This page is about OD&D, as it is played when I run the game. When I talk about "OD&D," I'm referring to Original Dungeons & Dragons (published in 1974), which included three booklets: Men & Magic, Monsters & Treasure, and The Underworld & Wilderness Adventures. There were multiple rules supplements released for OD&D, including Greyhawk, Blackmoor, Eldritch Wizardy, Gods, Demi-gods, & Heroes, and Swords & Spells. I also consider the Holmes Basic Set as a close relation of the OD&D family. My personal OD&D game consists of rules from the three brown books, plus house-rules (i.e. I'm not using many rules from the supplements). It also owes a great deal to Meepo's Holmes Companion, which got me started down the OD&D path. I hope the thoughts on this page will be helpful to someone that is thinking about running an OD&D game. There's also a link to my B4 Lost City campaign log.
Many people use the term "OD&D" in a much broader sense than I do, including what I would call "Classic D&D" in the definition. This page is NOT about the 1981 B/X sets (Moldvay/Cook/Marsh), the BECMI sets (starting with 1983's Basic Set by Frank Menzter), or the Rules Cyclopedia. It is also not about AD&D* or 3rd edition/d20-based D&D. I have played all of those versions and enjoyed them to one degree or another, but I find the most enjoyment with the OD&D rules.
One of OD&D's most distinctive qualities is its rules for handling ability bonuses, and its philosophy of bonuses, in general. Compared to later versions of the game, OD&D bonuses are uncommon. This means that a +1 bonus in OD&D is a bigger deal than a +1 bonus in B/X, BECM, AD&D, or 3E D&D; you need a truly significant advantage before receiving a +1 bonus (e.g. a magic sword). Consider that Str does not affect attack or damage rolls. Dex does not affect Armor Class. Dex does affect attack rolls with ranged attacks, but the largest bonuses you can receive from high Dex is +1. Et cetera.
One effect of this approach is a de-emphasis on the mechanical importance of ability scores. A Fighting Man with a Str of 17 and a Fighting Man with a Str of 10 will be equally effective with their swords; the only mechanical difference is that the high-strength Fighting Man will advance through the levels faster (it just comes easier to him). In game-terms, there isn't a significant difference in getting slashed by a sword-wielding man with 17 Str and a sword-wielding man with 10 Str. Some gamers sneer that this is completely unrealistic, and the stronger man would have a big advantage. But again, you need to look at it from the same scope and scale as the game. Consider that an OD&D ogre does 1d6+2 points of damage, due to its size and strength, and OD&D ogres are bigger and stronger than any man. Even small bonuses like +1 and +2 are big deals, in OD&D.
The de-emphasis on the mechanical importance of ability scores does not mean that ability scores are useless, or that it is necessarily superfluous to have a 3-18 range when it really comes down to "low, average, or high." On the contrary, ability scores remain an integral part of describing and defining the PC. However, the OD&D approach demands creativity and judgment from the players and the referee, apart from defined rules. For example, consider this quotation about the effects of Charisma: "...the charisma score is usable to decide such things as whether or not a witch capturing a player will turn him into a swine or keep him enchanted as a lover." (Men & Magic p. 11) In other words, your ability scores are still meant to be taken into account, but exactly how they apply is left up to the players and the referee.
Another effect of this approach is that bonuses from other sources increase in their relative value. A magical axe +1 is a big deal. Any item which decreases an enemy's chance to hit you (e.g. magic armor) is a big deal, even if it is only a +1 item. Even the +1 benefit from a regular (non-magic) shield is significant. In general, increases of all sorts (including increases in PC level) have greater significance in OD&D, relative to later editions of the game.
Also consider how OD&D's philosophy affects rolling for ability scores. The original concept behind ability scores was a 3-18 range with "bell curve probability"; this is easily generated using 3d6. Later versions of the game started making bonuses higher and more common, introducing "bonus inflation." Bonuses became much more important in the game mechanics, and so the importance of ability scores increased. However, the nature of the 3-18 bell curve means very high ability scores are much less likely than average ability scores. Characters that would be perfectly acceptable and viable under the original rules were hopeless characters under the "inflated" systems, so later editions introduced new methods of generating ability scores to address this. Consider this quotation from the AD&D Players Handbook: "It is usually essential to the character's survival to be exceptional (with a rating of 15 or above) in no fewer than two ability characteristics." That may be true under AD&D's system of bonuses and penalties, but it is not true under the original OD&D system. Rolling a character using 3d6 is a perfectly suitable approach in OD&D.
Other Related Musings:
back to index of musingsOD&D combat is highly abstract, which is one of the reasons it moves quickly, even when many combatants are involved. I use a 10-12 second combat round in my game*. A lot can happen in that time. The combat rules assume that combatants are taking their best shots while fighting, and in standard situations, it does not provide for specific hit locations. Your PC's one attack roll does not represent a single swing or thrust, but rather an entire series of feints, swings, and manuevers. A missed attack roll does not mean that you simply took a swing and missed, but rather that you failed to score any telling blows. You might have missed entirely as your enemy dodged around, or you might have hammered at him as his shield protected him from everything you dished out; this "flavor text" is up largely up to the referee, but in game-terms it works out the same: no damage inflicted. A successful attack roll means that one or more of your attempts succeeded in reducing the enemy's fighting capability. This could be because you physically hurt him, or it could mean you're tiring him out, or it could mean that you're pressing his luck and skill to the breaking point, or it could mean that you've dealt a blow to his confidence. Again, this is largely up to the referee and how he describes loss of hit points in combat.
Because of the abstract nature of combat, I am generally against more than one melee attack roll per round (although this may not apply to missile fire; q.v. Initiative & the Combat Sequence); after all, the roll doesn't represent a single swing, merely the chance to inflict damage, regardless of the number of swings. Instead of additional rolls, it is almost always better to represent an improved chance to inflict damage by applying a bonus to the attack roll, or a modifier to damage. In my OD&D game, PCs receive a single melee attack roll per round (the only exception being high level fighters facing enemies with less than one hit die, who may attack a number of such foes equal to their level; however, even then, the fighter gets a single melee roll for each opponent he's allowed to attack). Monsters sometimes get multiple attacks (although not as commonly as in later editions), but monsters and PCs do not necessarily need to follow the same rules. (If this seems unfair, consider that you can give more experience points for monsters with large numbers of attacks (e.g. see the Holmes XP rules); the discrepancy between PCs and monsters is accounted for by classifying the ability to make multiple attack rolls as a monster special ability.)
