You can lend your aid to another creature in the completion of a task. When you take the Help action, the creature you aid gains Advantage on the next ability check it makes to perform the task you are helping with, provided that it makes the check before the start of your next turn.
Sometimes two or more characters team up to attempt a task. The character who’s leading the effort–or the one with the highest ability modifier–can make an ability check with advantage, reflecting the help provided by the other characters. In combat, this requires the Help action.
A character can only provide help if the task is one that he or she could attempt alone. For example, trying to open a lock requires proficiency with thieves’ tools, so a character who lacks that proficiency can’t help another character in that task.
Moreover, a character can help only when two or more individuals working together would actually be productive. Some tasks, such as threading a needle, are no easier with help.
So it’s not enough to Help by holding the thief’s tool kit while they are picking the lock, or shouting encouragement to the guy trying to climb a cliff wall. You have to be able to do the thing you are assisting, and describe how you are helping.
What is the difference between Help and Working Together? The former is an action type during combat. As GM, I might be a little lenient on combat-setting “how are you helping?” actions, e.g., “I stand there, looking menacing at the attacking goblins, while screening the Rogue from view as she tries to pick the lock so we can get out of here” (you’re not directly assisting with the lockpicking, but you are sacrificing your action to let the Rogue focus on their without worrying about being stabbed = Advantage!).
Helping with Combat Rolls
More frequently, Help is applied directly to combat situations, as well.
Alternatively, you can aid a friendly creature in attacking a creature within 5 feet of you. You feint, distract the target, or in some other way team up to make your ally’s Attack more effective. If your ally attacks the target before your next turn, the first attack roll is made with Advantage.
This might be a way, for example …
If you know the opponent has resistance or immunity to your flaming sword, maybe you can be more effective Helping the other fighter with a cold-based weapon.
If you know the opponent will be hit harder and more effectively by an ally (because of the nature of their weapon, or just because they have a huge damage bonus on strength), you might consider whether its worth effectively giving up your attack(s) for them to get an attack at Advantage.
While a Rogue will be automatically able to Sneak Attack if you’re within 5 feet of a target, giving them Advantage to deal out that ton of damage they’re about to roll may be tactically the best course.
Note that this not a matter of Reach, but a 5 foot limit. So if someone with a Glaive wants to provide Help, they need to step in to 5, not hang out at 10 feet.
Also note that Help is just for the first attack. That makes it somewhat more useful at lower levels, when you are only sacrificing one attack to make that happen, and the bonus is going to the only attack the attacker has yet.
Also note that you are Helping a specific attacker. “I am going to help the Rogue with their attack on the goblin I’m next to.” If the Paladin goes after the goblin first, they so not get the Advantage bonus. And if the Rogue decides on a different target, the Help has been wasted.
Help is also usable to assist with spell attacks, granting advantage on any sort of spell attack roll against that target.
Finally, Help is an action frequently assigned to familiars and animal companions and the like — these often cannot attack, but can be commanded (or urged) to “Help the Fighter!” (“Bark bark!”)
As a GM, I like to encourage players to give me some idea of what they are doing to “help” in this way. “I wave my hands and attract the orc’s attention.” “I try to keep her sword busy clinched with mine.” “I shout, ‘Ashtuk, is that you?'” No mechanical effect is applied except the Advantage it provides, but it’s nice color regardless.
Questions about this pop up sooner or later in every campaign, as it’s an area that 5e either does fine or poorly, depending on which online forum you go to or specific question you examine.
So what happens when instead of bashing each other with hunks of steel or eldritch energies, you get up-close and personal
You can attack to Grapple
This is discussed on PHB 195. Essentially you use one of your Attacks to make a skill contest:
Attacker: roll Strength (Athletics)
Defender: roll Strength (Athletics) or Dex (Acrobatics)
In other words, Grapplers need to be a lot better at that skill, or be pretty darned strong.
If you win, the target is Grappled (technically, has the Grappled condition, PHB 290).
Which, honestly, doesn’t do much. It basically reduces Speed to 0, even if it has other features that increase its speed beyond base.
But a grappled target can still punch grappler, stab them, etc. They are more restrained by being within 5′ of their grappler (which gives them Disadvantage on spell attacks or ranged attacks), but melee attacks are just fine.
Grappling does keep the grappled target from running away until help arrives or until the target breaks the Grapple. They can try that by taking their Action to roll Strength (Athletics) or Dex (Acrobatics) vs the grappler’s Strength (Athletics) again.
The grappler can also slowly (half speed) drag a grappled target with them — or continue attacking them at close range (with no particular advantage, and with the same disadvantages).
Note:
When you have Grappled someone, you are not yourself considered Grappled.
When you have Grappled someone, you are using up one hand (the other hand is considered free for attacks, etc.)
Aside from breaking free of the Grapple through a contest, it can also be broken by:
The grappler being Incapacitated.
An effect knocking the grappled target out of the reach of the grappler or the Grappling effect, e.g., being knocked away by a Thunderwave.
What if more than one person at a time is Grappling you?
While executing a Grapple takes one Attack (of however many you have within your Attack action), escaping a Grapple takes an entire Action. If more than one person has you Grappled, you can only escape one Grapple per turn … which means tag-teaming Grapplers can seriously cause you a problem.
Monster and Spell Grapples and Restraints
This is where things get a little tricky. Or more straightforward. You decide. The Grappled and Restrained conditions are quite separate, but come up a lot in spell and monster attacks: e.g., a Giant Octopus grapples you with tentacles; a Web spell causes the Restrained condition (PHB 292).
Just like with a Grapple, a Restrained creature’s speed becomes 0, and it can’t benefit from any bonus to its speed.
Attack rolls against the Restrained target have Advantage, and the their attack rolls have Disadvantage.
The Restrained target also has Disadvantage on Dexterity saving throws.
(Note that the Grappler feat lets the grappler get Advantage on the Grappled target — but, more interestingly, it lets a grappler roll a second Grapple attack, which, if it succeeds, means both the grappler and the grappled target are both Restrained. Which actually seems kinda sucky.)
So, Dave, how do I do something useful with this?
Grappling by itself is kind of limited in what it can do. But with a little work, it can make an effective attack. So how do you grab an opponent and actually subdue him.
The vast consensus I’ve read on this is Grapple them (so they can’t get away) and then do a Shove attack (PHB 195, same Ability checks as the Grapple) to knock them Prone …
… at which point they get the Prone condition’s effects (PHB 292), and as Prone:
they can only crawl (but not if they’re Grappled and at speed 0!)
or they can get up (but not if they’re Grappled and at speed 0!)
they are at a Disadvantage to attack (Prone!)
attacks on them have Advantage (Prone!)
… and they probably have to use their whole Action to try to desperately break the Grapple.
Are you, the attacker, also Prone at that point? A good question. Consensus seems to be “No, but describe what you are doing to your DM.” I’d think of it as the arm twist behind the guy on the ground; you’re enough on your feet that you are not considered Prone, and can defend attacks normally (albeit with one hand), etc.
Given that, as long as you maintain this, you can continue attacking the Grappled+Prone guy and other folk can attack them, too, with Advantage, and that should distract them from attacking you back (as they desperately try to break the Grapple).
There will be SPOILERS. If you are playing in a PotA game, please don’t read this. If you are DMing a PotA game, or are a DM who wants to see what the ride was like … read on!
Our group’s previous game was winding up — the whole big Tyranny of Dragons two-fer, GMed by a friend of ours — and I was hankering to do some DMing myself.
This is that story.
So who am I?
I’ve been playing FRPGs (as Fantasy TTRPGs used to be called, back before being Table-Top was a minority position) for over four decades — but rarely actual D&D.
In college my gaming group did a lot of homebrew FRPGs. Mine was loosely based on mechanics from Runequest. While other students were spending their Saturday nights getting blitzed, I was reworking my spell books and setting up errata for the following Friday’s game. Or hand-drawing elaborate invitations for same. I had no life, but it was good. (It was especially good because it was in a friend’s game that I met my future wife, so huzzah for gaming!)
Post-college, I got heavily into GURPS (oh, the crunchiness!), a variety of Super-Hero RPG rules, and Amber Diceless Roleplaying (oh, the non-crunchiness!).
In the early 00s through 10s, the gaming group I was in got pulled into the D&D 3.5 orbit, and we did a lot of different games and settings. I myself DMed a number of campaigns, including some fun spy-based stuff (run both under FATE and using the D20 Spycraft rules). We also did a lot of indie RPGs — Sorcerer, Nobilis, and the like.
The 20s brought the Virtual Tabletop — an answer to “How do we, as adults with kids, drive to a game after work, play a game, drink beer during the game, then drive home safely after the game?” We were eventually doing Roll20 stuff well before COVID, and loving it. Sure, it meant much less of an excuse to binge on Nacho Cheese Doritos, but it meant a lot more opportunity to game, and with people outside the geographical area. We did a lot of gaming in that context, but some of my favorite used Powered by the Apocalypse (PbtA) rulesets, esp. Masks.
And then a friend of ours offered to DM a game for his wife, and me, and my wife (the same one as see first bullet above) — the whole Tyranny of Dragons D&D 5e campaign. And this led to much buying of 5e books. And we would do it over Roll20 (even though we lived just 5 minutes away from each other) because (a) parenting and then (b) COVID. And it all worked beautifully.
Which, again, once it came to a close, was my cue to step up and be the DM for the first time in a decade-plus. No small trepidations there, but, rather than rolling my own scenarios, I’d be using modules, which … for better or worse … I thought I could deal with. But what would I DM …?
The Campaign’s the Thing
My criteria for what we were going to play?
I wanted an official WotC campaign. That seemed the safest bet. It was limiting, but I figured it had the biggest resource base (producer and players) and so would be the best errata’d and “fixed” through both the company and the community.
I wanted something that would run characters up through most of their potential levels. In other words, a long game. Going from 1-5 would then mean looking for something more. If I could find a game, like the Tyranny of Dragons, that would take the characters up toward the max, I’d be quite happy.
I wanted something supported by Roll20, our VTT of choice (or at least what we were used to, and that’s a debate for another forum). I mean, I was sure I could scan something in and build maps and things like that, but I didn’t want to bite off more than I could chew. (Ha!)
So I read through reviews, weighing things that looked cool vs. things that looked daunting. And finally decided on Princes of the Apocalypse — a wide-ranging, level 1-15ish (13, actually, but some of the lit says 15) romp across open terrain and underground and fighting against the end of the world as we know it.
And, overall, it was a good choice. It’s a complex project, lots of moving parts, and very sandboxy (or, rather, non-railroady). In ToD, it all felt like “Okay, you have done X, now on to do Y.” In PotA, it’s much more, “Okay, you have done X … what are you doing now. Oh, yeah, there’s Y, Z, Q, and any other direction one might want to go.”
Let me do a quick eval of PotA and some of its strengths and weaknesses.
PotA Writing and Age and Support
PotA came out in 2015, one of the earliest 5e campaigns (though post-ToD), which means lots of folk have played it and DMed it. While this could mean spoilers, etc., it also means that there’s a lot of advice for things to do/not do, supplemental home-brewed materials, and so forth. I drew on that a lot, and will highlight materials I used further down the line.
It is, though, an “older” game, meaning that a lot of the lessons that WotC (and others) have learned in module construction in 5e since the system went live aren’t here. There are places where it plays more straightforwardly than it might, and places were it’s not quite as sophisticated a story as possible. A good DM, though, will be ready to apply appropriate scalpel and spackle to make those rough edges work.
There are also some weird disconnects between the artwork and the text — due, from what I’ve read, to a months-long gap between when the illustrations (including maps) were due and the text of the module finally pinned down. As a result, there are rooms that have content that doesn’t match the description, places where maps are mislabeled, or where imagery in the book doesn’t match up with the story which doesn’t line up with the maps (the layout of Feathergale Spire and Sighing Valley and the larger scale maps and where the compass points are and so forth is nuts).
For that matter, the book has a big appendix of “here’s some crazy concepts we had about what these sorts of characters look like, but rejected as too crazy,” which is awesome, but they don’t always have what they actually settled on.
There were also way too many places that were significant settings, but with no maps to go with them. Beliard? Womford? Summit Hall? Sorry, we blew our budget on Red Larch. A lot of the side missions, especially out of Red Larch are similarly short-changed.
(Note: between the time I started the campaign and the time I ended, 2½ years later, I discovered a minor industry on Etsy that filled in some of those gaps that I filled in myself. The Internet can be your friend.)
Similarly, I’m a believer that if you, as a module, are going to name an individual, you should give us, the players and DM, an image of them — even if it’s a stock image, or not all that complex. PotA continuously let me down here, and that got compounded once we got into Roll20.
The Virtual Tabletop
The Roll20 support of PotA was huge factor, and it made a tremendous difference. I never want to do a non-VTT D&D game again. And the Roll20 adaption itself was … not bad. Indeed, in places, it was invaluable, with the dynamic lighting already mapped out (halfway decently, and as time went on, I did a lot of remapping of that dynamic lighting).
In other places it was also not good — or not as good as I wanted. Most of the dungeon maps were done at half-scale, blown up to the point of fuzziness, and didn’t align to a 5-foot grid (in the book they have a 10-foot grid and are really set up for that, but that’s not how 5e works). Light sources were also inconsistently applied (compared to the text descriptions).
There wasn’t a single map I didn’t end up tweaking in one place or another — adding in a detail that was described but not illustrated, changing the light/shadow barriers, changing the token layout, etc.
I paid money for this token?
Speaking of tokens, aside from some mediocre token art or cropping suggestions in too many places, there were also way too many cases where named characters (characters with backstory and motivation and so forth) either didn’t get their own tokens (e.g., these two NPCs are merchant traders with names, but we’re going to use the same “Noble” token to represent each of them), or else tokens with just their name in text.
This drove me nuts, and I spent a lot of time redoing or creating new tokens. (Tokenstamp is your friend!)
