Nothing Magical in D&D

Yep, I’m back…back to (nearly) full health, back to work, back to writing (I hope…this is my first stab at anything), back to ranting. Ready to throw out the next bone I’ve got to pick with Dungeons & Dragons.

I hate the lack of magic in the D&D game.

You see this photo? I took this picture with my cell phone back in October while wandering Greenwood. Halloween styling, you know? I thought it was a real piece of old school horror/mystical imagery: the skulls, the skeleton, the “Gypsy fortune teller,” the tarot cards and crystal ball. This display was in the front window of a local flower shop.

At the time, I snapped the picture with the intent of posting it to the blog and talking about the lack of magic in D&D…but October turned out to be a busy month for me and then there were the holidays, etc. But while delving back into the world of fantasy literature I remembered I still had the image stored on my phone and, well, it’s time for Rant #2 of the New Year.

For my taste, there is a profound lack of magic in the game.

What? Disagreement? The appearance of enchanted items and mythical monstrosities and pages and pages of “spells” is evidence to the contrary?

Hardly. There’s nothing all that magical about the treatment of such things in D&D - neither by the game, nor the players (and I include “DM” as a player in this context). When I say “magical,” I’m talking about effects that produce a sense of wonder and a healthy fear (or respect) for the profund mystery of the supernatural. That ain’t what you get in D&D.

See a magical monster: “How do we kill it? How is it vulnerable?”
Find a magic weapon: “What is its bonuses? Does it have charges?”
Cast a magic spell: “What is its effect? Does the target save? How many spells do I have left?”

There is no sense of wonder, nothing that evokes awe in the players. People who play D&D are considered “people of great imagination,” both by outsiders and by themselves. Ha! To me they’re just about the most blasé bunch of adventurers you’ll find in the fantasy game world.

Everything is sooo “ho-hum” to the D&D player when it comes to magic. You find a shiny sword…perhaps it glows in your grip or seems incredibly sharp despite its great age. What do you do?

Player #1: “Hey, who needs a magic sword?”

Player #2: “My cleric can’t use one.”

Player #3: “My dwarf can but I already have a magic axe. Do you think it’s a better weapon?”

Player #4: “Maybe the thief should keep it; she can use it and it’s one more magic weapon doing damage in encounters. Plus, extra backstab damage!”

There’s nothing magical about a magic weapon (or any magic item…they’re generally treated in similar fashion, perhaps with a bit of caution against possible booby-traps, i.e. “curses” or malignant enchantments) in a game of D&D; only a question of its practical value. It’s like finding a box of unused hand grenades while patrolling the jungle in some 3rd world bush war or something: a handy windfall, not anything supernatural or mystical.

Contrast that with the fantasy literature purported to be the basis for the game. Remember my previous rant? No one in a sword & sorcery tale takes such an item for granted. Enchanted items are viewed with suspicion and superstition; fear, awe, and wonder…and a healthy sense of whoa!

Likewise, no one’s blasé about enchantments encountered during adventures or the strange and twisted monsters they encounter. Hell, few fantasy heroes will ever seek to go toe-to-toe with a magical monstrosity unless they either A) have a distinct advantage, B) are faced with life or death choice based on circumstance (i.e. no choice), or C) have been invoked to high passion/emotion (usually revenge or love for an imperiled/harmed companion). Few epic heroes march like Beowulf into the jaws of the dragon…and even Big B might be constrained based on who he is (as Beowulf, he has an honor and duty to fight the monster…to not do so is to extinguish his identity as surely as his death).

But on a D&D adventure, an owl bear is simply a large beast with claws, beak, feathers, and fur. A dragon is simply another beast that may require more cunning tactics to defeat due to breath weapon and spell use. A group of gnolls or bugbears? The only question is: how many are they?

Monsters may be monstrous, they may have a weird appearance, they have dangerous attacks…but it is still just a “thing” to be overcome, through combat or stealth or trickery. Nothing about the D&D monster is respected, save for its potential to kill your character. It is simply a barrier to the accumulation of treasure, i.e. experience “points.”

Where is the awe, the fear at the un-naturalness? Where is the desire to bow down and worship the supernatural monstrosity…or the urge to kneel, weep, and pray to one’s own God for salvation? Nothing compels players to treat these twisted nightmares of imagination as anything more extraordinary than a rabid mastiff.

Spell use, of course, is the most jaded and cynical of all the “magic” found in D&D. What is the ability to cast spells but a simple class ability, no different from a fighter’s ability to wear armor and shoot arrows?

Certainly there is no respectful treatment for spells or those who use them. The only pertinent information players require is the number of spells available and the variety of spells in one’s repertoire. No one consults a priest or wizard on the meanings of dreams or omens, or ask for soothsaying on the future. No one worries that striking or attacking a sorcerer will bring all manner of curses and demons down on the head of the offender. No one wonders at what infernal powers or celestial beings were cajoled into granting the spell-worker his authority over the forces of nature.

Nope, a magic-user is just a dude in a gown, perhaps with a pointy hat and wand, certainly slinging a heavy spell book…and probably the guy forced to carry the light source and extra gear for the party.

And YOU, fair reader, may say “yes, of course it’s like that because that’s what’s in the GAME RULES. In D&D, magic-users (and clerics and druids, etc.) are none of those things found in that good old fantasy literature.”

And I say unto you:

That’s my point exactly.

That’s what sticks in my craw about the game. D&D does NOTHING mechanically, system-wise, to instill any sense of MAGIC or wonder or the supernatural in the players. Ho-hum, it’s O so very interesting to have D&D’s “magic” because it adds a different variety of challenge. But if a glyph of warding is no better or different from a trip-wire arrow trap (save that it requires a different method of disarmament), don’t tell me D&D is some sort of wonderful “fantasy” game based on “fantasy literature.”

And the problem is, I’m not sure how one would make it more magical except by getting “buy off” from all the players that they’ll metagame (i.e. “act out”) the fear and awe and superstition, even while trying to figure out if the magic sword is +1 or +2. But that’s hardly satisfying…I don’t want to have to tell players “okay, suspend your disbelief.” They’re already doing that by pretending to be dwarves and elves. Wouldn't it be cool if the game would do a little bit of the work for you? Meet you halfway?

I think it is the lack of real magical mystery in the D&D game that partly drives James Raggi to do the things he does: Death Frost Doom, for example has multiple instances of unexplainable “weirdness” that attempt to instill awe or dread in a party. But I’ve read play-test reviews where the DM’s players were completely unimpressed with ANY of it, saying, “oh, ok, so what? Where’s the treasure?” Now, I’m sure there are DMs that can exercise a Svengali-like influence over their players generating a suitable mood of discomfort and fear and superstition, BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT THE D&D GAME DOES. And just playing the game as written (with its silly premise) is not going to get anywhere close to it.

D&D lacks magic. All you get is an adventure game with a few types of technology, some different types of fauna from what you find at the local zoo, and a couple character classes with super powers of a decidedly UN-mysterious nature. Compared to the books that “inspired” the game, that’s pretty lame.

“Mundane adventure in a pedestrian world.” Make that your tag-line!