In OD&D, Armor Class is much more of a fixed value than in other editions. As it applies to PCs (and to most humanoid monsters), it is more like "armor type." The main reason this is true is because there are not many modifiers to AC. Dex doesn't modify it. Magic armor and shields don't modify it (they modify the opponent's attack roll). Rings of protection don't modify it (they work like magic armor). Et cetera. Additionally, there is no "overlap" in the armor classes. That is, plate armor is AC3, and there is no other combination that makes up AC3 (e.g. no splint mail + shield). The fact that OD&D AC is so closely related to armor type makes using the weapon vs. AC rules from Supplement I easier to use, if one is so inclined.
Other Related Musings:
back to index of musingsI think the concept of the called shot is a poor fit for D&D because of the abstract nature of the combat system. Unless there is a special reason for targeting a specific area, D&D combat assumes that combatants will take the best shots they can get. For example, consider the situation of a PC fighter facing off against an orc warrior wearing chainmail and a helm. The player might say "I swing at his head with my sword." Since this combat is a completely normal situation, it follows the standard assumptions of the rules, and the PC should not receive any special modifiers to his attack roll, or to damage if his attack succeeds. Rather, I would treat his statement as flavor. I might respond, "Okay, make a standard attack roll..." If the attack succeeds, but only does a single point of damage, I might say "You step forward, raining blows down around the orc's head and shoulders; he manages to fend off most of your strikes, but one glances off his helm, drawing a thin trickle of blood from his temple. He grunts and snarls at you." If the attack hits and does six points of damage, I might say "You step forward, raining blows down around the orc's head and shoulders; he parries wildly, grimacing as you nearly knock his weapon from his hand, then a vicious backswing connects solidly, ringing his cloven helm like a gong. Gore splatters across your sword-arm, and his falling body almost pulls the hilt from your grasp, but you hold on and jerk the weapon free." If the attack missed, I might say "You step forward, raining blows down around the orc's head and shoulders; he parries easily, guiding your attacks to the side while sneering at you with yellowed tusks..."
Nevertheless, there may be special situations that fall outside of standard combat assumptions. For example, an arrow shot to pin clothing to the wall, an attack intended to shatter the potion bottle in an enemy's hand, et cetera. There is also precendent in D&D for striking a specific spot on certain creatures (e.g. a beholder's eye); typically, the monster description assigns a separate AC for this location, as appropriate. I think this approach is superior to an approach that applies a standard modifier for called shots (e.g. -4). Rather than a "one-size-fits-all" modifier for such actions, each called shot should be handled separately, with the referee determining difficulty and assigning a target AC or die roll modifier that he believes appropriate.
In original OD&D, there are three classes: Fighting Man, Magic User, and Cleric. In addition to humans, PCs can also be Elves, Dwarves, and Hobbits (Halflings). Humans may be any class. PC Elves are a combination of Fighting Man and Magic User. PC Dwarves are Fighting Men. PC Hobbits are also Fighting Men. I like the three-class scheme, and in particular I think that having no Thief class has a positive effect on the game, eliminating the special skills and making all the PCs active participants in searching, stealthy-movement, et cetera. As time goes by, I'm less and less fond of the demi-human races, though. I don't restrict players from choosing a non-human race, but I tend to prefer human PCs in my games (and thus approve of the level limitations placed on non-human PCs).
A few brief notes on specific classes and races in my OD&D games:
CLERICS: In my game, all priests are not members of the Cleric class. Instead, Clerics are rare and devoted holy men that can perform miracles (i.e. Cleric spells) and are usually militants of one sort or another. Clerics are rarely found in common shrines and temples; they tend to be action-oriented, smiting evil foes and performing holy missions. Successful and famous Clerics often form their own temples and orders, so they can also be found in the upper ranks of the church hierarchies. (Note that only humans may be Clerics. This doesn't mean that demi-humans don't have priests or holy men, but only that these demi-human priests are not members of the Cleric class.)
ELVES: The OD&D rules on the Elf leave a great deal of room for interpretation, and individual referees handle elves in different ways. In my game, Elves start as both Fighting Man and Magic User (i.e. Veteran and Medium). For starting hit points, the Elf rolls 1d6+1 (i.e. Veteran hit dice) and 1d6 (Medium hit dice), taking the higher of the two rolls. He tracks experience for each class separately. At the beginning of each adventure session (loosely defined as the from the start of an adventure until XP is awarded in a safe place), the Elf's player declares whether he is adventuring as a Fighter or as a Magic User. During that session, the Elf's earned XP goes to the declared class, and he fights and saves as the declared class. Regardless of declared class, the Elf can use any weapon, and may cast spells if he is not wearing armor, or if he is wearing magical armor. The Elf maintains a single hit point total. When the Elf advances a level, he rolls the total hit dice for his new level (e.g. if he advanced to Hero, he rolls 4d6), and takes the greater of his roll or his current hit point total). Elves are, of course, limited to 4th level Fighting Man (Hero) and 8th level Magic User (Warlock). The Elf abilities from Chainmail are translated as +1 to hit against kobolds, goblins, and hobgoblins, and orcs (the greater bonuses in Chainmail are interpreted as coming from magical weapons and from mass-combat tactics against certain foes). Elves possess infravision and can see in the dark (however, this special vision may not work in supernatural or mythic underworld settings). Note that while Chainmail mentions elvish invisibility, this is not translated as an individual ability, but as the use of magical elven cloaks or invisibility spells.
DWARVES: Dwarven PCs are Fighting Men, limited to 6th level (Myrmidon). In addition to the abilities listed in Men & Magic, dwarves only take 1/2 damage from ogres, trolls, and giants (this is an adaptation of the Chainmail bonus). Dwarves possess infravision and can see in the dark (however, this special vision may not work in supernatural or mythic underworld settings).
HOBBITS: Hobbit PCs are Fighting Men, limited to 4th level (Hero). Their "deadly accuracy with missiles" is translated from Chainmail as a +1 to hit with slings. They are extremely good at hiding in brush or woods (adjudicated by the referee based on the circumstances).
Other Related Musings:
back to index of musingsSo you're thinking about trying OD&D? That's great! If you're experienced with other versions, I have some suggestions that might help you get the most of the system:
If you're curious how an OD&D campaign "feels," you can get some idea by reading my Lost City campaign journal.
I am not a huge fan of critical hit systems in D&D; I don't think they're a good fit, given the abstract nature of combat and damage. Also, since the referee gets to make many more rolls than the players, critical hit systems tend to favor the monsters/enemies, in the long run. Nevertheless, players enjoy a game-mechanic that rewards lucky and high rolls, so I do use critical hits in my OD&D game. (See the update, below.)