Another area I found frustrating with the Roll20 adaptation out of the box is that they had too coarse a granularity in how text was broken down into journal entries. Too many things (or people!) that should have been in in their own entries came lumped together, making both sharing material or using it (or even finding it with the simple title search engine!) a big pain. I ended up, again, investing a lot of time into breaking stuff up into logical chunks and vastly reorganizing it to my use and way of looking for things. While this helped me understand the material a lot better, it still felt like I was gamma testing the whole module
Overall, the Roll20 implementation of PotA is a huge time-saver for VTT users (beyond just the value of VTT systems themselves). What was provided was far better than my having to start with a PDF or hardcopy module and adapting it into the VTT. But the fit and finish were … not up to snuff for my taste. WotC needed to supply more art resources; Roll20 needed to improvise where WotC didn’t.
The PotA Sandbox
There were plenty of warnings that this was a difficult campaign to DM — and, to a degree, play — because of the openness of the world. Railroading is a cardinal sin for D&D; as a player, I like an indication of where the story wants me to go, but an option to outflank it.
PotA commits the opposite sin of railroading — lack of guidance. There are usually prompts of things that are brewing that the players can choose be guided by, but often multiple prompts, in multiple directions, with multiple ways of getting to them. There are a thousand different courses one might take, and very few guard rails to keep your characters from (a) skipping stuff that they really shouldn’t be skipped, or (b) getting into over-their-heads trouble too early.
Part of dealing with that is just DM management (putting up guard rails, hidden or not), part of it is learning to let go a bit.
The other thing the sandbox meant as we got into it was that prep for me as DM was much more … holistic. “Where are they going next” became “Where might they go next, and where might they go that I’m not thinking of.” That had an upside because it meant I had to read (and regularly re-read) a lot of material ahead of time (letting me come up with interesting ways to tie it together that aren’t in the book), but it also meant always feeling like I was running the Red Queen’s Race to stay ahead of my players — or calling to mind in The Fugitive Deputy Marshall Gerard’s comment about Richard Kimball’s flight:
All right, listen up, ladies and gentlemen, our fugitive has been on the run for ninety minutes. Average foot speed over uneven ground, barring injuries, is 4 miles per hour. That gives us a radius of six miles. What I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in that area.
That’s what it took to consider where the players might go next.
All that said, there is a delicate balance between players being led by the nose from encounter to encounter, and players being clueless as to what to do next. PotA leans toward the latter a bit too much, which makes more work for the GM if the players are not to be frustrated.
Storytelling
There’s a metric ton of stories going on in PotA, both side bits (Red Larch alone could support a campaign) and in the overall saga. The number of types of “dungeons” one encounters is extraordinary. Each of the four Keeps feels very different, for example, as do the elemental Nodes. And the underlying epic — the history of the Dessarin Valley and Tyar-Besil, the battle between evil elemental princes and how it’s played out in the Keeps and Temples, the characters in the Keeps and Temples and Nodes — it’s all very rich, and a lot to play with.
Unfortunately, a lot of it gets thrown away, unseen. Unless the GM really digs into their imagination, there’s little opportunity for the players to learn much of anything about most of the oppo characters encountered, aside from some brief monologuing by the bosses before they get gacked. If you rotated the Prophets in the Temples (Aerisi as Prophet of Fire, Marlos as Prophet of Air, etc.), it really wouldn’t significantly change the story, because there isn’t really an opportunity to interact with them (or their followers) in a meaningful way.
(For all we get descriptions about the different mentalities of each cult’s membership and motivation, when it comes to a wave of mooks charging at you at 5th Level, its really doesn’t seem to matter much which cult they are from.)
There are also a few places where the story makes little sense. Mapping out the course of the Mirabar Delegation, when/where they were taken, and their later travels as captives of the Black Earth cult (e.g., the basis for the Shallow Graves encounter) makes absolutely no sense. Or, rather, you can handwave some sense into it, but it’s a rough haul, and the book blithely ignores / underexplains it. It’s up to the GM to papier mâché something that will hold together.
That all said, it’s still a rollicking adventure that presents challenges and increasing pressure for the players to avert the rise of the Princes. Whether a group is a hack-and-slasher, or leans heavily into role playing, a GM can tailor the campaign accordingly with what’s given.
It’s a long haul, and not an easy one, but it can all work out out well.
Essential Resources
These sites and links were really useful to me when I was starting off:
A Guide to Princes of the Apocalypse – A tonne of discussion and notes and summaries chapter analyses and observations and maps and links. Worth reading and re-reading at strategic points of the game.
So I kept extensive notes through most of this campaign. My goal is to share them here in this blog, covering the 84 sessions of play we had over a couple-plus years. It may provide some insights over how to run the game, or just some general DM notes.
We had fun with this campaign. I hope you do, too.
One of D&D 5e’s strengths is trying to keep things simple. There’s a fair amount of complexity, but after 4e’s highly tactical structure, 5e leans on the KISS principle where it can.
That said, the DMG provides all sorts of optional rules that can add in a bit of crunchiness to things, or a bit of complexity (fun fact: Feats are optional rules.). Early on in my Princes of the Apocalypse campaign, I decided the following would not be part of my game, and I had no regrets.
Flanking
I gave some very serious thought to using the optional Flanking rules from the DMG (p. 251):
Flanking on Squares. When a creature and at least one of its allies are adjacent to an enemy and on opposite sides or corners of the enemy’s space, they flank that enemy, and each of them has advantage on melee attack rolls against that enemy.
When in doubt about whether two creatures flank an enemy on a grid, trace an imaginary line between the centers of the creatures’ spaces. If the line passes through opposite sides or corners of the enemy’s space, the enemy is flanked.
I’ve been playing D&D with miniatures my entire gaming career (hex and squares), so the whole “Theater of the Mind” that 5e tries to get back to after the uber-tactical 4e is, for me, just not something I can do. As such, Flanking (which was big in 3, 3.5, and 4) feels natural. “Get on either side of that dude; he can’t protect himself from all directions.”
The consensus (though not unanimous) conclusion of the Internet is that the 5e Flanking rule doesn’t work well:
Advantage is too big of an, um, advantage for this (“Advantage is an enormous benefit that lands 13 or higher 50% of the time, is almost twice as likely to crit, and has 1/20th times as likely to botch.”).
Maneuverability in combat is now easy enough (previous editions allowed Opportunity Attacks when walking around an opponent) that Flanking allows Advantage to come up too often, unbalancing everything (and deprecating a lot of other rules / Feats / actions that provide Advantage).
It’s been suggested that, as a house rule, rather than Advantage, a small uptick in the To Hit could be given (e.g., +1 or +2). This, though, flies in the face of 5e’s philosophy to avoid those endless kind of plusses/minuses that became overwhelming (it’s thought) in 4e and slowed everything down; that was the point of the Advantage/Disadvantage rules. (Roll20 makes it a little easier, but I understand their point.)
One suggestion I’ve also seen is that the Help move (PHB 192) takes the place of Flanking:
Alternatively, you can aid a friendly creature in attacking a creature within 5 feet of you. You feint, distract the target, or in some other way team up to make your ally’s attack more effective. If your ally attacks the target before your next turn, the first attack roll is made with advantage.
Help is way underutilized as a move; for player characters, there’s always a “But I want to be the one to hit him!” feeling. But the suggestion has been made that, esp. against a powerful opponent, this maneuver actually does more net good by helping a high-damage person hit more reliably, and its use doesn’t break anything.
So, for the time being, I don’t do the optional Flanking rules.
Facing
I am also don’t using the optional Facing rules (DMG 252), which are pretty crunchy and, honestly, are more of a PitA on a VTT because of the need to define facing of, and perform rotation on, the tokens. 5e has a sort of situational awareness vibe going on, and, as an Ease of Use rule, I’m fine with that.
Fumbling
This isn’t actually a 5e optional rule, but I grew up with Fumbling — having some sort of ill effect happen on a Nat 1, beyond just missing — being a Big Thing, and everyone sill always laughs about what happens when someone (preferably not them) rolls really poorly.
I eventually ran accross a ThinkDM article with the best reason for not having Fumbles (Nat 1 rolls) “do something bad,” especially in combat.
As characters advance, they get (in most classes) the ability to make multiple attacks each turn. This is particularly true with Fighters, who eventually can be making four attacks in a turn.But if you have a 5% (1/20) chance of fumbling in any given attack, the cumulative chances of fumbling in a round begin to climb …
Wait, what?
Missing is bad enough; a more disastrous effect becomes counterintuitive. Or, as the article notes, “A level 20 Fighter shouldn’t be dropping their weapon every 30 seconds.”
(A thought that comes to mind is having the “fumble” effect/table kick in only on the last attack of someone’s chain. So our intrepid fighter still only has a 5% chance in any given round, and if they want to play it uber-safe, they can sacrifice their last attack as they “take their time.” I’m not going to do that, but it would ameliorate a lot of the concern.)
Of course, a lot of that depends on the fumble table one uses. This was a table that described the “special effect” that came with a fumble — not just a miss, but a humiliating miss. This one, from the Arduin Grimoire, was all the rage back in my college days (though in those distant times it was rendered in cuneiform on clay tablets):
Ouch
It was a simpler, more blood-thirsty time.
Still, at the level of abstraction 5e runs at, there’s really no good cause for this that can’t be covered by color text or, in case of a real run of bad luck, a symbolic penalty of some sort. That’s up to the GM to adjudicate.
Anyway, math.
ADDENDUM: Here’s an additional ThinkDM idea: a Fumble only occurs if you fumble all of your attacks on your turn. That means that higher-level folk are much, much less likely, though it can be, um, very unfortunate for that 1st level fighter. An even better alternative raised in the comments there would be to have a Crit or a Fumble provide Advantage/Disadvantage for the next roll for 1 turn. If I were going to adopt anything as a house rule (which I don’t think I am), it would probably be this last one.
Have the rules for dungeon survival changed much over the years?
Read an article at CBR.com on “How to Survive an Old-Fashioned Dungeon,” by Jennifer Melzer, and it made me think of how my group is doing in the somewhat-old-fashioned Princes of the Apocalypse campaign.
So … let’s take look!
Carry a Light Whenever Possible
Old school, yes, this was essential. It still is — key races don’t have Darkvision (etc.). On the other hand, in my opinion, this quickly gets into logistical annoyance. How many torches are you carrying? How much longer will your torch last? How’s the lamp oil supply doing? Do you have to drop your torch to use your weapon? Did the torch get left behind when you fled? Is the DM keeping track of that stuff, or the players?
Speaking as a player, that was never fun. In our college homebrews, we just figured that “Continual Light batons” were SOP at the magic markets and left it at that. (We also called them “Continual Light begonias,” which was much funnier after a few beers.)
In PotA, between an early light-emitting artifact the party found (per the module) and light spells the party has, this has not been a real issue. Indeed, it’s often been the opposite, with my occasionally having to warn the party (before or after they are bushwhacked) that wandering down dark halls while brightly lit up will probably not help their Stealth rolls.
(Side note here: VTTs that manage lighting / vision, like Roll20, can be fussy and fiddly, but, damn, the effect is awesome.)
Never Separate the D&D Party
A general truism, even today. Technically speaking, encounters are scaled for the full party — splitting the party means you’re going to run into things you are not ranked up for. Similarly, challenges of various sorts are often keyed to abilities or knowledge that only a subset of the party has; if a different subset encounter them, frustration ensues.
That said, sometimes it makes logistical sense to split things up, especially if it’s to send someone on an errand back through already-cleared terrain. As a GM, I try to play it fairly: no intentional piling on a wandering warrior, but no pulling punches, either. Random encounters can be a thing, though they can also be more easily scaled down to fit the people who are off in another direction.
The worst part about a split party is that it makes keeping the multiple groups all engaged and interested a greater challenge. I’ve played as a player in games where a split meant sitting around, bored, for 45 minutes while the DM did side quest stuff with their favorite players. Not good show.
Create a Dungeon and Map As You Go
Wow. I remember when we had to do that. Always bringing graph paper to the game– “You said the room was left three squares and up four squares from the door?” Especially pre-battle maps, this was always a PitA, and a guarantee of error-filled “Wait, how can this room be here, that would overlap this other room” time-wastage.
Again, VTTs can solve this problem quite neatly. In Roll20, our party can easily see where on the level they’ve been, its contours, etc. It’s a bit of realism compromise that works.
Note that this is most important if you are playing on a grid (my preference). If you are doing “Theater of the Mind,” it’s a lot easier to abstract out this kind of stuff, even if the picture-is-a-thousand-words aspect of maps is more difficult to handle that way.
Don’t Underestimate the Dungeon’s Environment
Environmental challenges can make things interesting, and different from endless corridors and rooms. Different dungeons should have different feels. PotA has been good at this, aided thematically by the elemental cults involved, and the nodes have been particularly strong this way, leading to environments that are not just window dressing, but actual challenges in and of themselves. Fighting a melee in a wind that requires a STR save each round to avoid being pushed back, or exploring a realm of underground rivers and lakes and waterfalls exercises different mental muscles, and gives the DM different tools to make encounters more challenging than just adding more mooks.
Having the environment — breezes, smells, sounds, even tastes in the air — changing and giving clues (some legitimately misleading) can and should keep people on their toes.
Exercise Caution with Everything in the Dungeon
I’m not a believer, at all, in the Killer Dungeon. It quite quickly turns into Not-Fun, and for me, D&D is about story-telling, not body count. Tapping every floor tile, checking for traps at every door, getting killed by gold slime masquerading as a door knob … that’s just not my cuppa, as player or GM. Being hypercautious all the time slows the story down, and gets repetitive, and disasters meted out by such things then feel arbitrary and unfair.
That said, the occasional trap, deadfall, Mimic, etc., where it makes sense, can keep people on their toes. Complaisance should not necessarily kill, but some good woundings are reasonable.
PotA is pretty good here. There are a few puzzles, a few traps, but not so many that it becomes a drag. In fact, I might have asked that it be a bit more challenging — people, esp. our Rogue, sometimes are sometimes a bit blasé about scouting things out, and a few more traps might worth inserting.
Avoid Unnecessary Enemy Encounters
Define “unnecessary”.
I agree that full-dungeon sweeps aren’t necessary. They might not even be fun. But if the encounters (and their treasure) have been well designed, skipping some of them can also mean missing out on some fun things, even under the rubric of We’ve beaten the Big Bad in this zone, let’s get out of Dodge before our spell slots run out. And, again, if things have been written well, the treasure or other clues that drop from an encounter might be useful, or even necessary, later on in the campaign.
