It’s been-
I know, almost a year. A lot has changed since then – I started searching for a job and tutored some high school kids in the meantime, landed an interview and got a new job working as a software engineer, and moved quite far away from home, all among many other things. But I didn’t forget about this blog – in fact, I thought about writing in it from time to time, but didn’t really have the energy or motivation to draft up several paragraphs on anything.
That is, until now. I think talking about a very big bit of D&D taboo is the perfect reason to blow the dust off the cover and start writing again.
Taboo related to D&D?
I suppose I should start from the beginning: what is D&D? And already, we’ve hit our first controversial point – many people have many verisimilitudinous (apparently I like using this word) definitions, but many of them are actually mutually exclusive – not necessarily intended to be deceptive in their nature, but something that obviously can’t all be true nonetheless. Many people in the D&D community hold the game’s identity (or, at least, their perception of it) in high esteem, and will defend it (maybe to the death – I don’t intend to test that notion) to keep it “pure”, even to the point of declaring a verifiable edition of D&D “not D&D”; that’s exactly what this post will be addressing.
So what is D&D, really? Short for “Dungeons and Dragons”, it is a particularly popular fantasy tabletop role-playing game – the most popular of its kind, in fact. However, it isn’t really a game – it’s more of a “game engine”, that is to say, a set of rules/guidelines (yet another controversial distinction in the community) that dictates the mechanics of a game under itself. Using the Dungeons and Dragons system, countless games can be created and played under the direction of the Dungeon Master (or DM), the person responsible for establishing the “interface” between the game’s content (setting, story, other actors, and anything else that can be interacted with, all of which can be pre-established in modules or designed by oneself) and the other players, who usually manage a single character in the game’s setting.
However, these rules/guidelines have a complicated origin, and are far from unified – many different versions of them exist, known as “editions”. These editions are typically released one year, and then given ongoing support by the publisher (currently Wizards of the Coast) in the form of rules supplements, modules, player options, and all sorts of other “splash books”, up until the new edition is released several years later, thereby obsoleting the previous edition. The most recent published edition as of this post is Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition – usually when you hear people talking about D&D, it’s about this edition. The D&D experience, however, can be many different things, depending on which edition is used, which rules are modified, what lore is included, and most of all, who’s playing it.
What is the history of Dungeons and Dragons?
Since the history of D&D is directly relevant to this post, I will try to cover it in as much detail that I know of. In 1974, a company called Tactical Studies Rules, or TSR, published a wargame derivative known as Dungeons and Dragons – it was designed to expand upon a fantasy wargame known as Chainmail, and was tailored to people already familiar with wargames, due to their small publishing budget of $2000. It became very popular, and many revisions took place, including a Dungeons and Dragons “Basic Set” with a more concise collection of the important rules – until TSR decided to release “Advanced Dungeons and Dragons” (AD&D, the first edition, or 1e), a unified set of rules that broadened the scope of the game beyond just wargamers, but changed many of the rules set forth in “Basic” Dungeons and Dragons. Later still, Advanced Dungeons and Dragons, Second Edition (2e) was released – mostly it was to unify AD&D’s ruleset and provide books for easy reference, but it made some minor rules adjustments, and also made some changes that slightly altered the original aesthetic of 1e, such as taking away aspects of the game that gave it negative publicity (demons, evil characters and such), and re-organizing it to fit more of a strictly medieval setting as opposed to a purely mystical or magical one (although the real sentiment of fantasy hadn’t changed in the least).
Around this time, TSR nearly went bankrupt, and was bought out by Wizards of the Coast (WotC), a company owned by Hasbro – from this point on, they would be the ones publishing these editions. The next edition in line came in 2000, the third edition of Dungeons and Dragons (3e). This edition had the largest revision up until this point – it introduced “skills” like rope climbing and survival that the characters could use in a variety of situations, less restrictive rules, tons of options, and a reliance on one specific mechanic: the rolling of an icosahedral die, or a d20, to determine the outcome of most actions. Later on in 2003, many revisions were applied to this edition, and are collectively known as D&D 3.5e – the to-be standard for players of third edition.