In deciding how to incorporate critical hits, I knew that I didn't want to add any additional rolls to combat. I also didn't want to start down the "damage/bonus inflation" path that other versions of D&D have followed; I wanted to stay with the basic concept behind damage in OD&D (i.e. 6 points is enough to kill the average man). This led me directly to my house rule: on a natural 20 that hits, the attack does maximum damage. Thus, if you do 1-6 points of damage, and you roll a natural 20 that hits, you do a full 6 points of damage. This represents your "best shot." No additional rolls are required (in fact, you need one less roll than normal), and the results fit the idea of a critical hit while respecting the underlying philosophies of the game. Of course, critical successes imply that critical failures are possible, too, so on a natural 1 that misses, your enemy gets a free attack on you, or a referee-mandated mishap occurs (e.g. you drop your weapon, slip and fall, et cetera).
Another system I considered (but rejected due to the additional rolling, potential for excessive damage, and possible complexity), is "exploding" damage dice. The idea is that critical hits should be based on the damage roll, not the "to hit" roll, because the damage roll is what really determines how well you did. Thus, a maximum result on your damage roll would indicate a critical hit, and you get to roll an extra damage die. If that one is maximum, too, you get to add another die roll, and so on. However, with a 1d6 damage die, that means roughly one in six damaging attacks will be a critical hit. That may be a bit high. If you were to use exploding dice, you might want to switch both damage dice and the basic hit die to 1d12 instead of 1d6; then only 8% of damaging attacks would be critical hits. Another variant is to halve the exploded die: thus, if you're rolling a 1d12 and get a 12, then you add a 1d6, then a 1d3, and then 1 point. While I think exploding dice are an interesting approach, I prefer the "max damage" approach, overall.
Addendum: After being on the receiving end of critical hits, the players in my OD&D game have voted to dispense with a critical hit system. I'm pleased with this development. My game no longer uses critical hits; it uses standard rolled damage.
In OD&D, hit points are an abstract measure of a PC's well-being and fitness for combat. Hit points include factors like physical well-being, mental well-being or morale, how tired the PC is, how lucky he is, and even skill. As a PC takes damage, the declining hit points represent his resources being used up in combat. Not only is it physical damage, but it's also his muscles getting tired, sweat getting in his eyes, his breath running short, his resolve weakening, his reactions slowing, and his reserves of skill and luck being used. This means that the referee's description of combat should take these factors into account. Consider a 10th level Fighting Man with 50 hit points and a 1st level Fighting Man with 5 hit points. Each of these Fighting Men enters combat and each receives 6 points of damage from an enemy swordsman. This damage runs the 1st level Fighting Man through, killing him. However, the 10th level Fighting Man is still up, fighting, and not even terribly diminished. He's not really ten times as tough, physically, it's just that his superior luck and skill allowed him to evade or deflect the blow which would've killed a 1st level fighter. Instead of killing him, it just used up some of his resources.
In OD&D, a normal man has 1-6 hit points, and all weapons do 1-6 hit points of damage. In other words, the average man can be slain with a single damage roll from any weapon. This makes perfect sense given D&D's abstract system: a dagger thrust can kill you just as readily as a chop from a greataxe. When describing OD&D combat, I only describe severe or mortal wounds when the last 6 hit points are reached. Prior to that, damage is described as near-misses, parried blows that would've slain a lesser warrior, scratches, bruises, et cetera. This means that players can get a sense of how tough and skilled an enemy is by the effect their damage rolls have. If the PCs have dished out 14 points of damage, and I'm describing how the bad guy just got nicked on his forearm and is starting to sweat, they know that this guy has some serious hit points. On the other hand, if the first four points of damage they inflict opens a gaping, bleeding wound and their foe cries out in anguish, they know this probably isn't an 8th level superhero they're fighting.
(A common criticism of this view is that monsters do not seem to adhere to this concept, with monster hit points usually seeming to be a more direct reflection of physical capability to withstand damage. This never bothered me; I don't think monsters and PCs need to be built on or abide by exactly the same rules and concepts. As in many other areas, the referee should use his judgment on exactly what hit points represent for a given creature or situation.)
In my OD&D game, two-handed weapons roll two dice for damage, taking the larger of the two values as the actual damage inflicted. This gives some benefit to those PCs who choose to use a two-handed weapon instead of carrying a shield. A similar rule applies to PCs fighting with a weapon in each hand.
Most monsters also do 1-6 points of damage, with exceptions being made for exceptionally large or strong creatures (using the damage values from Monsters & Treasure as a guide).
There are many interpretations of "the dungeon" in D&D. OD&D, in particular, lends itself to a certain type of dungeon that is often called a "megadungeon" and that I usually refer to as "the underworld." There is a school of thought on dungeons that says they should have been built with a distinct purpose, should "make sense" as far as the inhabitants and their ecology, and shouldn't necessarily be the centerpiece of the game (after all the Mines of Moria were just a place to get through). None of that is true for a megadungeon underworld. There might be a reason the dungeon exists, but there might not; it might simply be. It certainly can, and maybe should, be the centerpiece of the game; the megadungeon is the campaign. As for ecology, a megadungeon should have a certain amount of verisimilitude, but it is an underworld: a place where the normal laws of reality may not apply, and may be bent, warped, or broken. It is not merely an underground site or a lair, it is a mythic underworld. It is inimical to men; the dungeon, itself, opposes and obstructs the PCs brave enough to explore it. For example, consider the OD&D approach to doors and to vision in the underworld:
Generally, doors will not open by turning the handle or by a push. Doors must be forced open by strength...Most doors will automatically close, despite the difficulty in opening them. Doors will automatically open for monsters, unless they are held shut against them by characters. Doors can be wedged open by means of spikes, but there is a one-third chance (die 5-6) that the spike will slip and the door will shut...In the underworld some light source or an infravision spell must be used. Torches, lanterns, and magic swords will illuminate the way, but they also allow monsters to "see" the users so that monsters will never be surprised unless coming through a door. Also, torches can be blown out by a strong gust of wind. Monsters are assumed to have permanent infravision as long as they are not serving some character. (The Underworld & Wilderness Adventures, pg 9)
Special Ability functions are generally as indicated in CHAINMAIL where not contradictory to the information stated hereinafter, and it is generally true that any monster or man can see in total darkness as far as the dungeons are concerned except player characters. (Monsters & Treasure, pg 5)
Notice that (by my interpretation, anyway) ALL characters, including those which can see in normal darkness (e.g. elves, dwarves)*, require a light source in the underworld, while ALL denizens of the place possess infravision or the ability to see in total darkness. Even more telling, a monster that enters the service of a character loses this special vision. Similarly, characters must force their way through doors and have difficulty keeping them open; however, these same doors automatically open for monsters. This is a clear example of how the normal rules do not apply to the underworld, and how the underworld, itself, works against the characters exploring it. Of course, not every dungeon need be a mythic underworld; there could certainly be natural caves and delved dungeon sites that are not in the "underworld" category, and follow more natural laws, but the central dungeon of the campaign benefits from the strange other-worldliness that characterizes a mythic underworld.