That said, not all enemy encounters need be combat, either. Trickery or even honest negotiation can be useful, and it’s up to the DM to figure out when this might actually make sense. Allied but rival factions might step aside; outnumbered mooks might surrender (and then maybe fight another day). Murder hoboes can be fun to play … for a while. But they make it hard to tell a good story.
PotA provides a lot of hooks here — distinctive costumes to wear, passwords, competitive enemy factions you can play against each other, and material pre-written that you can use if the party decides to bluff its way in rather than just leave pools of enemy blood on the floor. The players in my game have tended to under-utilize this option, sometimes to my frustration, but it’s good that possibility was considered.
Don’t Give the DM Ideas to Use Against You
We once had an informal rule at our table: if the player suggested an terrifying explanation for something that was worse than what the GM originally had in mind … it was off limits. For a while, at least.
The advantage of playing with a canned module is there’s not that kind of temptation.
In sum …
The article in question shows how much hasn’t changed in the world of FRPGs. Most of these rules still apply, as moderated by the quality of the DM, the module (as applicable), and the players. Some of the old school grinds — mapping things out, torch logistics, etc. — are easily (and, to my mind, properly) avoided. Others — don’t split the party! — are evergreen. A word to the wise is sufficient.
Sooner or later, a question of falling comes up. Maybe it’s a pit trap, or a shove off a bridge, or an unsuccessful jump, or an expired flying spell, or …
It’s a good time to remember that the goal of 5e is not to recreate actual physics, but to provide easy, quick, workable verisimilitude, generally favoring the players. The falling rules are a good example of this.
At the end of a fall, a creature takes 1d6 bludgeoningdamage for every 10 feet it fell, to a maximum of 20d6.
The creature lands Prone, unless it avoids taking damage from the fall.
It can’t be that simple, right?
Fun Fact: Alan Rickman was dropped before he was expecting it, leading to some great facial expressions as he fell.
Of course, that raises other questions, many of which are answered in optional DMG/XGE/TCE rules.
You will “instantly” fall up to 500 feet in the turn you begin falling. You then fall an additional 500 feet at the end of each succeeding turn.
This mean no intervention by self or others during that first 500 feet if you don’t have a Reaction ability (such as Featherfall).
But after that everyone, including yourself, may be able to do something.
Note that though you fall 500 feet, you reach terminal velocity (so to speak) after only 200, given a max damage of 20d6.
From a physics perspective, in five seconds you will fall 180m, or 590 feet, so this is actually pretty realistic, at least that first turn.
Flying creatures that need to actively move to fly will fall if they are (a) knocked prone, (b) have speed reduced to 0, or (c) lose the ability to move. If the creature is noted as being able to hover, or is being held aloft by some spell effect, this doesn’t apply.
The first round they will fall 500 feet minus their current flying speed.
In the case of the “prone” condition, they can on their next turn (if the ground doesn’t intervene) “get up” (using half their movement) to recover.
If you fall into water, make a Strength (Athletics) or Dexterity (Acrobatics) check; if you succeed, damage is reduced by half, per TCE.
If you fall onto another creature, per TCE, the target must succeed on a DC 15 Dexterity save to avoid being impacted by the falling creature:
Any damage resulting from the fall is divided evenly.
The impacted creature is knocked Prone, unless it is 2+ sizes larger than the falling creature.
I’d rule that intentionally falling onto another creature probably takes an Dexterity (Acrobatics) check (perhaps against their AC?).
This is different from creatures that attack by dropping onto their targets or leaping onto them from above. They will often have specific rules about damage they might take when doing so (e.g., the Piercer).
The Featherfall spell is cheap and easy and is cast as a Reaction, reducing falling speed to 60 feet/round, and landing you gently on your feet. It can affect up to 5 targets within 60 feet, including yourself, and lasts for a minute.
The Monk ability Slow Fall is possibly a bit misnamed, but essentially you can use it as a Reaction to reduce falling damage by an amount of Monk Level x 5 hp.
Earlier editions required something to slow you down (grabbing the wall, tree branches, etc.), but 5e does not; think of it as a three-point “hero landing.”
The Enhance Ability spell lets you pick “Cat’s Grace” as its DEX version. Among other things, it means the recipient “doesn’t take damage from Falling 20 feet or less if it isn’t Incapacitated.”
Using a Fly spell (etc.) will help, but only if it’s a fall of over 500 feet, otherwise you won’t have a chance to cast it before hitting the ground (unless you can cast it as a Reaction).
There are a variety of abilities that let you reduce damage to yourself or others that seem to apply here, e.g., Spirit Shield, Bastion of Law, Guardian Coil, Song of Defense.
Anything that gives you resistance/immunity to bludgeoningdamage will likely help here, depending on how it operates.
Note that someone else using a Slowspell won’t help, as the falling creature‘s speed isn’t a factor in the damage or distance. (It doesn’t completely make sense, but them’s the rules).
Note that Athletics/Acrobatics do not, by RAW, do anything around reducing falling damage, though they have in previous editions. That’s all physics, baby.
I would, though, support a house rule that a successful Dexterity (Acrobatics) roll vs. a DC equal to the damage you took might keep you from going Prone (stick the landing!).
An imaginative, prompt-driven, story-generating fun time
We needed to fill in for a Friday D&D night where we wouldn’t be at full strength. So …
I’ve played For the Queen a few times before — with actual cards and a table-top — and enjoyed it. In this case, with our band of friends, it was still easier to do in Roll20 on a VTT, and it so happens that the game has a Roll20 version.
The Basics
The game is GM-less (except for someone to kind of help with rules, VTT oddities, etc.), so everybody plays. That’s a bonus for me.
The group decides on a queen from a deck of pictures, all of them interesting and with possibilities just visually.
The story setting is literally this simple:
The land you live in has been at war for as long as any of you have been alive.
The Queen has decided to undertake a long and perilous journey to broker an alliance with a distant power.
The Queen has chosen all of you, and no one else, to be her retinue, and accompany her on this journey.
She chose you because she knows that you love her.
And that’s it. The setting, the war, the journey, the time period, the nature of the queen, the nature and roles of the characters, all come out from the players as, one at a time, they draw Prompt cards that ask questions. E.g.,
You were summoned to a private meeting with the Queen once. Why did you feel disappointed afterward?
What do you do for the Queen that no one else can do?
Who is this distant power you are travleing to, and why do they make you uneasy?
Other players can expand on those questions with suggestions or follow-ups. A player can also pass a card on if they can’t think of an answer … or they can use an X-Card option to delete a card (or answer) that is problematic or that they simply don’t want to see in the game.
Players can give their answers in whatever tone or voice they like (“Jason was really upset when …” or “I always look forward to …” or “Dear Diary …”). Most folk (in my limited experience) to third person.
The focus of most of the cards (explicitly or implicitly) is the character’s relationship with the Queen. We know the Queen has chosen you for this trip because she knows you love her. But … is she correct? Do you? Why? Why not? Is that feeling pragmatic? Romantic? Dutiful? A clever (or desperate) facade? How unalloyed is that love? What, if any, are its limits?
And how does each further answer given by someone else color what you think?
All that’s going to be tested, at the very end …
Play goes around the table, slowly building up and riffing off of each other’s answers and what facts (or opinions) have been established. This goes for 30-120 minutes until the game-ending card is drawn:
The Queen is under attack. Do you defend her?
At which point play proceeds around the table one more time, with all the players/characters each answering that question. It could be a description of a staunch defense. It could be a sketchy partial defense short of death. Heck, I’ve seen videos of games where one of the players was the attacker, taking their vengeance with a knife to the back.
I.e., just like everything else, the nature, and possibly the result, of the attack is dependent on the story being told. The aftermath may never be known (or may be discussed later over beers). But at that point the game is over.
Playing on a VTT
This game works very neatly in Roll20 (you can buy it from the Roll20 store) because it’s rules-light and functions on card decks — an instructions deck, a deck of queens to select from, and a deck of 46 prompts.
(You could, if you have a boxed set, actually recreate it in Roll20, but it might not be worth the effort.)
Roll20’s card deck mechanics can be a little wonky, but the pre-settings of the mechanics worked neatly for players drawing Prompt cards, and the GM can take care of the shuffling and bringing out and hiding the decks, which is really all you need.
The other advantage that Roll20 provides, to my mind, is a desktop to write down notes as people expand the mythos of their characters, the world, and the Queen.
Our Game
We ran in Roll20 with a group of five (was to be six, but someone was under the weather at the last moment).
I decided it would be more expeditious to simply pull the rules into a single handout, rather than walk through people reading each individual rule card. That’s a charming mechanism, and would work well getting a group of players used to talking aloud with card draws, but it seemed unnecessary. Plus I was busy tweaking some of the rule actions and notes (e.g., just asserting that the GM would flip three Queen cards and that the players could then choose).
The standard timing mechanism is to slide the “The Queen Is Under Attack” card into the Prompt deck manually — about halfway down for a 30 minute game, or lower down for something longer (as the canon established become more elaborate, the game slows down some). I used a suggestion I saw from the game’s creator and simply set a timer for the group-desired time (an hour). When the “The Queen Is Under Attack” card came up, I simply pulled it aside until the time went off (in retrospect, I should have just dealt it to myself to hold until then).
I had pre-randomized the players to establish play order, putting their names on the edges of the tabletop as a place to scribble notes. I also added a couple of areas for lore about The Queen and The Realm.
I made extensive use of those note areas, and, in fact, wrote the notes for most of the characters myself — because that’s me, and because I can type quickly and could do it while people were talking.
Though there was a lot of lore casting aspersions on the Queen (indeed, one of the players started off with a card that she’d planned an assassination attempt on her), only two of the characters ended up not really defending her. The exchequer whose dog the Queen had killed took advantage of the final attack to try and kill her, and the tax collector moved off to protect the treasure they were carrying. Two of the defenders were half-hearted, still wanting something from the Queen but not willing to lay down their lives if it came to it.
It having been established that the Queen knew black magic (which was how she had held off that first assassination attempt), it was only when the knight of the realm (me) assured her he’d give his life for her that she said, “Yep, that’s what I need for my spell, thanks, O Knight,” and drained said life. He willingly, if a bit disappointedly, fell back into the darkness of death, and as I was the last player around the table, we left it with a freeze frame of character reaction shots as her big spell to “smite her enemies” went off, Butch & Sundance-style.
Fun times!
I loved how the players, from the get-go, were willing to both lean into tweaking the story in unexpected ways (the Queen used magic to thwart the first attack! The Queen killed my dog! The Queen imprisoned Character J’s father because Character J is more beautiful than her own daughter. Oh, the Queen is blind — was that a cost of losing magic? Or was the cost her occasionally homicidal rages?) that everyone else could riff on for their own next card. Sometimes that was due to a suggestion, sometimes it came organically.
Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Here’s the tabletop we ended with.
Click to embiggen.
The Verdict
This is a great pickup game that requires minimal prep (I did some, not for the campaign, but to smooth out the rules and make sure the tabletop was how I wanted it — again, that’s my kink). It could also be a targeted destination for an evening, scalable from a half to two hours (suggestion: take a break after an hour or so).
The game is designed for 2-6, and I suspect that the number of players will vary things a lot. More players create more hooks, but also make it take longer before things come back around to you, so each character is, in a sense, more shallow the more players there are around the table, unless you make the game longer. (Going over five also creates some group dynamic changes, letting some players fade more into the background.) Our five-for-an-hour worked well.
I can’t say how having someone who is not into RP (“I like to roll dice and hit things with my sword”) would affect the gameplay. It’s not necessary improv theater RP, but storytelling about a character, and since any prompt question can be answered centered around a dagger or fireball as easily as around any emotion, it should work out okay, especially with other players offering suggestions or questions to flesh things out.
The game is definitely replayable, as players define everything through the prompt questions. For example, you can really choose any setting. Our defaulting to vague Medieval fantasy is common, and a lot of the queen images support that — but this really could be set in a modern era (political, business), in space opera, among anthropomorphic woodland creatures, in the Old West, etc. For example, the queen might be the CEO, the journey a critical business trip to meet with execs from a third corporation, the players the business team she chose to bring along because she knows they are all fiercely loyal to her.
In retrospect, this game sort of hit the sweet spot between the most recent games we’ve done on non-D&D nights: Fiasco (which seems much more demanding of the imagination and of live-RPing skills) and Killer Ratings (where the GM has to do more heavy lifting of the setting). For the Queen instead uses some occasionally gobsmacking questions to draw out that creativity, avoiding the heavy worldbuilding because the game is not about that, but about the characters building themselves through their relationship to the Queen. Very neatly done.
For the Queen deserves its very positive reputation.
The effect looks like a regular flame, but it creates no heat and doesn’t use oxygen. A continual flame can be covered or hidden but not smothered or quenched.
There is explicit text here saying that such flames cannot be smothered or quenched (largely because it seems that this is not a true flame, but an illusory flame light source). Fine. If something is written with such an immunity, they are immune. If not, they are as quenchable as normal flames.
Suggestion: Things are only countered if it says they are.
Rules As Written (RAW) philosophy is pretty literal. If a spell has an effect, the spell spells that out in its description. If it’s not mentioned, it’s not an actual effect.
So, for example, Thaumaturgy, Gust, Windwall, Create/Destroy Water, and Prestidigitation all explicitly state they can snuff flame. Tidal Wave, too. If a spell doesn’t mention that as an effect, it doesn’t happen.
(Note that Tidal Wave and others often specify “unprotected flames” — not drawing a distinction between a magical vs natural flame.)
Suggestion: Things can be countered if the counter-spell is a higher level than the original spell.
This is inspired by the Light/Dark setup. Darkness (2nd level) notes:
Nonmagical light can’t illuminate it. … If any of this spell’s area overlaps with an area of light created by a spell of 2nd level or lower, the spell that created the light is dispelled.
So there’s (in this case) some sort of “This quashing power is equal or greater to the power being quashed, so score” effect. This is a potential problem, though, because …
Curse you, Magic Items!
