Last week, I wrote letters to Chris Cocks, CEO of Hasbro, Dan Rawson, VP of D&D at Wizards of the Coast, and via the Wizards of the Coast support form.

After taking some time to process and listen to others about their announcement Friday, I wrote this follow-up message via the support form.

Hello. Please send this message to the extent of your ability to those in charge of making decisions regarding the future of the OGL, and thank-you for the extra work you have to do because of all this:

Hi, I’m a dad and a commercial OGL content creator dedicated to using TTRPGs (usually 5e so far) to help you make lives better.

This weekend, I spent a lot of time thinking about the future of the OGL and our company’s ability to continue our work to improve disability inclusion and accessibility at the tabletop and the rest of the world. And I worried about what it meant for my ability to continue to feed my disabled children.

As our family was cleaning the house over the weekend, I was having trouble keeping my kids on task, and the combined stress eventually led to me yelling at my kids. Especially given my wife’s sensitivity to loud noises, yelling only made things worse.

So I sat down, had a cup of tea and a cookie, and apologized to my family. I could’ve made excuses and claimed I wasn’t really yelling or justified my behavior, but none of those would make things better. My family already knew how I was acting and that it was hurting our relationship. The only way to reconcile was for me to apologize.

I’ve been happily married for 28 years, so I can assure you that a sincere apology goes a lot further than excuses to restore relationships, especially when I demonstrate sincere contrition and change my behavior.

You have hurt the D&D community worse than any past action in its history.

Lies won’t fix things. Don’t say you were looking for community feedback by sending OGL 1.1 to 20 people under NDA. Don’t say you’re concerned about D&D NFTs when the OGL already prohibited that, but you’ve announced Power Rangers NFTs. Don’t say you’re trying to keep people from producing harmful D&D content after the Hadozee incident and an updated OGL that forbids producing content with accessibility technology. Don’t say we all won when truly, we all lost. The whole world, including your company’s future, is worse off due to your actions.

But speaking of the Hadozee incident, pay attention to what happened. You apologized sincerely. You changed the offensive content. You implemented policies to keep it from happening again. And while you broke our trust, we’re quick to forgive when we believe that you realize the harm you’ve caused. Forgiveness isn’t saying you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s specifically acknowledging that harm was done but allowing the relationship to continue in spite of that harm.

While this is worse, if you follow the same pattern you did last time, while thousands are understandably too hurt to come back, many of us will. But you need to admit the harm you caused if you want that to happen, nothing like Friday’s announcement.

You need to keep the promise you made in the OGL FAQ that was on your website and leave it alone or improve it to show you care about your fan base — add to the SRD, but the only change added to the OGL should be the word, “Irrevocable,” to show us you mean it and learned from this. That would be the policy change to keep this from happening again.

That would show that you care about our relationship even if only as customer and creator.

We as a community have a deep connection to our relationship with D&D, and we hope you want to be a part of that. But you need to show us that you actually care about D&D if you expect to be part of this relationship. We’re trying to make it the best it can be. We hope you will too.

Hopefully but skeptically,

Dale Critchley

Wyrmworks Publishing

If you’re willing to communicate your concerns to Hasbro/WotC, you can use the same feedback form.

If you haven’t already, I encourage you to sign the OpenDnD Petition. While you’re at it, Ryan Dancey, the crafter of the original OGL, has written a petition of his own that’s worthy of consideration. You can read and sign it here.

DM: As you open the door, a thick green gas billows out but does not dissipate.

Wizard: I cast Gust of Wind to dissipate the gas.

DM: Nothing happens. The feeling you normally experience when you cast a spell is gone. As you reach out to manipulate the Weave, you sense its complete absence, like a magical vacuum. As the gas swirls around you, you notice four bipedal silhouettes approaching quickly. In a moment, their long pointed ears, furry bodies, and grins brimming with confidence and menace take shape as they raise their morning stars to attack. Roll initiative….

Barbarian: I rage and draw their attention. Let’s see how well those morning stars match my ax!

Bard: I give Bardic Inspiration to the rogue

Rogue: I use the cover of the mist to hide and prepare for a snaeak attack.

Wizard: I…use my dagger, I guess.

The executives at Hasbro have taken the unconscionable initiative to attempt to eliminate their perceived competition, believing that they can play the Dungeons & Dragons game and everything it entails by themselves. It’s not going well. But why are standard corporate monetization strategies failing so catastrophically?

Hasbro sees D&D primarily for its intellectual property, as if people will pay just as much for the D&D ampersand on anything as the Nike Swoosh®. But D&D was never about the brand. Yes, its recognition holds substantial power in the industry, but its power is ultimately rooted in its core concept. From the free Basic Rules:

There’s no winning and losing in the Dungeons & Dragons game—at least, not the way those terms are usually understood. Together, the DM and the players create an exciting story of bold adventurers who confront deadly perils. Sometimes an adventurer might come to a grisly end, torn apart by ferocious monsters or done in by a nefarious villain. Even so, the other adventurers can search for powerful magic to revive their fallen comrade, or the player might choose to create a new character to carry on. The group might fail to complete an adventure successfully, but if everyone had a good time and created a memorable story, they all win.

Basic Rules, p. 3

The TTRPG industry is unlike any I’ve ever experienced in a commercial industry, because it functions under this same principle. We work together. We don’t compete with each other. Cross-promotion is the single most effective form of marketing, as we show others the cool things our “competition” makes, help each other, share tips, and buy and enjoy each other’s products. We recognize that we are all one big adventuring party.