A mythic underworld should not be confused with the concept of the "underdark." The underdark concept is that of an underground wilderness composed of miles of caves, tunnels, delved sites, and even whole underground cities. This is a cool fantasy concept, but is distinct from the concept of a mythic underworld that obeys its own laws and is weird, otherworldly, and apart from the natural order of things.
Some common characteristics and philosophies for a mythic underworld or megadungeon:
If you embrace these concepts, you'll be playing OD&D according to some of the original assumptions of the game. And boy, is it fun.
* this ability is not specified in the three brown books, but is found in Chainmail
back to index of musingsObviously, the only real essential is the OD&D rules. However, Chainmail is valuable for filling in gaps in the combat rules, including things like missile ranges, rates of fire, initiative, et cetera (and some OD&D referees even use Chainmail's man-to-man system instead of the OD&D "alternate" combat system). Early issues of Dragon magazine are also filled with a wealth of information and inspiration, and give you a window into how the game was played and developed. Best of the Dragon, Volume I collects some of the choice articles. If you can find a copy of the Dragon CD-ROM archive, that's even better. The Judges Guild Ready Ref Sheets, Volume I are a fantastic resource, filled with charts and tables similar to the appendices in the 1E Dungeon Masters Guide. Another incredibly useful resource is the Monster & Treasure Assortments; these are tables of dungeon encounters and dungeon treasures for levels 1 through 9. They offer referees a handy guide for stocking dungeons. And don't forget about Fight On! magazine, which is a currently in print periodical that focuses on OD&D and old-school gaming. I'm very impressed by the first issue; you can really tell it's a labor of love that is being put together by people who are enthusiastic about the game.
Supplements I-IV are, of course, interesting and potentially useful as a source of inspiration and house-rules. If you use them, I suggest picking and choosing, rather than simply adopting everything in them. Much of the material in them were additions and house-rules from various individual campaigns. The Judges Guild First Fantasy Campaign is similar; it's a book which details Dave Arneson's Blackmoor campaign, including dungeon maps and a rough key for the Blackmoor dungeon. Tita's House of Games offers a reprint of the original Empire of the Petal Throne, which is a game with rules derived from OD&D, as a starting point (also, a PDF, and world and Jakálla city maps are available from RPGNow). Empire of the Petal Throne is another excellent example of how individuals adapted OD&D for their own games. (It also includes some interesting rules additions or interpretations that could be applied directly to OD&D (e.g. the 'roll all your hit dice when you advance a level' rule). Lastly, The Dungeoneer was a magazine put out by Judges Guild. They published a Compendium of the first six issues which has some interesting inspirational material (e.g. I love the article on magic which describes how spellcasting works, calls Supplement I "almost canon," and ends by saying that you may have worked out your own system for handling spellcasting, so feel free to ignore the article...), but especially the great adventure, "Night of the Walking Wet."
The OD&D rules specify two ways characters acquire experience points: defeating monsters and obtaining treasure. Experience awards are adjusted by modifiers from the PC's prime requisite scores and by relative levels (e.g. an 6th level PC facing a 3rd level threat will only gain 1/2 of the normal experience award), although never above a 1:1 ratio (e.g. a 1st level PC facing a 3rd level threat does not gain three times the normal experience). Treasure awards 1 XP for every 1 GP value. Defeated monsters award 100 XP per hit die. Note that this is a big difference from the way later editions award experience for monsters. OD&D Supplement I offered a new system (adopted by later editions) with much smaller awards, and even called the original award scheme "ridiculous." However, I don't find it ridiculous. The original XP award scheme tends to advance PCs through the low levels more rapidly than the Greyhawk method, but slows down in the higher levels. I like that effect. The original XP award scheme also has the benefit of being drop-dead simple.
My first OD&D campaign used the Greyhawk awards, when it began. However, I've switched all my OD&D games to the original method. PCs tend to advance at a faster rate, but so far that's working out fine; we don't play as often as the Lake Geneva groups back in the 70s, so the faster advancement hasn't been a problem.
Many gamers sneer at the notion of awarding XP for treasure, preferring goal or story-based awards and similar schemes. I see their point, but I don't find XP awards for treasure objectionable. On the contrary, I see it as a story award. I also see it as a convenient abstraction, much like hit points. Does it make sense that a magic user gains experience by hauling loot out of the ground? Nope. Does it work well in the context of the game? Absolutely. If a given adventure doesn't include much (or any) treasure, then I'll substitute some other form of "story award," instead, but in most cases using treasure works just fine.
Like all the older editions, OD&D uses different XP advancement tables for the various classes. That is, fighting men require 2000 XP to advance to second level, while magic users require 2500 XP, and clerics only need 1500 XP. This is one way that OD&D addresses class balance, rather than using a universal advancement table and attempting to make the power-level of each class equal at every level. Some gamers object to this approach, but I like having a different dynamic for different classes (q.v. my comments about magic users and vancian magic). I object to the idea that a "universal advancement/equal power-level" approach works better (a claim I often hear). In practice, I think that approach is difficult to pull off, especially if the powers are variable (e.g. feats or powers that are chosen by the player); you inevitably end up with this-or-that combination being unbalanced, or this class being too powerful, or this power being "broken," or whatever. Perfect balance is a questing beast that forever eludes those who pursue it. Both approaches have drawbacks, and both approaches can achieve a sort of "ballpark balance." While either approach works, I prefer the unhomogenized flavor the OD&D approach offers; I think it's okay — even interesting — for the classes to have different power curves.
When advancing a level, I do not require that a PC train, but I do require the PC to return to a safe area before leveling up; you can't advance a level while in the dungeon, for example.
OD&D referees vary in their approach to gaze attacks. I prefer to think of these as gaze effects, rather than attacks, since they fall outside the scope of normal attacks. Indeed, no attack roll is needed; all that is required is that victim look into the eyes of the medusa, basilisk, vampire, or other monster with one of these deadly abilities. Instead of an attack roll, the mechanic for handling gaze effects is the saving throw. I look on saving throws as a "last chance" or a "disaster avoidance." That is, your character is in a disastrous situation, but he gets a chance to slip out of circumstances which would spell doom for most men. Consequently, I look on the save vs. gaze effects as "gaze avoidance" rather than "gaze resistance." Meeting the gaze means certain doom; the saving throw determines whether the character met the gaze at all. If he did, he suffers its effects; if not, then he is safe.