Magical items (or magical features of dungeon rooms) are often written without any indication of what spell effect they use, or what they are/aren’t immune to, or what level such a spell would be. Take the case of the magical burning spears wielded by Razorblasts in the Princes of the Apocalypse campaign. The Razorblasts can turn them on or off (though it isn’t indicated how), but there’s not even instruction on what would happen if a party member picked one up and wanted to use one. Some of the Earth Cult weaponry in that module is explicitly Earth Cult magic-specific, but that’s not the case with the fire effects noted. Are they flames an attribute of the Razorblasts, worship of Imyx, or the spears themselves? Only the DM know for sure (or guesses quickly).
There isn’t even a canonical weapon rule or example to draw from for something like those spears. The Flame Tongue weapons do more damage than the spears did. The Flame Blade 2nd level spell does as well (and is a weapon substitute, not enhancement).
Based on the above, the magical effect on the spears (which was +1d6 fire) is some sort of specialized elemental 1st level effect.
Okay, so it should be arguably easy to quench them, right?
But magic fire is not the same as physical fire. If you throw a bucket of water on a torch, the torch goes out, and trying to re-light it will be a pain because the fuel (the torch) is wet. But a blade that can have a magical fire turned on — well, the bucket of water will arguably quench it, but once the water is gone, it can be retriggered, unless the item’s rules have some weird “once a day” rule.
So what does this all mean?
It means doing some quick vamping as GM when someone creates one of these conflicts.
For example, you are in a room that has magical columns that, on a command word, begin to glow with a fiery heat, doing damage to anyone nearby. The amount of damage is spelled out. Nothing else is. (This, too, is from Princes of the Apocalypse). Jackie the Cleric casts a Big Wall of Water Spell (whatever) at the opponents in the in a room with magical columns.
It should have no direct effect on the magical columns, though, because those aren’t a flame source. Color text of special effects of steam and maybe therefore vision obscuring occurs. (Indeed, “I want to cover our withdrawal by shooting a big wall of water at the magma pillars” is a Rule-of-Cool clever idea that would probably net some Inspiration.)
It also knocks out the flames of the magical spears. But as of the opponents’ next turn start, they can reignite them because the water is not existing in perpetuity about their spearheads, and the momentary spell only overrides the permanent enchantment temporarily.
What, by the way, makes damage “magical”?
Slight digression, though it’s related to the topic. Let’s say William drops a Tidal Wave on people’s heads. Is that magical damage?
I mean, obviously, manifesting a huge block of water in the middle of a room is a magical effort (it’s a magical spell, in fact), but is the bludgeoning damage produced “magical”? Or is it effectively the same as produced by a mechanical trap that dumps a similar huge block of water over people?
5e goes with the following rubric to determine if something (including damage) is magical (via the Sage Advice Compendium):
Determining whether a game feature is magical is straightforward. Ask yourself these questions about the feature:
Is it a magic item?
Is it a spell? Or does it let you create the effects of a spell that’s mentioned in its description?
Is it a spell attack?
Is it fueled by the use of spell slots?
Does its description say it’s magical?
If your answer to any of those questions is yes, the feature is magical.
So is a Tidal Wave‘s attack is considered magical for purposes of “immune to bludgeoning damage not from a magical attack?” The answer is, it seems, “Yes,” because, for example, it is fueled by the use of spell slots. Even though, yes, there is no functional difference between it and a ceiling trap that drops a similar amount of water in a similar pattern.
What about the Infamous Tidal Wave vs Fire Elemental debate?
What happens if you cast a Tidal Wave at a Fire Elemental?
This is a debate only because
Tidal Wave has a calculable volume (but weird physics and dynamics to figure out impacts on surface areas, etc.) that mean you only take a fraction of that), and
Fire Elementals have a unique vulnerability / damage accrual measured by gallon and/or depth of water.
I have seen Reddit calculations from 6 hp damage to 25,000ish hp damage from such an attack, depending on the estimated surface area of a Fire Elemental and assertions as to how TW attacks work.
Rather than a bunch of crazy calculations (which are anathema to 5e), I as the DM would likely say, “It does its normal Bludgeoning damage (4d8), which the Fire Elemental Resists. However, it does double that amount (8d8) in Cold damage because the Fire Elemental is made of fire and is vulnerable to water. Also, the Fire Elemental doesn’t go Prone because they are immunite to that Condition.”
So probably no insta-kill for a 3rd level spell, sorry, but a butt-load of insta-damage, multiplied by every Fire Elemental in the area.
A OneD&D Note
This isn’t actually confirmed, but looking at the materials released so far regarding race-based magic, it looks like those rules may address some of the above, not just because it’s all kind of confusing, but because rather than arbitrary magical effects, documented magical spells are being used instead. That’s actually a good thing. Hopefully they will follow through with clearer answers and mechanics for all this.
Widely, and properly, lauded for RP improv and fun scenarios … but not always a hit.
Our regular Friday night D&D game needed a couple of fill-ins while a chunk of the folk were out of town. So, after last week’s Killer Ratings game, I thought we finally try Fiasco.
It didn’t work out great for us, but I think that was more on us than on the game. So let’s take a look.
The Game
Fiasco is a key — and one of the oldest — player in the “RPG as Improv with Light Rule Structure” games. It’s designed to give us the opportunity to play ordinary people with big ambitions and weak impulse control getting themselves into trouble and ending up in a likely very bad place … but with plenty of dark humor along the way. As many people have put it, it’s like playing a Coen Bros. movie in the time it would take to watch one.
The newest incarnation of the game has replaced stacks of dice and lookup tables with “engine” card sets, which seems to work well. You start out with a set of “playset” cards which are used to (a) establish the general parameters of the setting (a suburban town, a shopping mall, a D&D village), and (b) start building the relationships between the player’s characters. These include some key locations, maybe some objects, and definitely some needs that will drive things forward.
Once relationship et al. cards have been played down, you have a conversation around the table about what they all really mean. That Family Member relationship, is that biological, or adopted, or ritual? That Bully and Victim card — which person is which? Who’s actually jonesing for the WW2 pistol, and why? Start fleshing out those relationships to get things started — but allow for some discovery during the game, too. I wouldn’t necessary suggest keeping secrets (others can’t play to your story if you have it hidden), but new facets of the relationships, characters, and situation should come up during play.
The scene mechanic is at the heart of the game.
Once the setting and players have been established, then we get two Acts of two spotlight Scenes per player each (so each character will end up in a spotlight Scene four times during the game, plus playing a supporting role in other Scenes). In a spotlight Scene, a player can either Establish the Scene (declare who’s there besides themselves, what’s the setting, and what are they trying to get out of it), or Resolve the scene (take a Scene devised by the other players involving their character, and determine as it goes along if it’s going to have a Positive or Negative Outcome). Scenes should last a few minutes, draw from the story set so far and the relationship elements on the board, and go from there.
Between the two Acts there is a Tilt, which brings in some new elements to make a hopefully already shaky outcome explode even more spectacularly.
At the end of Act Two, each player, based on the Outcome cards they have collected, get an Aftermath card of lesser or greater disaster, and narrates whatever happened to their character, short- or long-term.
The three playsets that come in the box (or at least my virtual box) are:
Poppleton Mall (fun and drama and maybe drug dealing and Satanism at a local shopping mall)
Tales from Suburbia (fun and drama in the burbs, with still more drug dealing and crime and infidelity simmering beneath the BBQ-friendly surface)
Dragonslayers (post-D&D quest adventurers back at the tavern, eyeing that gold they just picked up).
Playsets are not a one-and-done. Depending on the characters, the cards that come out, and the mix and imagination of the players, a given playset could be used many times — though not as an ongoing campaign, mind you (rarely, I sense, is there enough of the setting or the characters left standing after a game to make that viable).
The rules themselves are relatively simple, but was a little difficult to get a good feel for how the game actually worked without actually watching some play videos. Three I recommend:
The game also comes with a “Let’s Not” safety card, in case action starts going down directions that make any player a bit too uncomfortable.
Players are definitely urged to lean into the dark humor and risk-taking and ignoring of possibly bad consequences to decisions being made. While the story may be about the characters competing with each other (even ones that are allies), the game itself seems to almost be the players vs. the characters — trying to get folk into trouble, not in a mean way to other players, but in a way that would make a good film.
(The film model is useful in framing scenes, too. A scene should not be, “Bob goes to the store to buy milk,” because that’s boring. “Bill goes to the store to buy milk he’s gonna see Susan and decide to confront her about Pat” is a lot more interesting, and has the stakes built into it.)
Fiasco is deservedly famous for its groundbreaking use of the players and their character interactions to drive the story. It’s GMless, though “The Person with the Game” will probably need to help explain it and guide players through the first time.
Definitely something you should consider for your gaming group if you’ve not already, and if it’s a group that loves the RP part of RPGs.
The home page for the game can be found here, but it’s available in a lot of places, including as a VTT implementation on Roll20 …
Roll20 Implementation — Fiasco for VTT
The core game (with the three playsets mentioned above) runs $20 in the Roll20 Marketplace. Expansion sets of eight additional playsets are available for $35 (there is a Starter Bundle with a total of 11 playsets for $33).
As a card deck game, the Roll20 implementation should work well. It comes packaged with play mats (on the map level) for three, four, and five players (thought the spacing on the five player mat was pretty uneven).
You also get a deck for each playset, and then separate decks for Positive Outcome, Negative Outcome, and Aftermath cards.
The (tabletop-based) game rules get loaded into the Compendium (a manual step you have to take to include it), and there are some stub handouts in the Journal as an outline for differences in Roll20. Most of these have to do with the card-playing mechanics of the VTT. If you’ve not done card decks in Roll20, do some practicing beforehand to see how dealing, viewing, playing, and clearing cards actually works.
It’s not you, Fiasco. It’s me.
I actually wasn’t wowed by the rules breakout — Roll20’s compendium is not always easy to use, and their organization is not great — so I ended up copying the (limited rules) over into the Journal, broken out more logically (to me), cross-referenced, and basically supporting all the information I got from the rules and from watching gameplay videos. Took me a couple of hours, so not a huge hill to climb there for GMs who want to do similarly.
Within the bounds of Roll20’s cardplay mechanics, the game worked well. Those mechanics are sometimes a bit awkward, and limitations on what Players vs GMs can do meant I got a suggestion from a friend that I make everyone a GM. I didn’t (because I thought that would make for more potential mechanics chaos), and it didn’t bite us — but, then, we didn’t actually get a full game completed, so it may have been more of a problem later.
One element that a VTT lends itself to is scribbling notes on the board itself — character names, info about them, discovered motivations, what the cards mean in this context, etc. I highly encourage the practice.
I would also add a recommendation, if playing on a VTT, that if you don’t use video normally you find a way to do so for Fiasco. So much of the game is bound up in personal interaction that the additional “data channel” of facial expressions and the like are even more important. It can also help see if people are quiet because they are nodding off, not engaged, or just unsure what to say.
How did it go for us?
Not … as well as I would have liked. Here’s a capture of the tabletop when we got as far as we’d gotten.
Whole lotta ritual stuff going on there
One problem we had was that the game just ran too long. We took close to 3 hours to get to the end of Act One, which became problematic for our East Coast player. While I would expect (and was warned) that the game could run longer than usual the first time out, that seemed excessive. But I’m unsure that’s actually the game’s fault.
Did I talk too much, going through rules? Maybe.
The players struggled a bit with the whole Scenes mechanic: coming up with a scene idea in the first place, limiting (or not) the other players involved, identifying what they wanted (in a meaningful fashion). People tended to come up with mechanical scene ideas (“I want to get everyone together for dinner”) rather than the emotional stakes (“My family never ate together, and if I can just get my friends around the table it will all be great.”). (Again, framed another way, is the Scene worth a scene in a movie?)
Some Scenes ran on too long. If the goal is really a few minutes each, we had some that were several.
We had a bit of difficulty determining Positive vs Negative Outcomes, especially when a player was doing the Resolving, and went in wanting that result.
I have a sense that, even though we threw around a lot of great relationship ideas, we didn’t necessarily have a sufficient grounding in them by the time we started play, so that some of those encounters and ideas never paid off, and others got changed at the last moment.
We play on Friday nights, and that’s always a rough call — end of a long week and, again, one player off two time zones deeper into the night. that might have lowered the energy level for a game that really encourages energy.
Our group is mostly introverted and, to a large degree, conflict-averse. Not so pathologically that a game like Fiasco — which desires big characters and getting ourselves and each other into trouble — is impossible, but it is a bit more of a lift.
We played the Dragonslayers playset. I thought that would work well as we were doing this in lieu of D&D, but in retrospect I wonder if it added one more layer of worldbuilding that we needed to struggle through.
Ultimately, we ended up with a D&D party that was actually an offshoot of an evil cult, with a goal to raise an army of the undead for the edgelord type I was playing (we were an offshoot because, obviously, the cult didn’t want just any Tom, Dick, or Grimdar to be raising armies of the undead). I was supported in that goal (kind of?) by the cult’s recruiter/cheerleader (who had an unrequited love for me), an eager young hero recently joined to the cult, and a sorcerer and his apprentice and their one-charge-left staff of resurrection. So some real possibilities there.
And that said, we did come up with some good bits — flashbacks, and a dream sequence, all of which had some interesting elements to them. One player also made a good move and framed a scene, not as our sitting down to dinner, or doing a dress rehearsal for the forbidden ritual after dinner, but our post-dress rehearsal review around the table — which allowed us just to vamp ideas about what happened and our reaction to them.
As it was, we pulled the plug at the end of Act One, due to time and no immediate opportunity to finish the game over the weekend. Players did indicate they could see how this all (raising an army of the dead on behalf of one of the players) was going to play out very poorly for all concerned. So that was something.
Definitely want to try it again, though, maybe with one of the other playsets. With the holiday season coming up, we may get the opportunity.
The point (very generally speaking) of D&D is to make the opponent worry about death. But it’s important for players to know about the rules, too, especially as they’ve changed since editions gone by.
Death (and Unconsciousness)
It’s important to understand a bit how down-and-out damage works in 5e. There’s no such thing as “going negative” here. When you are dropped to 0 (the bottom, you can’t go lower), you fall Unconscious (PHB 292): you’re Incapacitated, can’t move, can’t speak, are unaware, drop anything being carried, fail all Strength and Dexterity Saves … and Attacks against you have Advantage, and any hit is considered a Crit if attacked from 5 feet away.