Because Hasbro doesn’t understand its own product, its executives also don’t understand how to market it. They set themselves up as competition in a non-competitive space, thus establishing themselves as the Big Bad Evil Guy (BBEG), at which point an entire industry and their fans who spend their whole lives developing creative solutions to every insurmountable problem imaginable all roll initiative. We use our diverse skills from every direction and with unique approaches. The third party publishing community fills in the gaps of unique products for niche needs that a large company like Wizards can’t meet due to the difference in scale. It takes an entire diverse party to succeed at this game, and the action economy, the power of multiple smaller actions against one larger action, will be their undoing.

But more than that, by setting themselves up as our adversaries, they’re missing the point that this game is all about fun. It’s about community. It’s about helping each other out of jams (or oozes…). It’s about taking those lessons and applying them to real life, where we don’t just find friends, but staunch allies. And it’s that fulfillment that keeps bringing us back for more.

What a miserable life to sit alone in your castle as a decaying lich, desperately trying to protect an ampersand-shaped soul cage, while allies fight together and celebrate their victories with songs, drinks, and experience points! Even as they destroy themselves and attempt to destroy everyone around them, I can’t help but pity whatever motivates that kind of desperation. As angry as I am that they’ve chosen to deliberately remove the promises associated with the OGL from their website so they could lie about its purpose to betray us, I wish they would go down to their closest FLGS, join in a few games, and experience the true magic of D&D. Maybe the oathbreaker could be redeemed. But until then, we reluctantly raise arms, use memes of Bardic Inspiration to build each other up, and call for the healers to restore those with exhaustion, not until they declare a winner to try to call off the fight, but until the battle is truly won.

How can a character in a wheelchair be an adventurer in Dungeons & Dragons or other fantasy roleplaying games? While I recently noted that ramps should be more common than expected, no matter how accessible your world is, you’ll eventually encounter rough terrain of some kind. Does this make adventuring in a wheelchair impossible?

1. Rough terrain is hard for everyone, thus the name.

Probably the most common question I get: “How can a person in a wheelchair navigate [some kind of terrain]?” This seems to assume everyone else has no problem. It’s called rough terrain for a reason. It’s difficult for nearly everyone to cross. It’s like a merfolk asking how you could navigate the ocean with those finless legs. You’d use an assistive device like a boat.

Different environments present different challenges for different people, disabled or not, but it’s easy to think from an able-bodied perspective and make assumptions based on our own experiences, calling the difficult “impossible” instead of making it “accessible”.

2. Ambulatory wheelchair users exist.

Many people think that anyone in a wheelchair must be paraplegic, but many wheelchair users can walk — it’s difficult, painful, or exhausting, but they may well be able to traverse a 10 foot staircase, possibly needing to take a short rest after and find a different means of retrieving their wheelchair from below.

Real-world ambulatory wheelchair users frequently face scorn from people who see them stand up to get something off a shelf or for some other purpose and criticize them for “faking it”. Don’t do that, and don’t make assumptions about fictional characters’ capabilities, either.

3. Are you adventuring alone?

While certain encounters may be difficult for any given individual to navigate, most adventuring parties consist of multiple characters working together. The caster levitates the rogue over the pit. The barbarian protects the caster. The walking party member assists the wheelchair user up the steps. That’s the whole point of a balanced party.

4. Wheelchair users can traverse steps alone.

See for yourself.

5. I present to you the Ramp spell. (or Floating Disk)

If you have a member of the party who can cast Floating Disk, they can put it under your wheelchair, and it will traverse anything an able-bodied person can. (See #3 above.) If not, I offer this alternative so you can do it yourself.

Ramp

1st-level conjuration (ritual)

Casting Time: 1 action
Range: 30 feet
Components: V, S, M (a wood or stone wedge)
Duration: 10 minutes

This spell creates a plane of force, 6 feet wide, 1 inch thick, and up to 30 feet long, that connects 2 solid objects through an unoccupied space of your choice that you can perceive within range. The plane remains for the duration and can hold up to 500 pounds. If more weight is placed on it, if you move more than 30 feet away from it, or if one of the connected objects moves beyond the length of the plane, the spell ends, and everything on the plane falls to the ground.

At Higher Levels. When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 2nd level or higher, the plane length increases by 20 feet for each slot level above 1st.

6. Rope exists in D&D.

You can either have a couple party members tow your chair over the steps or use a grappling hook and Batman the steps by yourself.

7. Some terrain is easier in a wheelchair.

If you’re in a wheelchair, you’re not likely to be knocked prone by slippery surfaces, so you’re effectively immune to the Grease spell or other effects that make the ground slippery unless sliding down a ramp, and even then, you probably won’t end up prone once you get to the bottom.

8. Heat Metal is a bigger problem for martials than wheelchair users.

I’ve seen comments that those in wheelchairs are vulnerable to Heat Metal. That assumes the wheelchair is made of metal instead of wood, bone, or some other substance, but even in that case, it probably takes a reaction to push yourself out of a chair until the spell ends. Armor takes 1–5 minutes to doff. The paladin will want help from the wheelchair-using rogue in that case, and is anyone really going to burn a 2nd level spell and their concentration on an escapable wheelchair when they could be turning the fighter into a baked potato?

9. Dodging in a wheelchair.

Can you dodge in a wheelchair? Given that dodging is an action in 5e, there’s no reason you couldn’t. Paralympians and other wheelchair-using athletes can move with amazing speed and dexterity. Add the superhuman nature of a 5e hero, and players should have no problem imagining this.