A monster with a gaze effect forces characters facing it to roll a saving throw each round, as follows:
| Complete Surprise | -2 penalty |
| Surprise | -1 penalty |
| Viewing Monster | No modifier |
| Attacking Normally | +3 bonus |
| Avoiding Gaze | +6 bonus |
| Blindfold/Eyes Closed | No save required, but combat penalties apply (e.g. -4 to hit/+4 to be hit) |
The referee should adjust these modifiers to suit the exact monster and circumstances under consideration.
OD&D lists helmets among the items your PC can purchase, but no game mechanic benefit is mentioned. This implies that helmets are assumed, and would thus just be part of your overall AC. However, this raises the question, "what about when you don't wear a helmet?" Obviously, an enemy facing an armored man with a bare head will try to hit the bare head, but also wouldn't pass up any opportunities to hit armored parts of the body, as well. On the other hand, the bare-headed warrior would obviously know his head was vulnerable, and would try to protect it. In keeping with D&D's abstract system of combat, I apply the following house rule to this situation:
Wearing a suit of armor (i.e. doesn't include "shield only") without a helmet grants attackers a +1 bonus to the attack roll. (I followed the OD&D practice where an armor bonus/penalty applies to the enemy's attack roll rather than to the PC's armor class.)*
Wearing a helmet while otherwise unarmored grants no mechanical benefit to AC, and no penalty to an attackers "to hit" roll. (To grant such a benefit would be to equate the protective value of a helmet with that of a shield, and I don't think that's the case. In a melee, I'd want a helmet and a shield, but if I had to pick just one, I'd take the shield.) Even though an otherwise unarmored man gains no normal benefit from a helmet, it still might be worthwhile in some situations. For example, if kobolds are dumping baskets of stones down from a clifftop, the referee might rule that a helmet will halve any damage the PC takes. If green slime falls on the PC's head, wearing a helm would offer some benefit. Et cetera.
(*) this practice helps to preserve the concept of AC as armor type, which can be significant if you use the weapon vs. AC adjustments from the Greyhawk Supplement.
Other Related Musings:
back to index of musingsIn OD&D, six points of damage is enough to kill an average man (q.v. Damage & Hit Points). The original rules use a d6 as the basic hit die for all PCs and monsters, granting modifiers (e.g. +1) or additional hit dice (e.g. 2d6) as levels increased. In my first OD&D campaign, I used the system introduced in the Greyhawk supplement (and the Holmes rules), where each class gets its own hit die type (e.g. d8 for Fighting Men, d6 for Clerics, d4 for Magic Users, etc.), and monsters use 1d8 as their base hit die.
Addendum: My current OD&D campaigns do not not use these values, above. Instead, they use the original hit die progression from the Three Little Books, for both PCs and monsters. PCs roll all of their hit dice each time they advance a level; if the new hit point total is less than the old total, the old total will be retained. If they lose a level, they roll all their hit dice for the lower level; if the new total is greater than the old total, the old total is retained. Thus, a Fighting Man who has advanced to 2nd level rolls 2d6, and takes whichever is greater: his current total or his new roll. When he advances to 3rd level, he rolls 3d6 and takes the higher of his current total or his roll, and so on. This is quite different from the way hit points accrue in later editions, but it works well with the unique hit die values of OD&D.
OD&D does not define rules for initiative (or a combat round sequence, for that matter), leaving the matter for the referee to resolve. Common solutions include importing the rules from Chainmail or from later versions of D&D. Using the turn sequence from Swords & Spells is another possibility (more on this, below).
I've often kept initiative and the combat sequence nebulous and flexible. First, intentions are declared. Next, the referee adjudicates the action. It is often obvious that certain actions will be faster/go first. Where there is some question, the referee can use relative Dex values or weapons used to make a judgment call, or he can request initiative checks. Often, a combat will begin without using initiative rolls, but once the general chaos of melee begins, initiative rolls will begin to be more common. (Also see Robert Fisher's thoughts on dynamic combat in classic D&D.)
Lately, however, I've desired a more defined approach. I wanted a sequence that made use of miniatures and tactical positioning, accounted for different spell-casting times (similar to the use of segments in AD&D), and accounted for the traditional rates-of-fire D&D lists for some missile weapons. I found a possible answer in a Knights & Knaves Alehouse forum post by T. Foster, who suggested using the combat sequence from Swords & Spells with OD&D. I found this appealing. The system provided the elements I sought, worked well with other traditional D&D elements like weapon reach and disengaging/retreat, and springs directly from the Chainmail roots of the game. While designed with the use of miniatures in mind, the system is easily modified for use without minis (see the Knights & Knaves discussion).
My adaptation and compilation of the rules for this combat sequence may be found here. (A PDF version is also available.)
By default, OD&D does not have any upper-boundary on PC levels, and this is how I currently run my games (see the Addendum, below). However, when I first started running OD&D, I applied de facto level limits for all PCs, as a "soft boundary." Under this scheme, an average "normal" man is a 0-level character with 1d6 hit points. A 1st level PC has more skill and experience than average. A 4th to 7th level PC is a heroic figure with a reputation. An 8th to 10th level PC is a superheroic and legendary figure like Conan or John Carter. Thus, 10th level is the de facto level limit in my game, and all PCs and NPCs can be gauged against the scale. Note that I called 10th level a de facto limit, rather than a de jure limit. Levels above 10th are possible under this scheme, but extraordinary circumstances are required for this type of advancement.
Individuals who advance beyond 10th level are always driven and focused, and they may be obsessed or insane in one way or another. Attaining such power always requires sacrifices of some sort, and usually requires magical aid (e.g. longevity, lichdom, etc.) or supernatural aid from divine or infernal powers. Thus, 10th level defines a "mortal limit," and those who force their way past this barrier are risking much to do so (perhaps even their humanity). It is no accident that there are so many stories of insane arch-mages or demon-ridden anti-heroes that find their power has been bought at terrible cost.
