bonuses matched with continuing increases in the damage each attack dealt. This led to characters increasing exponentially in power. If you hit twice as often, and each hit does twice the damage, than you boast four times the power. Of course, monsters follow a similar power curve, so you never notice unless characters face creatures outside their narrow level band.
In character, your logarithmic increase in power feels exciting as unbeatable monsters and impossible challenges quickly become possible, and then easy.
If you want to keep suspension of disbelief, do not dare to consider the world-building implications of the 4E power curve. I checked the stats for a town guard in a heroic-tier Living Forgotten Realms adventure. As scaled for party level 10, this rank-and-file guard has AC 26 and 106 hit points. Where were these super guards a few adventures ago when the goblins attacked the town? The goblins could only hit AC26 on a 20, so they would have needed to make an average of 262 attacks on each guard to earn a kill. Of course, you can suppose that in your world, you have no super guards, but what happens when you reverse the roles, and a lone giant shows up to defeat an army? Obviously, many players never consider this balance of power, so the game hums along. Those of us who cannot help thinking of such things find it all distasteful.
Beyond the exponential power curve, players have other preferences. How high a level do you need to be before you should be allowed to hit Asmodeus on a 19? (Keep in mind, since first edition, a roll of 20 always hits.) How much of a bonus should attributes provide as compared to your per-level bonuses? I don’t think I can sway you on these matters any more than I can coax you into a new favorite ice cream flavor.
A 20 was not always a hit in 1st edition. Though 20 did repeat 6 times over the various armor classes, a 1st level fighter could not hit a.c. -10 without strength or magic bonuses. This is why I didn’t like taco, because it didn’t take into consideration the repeats of the 20s.
What happens when a player decides to “role play” his evil character by singlehandedly massacring and looting a town full of level-0 folk?
Well, in AD&D (1E):
Let’s suppose the town has a population of 10,000; that includes a militia of 2,000.
Our Lord (10th) actually fells only 200 to break the morale of the rest, for a basic 2100 XP.
Plunder — mostly not in coin but in livestock and other goods — comes let’s say to 250,000 GP value. Presuming all that is somehow carried off (perhaps by townsfolk cowed into doing it themselves) …
That would be enough to gain a level, except …
Only 1/10 value is scored (and that’s the DM being generous). So, the net for all the trouble is only 25,210 XP.
And that’s probably just the start of the trouble. The lord in whose fiefdom the town was is likely to muster more than just a larger army of 0-level men at arms; fighting fire with fire, a band of proper adventurers is bound to come seeking to relieve the reaver of that quarter million and more.
A lair of half a dozen fire giants ought to yield more XP, and perhaps some magical treasure, with less drudgery and less onerous blowback.
Our fighter probably doesn’t want to take that on single-handed, but if that’s just part of a larger stronghold then an expedition with a cleric, mage and thief can easily be quite rewarding.