But that’s the least worry you have. Because one of two things happen:
If the damage was so massive that the extra damage (theoretically beyond 0) equals or exceeds your HP maximum, you are dead, dead, dead.
Tick-tock …
If not, then you are “just” bleeding out, and need to start making Death Saves each turn (PHB 197). If you start a turn at 0 HP and are not yet stabilized, roll 1d20.
On 10+, you succeed (a nat 20 counts as two successes); three total success, you become stable and will live.
On 1-9, you fail (a nat 1 counts as two fails). Three total fails, you are dead, dead, dead.
Note that if someone inflicts further damage on you while unconscious, it counts as a Death Save failure; a crit (which is the auto-result of a hit from within 5′) counts as two fails. This also restarts the Death Save process. And if you take damage at 0 that is equal or greater than your normal number of HP, you die.
It’s only a flesh wound!
A stable creature stays at 0, Unconscious. It will heal 1 hp (and regain consciousness) in 1d4 hours (this does not count as a Short Rest). Healing spells are, of course, welcome to accelerate this process.
Note that this technically happens to the bad guys as well; the presumption, though, is hitting 0 kills a bad guy (they either fail their Death Saves, or you go around slitting throats after the battle). Best not to dwell on it. Powerful / significant enemies might get a Death Save process.
Indeed, as people can gift each other with their Inspiration, other folk could feed their Inspiration to a dying party member (“Don’t you die on me, man! Don’t you die on me!”)
As far as that goes, anything that helps on saving throws helps on a Death Save. So a Bless spell would work, too.
Knocking someone unconscious
Whether you want to avoid being a murder-hobo, or want to interrogate a prisoner who won’t surrender, you can intentionally knock someone out instead of death on opponents. (Vice-versa, too.)
“No, I’m just knocking him out. Hard.”
You simply declare, on an attack that would have killed someone, that you are knocking them Unconscious (PHP 292) at the moment when the DM would say they’re dead. You don’t have to proclaim “subduing” damage in advance or anything; beating someone into unconsciousness is very much the same as beating them to death: it’s all in what you do after they fall down.
A foe rendered Unconscious this way is considered stable. They will wake up (healing 1 hp) in 1d4 hours. You can leave them behind, bind them and leave them behind, or change your mind and gack them. If you want to interrogate them, then you either need to wait, or use some healing magic on them.
The Time Limit is how long after death the spell can be used. Note that Gentle Repose (Cleric or Paladin, 3rd lvl spell) can extend the time limit for a raise spell by 10 days if cast within the time limit for that raise spell.
Dancing with Death
As implied under Spellcasting Services (PHB 159), these revivifying spells are not the sort of thing that you find being cranked out at your local temple, and even in a Big City they’re not a commodity service. Stolen souls, headless bodies, lack of bodies, death by fire, being turned undead, can all block some of these spells. Missing body parts can be an issue. Finding a 500gp diamond might not be easy, either. And many of these spells have consequences — limits on what they can restore (see article), being Necromantic in nature (ew), or the services that will be requested in return. (And clerical spells, esp. high level ones, have to be cast to a purpose sanctioned by the deity involved.)
Which isn’t to say it can’t happen, but don’t think of all this as the wild and wooly AD&D days when raising up dead PCs garnered as little consideration as murder-hoboing a complex (if wholly illogical) underground ecosystem.
A fun one-shot, high-improv, collaborational “ghost hunters” reality show simulation
So here’s a combo review, description, and run-through of Killer Ratings, a game by Ken Lowery.
The Outline
Players (and, to a degree, the GM) are members of a third-rate ghost hunting “reality” show, desperate for ratings salvation before they get canceled, which they figure they can get through finding the holy grail of such shows: solid proof of life after death. Luck for them, they’re going to get that proof. Unlucky for them, they might get first-hand experience in the “death” part of it …
Here’s the official IndieGoGo description:
KILLER RATINGS is a one-shot, zero-prep, rules-light tabletop roleplaying game for 3 to 5 players and a Director. The players are the cast and crew of a terrible paranormal investigation show on the verge of cancellation. The good news is you’ve secured the rights to film the season finale in “the most haunted location in America.” The bad news is the place is actually really haunted, and you may well be completely boned.
As loud, campy reality TV stars, your gift for melodrama will be all you need to wake the dead – and may well be your key to survival once the haunting goes sideways. If it doesn’t get you killed first.
In short, you play some of the worst people on earth as they blithely walk into one of the worst places on earth, and most of you won’t survive. But however it shakes out, it should make for great TV.
Killer Ratings is highly narrative and RP-driven. There are die rolls, but those mechanics are way in the background — important, but infrequent until the very end.
Instead, the group as a whole “builds” a haunted setting, inventing clues and set pieces (“Features”) that slowly, collaboratively begin to tell a story about What Happened Here and How To Summon the Ghost. At the end, of course, they realize the horrible mistake they’ve made, and flee for their lives, as the Ghost tries to take them.
The Gameplay
I started an X-Card style safety talk at the beginning of the game, which I’ve never done with any other game I’ve run — largely because some of the play-throughs I’ve watched/listened to have leaned into the horror. We never got near that point, I think.
The game rules call for figuring out the characters, first, but I decided to start with the show and the haunt/setting first, as that would provide some context for the players to be built in.
The rules have nice guidelines for coming up with a fun show title, and then I drew from the players further details (Where do viewers go to see this show? Why have ratings been so bad?). We ended up with Fiend Highway, a show on its third, faltering season on History Channel … but it’s History Channel 3, which most cable packages don’t cover.
The rules also have suggestions to collaboratively develop the setting and triggering event of the haunt — in our case, a College, the site of a Forbidden Ritual. With further discussion, the players decided that rumors on the internet told a sorority house on the campus of Holy Ghost College (originally a Lutheran-sponsored school in the middle of nowhere in the Midwest), where the sisters had tried to summon the ghost of their Founding President, in order to find where a treasure had been hidden in the place. No big deal, except one of the sorority sisters had vanished, and the survivors — who had been cleared of the place as a possible crime scene — had told conflicting tales about what happened to her, all of which seemed to be innocent …
Then I had the (four) players come up with characters within one of the five preset roles in the game — the Face (the star of the reality show), the Camera Person, the Face’s Buddy (co-star / rival / enabler), the Academic, or the Charlatan.
That netted us a Face who was an enthusiastic True Believer in a car salesman sort of manner; a gruff veteran Camera Person quietly bemused by the things they ran across; an Academic who was kicked out of the academy for pursuing fringe science about the afterlife; and a Charlatan Elvira-esque psychic, complete with deep cleavage.
(Some of this didn’t precisely align with the roll descriptions, but as it’s all just guidelines for RP, who cares?)
All characters have two attributes: Provoke (ability/willingness to stir things up, including the Haunt) and Survive (hit points, essentially). You get a total of 5, and need a minimum of 1 in each, so that means 4/1 or 3/2 in one combo or another.
The GM was Bob, the Director, out in the van keeping the recording gear running and chatting over the remote communications gear. My role there was to prompt people to find or describe information they were coming up with, provoke some conversations or reactions, and make occasional references to fiascos during earlier episodes.
After an initial arrival, description of the outside of the ΓΟΣΤ sorority house, some RP-establishing discussion with the Assistant Deputy Dean of Students who was, unapproving, there to meet them, the team went in …
Going Room to Room
Each room (and the game comes with suggestions as to what rooms one might find in a given setting) is named and initially described by the GM, complete with creepy vibe and unusual features (the game also has suggestions for these, broken apart between Act 1, the unsettling stuff, and Act 2, the actively freaky but not quite yet unbelievable bits).
That then gives the players the opportunity to interact with the room, the show, and each other: seeking camera time, establishing Features themselves, wondering aloud about what they are seeing, theorizing for the viewers, acting out any drama they feel inclined to, etc.
In so doing they are not only fleshing out their characters and the show, but beginning to build a more detailed story around the haunt — what actually happened, and why.
At the end of each room (whenever it feels like a proper amount of discovery and activity has taken place, the GM calls for a Provoke roll, to see how much each character may have provoked the Haunt into manifesting. Rolling 1d6 below or at the character’s Provoke level means a Provocation has happened. As GM, I kept track of those, comparing them to a value suggested by the rules …
And then it’s on to the next room, as described by the GM. The same sorts of activities occur, with the GM leaning into spookiness that seems to tie into the theories of the players (or the GM, if need be) as to what is going on. Once the total of end-of-room Provocations reaches the “secret” number, then the Act is over. Have the Face give us a sing-out to commercial …
After Act 1, the GM coordinates a brief discussion about (a) how the character interplay is working, (b) what the characters think is going on, and then (c) what would punch up the drama.
Act 2 works just like Act 1, only the suggested Features and Vibes are ramped up and creepier — going from weird stains on the ceiling to blood dripping off the walls. Not a bingo sufficient to make it a day, but enough to further guide the tale (i.e., inspire the players to do so), build a mood, and, once enough Provokes have again been scored, have an unmistakable supernatural occurrence. Sing out to commercials, leading to Act 3.
Between acts this time, the players finalize their theory as to what is actually going on, and where and how they are going to act to cause the Ghost/Haunt to fully manifest. That is, of course, their goal, even if we, the GM and Players, know that is a terrible idea.
In our case, the understanding of the Haunt had morphed over many rooms. There was still a focus on the spirit of the founder of the sorority, Agatha Spenser-Reede. The Face kept commenting on how poorly the place was being kept up, the strange smells, the unwashed dishes, narratively trying to provoke the Haunt. But between me and the players, we also started building a tale of a sorority gone wrong, of bad behavior and debauchery and worse. In the end, the players “realized” that the effort by the sorority girls that fateful night was to lay the spirit an angry Agatha to rest, not to summon her up. So clearly they need to find the orgy room / sex gym as the site where Agatha would be most likely to be summoned up.
Bear in mind that it’s the players who eventually put that jigsaw puzzle together. I amplified their ideas as they came up, sometimes tried to give a little extra spin in a sympathetic direction (e.g., some mysteriously marked DVDs hidden in the TV room), etc. But I was quite happy what they found, even if it veered off from my original idea.
(So Agatha was a big freak about being physically and morally clean. The idea that the current generation of sisters maybe were not, and that the haunting was all about features of filth and sin and blood, all fit together quite neatly.)
My original thought was that they were going to go to the President’s Room (so marked with a plaque), which doors they’d seen Agatha slamming shut, to find that as the place where the sorority “forbidden ritual” ceremony had been held. Instead, they found the “Workout Room,” which looked just like you’d expect, except with various supernatural trappings, indications of strange brackets and hooks and places where things could be mounted, and a shattered mirror by the dance bar behind which was a broken video camera (where the girls had been photographing either their own pornos or creating blackmail videos for fun and profit).
Blood flowing down the mirror, corner of the eye figures humping on the floor, weird distortions in the room — yup, that was the place.
The Face tried to be the center of the final provocation but suddenly started missing his rolls. The Academic was the one who tried/said something that triggered …
This is literally Act 4
… well, the giant, spectral, decayed-and-filth-ridden remains of Agatha Spenser-Reede, rising up out of the floor and chastising them as NAUGHTY GIRLS WHO MUST BE PUNISHED! And the characters suddenly realize how pear-shaped this has gotten.
Act 4 is the flight from the Haunt, retracing their steps. This time they are rolling 1d6 plus their Provoke, the high score being the one who gets attacked by the Ghost. There are mechanisms to simply take it (lose Survive), or redirect it to someone else (by sacrificing a Provoke), or just (once a game) negating it. On analysis, it’s not a particularly onerous setup, but it is designed for backbiting or selfish characters to screw with each other while fleeing for their lives.
Ew.
This act goes fast — run back to the previous room, only to find out that the spooky effects from the way in are now cranked up to 12. The running washing machines that seemed to be filled with soap and blood before? They’re now vomiting soap and blood all over the room, as the Hair Drying seats that were clearly non-operational are now bellowing flame and howling like the damned.
In our case, Paul, the Face and True Believer, actually sacrificed himself (took a hit from the Ghost with only 1 Survival to his name) in order to make sure that the video taken would get to the public. Everyone else managed to make it out, in time for a final wrap session for the episode, where memorials for Paul and descriptions of What We Learned Today were had, including a final pre-videoed sign-off for the episode by the late, great, Paul Peterson was run, with cheesy “IN MEMORIAM, 1990-2022” text video-overlaid atop it.
We hardly knew ye. Nor can we spell.
Curtain, and applause.
Good game. The mechanics worked well. There is more than enough call for the GM to improvise a constantly shifting set of next steps and story elements, while letting the players drive the plot. And it clearly would play differently with different characters and settings. Fun times.
Playing with Roll20
Killer Rating is not sold as a Roll20/VTT game, and, if necessary, it needn’t be. Everything can be Theater of the Mind, the GM can scribble notes to one side, rolling can be trust-based, and everyone could be just talking by telephone, if need be. Indeed, the trial game I found there was no sort of VTT use involved.
That said, it occured to me that in a real game, you’d have public notes. You’d have a way of easily seeing people’s Provoke and Score, identities, and, of course, clues and rooms.
So even though it is a “zero prep” game, I spent a bunch of time to prep a (reusable) Roll20 tabletop, essentially to be used as a whiteboard. I had Provoke and Survive tokens. I had room outlines — not for maps, but for notes.
Screen cap of the Roll20 board I made, with notes.
I also moved a bunch of tables and rules outlines from the rulebook to Roll20 journal entries. That made it a lot easier to juggle things and present them to players. And as people rolled for the initial setup or for various Provokes, having the die rolls up in the chat was handy (not for trust, but just for being able to reference them). I also pulled in some graphics for “And now a word from our sponsor” and “We are having technical difficulties, please stand by.”
(And I spent a few hours posting lots of “Ghost Hunter” memes to the game Discussion Board in Roll20, to set the tone and/or amuse.)
I don’t know if the players thought it was necessary, but it worked pretty well for me. Anyone could add notes to the tabletop, though only one player did (as color commentary on the way out).
What would I do differently?
I thought the game went pretty well, and I had players both telling me they were getting the wiggins at times, and that they had a good time, so I take them at their word.