Setting a scale like this can help the referee put his campaign world into perspective, and helps in setting the power-level of any NPC or creature he devises. Also, this scale has some history behind it. OD&D grew out of the Chainmail miniatures combat game, and a "Hero" had the fighting capability of four men (i.e. fourth level), while a "Superhero" had the fighting capability of eight men (i.e. eighth level). The 1-10 scale also makes demihuman level limits more palatable for players, since the demihuman limits top-out at the low-end of "high level." Under this scheme, demihumans have the following level limits:
| Dwarf | 7th lvl. Fighting Man |
| Elf | 4th lvl. Fighting Man / 6th level Magic User |
| Hobbit | 4th lvl. Fighting Man / 6th level Thief |
Addendum: I've been giving additional thought to level scales, and am wondering if even the "soft boundary" of a de facto level cap is necessary. I still think 10th level or so should be a peak/stopping point of sorts, but realized that the standard approach to levels alreday does this with its concept of "name level," where hit dice stop accruing. Name level is a sort of "soft boundary," already, it's just up to the referee to model his campaign with that level scale in mind.
OD&D has distinctive rules for handling magical armor and shields. Unlike later editions (with the exception of Holmes), the magical bonus is not added to the PC's armor class, but is subtracted from the enemy's "hit dice" (usually interpreted as meaning the enemy's "to hit" roll, when using the "alternate" combat system). This is a distinction which helps to preserve the concept of armor class as a "class" or "type," rather than merely an indication of how hard it is to hit the PC. Also, the magical bonuses from armor and shield do not stack. Instead, the rules stipulate that if the shield's bonus is superior, there is a one in three chance that the shield's bonus should be used against a given attack roll.
I like the concept of magical bonuses from armor and shield not stacking, as it assists in moderating the tendency towards bonus inflation in the system. However, I dislike the 1/3 chance for the shield's bonus to apply; I think that introduces an unnecessary complication. In my OD&D games, I've house-ruled this aspect of magical armor and shields, such that the PC simply enjoys the higher of the two bonuses in any situation where the shield could reasonably be applied (e.g. face-to-face melee).
Lastly, note that elves can cast spells while wearing magic armor, but not while wearing non-magical armor.
Other Related Musings:
back to index of musingsThe OD&D rules for magical swords are different from those in later versions of the game. In OD&D, magic swords grant their bonus as a bonus "to hit," but they do not grant a bonus to damage unless they have a bonus against a special category of enemy. For example, a sword +1 grants a +1 to all attack rolls, but nothing to damage rolls. A sword +1, +3 vs. dragons grants a +3 to attack and damage rolls against dragons, but +1 to attack and +0 to damage against other foes. Note that this is not true for other kinds of magic weapons. A war hammer +1, for example, grants a +1 to hit and +1 damage against all enemies.
The OD&D rules assume that magical swords are truly special items; for whatever reason (up to the referee), there is something unique about them that sets them apart from other magical weapons. ALL magical swords possess intelligence and alignment. Many magical swords will be able to communicate, and some will possess personality and ego. Some with possess potent magical powers that they will pass on to their wielder. Some will have specific purposes they will attempt to fulfill. In OD&D, a magical sword can be both boon and bane, and every magical sword the PCs find will be viewed cautiously, at first. Even picking up a magical sword can be dangerous, as touching a weapon of the "wrong" alignment will cause damage. Even like-aligned swords can be perilous, as a high-ego weapon can overwhelm and dominate its wielder, in certain situations. In my OD&D game, magic swords tend to prefer Fighting Men over Thieves, so while Thieves can technically wield a magic sword, the thief is likely to have "difficulties" with his weapon.
I love these rules. First, they make magic swords remarkable; there is no "run of the mill +1 sword" in my OD&D game. Second, they model the way magic swords are described in fiction, and I like bringing that kind of outlook to the game. Who could forget blades like Stormbringer, Excalibur, Andúril, or Terminus Est? What warrior of mettle would pass up the chance to carry a dwarf-forged blade, even at the risk of coming under its fey inflence? Also, the special status of magical swords suggests all sorts of plot elements and questions. Why do all magical swords possess intelligence? Why swords, only? Perhaps the answer to these questions are a mystery, even to those who forge and enchant the blades. Perhaps "sword cults" have grown up, driven not just by a warrior ethos, but also by the fact that there is something unique about magical swords. The whole thing puts a new spin on the "riddle of steel."
The default OD&D rules assume a one minute combat round, but leave movement rules ambiguous (probably assuming referees would adapt rules from Chainmail). The encumbrance rules give leather armor (light) a move of 12", chainmail (heavy) a move of 9", and plate mail (armored) a move of 6". However, the OD&D rules don't follow these rates for dwarves and elves (with dwarves in chain + shield moving at 6" and elves in chain moving at 12"), suggesting these races have lower and higher base movement rates, respectively. I've adopted the following rates (light/heavy/armored):
| Humans | 12" | 9" | 6" |
| Elves | 15" | 12" | 6" |
| Dwarves | 9" | 6" | 3" |
| Hobbits | 9" | 6" | 3" |
Note that the movement rates I'm using for elves would probably be considered non-standard, by most. I like the idea of fleet-footed elves, so I grant them an unencumbered rate of 15" (quite fast) and a rate of 12" when wearing chain. However, I don't like the idea of an armored elf (i.e. wearing plate mail) being faster than a human, so I make them equal, there. This is just my interpretation. It would probably be more "by-the-book" to give elves the same movement rates as humans (i.e. 12"/9"/6"), assuming that the elves' movement rate in chain reflected the use of unencumbering elven chain, which would be considered "light" instead of "heavy."
My OD&D games use a 10-12 second combat round, so I needed to convert the movement rates, above, into distances at that tactical/encounter scale. After making calculations based on 4.5 feet-per-second average walking pace, I came to the conclusion that the B/X rule of encounter speed equalling movement rate divided by three is a reasonable (and convenient) approximation. Thus:
| 24" | 80' per round | (160' per round charge) |
| 21" | 70' per round | (140' per round charge) |
| 18" | 60' per round | (120' per round charge) |
| 15" | 50' per round | (100' per round charge) |
| 12" | 40' per round | (80' per round charge) |
| 9" | 30' per round | (60' per round charge) |
| 6" | 20' per round | (40' per round charge) |
| 3" | 10' per round | (20' per round charge) |
A PDF with more complete versions of these tables is available.
Other Related Musings:
back to index of musingsOD&D handles movement while exploring the dungeon in ten minute turns. A character gets two moves (calculated in feet) during a ten minute turn. (Note that this is different from some later editions, which give a single move during a ten minute turn.) Thus, a man in plate mail (move of 6"), would move 60 ft. x 2, or 120 ft. This assumes cautious, exploratory movement and mapping; flight or pursuit situations allow faster movement (i.e. double), but no mapping.
The Holmes Basic rulebook offers an interesting variation. It uses the OD&D rates (e.g. a man in plate mail moves 120 ft. in a turn, while exploring), but gives a double movement rate to "normal movement" (i.e not cautious/no mapping), and a triple movement rate to flight or pursuit. It also stipulates that a "heavy load" halves the movement rate. Thus, a fully armored man with a heavy load of gear/treasure will move 60 ft. per turn while exploring.