Once 3.5e had run its course, the next edition was released: Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition. However, this is where the real controversy began. 4e endeavored to streamline the game and make it more fun overall, just like other editions compared to their predecessors. But this edition would be different than the others in a large way – it prioritized making the rules-as-written as specific as possible, while also establishing the methodology behind the rules above purely doing cool things – and in turn, with that foundation, cool things could be done. This is known as “bottom-up” design as opposed to “top-down” design, as I will be going over later. Coupling this design choice with the fact that 4e’s marketing propagated itself as a superior version of 3.5e, as well as implementing a different and more restrictive type of licensing for its use in third-party businesses, caused many players of 3.5e to dislike 4e – although dislike may not be a strong enough word. In fact, many even insulted it, calling it an MMO – a “massively-multiplayer online” game – due to its similarities to a popular MMO at the time: World of Warcraft. This argument has some merit, but does not necessarily mean it is a wholly bad thing – the reason why this is being that it is natural for a system designed from the bottom-up to have similarities with computer software, and even take inspiration from popular games at the time (heck, the way 2e characters are generated is practically begging to be written as a simple C program using the terminal). However, the payload to the “MMO” argument is that it detracts from the ideals of Dungeons and Dragons in the first place – which, given the constant state of change in the various editions of Dungeons and Dragons, does not hold very much merit; it only follows the pattern of change established by its progenitors. And needless to say, many components of the previous editions of Dungeons and Dragons, although many revised, are still present in 4e.
Due to the third-party license not applying to 4e, an RPG publishing company by the name of Paizo decided to form their own game compatible with 3.5e, known as Pathfinder. Since many D&D fans harbored disdain for 4e, many turned to Pathfinder, which soon became a competitor against Wizards of the Coast and D&D. After 4e’s lifespan came D&D 5th Edition, which picked out certain things from past editions but overall restored a semblance of top-down design that 3.5e exhibited, most likely aiming to restore its previous fanbase (in lieu of 4e, despite carrying some of its elements over) while simultaneously bringing in new players. Since then, the game has gained a lot of traction, and its fanbase has been greatly broadened, as 5e is considered to be “beginner-friendly” – presented in a way that evokes the imagination of its players while adhering to a somewhat simple ruleset. I have played quite a bit of 5e, and if somebody other than me is running a D&D campaign, it’s usually in 5th edition. It’s not un-fun, and I have played a lot of very good games in 5e – but the dichotomy between the design and intended audience of it and my preferred 4e is not to be understated.
Knowing all that, what sort of experience do you have with D&D?
So since I seem to like it enough to defend it, what is my history with 4th Edition, or D&D altogether? I should make it clear that I am too young to have played AD&D in the years of its nascence, or even know about 3.5e, 4e, Pathfinder, the OGL and GSL and all that drama when I began the hobby (that shouldn’t discredit me – quite the opposite, as I have the privilege of looking at it all retroactively and more objectively than the “grognards” at the time). When I began the hobby, it was well into 5e’s lifespan. Back in my senior year of high school in the autumn of 2017, I had overheard a group of friends in the music department talking about D&D, and the various types of adventures and encounters they had around the table. At the time, I didn’t have any real knowledge of D&D – I knew, obviously, that it had dungeons, dragons, and some other stuff like swords and magic, but I had no real understanding of the game’s goals, how to play it, or even how to get started. I was always sort of a recluse, and terribly awkward when it came to doing anything involving more than zero other people – but despite all that, for some weird reason, I still wanted to play a collaborative, social tabletop game. For a similar weird reason, that group of friends decided to take pity on my sheepish self and let me join their 5th edition campaign – I built my first character, a 10th-level blue dragonborn arcane trickster rogue named “Kontonnijiro” (Hiro for short), printed all 320 pages of the Player’s Handbook for my own reference (apologies to the school library), and showed up to the next session. The campaign itself didn’t last for too long, only a few sessions and then life got in the way – and I can only remember bits and pieces of what happened in those sessions, but I do remember that it was the most fun I had in a very long time. I can vividly remember my character, as aloof as I am, warily consider his relationships and actions – whether it would be chatting in “thieves’ cant” with his network of rogues, sitting and talking around a campfire for the night with other characters in the party (something about this other red dragonborn specifically), or ducking beneath the dunes to target a giant stone construct with a crossbow, dealing exactly 64 points of damage after getting a critical hit.