There are only a couple of things I might frame or nudge a bit differently on the next go-around (which I think will happen).
First, the game really leans, for fun, on the rivalry and backstabbing of the party. “Terrible people,” the rules say. My son noted that this wasn’t necessarily the best group for that — we are all pretty consciously nice to each other (and are, in fact, nice people). There was minimal elbowing for camera time, verbal sniping, or rerouting ghost attacks in the finale (and the one that there was was (1) for a Higher Cause, and (2) blocked by the Face, who had previously sacrificed himself during an attack and so was allowed to do so).
So I would probably try to instruct the players to be a bit more aggressive — all in the name of hilarity (and to make soft provocation by the GM easier).
Second, I probably didn’t rein in Features (clues) found by the players quite enough. They were introducing supernatural elements too early. That weakened the reveal at the end of Act 1, and even a bit for Act 2. Not a huge problem, but I’d likely lay out, as I suggest people spotlight things, appropriate levels of weird. (That may be my CDO working, though.)
Oh, and I (and they) also forgot about poor Carolyne Merrill, the sorority sister whose disappearance made this a cause célèbre. She may have been killed by the first manifestation of Agatha (probably for spilling blood all over the originally-expensive rug in the President’s suite), or she might have been possessed by Agatha and used as her anchor here in the world. In either case, RIP.
And that’s a wrap
Game cover
A fun one-off, “zero prep” game. I strongly suspect it would be a very different beast, even with the same players. I really loved that the players drove a lot of the narrative elements of the game, including “Aha! That’s what’s going on here!” It’s not a matter of the GM trying to get them to guess the pre-written story, but adapting to the story as it evolves. We came out with something better than I would have thought of.
We ran about 3.5 hours, with a bio break during one of the commercials. We could have moved faster than that, if I’d pushed the accelerator — one of the big purposes of the GM here is to keep the pace going forward at a reasonable clip — but I think it was pretty okay except for the player who was two timezones later.
Overall, a good time, and I’m ready to go back for more.
Like all things 5e, WotC set out to simplify the mechanics of how people were protected out on the battlefield by various objects.
5e set up basically four conditions:
no cover / uncovered (the default)
half cover
three-quarters cover
total cover.
The first and last usually get treated separately. It’s the partial covers in the middle that are of most interest here.
It’s difficult to talk about cover separated from a battle-map. Or, rather, if you are just running Theater of the Mind, cover is a matter of the GM asserting it (or agreeing to player assertions about it) by fiat. A lot of the below will depend on working on a square grid (extensible to a hex grid, if one likes; check out the DMG pages referenced below).
The key here as to what cover a target has is counting the points on any one of their squares from any of the points in your square to see how many are blocked.
So here are the effects of cover on attacks, based on the rules here. This most often comes into play with Ranged attacks (including Spells), but
Points Blocked
Cover Type
AC and DEX Saves
Examples
1-2
Half
+2
Low wall, large furniture, narrow tree trunk, or a creature* (friend or enemy) directly in front of them
3-4
Three-Quarter
+5
Portcullis, arrow slit, thick tree trunk. Any of the target visible.
*A creature at least half as large as the target standing next to them. But … see my House Rules below.
Points Blocked: As in the diagram above, on a grid, choose a (most favorable) corner of the attacker’s space. Trace a line from that corner to each of the corners of a square (any one) the target occupies. Based on how many of those points are blocked, you can determine the level of cover.
So if any of the points are blocked, there is at least Half Cover. But also note that, even if the all the corners are blocked (e.g., the target is behind an arrow slit), if you can see any of the target, it’s in Three-Quarter cover.
Total Cover: A target that cannot at all be seen / is completely concealed cannot be targeted by an attack or spell (though some spells can reach it in an Area of Effect — Fireballs, for example). Total Cover also starts to invoke rules for Hiding and the like.
Sizes of the characters involved can affect this (Small creatures behind larger creatures, etc.).
Multiple Covers provide the most difficult cover level. Arguably shooting an arrow past four people is more difficult than shooting an arrow past one person, but the KISS principle applies. As GM you can rule a cluster of Half Covers equal a Three-Quarters Cover, but the Rules As Written say that it’s still only Half Cover.
Combat and Cover at Corners
Combat and Cover at Corners
Consider the case in the picture — Fighter and Kenku squaring off (so to speak) at an architectural corner. Do the have cover from each other?
It might seem so, especially since the Move rules for grids indicate you can’t move through such a corner (PHB 192):
Corners. Diagonal movement can’t cross the corner of a wall, large tree, or other terrain feature that fills its space.
But for combat purposes, there’s no cover, because the kenku can take his top two corners (or the fighter his right two) and see (allowing for map/grid irregularities) along the wall all the other points of the opponent’s square.
It seems counter-intuitive, but there you are. Similar rulings can be made around doorways (the three squares on the other side of a 5-foot door have no cover from someone standing in the doorway on the other side, treating walls has having no thickness).
House Rule: Proximity to the Obstacle
Proximity to the Obstacle: Rules as Written say that obstacle are obstacles. My House Rule is a little more nuanced:
The attacker can ignore Half or Three-Quarter Cover if the attacker is closer to the obstacle than the target.
It’s all a matter of perspective. If an ally is right in front of me, I can weave around in my 5-foot square to get a clear shot; if they are right in front of the target, they provide much better cover for that target.
Take three examples that I will, for no particular reason, label as William (W) and Moony (M) dealing with a Goblin (G).
The normal use case is #1, where Moony is up there whomping on the Goblin, and William is behind, shooting a bow at the Goblin. That’s pretty clear; the Goblin gets Half Cover from Moony against William’s bow shot.
Consider case #2, where Moony was right in front of William. The penalty shouldn’t count here; it’s easy in a 5-foot space for William to shoot past Moony at the Goblin, adjust to shoot over Moony’s shoulder or to one side or the other. Assuming Moony isn’t doing jumping jacks in front of William, and is of a comparable size, that makes sense.
Use case #3 — where Moony is midway between William and the Rat is a bit more dodgy (so to speak). The angle to shoot around Moony is more difficult, though not as difficult as when Moony is right in front of the Rat.
So, what’s the ruling here? 5e would treat all three circumstances as providing cover, but I don’t like that. So I’ll borrow from the 3.5e rules:
Attacker can ignore the cover if he’s closer to the obstacle than his target.
At least as applies to Half and Three-Quarter Cover. In case #1, cover rules apply; in case #2, they do not; in case #3, William would need to take a step forward to fire and ignore the cover.
Some Other Notes
Note this is one of the few cases were 5e bakes in simple bonuses (vs using Advantage/Disadvantage). Assuming Advantage gives you about a +4 on a roll (it varies), that becomes too crude a measure for this.
There is a Variant Rule (DMG 272) about the chances of hitting the cover if you miss your target. KISS, man. Also, we’ll assume that people are being particularly careful not hit their allies.
Note that the Sharpshooter and Spell Sniper feats basically do away with Cover for their user. That’s pretty cool.
Update: OneD&D
In “Unearthed Arcana 2022 – Expert Classes,” the Hide action is allowed when behind Three-Quarters or Total Cover. The Sharpshooter and Spell Sniper feats ignore Half and Three-Quarters Cover, as in 5e.
This one is pretty straightforward, but also gets into complexities from how earlier versions of D&D have done it, and how some other systems do it, too.
Cones are not 90° angles
So that’s the main thing to remember. It was a mistake we made in our first game, and an easy one to because that’s how some other systems do it (like 3.5e and Pathfinder). But not 5e.
When playing on a battle map (if you are doing Theater of the Mind, then just do what the GM says), cones are defined as:
Coming from one of the corners of your square. (If you are running on a hex map, then cones are one of the few things that are easier that way, and please look it up yourself.) They don’t come from the middle of the square. They come from the corner. This is true for most spellcasting in 5e (DMG 251), and missile weapons, and line of sight — though the difference does not stand out in most cases.
The width of the cone equals the range from that corner. So the first five feet (square) the cone is one square wide. At two squares away, the cone is two squares wide. At three squares (the classic 15-foot cone), the cone is three squares wide. Etc.
Or, to quote rules:
Starting point, as the rules put it (DMG 251):
Choose an intersection of squares or hexes as the point of origin or an area of effect, then follow its rules as normal. If an area of effect is circular and covers at least half a square, it affects that square.
A cone’s width at a given point along its length is equal to that point’s distance from the point of origin.
That comes out, I am told, as a 53° angled cone, not 90°.
Which all seems simple until you try to map it out on squares, because squares suck.
If you want to be really technical, you could use an actual cone template that is X feet wide when it is X feet out, and then pick squares that have a majority of their space included in the cone. But I find it easier to just say “Pick a single square, now pick two beyond that, now pick three along the same angle beyond that,” and let the player figure it out.
(I also have some square templates that can be dragged onto the VTT map which can sometimes help. But most cones are short enough that it’s not necessary.)
So, for example …
What does that look like, practically? Here is a simple drawing, which can be rotated in 90° increments:
So a straight cone on a square grid map. The question marks indicate a choice — pick one or the other to be in the cone (arguably, based on whichever corner you are casting from). As noted, at 5 feet the effect is 5 feet across. At 10 feet, the effect is 10 feet across (two squares). At 15 feet, the effect is 15 feet across.
Here’s another:
This one’s at an angle, and is serving double duty.
The red mage is doing a cone at an angle downward (remember this can be rotated in 90° increments, or rotated). At 5 feet, it’s 5 feet wide. At 10 feet it’s 10 feet. At 15 feet, it’s 15 feet wide.
(While cones emanate from a corner, they don’t necessarily target a corner.)
The yellow mage is shooting at a straight 45° angle down and right. This gets a bit more complex because of 5 foot increments and how you calculate diagonals on a square grid in D&D, but again, 1=1, 2=2,. 3=3
Player’s choice. As long as you are starting from a corner, following a line of some sort, and are X squares wide for an X square length of the spell cone, you’re golden.
If that’s still confusing … maybe go for non-cone spells. 🙂 (Though, to be honest, cubical spells have their own weirdities …)
Overall, good and/or interesting ideas. But let’s agree that it’s not 5e-compatible.
So we now have the second “OneD&D” playtest doc, UA 2022 Expert Classes. Interesting stuff, both because we see what they are doing with character classes (in this case, the group of classes titled “Experts”: Bard, Ranger, Rogue, and kinda, technically, Artificer).
As with my previous UA 2022 look, I’m going to break my notes up into three categories (not exclusive):
1. Huh. Not a bad idea.
2. Ugh. That is a bad idea.
3. Yeah, this is 5.5e
Just as an overview:
There are a lot of not-bad ideas in this UA. More importantly, there’s a lot of thoughtful reframing and stating of D&D concepts and rules from 5e that will help bring clarity to the game no matter where it goes.
There are still some bad ideas.
And, no, this is not a seamless backwards-compatible eternal edition of D&D. This is D&D 5.5e .
Huh. Not a Bad Idea
Class Groups: So now we’ll have Class Groups that mean more than just convenient generalizations. And that’s not a bad thing, as they actually use the idea within the rules — Feats with certain Class Groups as prerequisites, for example. It means when new Classes are introduced, they slot more easily into the rules (e.g., by knowing that Artificer is an “Expert” Class, we already know a bunch of rules that apply to it without having to write those rules out with it). And, yeah, it will also help starter groups cover all the bases.
It was an odd choice to start with the “Experts” Class Group (martials, er, “Warriors” would seem more straightforward). But, then, this lets them trot out the new Ranger, as the old one was generally considered underpowered by a lot of people.
Suggestions: I think it’s a good idea for a lot of things (e.g., Spell Lists) to be offered with suggestions as to what a given Class would most likely do with it. Especially Spell lists, I should say. Given the relative ease of swapping out a lot of those things (but even when you can’t), it reduces decision-making during character creation or leveling without actually forestalling options.
I’d recommend some guidance on Feats, too (including Attribute Bumps vs other Feat options).
Increasing Highest Level Powers: Class 20th level features are now moved to 18th Level, with new Epic Boon Feats opened up at 20th. Okay, that’s cool.
Better Bardic Inspiration: Rather than giving Bardic Inspiration to someone for 10 minutes and have them remember to use it and to do so before the GM says that a roll was a failure — the new rules suggest the Bard actively React to the failure and then give the character the extra die to roll.
This same kind of efficiency shows up in a number of places. For example, Guidance is now not a Concentration cantrip that you cast before someone makes a check, but a Reaction to cast afterward. The Bard’s Cutting Words similarly does away with the “use it before the GM announces the results” stuff, which is always a pain. This sort of thing will make these kind of bonuses easier.
Scaling on Proficiency: A number of spells and powers (e.g., again, Bardic Inspiration) use Proficiency Bonus as a modifier or a “how many times you get to use it” counter. That means the abilities will improve over time much more quickly than an Attribute modifier, though they may start out at lower numbers.
Use of Spells instead of Special Abilities: The Bard’s Song of Rest(oration) now provides access to specific healing spells (which trend upward, going from Healing Word up to Greater Restoration) that are considered permanently prepared, rather than specialized mechanics that have to be spelled out for the reader. This shows up in a number of places, and it’s a nice way of using an established effect (a spell) rather than making shit up.
Rangers and Hunter’s Mark:Favored Enemy was kind of weird and weak, much more focused on information than actual action. It helped you track, know stuff about, and understand the language of a given monster type. Now it gives the Ranger Hunter’s Mark for a specific enemy, always prepped, and without need of Concentrating. Nice, esp. when used by the Hunter subclass (which restores the lore component).
Clearer Writing: Even when rules aren’t changing, the UA present them in language that is clearer and easier to parse. There is also more Capitalization of Things to make them easier to see and key off of.
Expanded Actions: The new rules add additional Actions to the 5e list, drawing that whole Actions thing out of just being combat-focused, but providing a stronger framework. Some of these Actions won’t necessarily take place in the realm of an Initiative-based conflict (though they could),m but that’s all right.
That includes carving out “Actions” for Influence, Search, Study, even Jumping. They’re not all good, but I think it’s a cleaner way to present some of these rules.