10. D&D is a game of creative solutions — that’s what separates it from video games.

I am not disabled, and it took me 20 minutes to compile this list of ideas before researching the details. Were I a disabled adventurer, I’d have a lifetime of ideas how to manage various obstacles. Many people who can’t imagine navigating these obstacles may benefit from honestly attempting to play as a disabled character, to take some time to think and research both accessibility and others’ lived experiences to expand their awareness. Others may choose a magical solution like the hovering capability of the Combat Wheelchair. But it’s D&D — anything is possible, limited only by your imagination and the parameters established at your table.

When Jennifer Kretchmer presented the scandalous idea of ramps in dungeons in Candlekeep Mysteries, a significant portion of the D&D community couldn’t wrap their mental dice bags around such a concept. It seemed incomprehensible to make dungeons more accessible, and I still get multiple daily angry or derisive comments to that effect whenever I run Facebook ads promoting our products.

But just as curb cuts, those little ramps in sidewalk curbs, were designed for wheelchairs but benefit strollers, shopping carts, bicyclists, and anyone else who uses wheels, including them in dungeons may be more sensible than stairs, regardless what adventurers may come investigating.

So since I get tired of writing the same responses repeatedly, as do others who fight for accessibility and disability representation, consider these concepts, and feel free to comment below.

1. Are dungeons supposed to be inaccessible?

Dungeons are designed to keep people out!

Are they, though? That depends on the dungeon. It’s a generic term that can refer to any number of structures for any number of purposes. Often, a dungeon is a space that has either intentionally or naturally changed purpose over time. Maybe it was once a castle basement used for storage or as a siege shelter. Or a crypt. Or a cave. Or a menagerie. Or a majestic castle. Or a forest in the Feywild. When considering the accessibility of a dungeon (or any other details in its design), the designer must consider its purpose, its owner, its age, its ecology, and many other factors. But while the 10’×10′ stone corridor underground is still a staple, it hardly represents the majority of adventuring environments in D&D.

2. Are dungeons all made from flagstone?

Flagstone, made typically from sandstone or similar materials, is the classic material design for a dungeon, but a dungeon can be packed dirt, a tunnel carved out of a mountain, the alleys in the darker sections of Waterdeep, massive caverns in the Underdark, the City of Brass on the Elemental Plane of Fire, a rickety old wooden mansion, or the rubble of ancient ruins. Each of these presents accessibility challenges to different characters — my tiefling warlock with chronic leg pain will manage a whole lot better than an able-bodied elf druid in the City of Brass, and if the steps in the haunted mansion suddenly become a slide, the walking character will be prone while the wheelchair user holds out a spear and yells, “Charge!”

3. What was the dungeon before it was haunted ruins?

How many people are specifically building dungeons, anyway? They’re difficult to make and not particularly practical. Most dungeons used to be something else (or still are). The dragon isn’t going to build human-sized steps into its lair. A xorn digging through the Elemental Plane of Earth will create smooth tunnels. Water eroding an ancient cavern won’t erode at jagged 90° angles. An ancient dwarven mine would never have stairs (and may even have cart tracks or elevators). And the inside of a crashed spaceship will have smooth hallways and elevators. That doesn’t preclude the possibility of steps, a stone cliff (which is difficult for anyone but the rogue or monk to climb), or other obstacles, but if you can creatively find a way to cross that pit filled with a gelatinous cube, you can bet that a seasoned adventurer has some tricks up their sleeve to overcome occasional rough terrain.

4. Have you ever tried carrying an occupied coffin down stairs?

Many dungeons were or are still crypts designed either for a wealthy family or to keep an ancient evil contained. If the current occupant came into that crypt in a pine box, you can bet there’s a ramp. I’ve attended and conducted dozens of funerals, and there’s a reason modern morticians use carts for coffins — they’re heavy, especially with a body in them! (And the bigger the corpse, the heavier.) So if you’re carrying that coffin to its (hopefully) final resting place, guiding a cart into an underground crypt on a ramp with a rope will save you a whole lot of effort, even if there’s also steps beside the ramp, either permanently or in the form of nearby removable timbers. A party coming to investigate a restless spirit would likely find the accommodations designed by the architect or implemented by a past undertaker.

5. What size creature were your stairs designed for?

Stairs are designed for the people using them, so modern stairs are designed for a human range of heights and foot sizes. But if a dungeon occupied by both a clutch of kobolds and a family of ogres will either require the kobolds to bring climbing gear to scale ogre-sized steps or the ogres to walk sideways up the steps, even then with a lot of foot pain. A ramp easily solves this problem, not to mention making it easier to drag in fresh meat from a successful hunt or drag out bags of bones of unsuccessful adventurers.

6. How do you feed your monsters?

Speaking of dragging carcasses, you need to feed that hydra that’s somehow in a chamber with only 10’×10′ corridor access and dispose of its waste. While I recommend an underground river or other sewage drain for the latter (which can be its own security problem when kobolds find it), unless you have a city’s worth of really gullible bullywugs that are willing to go investigate the noises that you insist are coming from a carnival with dragonfly ripple ice cream, you’re going to need to kill something and transport it into those snapping jaws, and you’ll have a much easier time pushing it over a ramp than stairs.

7. How did all those stones, trap mechanisms, and monsters get down there?

You know that big treasure chest full of gold and jewels? Yeah, it’s probably a mimic. But if it’s not, good luck lugging that thing down steps into the deepest chamber. Add tons of flagstone, support timbers, cages filled with monsters, chests of potions bottles, or whatever else you’re storing down there. Put those containers on wheels down a ramp, and your building process will be a lot easier.