Multiple attacks by a single PC occur infrequently in OD&D; normally, a PC will only get a single melee attack roll per round.* A major exception to this rule is Fighting Men in melee with opponents of 1HD or less. A Fighting Man who is in a melee where all his engaged foes are 1HD or less may make a number of melee attacks equal to his level. Thus, a Hero (4th level) battling a group of goblins may attack four times in a single round. A Superhero (8th level) facing the same goblins would attack eight times each round! I see this as OD&D's "mow down the mooks" rule; a higher level Fighting Man is a force that normal men rightly fear.
Note that even a single higher HD opponent in the melee will negate this ability, being a more skilled or dangerous threat that demands the high-level Fighting Man's attention. This is a great boon for PC henchmen and hirelings, since it allows even a Veteran (i.e. a 1st level Fighting Man has 1+1 HD) to prevent the massacre of weaker party members when confronted by a dangerous foe (such as an evil Hero). This rule has its origin in Chainmail's concept of fantastic vs. non-fantastic melee (and its use is illustrated in the OD&D FAQ originally published in the Strategic Review). Since monsters in Chainmail's non-fantastic melee get multiple attacks, I extend the multiple attacks to monsters in OD&D, as well. That is, an Ogre attacking a group of normal men will attack four times. However, if there's a Veteran guard amongst those men, the combat is considered fantastic, and the Ogre is limited to a single attack.
(This rule also exists for Fighters in AD&D, but was modified to only work against enemies of less than 1HD. I speculate that this may have been done because a 1st level Fighter in AD&D is considered a 1HD foe, where a 1st level Fighting Man in OD&D is considered a 1+1HD foe.)
* - This is also true of monsters. In the three brown books, most monsters get a single attack in fantastic combat, rather than an attack routine (e.g. claw/claw/bite). The single attack roll represents their entire attack routine. This includes monsters like ghouls and trolls, which get multiple attacks in later supplements and editions. In three brown book OD&D, only very special monsters like multi-headed hydras get more than one attack in fantastic combat.
The original OD&D rules do not include a defined skill system. As a result, OD&D sometimes calls on the player to use his own skills and creativity when adventuring. This is a different approach than many gamers are used to, and running with it can take some adjustment if you're in the habit of handling all PC actions with some sort of skill system that models that PC's capabilities. Some players don't like the idea at all, arguing that the game should be testing their PC's capabilities, not their own: relying on player skill goes against the idea of the character. They have a point, but I think there is room for a different approach in role-playing. It boils down to the fact that relying on player skill for some situations is fun. I think it also encourages thinking outside the box, and immersion in the situation the character is in.
Consider the following observation from Mike Mearls (a lead developer for 4E D&D):
I think that OD&D's open nature makes the players more likely to accept things in the game as elements of fiction, rather than as game elements. The players reacted more by thinking "What's the logical thing for an adventurer to do?" rather than "What's the logical thing to do according to the rules?"
OD&D and D&D 4 are such different games that they cater to very different needs. For me, in OD&D things are fast, loose, and improvised...[OD&D players] are probably more likely to accept...a game that requires a bit more deductive reasoning (I disable a trap by wedging an iron spike into the lever that activates it) as opposed to D&D 4 (I disable a trap by finding the lever then making a skill check). (link to original post)
I think Mike nails it when he says OD&D's approach caters to a different need than the skill-based approach used in some other editions. If you've never tried running D&D without skills, I encourage you to give it a shot. It might be different from what you're used to, but it's fun.
For some reason, when I tell other gamers I'm playing OD&D (or AD&D, or B/X, et cetera), I often hear comments about my "rose colored glasses." I find this both odd and annoying. The idea behind "rose colored glasses" is that your perception is being altered, and that you aren't seeing things as they truly are. If you're "looking back through rose colored glasses," it means that you're not seeing clearly, with the implication that time has tricked your memory, making the past seem better than it actually was. You only see the good stuff through the rose colored glasses. So this is a neat turn of phrase, a flippant dismissal of any fond feelings for older editions like OD&D. Nevertheless, while glib, the phrase doesn't apply to me and my enthusiam for OD&D.
Rose colored glasses only "work" when you're looking back on an experience. Once you actually go back and experience it, again, the glasses stop working. At that point, the experience must stand or fall on its own merits (or lack thereof). I'm not looking back fondly on OD&D, I'm currently playing it. When I say I like it, it's not because rose colored glasses have skewed my perception of the past; it's because I like the experience I'm currently having. Rose colored glasses? Nope.
My OD&D game had its roots in a game using the Holmes Basic rules, and consequently includes an uncommon rule for handling scroll creation. Typical old-school D&D campaigns don't allow characters to create scrolls until around 7th level. However, the Holmes Basic rules allow magic users of all levels to create scrolls, provided that the magic user pays the cost (100gp per level of spell), takes the time (1 week per level of spell), and can cast the spell to begin with (i.e. it's in his spell-book). The Holmes rules do not explicitly cover the creation of clerical scrolls (although they do mention the existence of clerical scrolls); nevertheless, I extend the same capability to clerics. The ability to create scrolls gives low-level casters some additional power, which can be desirable or not, depending on your view. However, in practice, the ability to create scrolls can still be regulated by the referee, thus avoiding "scroll proliferation" in the campaign. As referee, I keep scrolls from getting out of hand by:
Clerical scrolls possess some unique characteristics. In my OD&D game, clerical scrolls are prayers associated with a certain alignment or deity. They are not written in "magical language" like magic user scrolls, but rather in a "normal" language which could be the vernacular or perhaps a church-specific variant of an alignment tongue. Anyone who is capable of reading the language can glean the function of a clerical scroll, but only clerics can invoke the spells therein. Even then, a cleric may not wish to invoke the prayers if the scroll is oriented towards and alignment, deity, or ethos which is antithetical to his own. He may do so, but should be prepared to face any consequences that might arise (within the church hierarchy or in his relationship with his deity, et cetera).
In my OD&D game, spell-casters enjoy the capability to produce minor magical effects related to the spells they have currently memorized. For example, a magic user who has fireball memorized might be able to light his pipe with a small flame from his thumb, or make smoke come from his ears when annoyed. A sorceress with gust of wind memorized might have her hair constantly blowing in an otherwise non-existent breeze. Using a special effect does not cast or use up the spell it is related to; they're not so much "spells" as they are tangible evidence that the magic user has a spell memorized. I do not codify these effects, but rather rely on the players to suggest or request an effect, which I then approve or deny. While I do not have a hard-and-fast rule against special effects that have a mechanical game effect, special effects are always minor, cantrip-like effects.