Conditional Love: 5e had a pretty good framework for Conditions, and the new rules build on that, giving additional considerations as to how different Conditions might affect you, e.g., Incapacitation clearly breaking Concentration and impacting Initiative, which is especially important when you remember that when you Sleep you are Incapacitated. Similarly, the new Hidden condition clarifies a bunch of sealth-related things. The Slowed condition consolidates multiple places where the effect previously occurred to a single point of explanation. Overall, I applaud the effort.
Thief’s Reflexes: Rather than 17th Level Thieves adding an additional turn on the first round (which makes the whole Initiative backup even worse), 14th Level Thieves get an additional Bonus Action from the Cunning Action list.
Thieves and Magic: Rather than the vaguely-worded Use Magic Device abilities for Thieves at 13, now at there are a fixed set of bonus abilities given at 10 that make very little narrative sense, but are quite nice. (It also includes a Scrolls aspect which points to some clarification coming there.)
Double-Weapon Fighting Changes: The current rules on fighting with a weapon in each hand — which is a very cool thing that everyone wants to do sooner or later — are pretty complex, between the dual-handed and double-weapon and the etc. The pivot to having it all be enabled by using a Light weapon (or two) make it all work a bit more cleanly now, with or without the Feats that assist it. At the very least, giving it some thought is a positive in my book.
Nice bonus to the players, too, to have the second attack be part of the same Attack action, rather than a Bonus Action. I worry that’s going to create some higher-level imbalance, but it’s cool.
Searching and Studying: This is an effort to untangle the “Perception” vs “Investigation” perennial confusion. Since that baffles a lot of people (including some GMs), doing so is a good thing, especially as they formally bundle Insight / Medicine / Perception / Survival as “Search” actions and Arcana / History / Investigation / Nature / Religion as the “Study” items, pointing out their conceptual similarities and providing better guidance as to how to use them. Good.
Drawing and Stowing Weapons: This is now called out as part of the Attack action, rather than casually in the generic Use an Object one. That aspect, at least, is good. (See below.)
It’s Magic!: Rather than the Cast a Spell action, we now have a Magic action that includes using magic items. Nice added clarity there.
Barkskin!: This was one of those spells that should have been better, and now is. Rather than merely giving you a basement AC of 16, it now gives Temporary HP (which cale) and is a Bonus Action, making it more likely someone will cast it in combat. Still a Concentration spell, though, which kinda sucks.
Inspiration Exploration!: I can’t take credit here (because according to the videos, this UA was built before they had closed and started reviewing the results of the first one), but I’m tickled to see that one of the ideas they are playing with for Inspiration is giving it on a Nat 1 rather than a Nat 20. I think it would take the sting out of a flat failure (“Well, at least I got Inspiration!”), and is perfectly RPish.
Also, when you receive Inspiration (or “Heroic Inspiration,” maybe to distinguish it from the Bardic type), you can, if you already have a point in it (still the max) pass it on to another player.
Not much Help: The new rules propose only allowing Help on an Skill check if you have Proficiency in the Skill in question. I.e., the Barbarian can’t offer the Rogue Help in picking a lock if they don’t have Proficiency in that skill as well. That’s net a restriction, but it’s a logical one. I might house-rule it to allow someone to convince me that how they are Helping.
Hiding and Hidden: Without parsing things here too carefully, it looks like they are trying to clarify how and when the Hide action works, and what the Hidden condition does for you. I don’t see any significant difference per se, just clarification, which is awesome.
Influence Actions: This was previously optional RP-related stuff in the DMG, but now it’s getting PHB treatment, which I think is net-net good. A lot of these sorts of CHArisma-based things (Deception, Intimidation, Persuasion, and, nice, Animal Handling) can and should be done through roleplay, usually, but illuminating mechanics for them is a good thing, too.
That said, some tuning is called for. As written, the rules use a flat DC regardless of whether you are talking to Wembly the Aggravated Kobold, or DreadLord EdgeBlack the Master of Demons; it draws a distinction in how Hostile the Hostile Attitude is, but if DreadLord EdgeBlack is willing to humor himself listening to your request, you might stand a shot. GMs need to keep hard control over this mechanic.
Jumping Jehozaphat: The new Jumping rules seem clearer and less fiddly than the old ones. That’s good. (But see below.)
Resting Revision: It’s now explicitly called out that the first hour of a Long Rest, if then interrupted, still counts as a Short Rest. That only makes sense.
Rituals: You don’t need a special feature on your character class to cast a Ritual spell. That’s a nice decomplication.
Ugh. That Is a Bad Idea
Poof! I’m Invisible: The current hiding-related things for Rangers in 5e are a bit goofy — Hide in Plain Sight has a bunch of specialized rules with practical restrictions related to them, and Vanish is set at 14th level when it should be a lot lower. But the replacement in the new rules of a one-turn Invisible spell for hand-waving magical reasons seems silly. I like the use of spells instead of customized powers, but this is less useful than the existing rules (one turn?) and a lot less colorful.
Feats and Prerequisites: One of the things that 5e did was really flatten out Feats. After the 3e/3.5e feat trees (I don’t recall how 4e ran them), this was a refreshing way to get cool stuff, character-concept stuff, early days. The introduction of additional pre-reqs — levels, Class Groups, etc. — is starting to complicate that some. I would want to actually see how that works out, and it does have the advantage of allowing more powerful feats for higher level characters, but I’m still a bit concerned. Maybe less of a bad idea than an idea I am wary of.
Drawing and Stowing Weapons: I think one of the biggest heartburns people have in play is juggling weapons, and the way the 5e and the new rules still work, you can’t trade off easily within a turn without dropping something on the ground. I’m sure there are all sorts of good verisimilitude reasons for this, but from a player/GM aspect, it’s Not Fun. (I remain about this close to house-ruling about this.)
Movement Muddling: So there are more explicit rules for different Speed types (Climb Speed, Fly Speed, etc.). That’s cool, but rather than being able to switch out between them on a given turn like you can now, you can now only use one speed type during a given Move. That seems like it will be potentially awkward and limiting, though I’m not sure I can articulate a reason for that off the top of my head. It may be, though, a reason why Dash now doesn’t increase your Speed, it gives you a second Move.
Also, Jumping is now an Action instead of part of Movement. That seems restrictive. If I’m charging that ogre and jumping over a five foot gap along the way, it shouldn’t interfere with my laying some some swordwork on his head.
Exhaustion: Now more clearly a Condition (it was previously in a sidebar of the Conditions appendix in the PHB), which is good, it is given 10 levels rather than 5 (making it much less of a threat, given the mechanics of when it’s imposed), and basically starts subtracting the level from your D20 rolls and the Save DCs on spells you throw. That’s conceptually easier than the different effects in the current rules, but feels, maybe, a bit too smooth (and there’s no movement reduction, which doesn’t seem quite right). Maybe okay, but could use some tuning.
Resting: Long Rests, it is suggested, restore all your Hit Dice, rather than half of them. Also, any reduced Ability Scores are returned to normal. Both of those seem over-powered. This is “balanced” by still canceling out any Long Rest that is interrupted by combat, which gives the GM too many opportunities to screw around with the characters. Blah.
But, Yeah, This is 5.5E
WotC continues to insist that this is all basically the current D&D (5th Edition), but better, and that everything is backwards compatible, and so “editions” are out, and that people can still use their 5e stuff, but that isn’t a 5th Edition PHB it’s the 2014 PHB, and this isn’t a playtest 5.5e, we’re all playing OneD&D now.
Except this is patently untrue.
Okay, it’s true to the extent that this new-and-improved system isn’t a scrape, but a massive remodel. The foundation, the basic structure, most of the plumbing, is all there; they’re just replacing most of the walls and flooring and appliances with bigger, brighter, better bits.
But, let’s be real. You don’t remodel your house and put all the old furniture back in place. People with Rangers built with PHB 2014 will not want to play them as built, with the old rules. They just won’t, esp. if it’s in a shiny new campaign. And GMs probably won’t want them to, if it means one more rulebook to consult against.
And, in fact, they shouldn’t still use the old rules. New material will be written with the assumption that Rangers have Hunter’s Mark and this and that and the other thing. And it should be written that way.
Similarly, the new Feats structure only works one way or the other. Spells like Barkskin and Guidance (let alone others) are one or the other. Mixing and matching characters in an existing campaign, or bringing old characters into a new “OneD&D” game, simply won’t work.
That implies that people will update/rebuild those characters for 5.5 OneD&D. Character sheet designs will need to be changed / reprogrammed. Old modules will need errata for them to reflect that NPCs and various other challenges require updating, etc.
I get that WotC doesn’t want to scare people off by calling it a new edition. A new edition means learning new rules, new concepts, and forking over for new books. But, fergoshsakes, they’re going to be selling everyone new books in 2024 anyway, so what the heck? And in another 5-10 years, they’ll do it again.
(An interesting side note here is that the Artificer is considered an Expert class, but isn’t included in this write-up because they are only focusing on PHB 2014 material, and ignoring expansions in later books like Tasha’s and Xanathar’s. That both does and doesn’t make sense, but it makes me wonder what the final strategy is here: will the new OneD&D PHB include revisions of all the previous material? Or just the core three books? How “aged” does material have to be? Or will we then get updated TCE and XGE books, too (ch-ching)?)
(The question will always be “How does Hasbro think it can most maximize its profits?”)
This is not a rule, actually, but a design philosophy that went into 5e, which gives it a very different flavor (and advancement path) than earlier versions. If you have no interest, you can skip it, though it does answer some questions about what sort of loot you’re likely to find in treasure hordes.
It boils down to a simple questions: Should Joe Shlub, the peasant, be able to hit Conan the Barbarian with his pocket knife?
Or, put a little differently …
Earlier versions would have basically said no:
Conan’s AC should be waaaaaay too high for Joe Shlub to ever hit.
So that’s what advanced most when you rose in levels and experience: your AC (by attribute and by powers, esp. magic armor), and your To Hit to counter it (again, through advancement and through +N Swords of Incredible To Hit).
So Conan has great TH numbers, but he needs them to wrassle with the fantastic AC numbers of the Ancient Red Dragons he’s being thrown against.
5th Edition answers the Joe Shlub question with a yes.
The goal is that everyone always has a chance to hit.
So we focus, in advancement and balance, on essentially the other side of the combat equation: damage and HP, the ability to deal it out and the ability to take it.
So Conan does tremendous damage when he lands a blow … but the dragon has triple-digits of HP.
In short, what most goes up in a 5e game over time is not TH and AC (though they do slowly increase), but Damage and Hit Points. As an example, by the end of the previous campaign we were playing (which brought us to the 19-20 range), we all had a buttload of HP, and the Rogue was doing like 7d6 Sneak Attack damage on top of his weapon. Accuracy and the difficulty of hitting something, instead, stayed within well-guided bounds … i.e., “Bounded Accuracy.”
Joe Shlub can hit Conan — but it’s only ever going to be a scratch. (A mob of Joe Shlubs doing a lot of scratches, aggregating damage output higher than Conan can individually, though … can be a threat.)
WotC has managed all this by putting some mathematical limits on things. Here are some articles that explain it well (the first gets into the not-difficult math, the second into the history):
The former in particular has the basic design table that drives everything, focused on difficulty to achieve something, and keeping strict caps on it.
DC or AC
Difficulty
To Break
Armor
To Hit
5
Very Easy
a glass bottle
an inanimate object
10
Easy
a wooden chair
No Armor
a badger
15
Medium
a simple door
Leather Armor*
a troll
20
Hard
a small chest
Plate Armor**
a dragon***
25
Very Hard
a treasure chest
a tarrasque
30
Nearly Impossible
a masonry wall(1 ft. thick)
a deity
*with shield and +2 Dex modifier **with shield ***Adult Red Dragon is AC 19
This is also why Advantage / Disadvantage is so powerful. It not only simplifies the unruly flocks of plusses-and-minuses that 4e (and earlier) had, it gives a massive jump (roughly +4 in effect) to hit, but temporarily.
The bottom lines:
There is always a chance you can hit something (a nat 20, if nothing else). It can probably hit you back a whoooooole lot harder, but that’s not the point. As we’ve learned by doing, even a nassssty monster, surrounded by enemies, doesn’t have a long life expectancy (thus, even nassssty monsters are going to have minions to run interference). That’s because of the Action Economy.
Things that affect TH/Armor are going to be relatively rare and limited. Older systems handed out +3, +4, +5 weapons/armor like door prizes. In 5e, a +1 TH weapon is an expensive and relatively rare thing, available only in big cities. +2 is incredible, and unlikely to be found for sale anywhere. +3 is a thing of legends. You’re a lot more likely to find a sword that bursts into flames and does an extra 1d6 damage than a +1 sword.
This has been your Game Design lecture for today. We now return to your normal programming.
Bonus Actions are actually pretty easy, but they are not well explained in the 5e Players Handbook.
When can you use a Bonus Action?
On your turn, one of the things you may be able to do is a Bonus Action. The trick to understanding it is that you only get Bonus Actions that the rules specifically say you get. Certain rules give you a Bonus Action. You can only ever use one Bonus Action on your turn, and it can only be on your turn (you can’t use a Bonus Action in an Opportunity Attack, for example).
If you aren’t using or eligible by the rules for a Bonus Action, you don’t get one. There isn’t a “Bonus Action phase” in the turn or something. What you can do as a (single) Bonus Actionhas to come from a rule or ability applicable to your character.
Note that some spells have their casting time as one Bonus Action. These spells can only be used as a BA. Also, you cannot cast a Bonus Action spell if you have cast anything more than a Cantrip as your regular action.
Though that isn’t specified by the rules. (Source)
An Example
So, for example, my Rogue, Tener, started off with only one thing I could do as a Bonus Action (the one available to everyone): a second melee attack using Two-Weapon Fighting (PHB 195).
At second level Rogue, he got the class ability Cunning Action (PHB 96), which meant I could use my Bonus Action to Dash, Disengage, or Hide.
At third level Rogue, he got the Thief archetype ability of Fast Hands (PHB 97), which meant I could use my Bonus Action for Sleight-of-Hand, disarm a trap, unlock a lock, or Use an Object.
But I couldn’t use my Bonus Action to, say, Help, because that wasn’t a Bonus Action defined for my character. I could only do those specific actions defined for my Bonus Action in my rules.
