In D&Defense of 4th Edition

For those about to dice, we salute you. 

Among the things I do is play Dungeons & Dragons. Telling stories is a thing I enjoy, and collaborative storytelling with good friends and snacks is a win-win. I play 4th Edition rules in one game as a player and another as the dungeon master.  D&D was instrumental in me wanting to be a writer. Not because it was a well thought out and polished game, but because getting together with my friends and fantasizing about dragons and undead was escapist fun. It's a system that has evolved and changed over time, through forty years of play testing and adjustment.

I grew up on AD&D and remember not liking 2nd Edition, though I don't think I could remember why. I missed 3rd and 3.5 entirely, having tried the latter once. It took me hours to make a character and was bored before we ever started to adventure. A friend and game designer fell in love with a new 4th Edition system. After a 15-year hiatus, I picked my dice again and rolled for initiative when the lizard men attacked. And it was awesome. It combined the group story I loved with a fun combat board game. I was hooked. Again.

Since, I have come to learn that 4th Edition was very divisive. Much of the following came from conversations last summer at ComicCon, while Wizards of the Coast rolled out the new edition with play tests from their newly released Starter Kit. Having bought the Starter Kit and read the rules, I was dubious. With play tests happening at Nerd Prom, I was looking forward to see the new ruleset in action. I was, in the end, not compelled to purchase the new system.

Balance of the Forth

Some of the arguments against 4th Edition, I understand. Like, combat can be slow. Okay, fair enough. 4E does have a learning curve for new players and the combat can run long, especially the first few encounters as you learn the system, and get to understand your character's powers. But it's a fantastic tactical tabletop game. It forces the players to work together against the creatures on the board. But the speed of combat is a solvable issue with a few house rules.*

Another argument I understand is the rules for combat require miniatures, and therefore more money shilled out to the publishers. Again, fair point. It's Wizards forcing us to buy supplements to play their game. Welcome to the 21st century. However, having never used miniatures as a kid, I actually found it helped with visualizing combat, and made it more visceral. Thought it's considerably less fun, a fellow gamer pointed that the game still be played using coins or dice in lieu of miniatures if you don't want to spend money.

Other arguments, I just have to scratch my head at. Like, it's too much like an MMO, and catering too much to the World of Warcraft crowd. To which, I say, so? See the aforementioned fantastic-tactical-tabletop-game comment. And it's not like assigning rogues as dps, clerics as heals, and fighters as tanks isn't an intuitive leap for players.

The balanced classes make it too much of a level playing field and it doesn't matter what class you choose. To which I say, what? Seriously, what? An addendum to that complaint, the mechanics get in the way of the role-playing. I wholly disagree. A level playing field keeps you from wondering if one race or class is so much better than the other and lets you play the type of character you want instead of second guessing your choices. In the old game, wizards were useless-to-terrible at lower levels, and all other classes were the opposite.

The rules for 4E were presented very mechanics heavy, assuming that players wouldn't need a lot of handholding to know how to role play. The new edition does the opposite. It gives the players tools to develop flavor text, and hides the more complicated mechanics of the game in semantics (more on that below).

In the three core rulebooks for 4E, the Player's Handbook, the Dungeon Master's Guide and the Monster Manual, there were a number of complaints that revolved around changes and omissions. Gnomes and Half-Orcs weren't listed as playable races in the initial edition of the Player's Handbook. Instead they got Dragonborn and Tieflings. Outrage! But in the appendix of the Monster Manual, there were stats for making the Gnomes, Half-Orcs and a number of other humanoid monsters into playable characters.

Seriously, though. Dragonborn are dumb. 

Druids, Monks and Bards weren't playable classes. Instead they got Warlords, a new class who directs others on the battlefield. Again, outrage! But it was only a matter of time before those classic classes were introduced in later editions. To include everything in the first edition of the Players Handbook would have been overwhelming to new players, and, as a player of old, I appreciated the inclusion of new races and classes.

In the end, 4th Edition's biggest crime was being different. Too different from previous editions for existing players. The mythology, of a world emerging from a dark age after the empires of the Dragonborn and the Tieflings fell, was not well received. Probably because they were in the Player's Handbook and Gnomes were not. As DMs can create whatever world they want, I find this a hollow complaint. Breaking attacks into classes of at-wills, encounter powers, and daily powers (small, medium, and large) was too far removed from editions past.

Revenge of the Fifth

5th Edition was the system that was to 'fix' all that. And according to their marketing, the designers looked at all of the editions of D&D and chose the 'best' of each edition. Wizard spell books are unnecessarily complicated, just the way they used to be. Fighters have nothing to do in a fight other than swinging their sword, just the way it used to be. Rogues are slightly better balanced, being able to do more damage. But it looks like as the game progresses, Wizards are still ridiculously overpowered just the way it used to be. The combat in the play test at ComicCon was both horribly unbalanced and, worst of all, boring. All the while the DM was spitting vitriol about 4E and how this was 'much better.'