It was all so intriguing to me, so as the inquisitive person that I am, I naturally wanted to get more involved and see how to run my own games. How do I run a game? What goal can I set for an adventuring party, and what can I give them to help or to put in their way? What could the monsters do? What monsters could there even be? And this is where the story takes a bizarre turn. Funnily enough, I stumbled upon 4e by complete accident – and it’s a good thing that I did, or perhaps I would have never given “the edition that shall not be named” a chance. When I went to order the Player’s Handbook and the Dungeon Master’s Guide from an online used bookstore, I thought I had placed an order for the 5e versions – the covers seemed to look the same, after all. As it turns out, the versions I ordered were still called the “Player’s Handbook” and the “Dungeon Master’s Guide”; but they were published in 2008, and not 2014, the publishing year of 5e. I hadn’t realized this until once I received one of the books, and immediately recognized the difference. The cover was different, and the content was completely unlike the D&D I knew. I hadn’t even known about the various editions of D&D at the time, so I thought there had been some sort of mistake. I was disappointed and wanted to send them back, but in my boredom I started reading it – and I thought, the rules are so concise, all the information is in easy-to-reference blocks, there are dozens of pages worth of player options, magic items, and other cool content (sort of like the spells chapter in the 5e that I knew), and there’s a lot of good, even universal information for DMs in this Dungeon Master’s Guide – I’ve never seen this book, so what is this exactly? So I read through the books, unfettered by the predispositions against them – and I learned that those books were, in fact, from an earlier version of D&D – the 4th edition.
I would later come to learn that 4e was pretty universally hated, and I couldn’t understand why in the slightest – from what I envisioned of D&D’s player base, they were mostly nerds, people like me who thought in the same, pragmatic way, and people who I could get along with. Unfortunately, that was a naïve viewpoint – D&D has a complicated history, and as it stands, the fanbase isn’t exactly renowned for their tact and cordialness – who’s to say the reason? Perhaps it’s some cocktail brewed by Wizards of the Coast dividing the fandom through their brash actions, with a dash of the fact that the internet itself isn’t a kind place, with some other things altogether added to taste. In any case, their collective position on D&D 4e is not just disregard for it, but active hostility to it – you can test this by mentioning 4e in nearly any D&D community on the internet. If you tell them my story, for all I know, they’ll probably tell you I read the Book of Vile Darkness and acquired some evil, forbidden knowledge that corrupts anyone who reads it, and that I’m now indoctrinated to spread the contemptible mantra of 4e and take over the entire TTRPG community. For how much it pains me to say it, they’re awfully obstinate, and my cynicism particularly for people on the internet is only vindicated by it – which is why I think D&D is best played and talked about among friends, and not strangers on the internet.
So what exactly is the difference between all these editions, and why is 4e so hated?
I think two large portions of 4e’s hate can be attributed to itself being such a large change from 3.5e, as well as the implementation of the GSL (Game System License) over the older, more lenient OGL (Open Game License), which governs both 3.5e and 5e and is more friendly to for-profit companies using its content. Both are somewhat reasonable criticisms of 4e, but it also seems ludicrous to go as far as to completely blaspheme it, especially considering those days have long since passed. Considering most of the criticisms I hear are related to the execution of the edition itself, that is mostly what I’ll be covering. I’ll be summarizing the differences between these editions below.