I like this house-rule for several reasons. First, it adds to the weird otherworldliness of magic users, and I love weird and fantastic elements in my D&D game. Second, it gives low-level magic users something arcane and archetype-supporting to do without using up their memorized spells or abandoning the concept of Vancian magic. Third, it's just cool to play a wizard that can make his eyes glow, or make his smoke rings come out different colors, or whatever. I know that players enjoy the special effects, and also enjoy trying to figure out what spells an NPC caster has based upon what his special effects reveal. The only real danger is allowing effects which are too potent, which could erode the feel of the Vancian magic system. It's up to the referee to make that call on a case-by-case basis.
My OD&D game uses a house-ruled system of surprise that draws on the wyvern surprise example on pages 8-9 of The Underworld & Wilderness Adventures, the additional combat rules in Eldritch Wizardry, and the AD&D surprise rules. There are two categories of surprise: normal surprise and complete surprise. Normal surprise allows unsurprised enemies a single action. Complete surprise allows unsurprised enemies two actions (or a surprised enemy one action).
| Die Roll | Result |
|---|---|
| 1 | Surprise (1 action) |
| 2 | Complete Surprise (2 actions) |
| 3-6 | No Surprise |
Examples of an action include closing to striking range (if necessary), making a melee attack, nocking and firing an arrow from a bow, firing a loaded crossbow, et cetera. Spells may be started as a surprise action. Whether they take effect prior to the start of the normal round depends on the circumstances. Spells of 1st-2nd level, Power Words, Holy Words, Word of Recall, Devices, and innate abilities take effect immediately. Other spells take effect in their normal place within the round. As always, the caster may cast only one spell during the round, regardless of surprise.
The table, above, gives the results for the standard surprise situation. Circumstances may modify this. For example, some monsters surprise on 3 in 6, rather than 2 in 6. In this case, a roll of 3 would indicate the monsters are allowed three surprise actions. Similarly, some monsters or characters might only be surprised on a 1 in 6. In this case, a roll of 1 would indicate normal surprise, and a roll of 2 would indicate no surprise.
The Thief class is not part of the original three OD&D books, but was added in Supplement I. Weak in combat and casting no spells, the main feature of the class is its special skills like climbing sheer walls, finding and disarming traps, moving without making a sound, hiding in shadows, executing surprise backstabs, et cetera. Over time, I've come to prefer the game without the Thief class (i.e. using only the original three classes). The role the thief usually plays (scout/sneaky-guy) is easily filled by the other classes; everyone can attempt to be stealthy, search for traps, et cetera. Also, without the Thief and his special abilities, these activities are often performed by the player describing how he goes about it, rather than rolling against a skill, which I think is a lot of fun.
The following quote from Mike Mearls (a lead developer for 4E D&D) sums it up, for me:
I've thought a lot about this for my OD&D game, and I decided to stick to the original three [classes] without the thief.
As others have mentioned, the thief is a self-justifying class. More importantly, I'd rather the players use critical thinking and deduction to figure out traps, unlock doors, and so on. I'd prefer to allow any player of sufficient creativity and wits to figure a way past an obstacle. To me, that's the appeal of original D&D. (link to original post)
While I prefer to run without the Thief class, there are campaigns where I've allowed them. When I allow Thieves, their class skills are treated as extraordinary capabilities. That is, anyone can hide, but a Thief can hide in shadows. Anyone can move quietly, but a Thief can move silently, without even making a sound. Anyone can climb, but a Thief can climb sheer walls. Et cetera.
As an example, consider the act of sneaking up behind a human sentry. The Fighting Man takes of his mail and hard boots, and makes an effort to be quiet on his approach. I'd probably give him an increased chance of surprising the sentry: maybe 3 or 4 in 6, depending on the exact circumstances. If a Thief were trying the same thing, he'd use his move silently ability. If the Thief makes his roll, he's moving without making any audible noise, and since he's out of the sentry's line of sight (i.e. behind him), I'd give him automatic surprise. If the Thief failed his move silently roll, he made some noise, but he's still moving quietly; I'd give him the same chance to surprise as the stealthy Fighting Man (i.e. 3 or 4 in 6).
In my OD&D game, PCs typically receive a single melee attack roll per round (q.v. Abstract Combat), so I needed a rule to handle PCs that fought with a weapon in each hand. I reasoned that two weapons would likely do more damage, assuming they were used competently, but that it would be harder to use two weapons effectively. My house rule states that Fighting Men, Thieves, Elves, and Halflings can use a weapon in each hand, making a single attack roll each round. If they hit and they have a Dex of 13+, they roll 2 damage dice (i.e. 2d6) and take the highest of the two rolls as the damage. Those with Dex of 12 or less inflict standard damage (they lack the dexterity to gain a significant benefit from wielding two weapons).
Addendum: I'm also kicking around a different idea for two-wepon fighting. Instead of altering the way damage is rolled, wielding two weapons could result in an increased chance to hit (i.e. +1). Going this route gives you three basic options: weapon + shield (increased defense), weapon + weapon (increased chance to hit), or two-handed weapon (increased average damage), which is nice, mechanically.
The system of Vancian magic (i.e. spells which are memorized and then "forgotten" when cast) is one of the essential elements of D&D. I concede that you can play the game using a different system for handling magic (spell points, or whatever), but to my way of thinking, doing so casts aside a huge portion of the feel that makes D&D what it is. I love Vancian magic. I love grandiose names for the spells; in fact, the more grandiose and fantastic they are, the better I like them (and I encourage my players to use those kinds of names for their spells). I love the idea of magic users scheming to obtain a certain enchantment or charm. I love the concept of a magic user "equipping" himself with a certain set of spells when he sets out in the morning. For a sample of the original "Vancian" flavor, check out "Just so you know, THIS is Vancian magic."
My OD&D game will always use Vancian magic. Complaints that it is too constraining for low level magic users fail to impress me. There is no doubt that playing a low-level magic user is a challenge. However, the rewards for success are great, as higher level magic users are incredibly potent and powerful characters. Suck it up and pay your dues, and such power might be yours. I'm unwilling to cast aside the rich atmosphere and feel of Vancian magic to make things easier on low-level magic users. Besides, my current game allows low-level magic users to create magical scrolls (a rule which is has its source in my game's Holmes Basic roots), and I also allow minor "special effects" based on the spells you currently have memorized, so even with the Vancian system, magic users (and clerics) still have some options that don't require them to "take their one shot and wait for the next day."
You just can't have D&D without Vancian magic.