However, the new edition also does an excellent job of hiding some of the more complicated concepts with simple semantics. Minor actions in 4E become bonus actions for classes that need them. The four types of defenses in 4E (Armor Class, Reflex, Fortitude, and Will) is streamlined to one. Kind of. Defenses Fortitude and Will are hidden as saving throws for various creature attacks and spells. Reflex are is rolled into Armor Class, just the way it used to be. Not eliminated, hidden in semantics.

And the rules are presented so that miniatures are optional as a grand return to the Theater of the Mind. But the play test at ComicCon used maps and miniatures to help provide some context to the combat. So, improvement? Or more semantic shenanigans?

There are some nice things about the new edition. The concept of Inspiration is straight up stealing the Benny system from Savage Worlds, which is a system I like a lot. So that I approve of. I've tinkered with it as a reward and it works well for players.

The character background elements are interesting, too. And to their credit, the structure of ideals, bonds, and flaws is nice. However, at the end of the day, it's just a framework for flavor text. Both of those elements I may incorporate in future games, but that doesn't mean I need to buy any of their new product to use them.

As a kid I gravitated to the storytelling aspects of the game, in hindsight, possibly because the combat aspects of the game were so broken and boring. The new system attempts to be like D&D of old, and, for good or ill, it is.

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*Now, for those looking for a faster 4th Edition game here are a few quick suggestions. Pick the person with the highest initiative and then go clockwise in order, so they know who's next. Group like monsters by initiative and rolling all their attacks and damage at once Give players a +1 bonus if they're ready on their turn. Instigate a 'shot clock' and if they fail, they can only use at-wills. 

Are Sharknado and Downton Abbey the same thing? Surprisingly, yes.

Skarknado and Downton, two halves of the same whole. Much like this shark is about to be.

Let's start this off by saying that I’ll acknowledge this is a preposterous premise. And, in fairness, I think I need to give a little context for how I came to this conclusion. I began this exercise while my wife was binge-watching Season 5 of Downton Abbey. I’d watched the previous seasons with her, but I wasn’t getting into this one. So, I posed the question to social media, "what's the opposite of Downton Abbey?” An innocent enough question with no agenda, right? As people started chiming in with suggestions, I started finding reasons why they were somehow connected, however tenuously, either directly or thematically with Downton.

No, Duck Dynasty wasn't the opposite of Downton Abbey because it dealt with a wealthy family resisting the social change of a new century. Major League Baseball was too similar because it was both slow-moving and featured lots of rich people (far richer than I, anyway). Weeds has a brunette, whose romantic endeavors caused complications for her family unit. This is what I was doing. It was harmless fun. Then, Sharknado screenwriter, Thunder Levin, threw down the gauntlet and I accepted his challenge. 

I'm going to show that not only can we draw connections between Sharknado and Downton Abbey, but at their core, they're the same thing. Both are somewhat cultural anomalies. Both know exactly what they are. Both are about keeping family together, while navigating extraordinary circumstances. Lord Grantham and Fin Shepard are mirror images of each other. Likewise, Lady Mary and Nova are the same person. Lady Crawley is April. The forthcoming social change in the 20th century is the non-sensical storm of swirling, angry sharks. 

Still dubious, old chap? Let’s do this.

"Yes, let's, old chap." — Lord Grantham

First, look at the familial patriarchs of the two series, Robert Crawley, the Earl of Grantham, and Fin Shepard, ex-surfing champion and restauranteur. Both are men whose glory days are well past them. Lord Grantham has seen war as an officer in the British Army. He was decorated for his efforts and returned home to run his familial estate and the community that surrounds it. His life is, by comparison, rather tedious. Lord Grantham’s only responsibility is to make sure that Downton doesn’t go broke, and he’s kind of failing at it.

Fin, meanwhile, is a sports hero, whose celebrity is known only to a niche group. He now ekes out a meager living running a dive bar in Santa Monica. His life has fallen into a rut and he has no idea what to do about it. Fin is a bit lost, aimless. His life has become routine as he doles out beers and burgers to a handful of regulars. He needs something more in his life, and when the shark hits the fan, he finally has something to bring focus to his world.

By their own standards, both men are ‘just getting by.’ As both series begin these men have stagnated in their development, and are preoccupied by the needs of their families. Crawley is looking to secure the future of his estate. Both men have similar flaws. Both men are obsessed with responsibility. With no male heirs, Lord Grantham must do his best to ensure his family’s security by making sure his daughters marry well. Fin, meanwhile, despite being told numerous times that his ex-wife is not his responsibility anymore, responds to danger with an instinctual need to ensure the safety of his family. His only driving force in the first Sharknado is to get his family to a safe place.

