Not My Ravenloft: Languages

With the imminent arrival of Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft, I wanted to revisit a series of posts I started, but never finished: Not My Ravenloft, a series where I talk about how I ran the setting in a way that was often in opposition to its presentation in the official supplements.

Ravenloft is easily my favorite of the official D&D settings. However, there are some bits in the setting that I just don't use, for one reason or another. Today I want to talk about the languages introduced in the third-edition Ravenloft Campaign Setting book and why I see them as a misstep.

Languages

Prior to the release of the third-edition Ravenloft Campaign Setting book, little attention was paid to the role of language in the setting. In the second-edition version of the setting, it was assumed that, as in most D&D settings, the majority of the land's residents spoke a common tongue. The Common language, I feel, is one of D&D greatest innovations in terms of playability. It makes the linguistic aspect of communication simple so that everyone at the table can speak as though their characters expects to be understood in the vast majority of situations.

It's unrealistic, of course, that everyone speaks a language in common, particularly given how far apart different nations and territories can be in fantasy settings, but it also means that the players get to receive and relay a maximal amount of information when they interact with NPCs. There generally isn't a language barrier to get in the way of roleplaying, and if a language barrier does rear its ugly head it's actually noteworthy and special because it runs against the norm established by the presence of the Common language.

The third-edition of the Ravenloft setting retconned Common from the setting. In its place, a number of number of languages that covered specific domains were introduced: "The Dread Domains are home to widely differing and often isolated cultures. Thus, no Common language has arisen." 

This was a disastrous idea, in my opinion. It is entirely possible, should the players create characters with no languages in common, that they will not be able to communicate with each other. And the potential slowdown in every roleplaying encounter where you have to check to see who speaks what is the wrong kind of nightmarish for a Gothic setting.

Not My Ravenloft: Outcast Ratings

With the imminent arrival of Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft, I wanted to revisit a series of posts I started, but never finished: Not My Ravenloft, a series where I talk about how I ran the setting often in opposition to its presentation in the official supplements.

Ravenloft is my favorite of the official D&D settings. However, there are some bits in the setting that I just don't use, for one reason or another. Today I want to talk about the Outcast Rating mechanic introduced in the third-edition Ravenloft Campaign Setting book, although it should be noted that similar mechanics have existed for the setting since the Realm of Terror box set.

Outcast Ratings

Outcast Ratings are a numerical disadvantage of varying severity assigned to nonhuman player characters attempting to interact with people who are unlike them. The Outcast Rating also provides a bonus to intimidation against people who are not your "kind" if you are a nonhuman.

I think I understand where this mechanic is coming from. It wants to present Ravenloft's brand of dark fantasy as one where the common people who inhabit the land are superstitious and xenophobic peasants. However, I feel like this butts up against another idea that the setting tries to establish: the people of Ravenloft are worth fighting for. It's difficult to get worked up enough to put your life on the line fighting monsters on behalf of ignorant bigots.

In my Ravenloft games, fantasy racism isn't a trope I want to give undue prominence. I figure that since it isn't unusual for the mists of Ravenloft to pull strangers of all ancestries into the land, the people who inhabit the land might be a bit more used to encountering unusual humanoids from abroad. Although the average farmer in Mordent may not have ever seen a tabaxi or loxodon before, I don't take it as read that they will react with fear and revulsion. I'm not saying that bigotry doesn't exist in my games; it's just not an idea I want to emphasize enough to warrant mechanizing.

Also, I don't really like how the Outcast Rating mechanic tramples on certain character concepts. There's no point in playing a charismatic race or a class that relies on charisma if you're always going to be fighting against a mechanic that won't let you be good at the thing you signed on to be good at.

Not My Ravenloft: Powers Checks

Ravenloft is my favorite of the official D&D settings. However, there are some bits of the setting's mechanical implementation that I just don't use, for one reason or another. The first of them that I want to talk about is the powers check mechanic introduced in the Realm of Terror box set.

Powers Check

The idea behind the powers check mechanic is suitably thematic for a Gothic setting. Committing evil acts in Ravenloft triggers rolls to see if your character is warped by the powers of darkness until they ultimately become a villainous NPC under the control of the Dungeon Master. Along the way toward becoming an NPC villain, a character gains strange powers and finds their body and mind twisted and corrupted. 

Although that descent into evil is a very Gothic notion, the mechanic mostly serves the purpose of enforcing 2e AD&D's sense of morality to deflect any holdover criticism from the years of the Satanic Panic. In my view, the mechanic can be a roleplaying straight jacket instead of game design that reinforces the Gothic mood. If a player wants to lean into the idea that their character has become tempted by evil or corrupted by darkness, which also seem perfectly cromulent in a Gothic setting, the mechanic punishes them for playing in that mode by eventually taking their character away. The road down into the abyss also has a tendency to cripple your character in one way or another.

The Realm of Terror box set is explicitly clear that powers checks are intended to make players play the game the right way: "The AD&D game is designed for heroes, but the best intentions of the DM and all guidelines to the contrary, some people insist on playing the opposite. These players, if not careful, may find their characters gradually wrested from their control." You can almost hear the beleaguered sigh of the camp counselor as they tell you kids to knock it off or nobody will be allowed to go swimming after lunch.

However, since the base concept of characters becoming warped by choosing evil is a compelling one, I leave this up to the player's choice instead of mechanizing it in my games; if a player wants to see their character changed by shadowy forces, I'll work with them so that we can see that happen in a way that is satisfying to the player instead of a punitive measure.