OD&D through AD&D 2e: From what I could gather, AD&D 1e is more or less an extension of OD&D (Original Dungeons and Dragons before Advanced), and 2e is more or less a ratification and revision of 1e, since I read that the two are both compatible (I only have the 2e PHB). Therefore, since they’re all similar enough, I will talk about them all collectively. 2e and its predecessors are the de-facto “old school” editions, with strict rulings, lots of randomness in character creation, and brutal chance-based effects (a lot of things that veer towards “save or die”) – after all, no one said the adventuring life would be easy, and this edition’s philosophy is that the fun of play should come from the thrill of facing these terrifying situations, and through the course of a campaign, acting out how it may change your character, for better or for worse. Abilities are very much withheld to respective races and classes, and there were certain requirements to “qualify” your character – for example, you had to roll a constitution score of 10 or higher if you wanted to play a halfling, and if you didn’t meet a certain wisdom score as a priest, there was a decent chance that your priest spells would outright fail. In 2e, classes were also divided into four different categories, each with more specific classes with their own (sometimes high) requirements and traits: Warriors who could use armaments and engage the enemies closely, Wizards who could utilize wizard spells from a variety of schools of magic (introduced in 2e), Priests who strictly adhered to their deity’s alignment and domain sphere and had priest spells reflecting those traits, and Rogues, who very much lived to their charismatic stereotype and had certain unique skills like climbing and pickpocketing. 2e has many rigid (and sometimes complex) rulings for specific things usually dependent on other specific things like ability scores and race/class, including knowing languages, lifting a gate by strength, detecting distance underground, or moving silently. This especially applies to its vast spell list – they tend to be highly descriptive, leaving not much room for subjectivity, but can be subject to change at the DM’s discretion. DM-specific knowledge is also emphasized – certain things about the edition, even including level advancement, are hidden from the players, as a game based on the mystique of adventuring. Despite all these things, 2e offers a lot of content to be picked from, including vast lists of equipment, a detailed proficiency system, and rules for multiclassing.
3.5e: Considering this edition was a total revision of the previous ruleset rather than some changes being applied, 3.5e would no longer be compatible with the previous editions – rather, it would set out to do its own thing. Much like 2e, races and classes are given specific bonuses and starting gear, although there is no longer a requirement to be a certain race or class (the classes were now quite different from each other, and didn’t overlap as much as 2e). A unified list of skills were added, all shown on a single character sheet across all characters – everyone had a modifier for these skills, and had ways to increase that specific skill’s modifier. 3.5e also did away with THAC0 (an acronym meaning “to hit armor class zero”), which simplified the math when wearing armor. Spells were still divided by class, but they were somewhat more subjective than 2e, leaving some room for interpretation. The introduction of this edition also introduced the concept of miniatures, and using a battle grid to emulate combat – there were many specific rules for it, and several modifiers become increasingly used. Also, most actions were resolved by using a d20 to determine an outcome, whether it’s a skill check, attack roll, or saving throw. The edition as a whole placed on emphasis on player options like feats (boy, were there a lot of them!), which made for a very complex system – many crazy things could be done with the interactions between all the rules, and it led to a sort of chaos that embraced the uncertainty of old-school D&D in a different way.
4e: Keeping a lot of the mechanics from 3.5e, like skills, ability modifiers used for various things, and many, many player options (arguably the most of any edition), D&D 4th Edition was supposedly founded on player feedback from 3.5e to improve upon it. This edition, however, changed the presentation a lot – 4e separated the mechanical text and the purely descriptive text from each other, which was unlike something the previous editions had done; to most, it seemed more fantastical and immersive to have information presented in the ways of the former. Now, instead of reading a description of your “chain lightning” spell arcing from your hands and zipping from target to target across the battlefield, you got a block of text that said “target an enemy within this range with this ability score against this defense value, and deal lightning damage if you hit. Then target another enemy, and deal more lightning damage to it if you hit”, and so forth. (I do not think this is immersion-breaking; rather, your imagination must simply work harder to provide an image of these things, instead of it being provided for you.) In addition, every class had a very similar form of advancement to each other – now, instead of spells being exclusive to spellcasters, every class had their own use of “powers” determined by their class (which was divided into four archetypes like 2e, but based on their functional design in combat: striker, defender, leader, and controller). Instead of being of a certain spellcasting level, and having the caster able to cast spells of a certain level a certain number of times per day (sort of like “Vancian” spellcasting), these powers could be used either at-will, once per encounter (every 5 minutes or so), or once per day. Most powers were specifically meant for attacking, but there were also “utility powers” that varied in their frequency of use in the same way, and provided effects that didn’t usually deal damage directly and could be used out of combat if so desired. This action economy is referred to as “AEDU”, and it served to balance the classes in a way where they would all be fun to play in combat – at the cost of spellcasters keeping their uniqueness from non-spellcasters.