8. Which lasts longer in treacherous environments, stairs or ramps?

As noted above, flagstone is usually made from sandstone. Sandstone erodes. That’s how sedimentary rock forms. If that ancient staircase is as ancient as you describe, it’s probably a ramp by now, albeit irregular, which would be even easier to navigate if it has some landings.

9. Dwarves had specific skills to detect ramps as early as 1st Edition.

In AD&D, dwarves could, “Detect grade or slope in passage: 1-5 on 1d6.” In other words, ramps in underground passages aren’t some new 5e concept — they’re oldschool. Some were gradual, thus the check, and some were more obvious, but they had this skill in the first place because when you’re digging a mine or underground city and need to move a lot of rock and goods around, slopes make a lot more sense than steps. And elevators, even better. And purple worms don’t burrow in straight lines.

10. It’s fantasy but makes the real world better.

All this fantasy talk is fun, but real lives are the most important factor. Discussions of “realistic” in a world where a spoken word can transform steps into a ramp or a mudslide or a mimic or a dimensional gateway, what matters most is the effect on our players. Even if a disabled player doesn’t want to play a disabled character, including disabled NPCs and the effects of their existence in your world tells your players, “I don’t want to imagine a world without you in it.”

When we launched Limitless Heroics, we said, ”Limitless Heroics is more than an RPG book. It’s a petition. Back this project, and you communicate to every game publisher on earth that disabled people exist and can easily be included in their games, that the customers want that representation, and that accessibility and representation are necessary core features for future products.” Some scoffed at that. Others called it virtue signaling. But we truly believe that these small actions have a ripple effect on the industry and the world.

Efforts toward inclusion have definitely improved over the years. Third party products like Ancestry & Culture and An Elf and an Orc Had a Little Baby offer suggestions for better representation and an alternative to the bioessentialism that has had such a prominent role in Dungeons & Dragons throughout its existence. Wizards of the Coast began making changes with Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything and took racial representation to the next level with the announcement of Journeys through the Radiant Citadel, and we applaud these efforts and see the leader of the industry providing a positive example for racial representation.

But what about disability representation?

The first well-known effort to better represent disabilities in role-playing games came from the viral Combat Wheelchair, followed closely by the inexplicably controversial ”ramps in dungeons” adventure in Candlekeep Mysteries, but note that the latter, while published by Wizards of the Coast, was only designed to be accessible by its author, Jennifer Kretchmer, not by direction from the company, which is obvious in that that’s the only adventure in the collection that includes any deliberate accessibility. (GURPS and the Hero System also include disabilities, but it does more harm than good.)

Besides a handful of very small games floating around itch.io, Accessible Games produces Psi-Punk and Survival of the Able, and Evil Hat’s Fate Accessibility Toolkit was the first deliberate representation publication by a second tier publisher, and it’s still considered the best of its kind in the industry, and while it’s brilliant, it’s also the best because it’s the only one of its kind until Limitless Heroics finishes production.

Other third party offerings have stepped into the D&D system with examples like Adventures in ADHD and our own Accessible Adventures of the Week, but those examples remain rare.

Proof that Tony Stark Has a Heart

But now Marvel has thrown down the Infinity Gauntlet of accessibility with the Marvel Multiverse RPG, including limited but deliberate disability representation. Disney/Marvel by no means leads the TTRPG space, but they’re the first company to enter it in recent years with the potential to challenge WotC on their home turf. While Marvel’s past TTRPG offerings haven’t challenged D&D for dominance, that’s not necessary even now to see more inclusion. (No, I have no illusions that Limitless Heroics influenced this decision.)

As more publishers, especially media companies whose reach extends beyond the TTRPG sphere, implement disability inclusion in their game systems and campaign worlds, the more it becomes expected. Imagine how odd a campaign world of all white characters would seem today thanks to the civil rights movements and the ongoing work of millions to demand racial representation. In the same way, games and other media without a broad range of orientations and gender expressions are becoming increasingly expected.

The more we see accurate and positive disability representation throughout different forms of media, the more it becomes a standard. I look forward to the day when the lack of disability representation becomes noticeable.

In my previous post, I discussed whether you should have disabled characters in your Dungeons & Dragons or other tabletop role-playing game. I won’t rehash that discussion, so if you haven’t, read it first.

So people have said, “Sure, disabled (non-player) characters make sense, but adventurers?” Let’s take a look at the most common arguments against disabled PCs.

Again, it’s not a question of what you should do, but whether this is harmful or beneficial. It’s a question of whether it will benefit your players and you as the DM. It’s a question of whether having disabled PCs in your party will make a difference in the real world. It may seem like a fantasy game wouldn’t make a difference in the real world, but when we play in interactive fantasy worlds, it affects our real world minds — players are affected by their characters.

Why would a disabled character choose to be an adventurer?

“Why would they choose a lifestyle that’s likely to get them killed?” This question has two erroneous assumptions:

1. Adventurers usually choose to be adventurers as a career path.
2. Disabled characters are more likely to get killed adventuring than non-disabled people.

We’ll address #2 below, but look at your characters’ backgrounds. How many of them chose to be adventurers? How many of them were chosen, either by desperation or some other external event or circumstance?