It’s arguable that Fin’s flaw is he has no flaws. He’s constantly being referred to as ‘too good.’ The truth is, Fin doesn’t listen to anyone around him. He’s stubborn, selfish, and so desperate to reclaim his ‘hero’ status that he’ll do anything to get it. He doesn’t listen when Nova and Baz suggest safer courses of action throughout the first film, he doesn’t listen to his wife when she tells him she’s not his responsibility any more, and he doesn’t listen to science when it comes to exploding sharknados with bombs thrown from a helicopter. Sure, Lord Grantham is painted with more subtle strokes, but his flaws are eerily similar. He’s very hard to dissuade once he’s set his mind on something, and recognizes that his responsibilities extend far beyond his immediate family. As leaders, both men know that if they show signs of cracking, everyone around them will crumble and succumb to chaos.

"I'm sorry, I don't really care for sharks." — Lady Mary

Sharknado doesn’t quite have the depth of regular characters that Downton Abbey does, but there are significant overlaps. Lady Mary and Nova are both strong characters who are unsatisfied with their lives. Both seek romance in the wrong places. Both characters are restless. Both are conflicted, completely at odds with their base needs. While Nova struggles between seeking affection from and willingness to do anything for the series patriarch, Fin, Lady Mary is torn between rebellion against and devotion to both her father and her duty. Also, both ultimately come to the conclusion that they have to concede their own needs to serve the greater good. Nova steps aside so that Fin can reconnect with his true love, April, and Mary accepts her duty and recognizes that her initially loveless marriage to Matthew will save her home and community. Plus, Nova hates sharks almost as much as Lady Mary hates her sister, Edith. 

As for Lady Cora, the Countess of Grantham, and Fin’s ex and future wife, April, we have matriarchs with a unique, and somewhat anomalous characteristic as an identifier. Lady Cora is an American living among English nobility, and April has a robot-hand that’s also a secretly a chainsaw. Am I saying being an Amercian is equal to a robot-chainsaw hand? At the risk of editorializing, I am. This makes them curiosities in their respective worlds. As characters, however, both are just kind of there. Both are without any real needs or desires beyond family, and are completely defined by their relationships to others. They seem there more to serve plot than character. If either April or Lady Grantham were to die, neither series would really suffer from their loss. I’ll also point out that April does also share a very important characteristic with the wizened Lady Violet in that they represent the past. Meaning, Fin and Lord Grantham will do anything to please them.

Nobility, thy name is April.

As for their cultural significance, the fact that Downton Abbey, a melodramatic soap opera delivered with critical levels of British stiff-upper-lipped-ness, has reached pop-culture status is kind of a miracle. It’s a BBC show shown on PBS. Two things many Americans may not have heard of. Considering the first season arc revolved around the drama of whether Lady Mary would end up indescribably wealthy or just incredibly wealthy, it’s amazing it appealed to anyone who wasn’t of noble birth themselves. The fact that I watch it, having grown up on a steady diet of Spielberg films and 80s cartoons, says something to its appeal. It’s also absolutely not afraid of wholly embracing its overly-melodramatic soap opera roots for shock value (Matthew’s motorcar death in Series Three) or stunt casting for ratings (George Clooney in the Downton Abbey Christmas Special). And if there’s one thing that Sharknado can do well, it’s over-the-toppedness shock and stunt casting.  

Likewise, Sharknado is a glorious fluke. In a world of Mansquitos, and Sharktopuses, and Mega-Piranhas, there was no real reason to predict that Sharknado would have the cultural impact it has received. It caught the pop-subconsciousness and has yet to let go. It wasn’t any more special or absurd than any of the other Asylum projects at the time, but it took hold in a way that has yet to be replicated. But not for a lack of trying. Since then, they’ve been trying to recreate or force the phenomena again. My dear, Lavalantula, you can’t force virality, you can only hope to reap the benefits from it. 

Ah, you say, but there are zero sharks in Downton Abbey, so shut up. And as much as I think we’d all like to see sharks fall on Downton, I don’t think we’re ever going to get it, sadly. (But we can all quietly hope for Sharknado 4: I Said, Good Day, Sir!)

In the films, sharknados tear through the landscape without logic or reason. The first film made some effort to somewhat justify sharks in a storm. The later films, not so much. They are entropy incarnate, taking the form of weather anomalies and bitey sharks destroying everything in their path. Just like the slow chaos that threatens to eat at everything around Downton. This may seem like a thin argument, but, everything that Downton represents is tradition. History. Nobility. A man’s place at the head of his house, and a woman’s role in society. All of these things are challenged throughout the series. New thinking, new technologies, new social norms, indeed, a new Century, are all set to upset the status quo and force the inhabitants of Downton to adapt (or not) to their new conditions. Consider the pace at which Downton moves, and the challenges come at the house for all intents and purposes at machine gun — nay, tornado — speed. 

In the end, Lord Grantham, like Fin Shepard, just does his best to weather the storm with his family in tact. That universal understanding connects us all.