Most “powers” were worded for use in combat, and the non-combat elements would mostly be held in other sections of the book, yet not neglected – in the form of rituals, wondrous items, and the like. 4e took combat to a focus unseen in other editions, and entirely relied on grid combat and tactical placement when in a combat scenario – these combats were also made to be more fair, and they tended to take more time due to their detail-oriented and cinematic nature. It was plain to see that as a whole, rather than blending combat and non-combat to form an amalgamation of rules like its predecessors, 4e divided them both; combat would now be its own focus, and much effort was applied to making it as consistent as possible. If you did not like combat, you probably did not like 4e, since so much of it hinged on combat (but then again, there are better systems than any edition of D&D for non-combat roleplay). Rules for noncombat encounters (like puzzles, skill challenges, and interacting with the world) would now have their own, separate sections, and would feel distant from the old-school D&D that players knew – because they, too, were written in the form of specific rules, presented in blocks of information. In fact, to most old-school players, 4e would resemble a video game more than anything else – partly due to the fact that video games were becoming more popular at the time and WotC probably wanted to draw in that audience, and partly due to its rules construction, seemingly designed with emphasis on its framework rather than the “top-down” design of the previous editions; instead of starting with a cool fantasy concept and integrating it into the rules, the rules would be designed first, and those cool fantasy concepts were either implementations or extensions of the already-existing rules. This is known as a “bottom-up” design approach, and has several advantages and disadvantages over a top-down design approach – and I’ll go into more detail on those advantages/disadvantages later.
5e: The current and most popular edition to date, largely due to the return of “retro” pop culture making a resurgence. While this edition didn’t tread much new ground, it was heavily inspired by 3.5e – the presentation is nearly identical to it, despite the content being an amalgamation of the “best parts” of all previous editions. It also simplifies the character creation and advancement process by a lot, and is overall focused on uniting old and new players alike. It can be considered a modernized and streamlined 3.5e for most intents and purposes – and the edition has worked its way into convention due to these strengths. The new ground it does tread involves bits of lore and expansions that both have and haven’t been seen in the past with other editions (mind flayer dragons come to mind).
So there’s “top-down” and “bottom-up” design? How do these differ, and what are their strengths and weaknesses?
As I mentioned before, top-down design involves starting with a cool, final idea in mind, and later applying rules to it, in order to allow the concept to happen. Bottom-up design, on the other hand, starts by making a universal set of directives, or a framework, that can be adapted to several different scenarios, and forming that same cool, final idea by ratifying and expanding the capabilities of that framework without starting from scratch.
For example, let’s say you’re building your own simple tabletop RPG. You have a set of capabilities that you want a wizard to be able to perform: a teleportation spell that allows you to quickly and safely move somewhere in sight, a freezing spell that encases a single target in ice and prevents its movements, a healing spell that can recover your or someone else’s wounds and sicknesses, and a fireball spell that affects a large area. Four quite different spells, and you can choose to implement them however you wish.
- One approach, the “top-down” approach, compels you to start writing about what these spells can do. For example, the teleportation spell seems simple enough to perform – maybe you speak a few words and swing your staff in the direction you want, and you suddenly appear a certain distance away. The fireball spell can consume a large area, and should set things on fire in the vicinity. Freezing may affect water or terrain and hold things in place, and healing should reverse the character’s physical wounds. From there, you can apply those descriptive scenarios in a way that makes sense – they should all have a similar time to cast, the fireball and freezing should obviously do some damage while the heal restores some instead.