In most fantasy worlds, adventurers are relatively rare. Most people never travel farther than a few miles from home their entire lives, needing to stay close to the family home, farm, or business, where multiple generations have lived. While fame and fortune are appealing, until the invention of the internal combustion engine, people didn’t usually travel unless compelled to by catastrophe, persecution, governmental obligation (i.e. military or diplomatic), or religious pilgrimage unless they had a lot of money.

A character beginning their adventuring career disabled might do so for multiple reasons related to their disability, such as the catastrophe that caused their disability or rejection by their ableist village or family. But they also might do so for any of the other reasons that lead people to think their chances in life are better staring down the smoking maw of a dragon, like rescuing a loved one, growing in their understanding of the arcane, the “cause of righteousness,” or revenge. Because they are persons, they begin with all the potential reasons for a person to become an adventurer. Because they have disabilities, they have even more potential reasons. A complex character would have multiple reasons that culminated in their decision.

Why would a party put up with a disabled character?

People with disabilities are people, not burdens. Any suggestion to the contrary indicates more about you than about disabled people. People are to be valued, not tolerated, regardless of any of their characteristics.

But are disabled adventurers a liability to the party? Everyone has strengths and challenges. Often, our challenges strengthen us. Other times, they’re just extra challenges. In Dungeons & Dragons fifth edition, characters have opportunities to add depth to their characters with characteristics like bonds and flaws, and a character with a loose tongue or short temper is more likely to cause a problem for a party than a character with a disability.

How could a disabled adventurer survive?

Everyone has strengths and challenges, so everyone learns to use their strengths to compensate for their challenges. If you live in poverty, you learn to stretch your funds. If you work far from home, you get a vehicle that helps you get back and forth efficiently. If you’re blind, you learn to use your other senses to navigate the world using cues from your other senses.

We use tools like swords to compensate for a lack of natural weapons, mail for a lack of natural armor, or a walking stick for lack of vision, wheelchair for a lack of being able to stand or walk a long time, or ear plugs for a lack of tolerance for loud noises.

And we depend on each other. Most adventuring parties have a wide range of abilities, whether martial prowess, skill specialties, or spell casting. A dragonborn may consider lack of natural armor as any physical, mental, or emotional disability, and to the average dungeon-delver, that same sighted dragonborn without Darkvision is at a much greater disadvantage than a totally blind human, but both need help from the rest of the party.

Why wouldn’t a disabled PC cure themselves?

In a world full of healing magic, while a player who is disabled in real life may want to play a character like themselves who overcomes obstacles, what in-game reason would a character have for eschewing healing magic to fix them?

Aside from the general rarity of high level clerics who can cast greater restoration, which still doesn’t work on congenital disabilities, this question fails to recognize the perspective of many people with disabilities. When a person has had a disability for many years, they get used to navigating the world with it. Many deaf people who could get a cochlear implant choose not to and feel perfectly whole without it. Many people with autism are terrified of having a hypothetical cure forced on them. While a non-disabled person can’t imagine choosing to keep a disability or neurodivergence, that stems more from our fear of the unknown or needing to adapt in new ways than the overall change in quality of life.

It’s difficult for the DM

Accessibility is inherent in good adventure design, adapting the campaign for the Player Characters. If a ranger has fiends as a preferred enemy, the Dungeon Master needs to make sure to include fiends as enemies. If a warlock has The Fathomless as a patron, the Dungeon Master needs to make sure to include some seafaring adventures. Depending on the trait, disabilities are even easier than class features. Disabilities put more responsibility on the rest of the party than on the DM, as the party needs to work together to support each other just as the barbarian usually takes the lead in battle, and the wizard typically stays back.

So is it beneficial?

Having established that playing a disabled or neurodivergent character isn’t detrimental to a party, so there’s no reason not to include them, do players have a good reason to play them? Is it beneficial?

Given that disability is the largest minority in the world, every player will encounter members of that demographic and likely become part of it eventually. By playing that role and learning firsthand how people navigate the world with disabilities, they will develop empathy and respect, they will learn firsthand to dispel rumors, and they will be more welcoming to a wider variety of people.

If you’d like help introducing disabled characters into your game, I encourage you to check out Limitless Heroics!

On the release of our first Accessible Adventure of the Week, the question arose, as it always seems to, “Why would I play a disabled character? They wouldn’t last 10 minutes in a dungeon!” While this led to some interesting discussions, it’s a question people will ask, whether openly or in their minds. So as we prepare for not only many more of these adventures and NPCs, but also the Limitless Heroics book that will provide fifth edition game mechanics for nearly every trait in existence, the question is worth asking and exploring.

Personally, I’m not a fan of “should” or any sense of moral superiority (not that I’m innocent of it — it’s a tempting trap), but I’ve come to see the world and decisions in terms of “harmful” and “beneficial” (and certainly some decisions are neutral as they’re neither of the former). (Maybe this paradigm could help with all the hand-wringing about alignment in D&D — probably not.)

So then are disabled characters in D&D beneficial? (For brevity, when I say, “Disabled,” I’m referring to all matters of disability and illness, whether physical, mental, or emotional, and all varieties of neurodiversity.) My bias is obvious, but then why is it beneficial?