Does everyone have Bonus Actions?
Some characters don’t have any Bonus Actions, at least at lower levels (except the option of Two-Weapon Fighting, if they choose it).
When can I take a Bonus Action?
One more thing about Bonus Actions: some have prerequisites and some have none. For example:
Cunning Actionhas no prerequisites. Whatever else I do on my turn, whenever I want in my turn, I can use the Bonus Action to, for example, Dash.
Two-Weapon Fighting says “When you take the Attack action and attack with a light melee weapon that you’re holding in one hand, you can use a bonus action to attack with a different light melee weapon that you’re holding in the other hand.” Therefore, you need to, in sequence:
(1) take an Attack action with one hand; then, later in your turn, you can
(2) use the Bonus Action to attack with the other hand.
You can do any other allowable things in between — chat with someone, Move, etc. But you can’t use the Bonus Action first in this case.
Monk’s Flurry of Blows speficies “Immediately after you take the Attack action on your turn …” In order to use the FoB Bonus Action, you have to
(1) take an Attack action, and then immediately (no Moving in-between)
(2) use the FoB Bonus Action.
The only time you get a Bonus Action is if you have a rule (usually from a class, race, or feat) that says you have a Bonus Action, and then it’s only good for what the rule says you can do with it. (And you can only do a single BA on your turn.)
Everyone has a Bonus Action for Two-Handed Fighting (allowing you to do the second attack as a Bonus Action). That’s pretty much it.
As a Rogue, your Cunning Action allows you to take a Bonus Action, but only to do a Dash, Disengage, or Hide. (This is a “restriction,” yes, but it’s actually granting you Bonus Actions that nobody else necessarily has. Similarly, if you take Thief, at 3rd level you can do a Sleight of Hand, disarm/unlock, or Use and Object as your Bonus Action on a turn.)
Can I take a Bonus Action to Help someone?
This came up early in my campaign. In short, unless you have a Bonus Action that specifically says you can Help on your BA, you can’t.
That said, “Help” (PHB 192) is a great Action for a character to take on their turn when they’re not sure what to do or if they don’t think their own attack on the BBEG will be effective, or if someone else will have a great attack.
For Rogues (again as it came up in my campaign) it doesn’t really come into play for allowing a Sneak Attack, though, because to Help for combat (giving Advantage) the Helper has to be adjacent to the target — which, if they are, means a Rogue can already Sneak Attack the target anyway (PHB 96) (though a Help would let you roll Advantage on the attack, which is not for nothing).
But, again, Help can’t be done in a Bonus Action unless someone has that specifically as something they can do as a BA.
It’s important to distinguish between an “attack” and the Attack Action.
An “attack” is when you roll a D20 (usually) to try to hit someone. Attacks may be made in the Attack Action, but they can occur at other times.
An Attack Action is one of your turn slots which may include one more more attacks in it.
Extra Attack vs. MultiAttack
“Extra Attack” is something Fighters (etc.) get as a class advantage at various times. It means that when you take the Attack Action, you can do multiple attacks (e.g., instead of a single longsword blow on the orc, you take two, or even three).
(This is different from doing a Two-Weapon Fighting (PHB 195) where the second attack is a Bonus Action).
“Multiattack” is something NPCs (and a few shapeshifting PCs) do — an animal’s claw-claw-bite, for example. It is its own Action, a Multiattack Action, not an Attack Action. Each of those attacks is usually also available separately, which is important with Opportunity Attacks.
Reactions, Opportunity Attacks, and Readying
Opportunity Attack (PHB 195) allows, as a Reaction (not during your turn, but during someone else’s), “one melee attack” when the target tries to step out of reach. Extra Attack doesn’t come into play (because it’s not giving you an Attack Action, just an attack): the Paladin doesn’t get to swing twice against a retreating foe, just once. Neither does Multiattack: when you move away from the giant bear, it can claw at you, but not claw-claw-bite.
Readying lets you take a specified Reaction (“if anyone steps in front of me, I will swing my sword at them”). . You can only Ready a single attack, not an Extra Attack or a Multiattack, because Reactions don’t take place on your turn. E.g., the Monk (PHB 79) notes that the Extra Attack is only on their turn. Ditto Fighter (PHB 72). Multiattacks are also intended only on the attacker’s turn.
Similarly, you can only use a Bonus Actionon your turn (PHB 189). A two-weapon fighter can Ready an attack (or Opportunity Attack) with their rapier, but not their Bonus Action attack with a dagger.
Avoiding damage when falling. [Old school D&D, but not in 5e]
Using Athletics vs Acrobatics
In many way, you can narratively figure out which one makes sense, and different characters might use one or the other for the same action. Consider how Aragorn (an Athlete) would do something, vs. how Legolas (an Acrobat) would do it. A crowd of orcs to get past? Aragorn bulls his way through, while Legolas tumbles and leaps and dodges past, but the final effect is the same.
In a couple of cases in the rules there are explicit options as to which you can use.
Grappling: The Grappler rolls an Athletics check vs. the Grapplee rolling either with either Athletics (think “breaking free”) or Acrobatics (“slippling free”). If the Grapple succeeds, the Grapplee can repeat the contest as their action on their turn.
Shoving: Same as Grappling, only with a push-back or push-down as the result.
Or if gymnastics isn’t your thing, consider a parkour routine; there are clearly both STR and DEX things going on there. (And CON, and INT, if not WIS, for that matter.)
To complicate things further, Abilities and Skills are not fixed in their combination. One can imagine a Strength (Acrobatics) roll being legitimately allowed, or a Dexterity (Athletics). Indeed, there is technically in 5e no such thing as a Skill check; everything is an Ability check, potentially modified by proficiency in a given Skill set.)
No huge conclusions here, just an observation about similarities and differences and what the fundamentals of two ambiguously-named skill sets are. Again, using the guidelines described above as guard rails, narratively figure out what it is that you’re doing. And, of course, note that both of these skills are good candidates for an occasional invocation of the “Rule of Cool.”
A House Rule
As noted above, in previous editions of D&D, Acrobatics could help save you from a fall by reducing its damage. That was explicitly left out of 5e, so I’m reluctant to re-insert it.
I would house-rule, though, that a successful Dexterity (Acrobatics) role might keep you from going prone after a fall, vs a DC equal to the damage you took (stick the landing!).
Bonus OneD&D Note:
According to the Character Generation playtest document, Grappling and Shoving are now part of the Unarmed Strike action — hit the target with an Unarmed Strike (D20 + STR mod + Proficiency) vs their AC.
If you were going for a Grapple, the target becomes Grappled, with a STR or DEX check each turn vs a DC of (8 + STR Mod + Proficiency) to break free.
If you were going for a Shove, you succeed.
This reduces the number of contests, but also reduces the use of Athletics and Acrobatics.
One of the 5e design mission statements was to Keep It Simple, Stupid. This KISS principle was a response to the ultra-crunchy tactical game which was 4e. I like miniatures and tactics, so I liked 4e, but it did, by focusing on numbers and formulae so much, drain a lot of color from the game. As I started up my 5e campaign, I constantly found myself running head-smack into things that 4e did that 5e did not, by design, and having to figure out why.
So what is it?
Rather than having players maneuver a blizzard of plusses and minutes on attacks, 5e tries to reduce it down to a simple set of questions for any Attack, Save, or Action Check roll:
Does the attacker (die roller) have, at the moment, an Advantage over the defender?
Does the attacker have, at the moment, an Disadvantage, compared to the defender?
Then:
If there’s no Advantage nor Disadvantage, it’s a Normal attack — roll 1d20.
If there is both Advantage and Disadvantage, it’s a Normal attack — roll 1d20.
If there is justAdvantage — roll 2d20 and take the higher die roll.
If there is justDisadvantage — roll 2d20 and take the lower die roll.
Note that (KISS) these are not additive. There is no “Super-Advantage,” and no “Well, you have one Advantage and two Disadvantages, so that comes out to Disadvantage.” There is either just Advantage, or just Disadvantage; otherwise it’s a Normal 1d20 roll.
So what impact does this have?
There are some fancy graphs out there, but Advantage is roughly a +4 on a d20, statistically. Or, as put another way, “Advantage is an enormous benefit that lands 13 or higher 50% of the time, is almost twice as likely to crit, and has 1/20th times as likely to botch.” So 5e doesn’t hand out the status lightly.
Or, put in pictures (please feel free to ignore if math makes you twitchy):
Having Advantage (blue) boosts your numbers up a lot, esp. in the middle range (trying to hit at least an 8-16); having Disadvantage (green) drags your numbers way down.
When do you have Advantage or Disadvantage?
There are a lot of conditions that create Advantage or Disadvantage (since there are very few conditions any more, except cover, that throw numbers, not Ad/Disad). A good survey can be found here:
A few common ones for combat:
Using the Dodge action during combat has any attack roll against you made at a disadvantage until the start of your next turn (if you can see the attacker). DEX saving throws while Dodging are made with advantage. (Note to GMs: bad guys should Dodge a lot more than they do.)
Using the Help action during combat can give an ally advantage in one of their own ability checks before the start of your next turn (see “working together”). Alternatively, it can provide advantage on the first of an ally’s attack rolls against a monster.
Attacking an enemy while hidden (if they don’t detect you approaching) or otherwise unseen grants you advantage on attack rolls. Conversely, attacking an enemy you can’t see has you making the roll with disadvantage.
Ranged attacks whose target is within a weapon’s long range (but not within normal range) have a disadvantage on the attack roll.
Ranged attacks (including rolled spell attacks) in close combat (within 5 feet of a hostile creature who can see you and isn’t incapacitated) have a disadvantage on the attack roll. (Spells that require a Saving Throw don’t have this problem because they have no attack roll.)
Attacks made while prone are at a disadvantage. Attacks at 5′ made on someone who is prone are at an advantage, but attacks beyond that are at a disadvantage.
You can spend a your point of Inspiration to make an attack, save, or action check at advantage.
Advantage also shows up as a balancer. Kobolds, for example, have a Mob Tactics ability; if a kobold is next to an ally in combat, they each get Advantage on their attack roll. Thugs and Wolves have analogous abilities. That makes them more of a threat than you might think.
How do I roll Ad/Disad?
Normal physical tabletop, just roll two D20s and pick the higher (or lower) one as need be.
The Roll20 VTT standard 5e character sheet provides multiple ways to roll advantage, set through the Settings (gear icon) on the sheet toggle (CORE|BIO|SPELL|gear):
Advantage Toggle — You’ll see a ADVANTAGE | NORMAL | DISADVANTAGE toggle at the top of the character sheet which you can adjust for each roll. [This is what I do, because I like to be sure I have all my settings right and am not throwing more dice than needed.]
Advantage Query — For each Attack/Save/Action Check roll, you’ll get as pop up window asking if you have Advantage or Disadvantage. [I find this annoying, myself.]
Always Roll Advantage — This will roll 2d20 on everything, then you can apply the roll (higher number for Advantage, lower number for Disadvantage, left-hand number for Normal). [This is a very common way people do this, and for the DM the monsters are all done this way.]
Never Throw Advantage — Always just roll 1d20; if you need to roll a second die, do it again.
So this is less rule than game design philosophy. It feels a little Inside Baseball, but understanding it is fundamental to understanding a lot of the reasoning behind the rules in 5e, and in why the game behaves the way it does.
What is the “Action Economy”?
In short, action economy means what a character (or NPC or creature) can do each turn. How many attacks can they make? How many abilities can they use? How many spells can they cast? A lot of the rules I’ve researched in here orbit around that concept of action economy.
Essentially,
the larger your action economy ⇒
the more things you can do in a turn ⇒
the more powerful you are
And that’s true for individuals, as well as for groups.
A big part of character advances are adding more attacks, more Bonus Action options, etc. Similarly, more powerful monsters have more attacks and actions in a turn (including legendary and lair powers).
All things being equal, the side that has the greater numbers of combatants has an advantage in combat, because their action economy, the opportunities they have for success in combat, is greater.
Bounded Accuracy , as one person put it, “makes everybody dangerous no matter how weak but does so at the cost of making everyone vulnerable no matter how strong.” Which means, by implication, over time a bunch of weak (but dangerous) characters can overwhelm a strong (but vulnerable) one.
PCs often have advantage in combat because encounters often have more PCs vs fewer (but individually more powerful) enemies. Sure, that monster can do three physical attacks, or maybe a big spell effect. But PCs much more often get more Attacks, Spells, Bonus Action abilities, etc., than enemies, individually or (and this is important) in aggregate. They often also get specialized Reactions others than Opportunity Attack. This only starts to partially equalize when you get up to epic creatures that have legendary and lair actions, but even there, numbers tell.
Everything you can do is part of your action economy: Actions, Bonus Actions, Reactions, and Moves. The more you can set yourself up (tactically, in a battle, or strategically, in your character design) to do something effective with all of those options in a turn, the more effective (and deadly) your character will be.
In short, the action economy is your range of actions in a round (see above), and by extension, maximizing your effectiveness by using as much of that economy as possible.
How do GMs cope?
GMs bitch a lot about this: the boss fight that’s got the arch-critter-demon you’ve had the players trembling about for months … ending with the boss going down in two rounds as the 15 attacks the party can generate per turn (action economy!) overwhelms the 4-5 the boss can.
What (just to offer notes) do GMs/module writers do in the face of this?
They add Minions! They’re not just color text — they help balance the “overwhelming numbers vs very powerful foe” equation by mitigating the former so that the latter can get some licks in.
As mentioned, epic-level legendary creatures — dragons, liches, beholders, etc. — can get legendary and/or lair powers, which basically add to their action economy (and hurt like the dickens). GMs often add these non-canonically to other bosses, too.
Do other things toadd to a boss’s action economy. One suggestion that seems to have legs is making bosses, in short, multiple creatures (with different capabilities and HP pools and initiatives) presenting as a single creature.
Split the Party. If the party can’t bring all of its power to bear — because it’s split up (by its own choosing or through an external force), or maybe because the attack vectors are limited (a narrow hallway, perhaps), it’s action economy is restrained.
The converse to all of these can be used (usually by the GM) to weaken a boss that seems too big to tackle.
Part of an ongoing (if occasional) series of D&D 5e Rules notes.