- The other approach, or the “bottom-up” approach, compels you to start in the converse way: design the mechanics first. If a spell is cast, whether it’s a fireball, a teleport, or anything else, it needs to be categorized, and their use should be consistent with each other – they should all have unified rules. And what is the practical effects of these spells? Fireballs and freezing spells deal damage and are attacks, so there should be some framework for attacking – those spells are going to be an extension of those attack rules, but might exhibit them somewhat differently. Fireball hits targets in an area, while freezing hits individual things – we have rules for that, so we’ll apply them here. Healing may work in a similar manner, but doesn’t need an attack roll to hit, since an ally probably doesn’t want to avoid it like an attack – it restores health instead, and we have rules for health – what happens if you heal, die, and are healed while dying – we can refer to those. Teleportation should take the same amount of time as the other spells to cast (a “standard action” as represented by the rules of our action economy), but the practical effect is that you can safely and instantly move somewhere else – some other, future abilities might do the same thing, so let’s call it a “teleportation” ability and make some general rules for future abilities of the same type.
Taking either of these approaches give you similar results, but you’ll notice that some of the flavor is sacrificed in the bottom-up approach compared to the top-down approach. That’s because the bottom-up approach treats flavor as an afterthought to the mechanics, while the top-down approach treats the mechanics as an afterthought to flavor. Note that both can still be present, and adding flavor as an afterthought makes more mechanical sense if you’re planning to extend what your system can do. Need to add another class, or different kinds of spells? They can adopt the rules accordingly – a ranger can rain arrows as an area-of-effect attack like the fireball, and a magic item might confer the ability to teleport in a way that’s just slightly different from the wizard’s teleportation spell, but can adopt its rules as a “teleportation” type of movement. Adding flavor foremost, however, shows no doubt that it’s integrated into the design – you will always be confronted with it whenever you interact with any part of the design. This prevents getting too bogged down in the mechanics, but can cause some real imbalance down the road, because you must compare each new thing with the past things, and consider their interactions. The general traits of top-down systems and bottom-up systems are contrasted below:
Top-Down Design (editions other than 4e)
- Strengths: The players are presented with the system’s intent of a positive player experience foremost. The mechanics are abstracted, and everyone at the table can focus on what the system intends – a facilitation of fun, fantasy roleplay that ends up being more free-form without a solid ruleset.
- Weaknesses: Since the mechanical foundation is an afterthought in lieu of the system’s end goal, balance issues run rampant. Additional implementations to the game may be awkward, and have unforeseen interactions that cause unintended consequences that are hard to prepare for or resolve without a good rules foundation.
Bottom-Up Design (4e)
- Strengths: Few issues come up in play, since most situations are clear and easy to resolve. Extension of the rules and adding extra modifications (such as homebrew) becomes extremely easy and non-problematic, due to the rules’ all-encompassing nature.
- Weaknesses: The complexity of the system may make gameplay feel bogged down or “unrealistic” at points – this is especially true for 4e’s combat, and does not generally appeal to players without a curiosity for its inner workings. Fantasy may feel distant when pondering the rules for some time, and must be intentionally realized.
So how does this all make 4e supposedly bad?
It doesn’t – it’s simply different in a way that players at the time (and apparently now) didn’t like, and the only thing that makes it is unpopular. Those philosophies of top-down and bottom-up design don’t exist at odds with each other. In fact, there’s a hidden appeal to players of different demographics that isn’t explicitly mentioned that divides 4e and the other editions. While other editions put the mechanics behind a guise that exudes fun, fantasy, and roleplay potential, 4e exposed and embraced the rules, declaring them to be the foundation of anything that happens in the D&D world – any action can be seen as an extension of the rules, and must adhere to them. In order to do cool fantasy things in most editions, you could point to a spell or bit of text that describes how you do it – but with 4e, you had to know the rules, and how to apply them. Some players in the D&D community rely on abstractions, and would rather not see the inner workings because it detracts from the fun – rules, and even long, flashy combats, were just an obstacle – a “necessary evil” for the sake of organization – in the way of the real fun. But what’s wrong with long and crunchy combats, if that’s where the fun is found? Anyway, those players that prefer abstractions are the current majority, and the people who tend to dislike 4e – there’s nothing wrong with that, and there’s a lot of merit to being confronted with fantasy at every turn above the system’s logistics.