• Representation. People want to be able to play someone like them and have characters appear in the game that communicate, “You are welcome here. You belong.”
• Encountering the Other. Role-play is a powerful teaching tool that allows us to experience and walk through various life situations with minimal consequences that will allow us to avoid negative consequences when we encounter an analogous situation in real life. So when we learn to interact with a disabled character in-game, we’re learning to interact with a disabled person in real life and become more comfortable around them, but if we accidentally say or do something harmful, we can learn from the mistake without actually harming someone (or at least less so — players are real people).
• Experiencing the Other. By playing a disabled character, we can get a small taste of the challenges someone with those traits experiences (a very small taste, since we can turn it on and off at will and only imagine the experience), but if we play them with complexity as we would any other character, we learn to see disabled people as complex people, not cardboard stereotypes or inspiration porn.
• Cooperation. One of the most important lessons I’ve personally learned in the writing of Disabilities & Depth is the benefit that I as a non-disabled person can be to disabled people. We all need each other — independence is a harmful lie. Shorter people ask me (6’3″) to get items off top shelves at stores. Blind people may ask you to describe something for them. Having a slight hearing impairment, I often ask, when the TV captions are unreliable, “What did they say?” D&D is an inherently cooperative game, and learning how best to cooperate with disabled people in-game will help us be more sensitive and helpful in real life.
• Acknowledging the reality. It’s easy for non-disabled people to wish away disabilities, and when it’s not part of every moment of every day or a significant amount of any given day, its easy to forget that disability exists — it’s not something non-disabled people think about. And when we’re not considering the existence of disabled people, we’re not considering the needs of disabled people, which leads to ableism through ignorance. The more we recognize that disabled people are part of our world, the more we expect to see them in all representations of existence without it seeming odd, just as a world lacking women would seem odd (and probably the main point of the narrative or campaign world). Think about that — a fantasy world without disabled people should have, “Where are all the disabled people?” as a primary narrative. If that’s not the point of the story, ask yourself why you chose to alter that aspect of reality and what that decision means.

But then we need to consider the converse: is excluding disabled characters from D&D beneficial, harmful, or neutral?

I just showed how, at the very least, it’s odd. It doesn’t make sense. Even in a world with healing spells, at the very least, even greater restoration can’t restore a limb that was never there in the first place. Plus, clerics and other healers are rare. Not every clergy is a cleric. And not every cleric is high enough level to cast more than a daily cure wounds or two. There’s simply not enough healing magic for every injury and illness, especially when plagues sweep through. And then there’s socio-economic factors. (The king doesn’t want people camping outside the castle so the high priestess can come through and select some for healing each day — she should save those spell slots for him emergencies!)

Is it beneficial in the sense of escapism? When you play D&D, you’re going to a fantasy world that doesn’t have real world problems, right? Because that green dragon is nothing like your conniving boss? That bullying ogre is nothing like your obnoxious coworker or classmate? If you play D&D for the power fantasy, how does the presence of disabled people interrupt that? These questions are not accusations — they’re questions for self-reflection.

Is it harmful to exclude disabled people from your game world? What about excluding people with dark skin? What about excluding women from adventuring roles? Like any other people group, it’s beneficial for your own self-awareness to ask yourself, “Why does my fantasy world include the kinds of people that it does and exclude the kinds that it does? Why did I make that decision, even if it wasn’t a conscious decision? What have I learned about myself?” It also begs the question, “When I have the opportunity to be beneficial at little or no cost to myself and choose not to, is that inherently harmful?”

How does using disabled characters relate to the goal of D&D?

When I was in high school, our D&D group was at a church lock-in (overnight party). During free time, we found an unused room and played D&D. People would stop by and listen in and invariably ask, “Who’s winning?” All the players would point at the DM and say, “HE IS!” But in reality, we were all winning. We were having a great time. We were bonding with each other, learning teamwork, practicing math, and benefiting in all the ways D&D is beneficial. To me, the goal of D&D is to have fun, regardless whether we complete the quest as expected.

That said, there’s a sense of satisfaction in completing the quest, in powering up, in gaining loot or recognition or all the many goals players have for their characters. But does disability detract from that?

There’s a reason each character class has limitations — the game is no fun if you can literally do anything. Were that the case, you wouldn’t need dice (and could give them all to me!). No, the game is about facing challenges and finding creative solutions to those challenges with help from your allies. But isn’t that the life of a disabled person? If anything, a disabled character who still uses class abilities is the quintessential D&D character — someone with disadvantages and challenges who isn’t helpless and can achieve their goals, not in spite of their challenges, but regardless of their challenges, because while their challenges are part of them, they don’t define them.

So then should we pressure or require disabled characters?

Again with the “should” — what is harmful or beneficial? Forcing someone to play a disabled character would not be beneficial. It would not be fun. They would learn the wrong lesson.

I’ve also learned that moral pressure to do anything is harmful — it leads to resentment or self-righteousness, and either way, it never lasts or actually changes hearts and minds.

Rather, the more we introduce disabled characters as NPCs or through other players who would like to do so, the more we offer and demonstrate the benefits of doing so, but that’s only possible when we normalize the presence of competent and capable disabled characters in the game world.

I welcome your thoughts in the comments below. If you, like me, would like to include the benefits of disabled characters in your game, I invite you to sign up for our newsletter so you don’t miss our resources that will help you do that, many of which are free.

Note: This is the first of 2 in a series. Read Part 2 Here.

It’s been a while since we posted new content, but that’s not because we’ve been using downtime to kick back at the inn! Since Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything says we can change class & subclass when we level up, we’re taking her up on that opportunity! We’ve been training & working on some new magic that will be a massive level up!