But others – the minority, like myself – are naturally predisposed to think in a way that questions how things work beneath the surface, and have no shame in digging up the mechanics or design philosophies to use in their games. The identity of D&D has never been attributed to “fantasy, without the complex rules” – 2e, its predecessors, and even 3.5e to a degree, are all clear evidence of that, with their specifics and countless references to the rules in different places. The fantasy must be present, however, and 4e presented it in a way that was different, but still adhered to what D&D was known for – the countless splash books and even the core set did not neglect to cover the lore of the world in great fantastical detail, and the Dungeon Master’s Guide even emphasized the ideal DM’s intent of the players interacting with it, just as other editions had done in the past. The rules interactions, of course, went beyond just combat – the rules for exploration, travel, interaction with the environment, using skills to resolve scenarios, and the like were all present, albeit in their own, direct way. The design of a game had to have been done carefully, after all, and the rules that were instantiated had to have been instantiated for certain reasons. And D&D, no matter which way you cut it, is a game, and must have those rules – and if it must have those rules, they must make sense somehow, and seem believable or consistent (you could also say “realistic”, but it is a fantasy game). And the people who think in this way, myself included, are those that I have usually observed to be in the minority – it is not a new observation, and the current D&D community is no exception. So the people who do think in that more pragmatic way and do enjoy playing 4e aren’t somehow “subverting the identity of D&D”; they’re simply participants in the community like everyone else, despite the fact that they’re black sheep – and there’s never been anything wrong with that, either.
Closing Thoughts
Unfortunately, most D&D players – new and old – will not give 4e an earnest look because of the stigma against it. Many arguments exist against it – some that are somewhat legitimate, like the fact that it made every class feel the same (and supposedly monotonous, although this is not the case due to its embrace of specialization), and some nonsensical, like that it’s not really Dungeons and Dragons – and to anyone considering 4th edition, those constant and resounding arguments will most likely dissuade them from even reading the material. It mystifies me why this continues to be the case, but I think it is due in large part to D&D’s complex history developing a collective consciousness within the community that declared the 4th Edition to be taboo. The travesty of 4e to this degree is unjustified, but the disdain of it has been conflated to be the moral law within the community, so there is not much to be done about it.
I think my words have provided an earnest and adequate summary and defense of D&D 4e, but as is common knowledge, none are so blind as those who will not see. This is not written for those with strong predispositions against 4e in an attempt to persuade them – that would be a waste of time and server space. Instead, it’s written for people who want to take a good look at 4e from an objective view, which can be anyone ranging from outsiders of the hobby, to new Dungeons and Dragons hobbyists, to even veteran players, truthfully wondering what exactly happened in the cursed and forgotten years of 2008-2014. Try not to listen to the scathing remarks of the community – give it an earnest look for yourself. This post barely scratches the surface of 4e’s nuance, but I think I’ve written enough here already.
And if Dungeons and Dragons 4th Edition does give you some level of intrigue, the resources are readily available on the internet. That includes the books themselves, as well as other opinions – this is far from the first article written about it, and it’ll be far from the last. There’s a very good chance I will be writing more on 4e in the future, and the adventures to be had within it.
[1] “My DND”. Facebook, 19 May, 2019, 6:00 AM, https://www.facebook.com/mydnd20/posts/winning-caption-by-william-francomb-in-the-my-dnd-grouphttpswwwfacebookcomgroups/381503959236517/. Retrieved on 22 May, 2022.
[2] Scott, Dan. “Character Classes” Chapter Art. 2008. Dungeons and Dragons Player’s Handbook, by Rob Heinsoo, Andy Collins, and James Wyatt, Wizards of the Coast, 2008, p. 50-51.
[3] O’Connor, William. Dragonborn Race Art. 2008. Dungeons and Dragons Player’s Handbook, by Rob Heinsoo, Andy Collins, and James Wyatt, Wizards of the Coast, 2008, p. 34.
[4] Prescott, Steve. “Adventuring” Chapter Art. 2008. Dungeons and Dragons Player’s Handbook, by Rob Heinsoo, Andy Collins, and James Wyatt, Wizards of the Coast, 2008, p. 256-257.
[5] Scott, Dan. “Noncombat Encounters” Chapter Art, 2008. Dungeons and Dragons Dungeon Master’s Guide, by James Wyatt, Wizards of the Coast, 2008, p. 70-71.