You may have noticed the Patreon links around here. Fly over there, and you’ll see what’s coming. Here’s a short list of some of it:

• Major change in focus to using RPGs to make people’s lives better
• New book with instructions for adding disabled characters to D&D with ~300 pages of tables, descriptions, game mechanics, magic items, and more.
• Complete website overhaul to be as accessible as possible
• Random generators
• Podcast with interviews discussing using RPGs to make people’s lives better
• Training for individuals and organizations in how to use RPGs to make people’s lives better

Note that the Wyrmling Patreon level gives free access to every product we produce, and the Young Dragon level gives a lot more, with access to prerelease content literally as it’s being written, the ultimate look behind the curtain.

And finally, we plan to exponentially increase our content output as Patreon support buys more time away from other commitments to focus on the work of helping you make people’s lives better through RPGs. If you would like to be a part of making this happen, you can do so for as little as $3/month.

Expect a major public launch once our modrons get everything in place. That will happen sooner the more support we get from our patrons now. If you’d like to get this adventure started, please consider helping make it happen so we can help you make people’s lives better through RPGs.

Wizards of the Coast recently revealed that they will be releasing a new book March 16, 2021 with an announcement date of next week, January 12. So what can we expect, both this spring and in the rest of 2021? I don’t have any connections at WotC, nor am I a Divination School wizard, but let’s do a little Legend Lore and see what we can determine.

A new book will come in one of the following categories: rules supplement, monster supplement, campaign guide, large adventure, or themed adventure collection.

We just got a new rules supplement with Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything, so fresh that the community is still passionately debating the new race rules, so we can safely rule that one out. So say we all. (Although I really want the next one to be called Bigby’s Handbook of Everything. If they don’t I will. Can you grasp why?)

Monster Supplement? That’s coming soon since we haven’t had one since Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes in 2018, but I predict not yet. We just saw the Unearthed Arcana test material for dragon-based subclasses, including the Way of the Ascendant Dragon Monk and Drakewarden Ranger. This looks like they’re working on a new Draconomicon, but it’s too soon after the UA release, not to mention that we’ve only seen UA for 2 classes, and we don’t have an Ancient Dragon Warlock yet, much less a draconic barbarian, so stay tuned for more draconic classes and a 5e version of the Draconomicon this fall, probably November according to tradition.

(It was this awareness that caused me to second-guess continuing work on the Draconic Omnibus series we’re developing here, but after looking at previous Draconomicon editions and the UA subclasses, I realized that my plan would nicely supplement what we can probably expect from WotC for those who want more dragon flavor in their game, plus our subclasses are different for each dragon type, treating each color more individually.)

That brings us to campaign guides, large adventures, and adventure collections, and here’s where the future gets muddier. Like 2019, 2020 saw two campaign guides, Explorer’s Guide to Wildemount and Mythic Odysseys of Theros. Especially since Tasha lifted the blue veil and made several references to Spelljammer and other planes, an emphasis on more Prime Material Plane campaign settings gives us a hint that another campaign book may be coming soon, but if so, which world?

They have multiple options from Magic: The Gathering, and Ravnica and Theros have been well-received, so that’s a possibility, but they also said last year that they intend to revisit classic settings, so since they’re looking for a chance to redeem themselves for the depictions of the Vistani in Curse of Strahd (The recent “Revamped” version only made minor changes.), a Ravenloft setting book would be a long-awaited and coveted addition, and the recent College of Spirits Bard and The Undead Warlock Patron UA would point to that likelihood. At the same time, a collection of Ravenloft adventures (like Tales from the Yawning Portal) would be possible without a full campaign book and allow for the Vistani revisions.

That said, the recent Dragonlance lawsuit drama could be a hint that they’re working on the Dragonlance setting, which would definitely require a new campaign guide and could be the reason for the aforementioned dragon subclasses, but again, it’s too soon, so that could be the traditional fall release. (Would a Dragonlance book mean no Draconomicon?)

It seems a bit early for an adventure release so soon after Icewind Dale: Rime of the Frostmaiden, but I know WotC is eager to clean up their image, so a TftYP-style adventure collection would help cover that gaping wound, but it would be easier to clean that up with a campaign guide.

So here’s my predictions:

• March 2021: Ravenloft Campaign Guide
• June 2021: Dragonlance Campaign Guide
• November 2021: Draconomicon

What are you expecting?

The Honest truth about Dungeons and Dragons

Much ink and way too much sweat has been shed over the question of negative influences of fantasy role-playing games (FRPGs) like Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) and Advanced Dungeons & Dragons (AD&D). Much of this is due to miscommunication, distributed half-truths, and exceptions perceived as rules.

I would like to clear the air on some of these misunderstandings.

Since it’s impossible to separate a text from its author, some qualifications may be in order. I’ve been playing FRPGs since 1983 when I played with some fellow Boy Scouts. When confronted with the allegedly negative aspects, as a Christian, I was concerned, so I read everything I could get my hands on regarding the subject, both pro and con. I have a B.A. in Psychology and Theatre and a M.Div. I’m an ordained Pastor (LCMS).

Aren’t FRPGs Pagan?

Not necessarily. It depends on who’s playing the game. D&D and AD&D were designed around medieval miniature strategy war-games, Greco-Roman mythology, medieval legends (like King Arthur), and the writings of J.R.R. Tolkien (an outspoken Christian writer). The idea was to get a group of people together to write a story in their minds. The group is led by a Dungeon Master (DM) who serves as narrator, setting the scene, supplying the plot, and portraying the supporting cast. The main characters are portrayed by the players, like a puppet show with no script. As the DM presents the story, each player informs the DM of his character’s actions.

Polytheism

Now, because of the historical background of the setting, you will find an element of polytheism in the game. However, even those playing clerics (priests) of these gods are not actually worshipping these gods. His character does, but not with any detail. Generally, the sum of the “worship” goes something like, “My character goes off and prays for three hours,” and that’s about it. The gods are not thought to be real any more than the character who worships it.

Sorcery

Also, some have expressed concern over sorcery present in the game. Players have the option of choosing characters who are wizards like Merlin or Gandalf. Please note that, when a wizard character casts a spell, the player utters no incantation. Characters cast spells; players do not. When a player wants his character to cast a spell, he merely states, “My character is going to cast a (fireball, light, etc.) spell.” No actual ritual is described nor performed.

Yeah, but what about the immorality associated with FRPGs?

The three big concerns in this area about FRPGs are suicide, violence, and immersion.

Suicide

First, several suicides have been attributed to FRPGs. It usually goes along the line of, “My son’s character was killed, so he killed himself.”

First of all, the suicide rate among gamers is significantly lower among gamers (in the USA; I haven’t checked elsewhere) than the national average. Nearly every gamer who commits suicide makes the news, and the game is blamed, yet these stories are rare compared with the frequency of teen suicide in our nation. FRPGs become a scapegoat because no one wants to admit that their dead child was psychologically unbalanced. When children are playing FRPG’s like “Cowboys and Indians,” a much more violent, more involved game (they actually act it out), they don’t commit suicide when their friends shoot them with plastic guns. I won’t go so far as to say that FRPGs prevent suicide, because creative people (like those who play FRPGs) are less prone toward suicide. (Creativity, p. 247)

Violence

FRPGs often have a lot of violence described within the game. This argument is valid, yet it raises the question of perceived violence. While violence is the result of sin, it is not itself sinful. The Bible is one of the most violent collections ever assembled, yet the violence in the Bible has a point, as does the violence in FRPGs. (eg. A party of adventurers goes to kill a dragon to protect a city.) The violence in FRPGs is neither worse than nor more real than that in movies like Star Wars. Note the irony that some people who are against FRPGs have no problems with hunting or watching the evening news.

Immersion

Finally, immersion is a catchall category relating to people who become addicted to or consumed with the game. From my perspective, which in this case is the Lord’s perspective, our priorities must be God first, family second, and everything else after that. As with any enjoyable activity, people can become addicted to gaming. The same can be true of web surfing, fishing, eating, or sex, none of which are inherently evil or addictive. Of the documented cases of those who lose their identities and can’t separate reality from the game, the loose contact with reality was generally present apart from the game. These same people should stay away from books, movies, and plays, too.

Advantages

Now, all that aside, I have observed several advantages of FRPGs.

Creativity

First, the sheer volume of imagination exercised by those playing these games is unsurpassed among popular pastimes, and the more one excercises his creativity, the more he’ll have, much like a muscle.

Teamwork

FRPGs also encourage teamwork. Few characters could slay a dragon by themselves. They work together, carefully planning their strategies based on each one’s abilities. In the church, we call this the Body of Christ. In business, the same concept applies. FRPGs exercise this kind of thinking.

Academics

History

FRPGs also aid in several areas of academics. I never had a course in world history in high school (long story involving transfers), yet I know more about it than most of my peers in college because of my interest in history for the sake of helping me play FRPGs.

Literature

Also, I’m a slow reader, thus I don’t usually read much, but my interest in FRPGs incited me to read a great deal of literature, including the Iliad & Odyssey, a ton of mythology, related encyclopedia articles and other documents, Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, Lloyd Alexander, and innumerable other works, not to mention all the history and political science resources.

Writing

Creative writing and grammar are important to those writing articles and modules (story outlines) for distribution. FRPGs have already been cited as being a source of creativity.

Math

Depending on the game, some require a great deal of math work. This can run from adding the results of a handful of dice to complicated character creation processes (cf. Harn) to abstract three-dimensional mapping in many science fiction games (cf. Space Opera).

Art

While fantasy artwork is sometimes risqué, this is true of nearly all genres of art. That aside, many FRPG players, myself included, are motivated to learn art techniques for the game, whether to draw their characters or to draw the castles, monsters, heraldry, etc. In any gaming group, you’ll nearly always find at least one artist.

Language

Show me a gamer with a limited vocabulary, and I’ll show you someone who hasn’t played for long. When I started playing, I constantly found myself in a dictionary, looking up words like, “charisma,” “halberd,” and “somatic.”

Morality

Finally, the question of morality and the values conveyed by the game needs addressing. FRPGs, including AD&D, are neutral. Being commercial games, they encourage neither good nor evil. That said, the rules are centered around the assumption that the characters will be non-evil. The movement of the game is directed greatly by the DM, but players are free to make their own choices. Also, studies have shown that it is generally easier to advance a person’s moral judgment to a higher stage than to a lowered one through role-playing. Of note are:

Rest, J.R. (1979) Development in judging moral issues. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Ibid. (1983) “Morality.” In J. Flavell & E. Markman (eds.) Handbook of Child Psychology: vol. 3. Cognitive Development. NY: Wiley.

Turiel, E. (1966) “An experimental test of the sequentiality of development stages in the child’s moral judgments.” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 3, 611-618.

According to these studies, FRPGs can actually be used to raise, but not lower, the participants’ morality.

Conclusion

Are you still concerned or have questions? My best advice is to observe, or even better, play in a game or two, just to get a feel for how it’s done. Most universities have gaming groups who would be happy to help you. Discuss your concerns with the players, and be specific. Beyond that, you can contact me.

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