This month, we delve into the creation of the latest gigantic collection of D&D goodies to hit the shelf—the Magic Item Compendium.
Most magic items in D&D are awful. I’m not talking about +1 swords or gauntlets of ogre power, mind you. I’m talking about the hundreds upon hundreds of never-used magic items littering sourcebooks throughout the last six-plus years of the game. Almost every book has a few of these stinkers—and some of them are chock-full. Even the hallowed Dungeon Master’s Guide is no exception; when’s the last time your character thought seriously about shelling out 23,500 gp for a rod of enemy detection, or a whopping fifty-seven thousand gold pieces for a helm of underwater action? Instead, the majority of a character’s item slots are spent on what I call the “Big Six”:
Throw in a few more common items, such as the bag of holding, boots of striding and springing (though the “springing” part’s wasted on most folks), maybe a metamagic rod or two, a smattering of easily forgotten potions and scrolls, and of course the omnipresent wands of cure light wounds—and you’ve probably covered 80% or more of the average PC’s gear list. As soon as I learned I’d be working on the Magic Item Compendium, I knew that this was the biggest problem we—meaning the team assigned to concept and organize the book: Steve Schubert, Mike Mearls, and I—had to solve. After all, what’s the point of collecting hundreds of magic items into one big book if nobody’s interested in what we’ve collected?
Ultimately, we realized that the greatest factor influencing the likelihood of a particular magic item being used by a character came down to its cost. On its own, this realization isn’t groundbreaking: proper costing is the most important tool any game designer uses. In chess, pawns “cost” less than any other piece (you have eight of them, after all) because they’re the weakest piece. In Monopoly, a hotel on Boardwalk (or Times Square, in the Here & Now edition) costs more money than those on Baltic Avenue because it represents a greater payday when your hapless opponent lands there. In D&D, meteor swarm is a higher-level spell than fireball because it deals more damage to your enemies, and a +4 holy sword costs more gold to purchase than a +5 sword because, on average, it’s more potent in combat. No, the big deal here was in identifying the various costing mechanisms already in place for magic items. Obviously, an item’s monetary cost serves as the primary decision-making factor for most characters, but market price isn’t the only cost in the game. Actions required to use an item are another huge cost; if you’d rather just attack or cast a spell than activate a magic item in your pack, that means the activation cost is too high. And of course the item’s cost in “body slots” is another big one. The minor cloak of displacement is a sexy item, but then the potential buyer remembers the +5 bonus on saves he’ll be giving up by choosing it over the cloak of resistance. That’s a cost most characters simply can’t afford to pay. The “Big Six” and other common items don’t fill up character sheets just because folks like the names, but because they’re the most cost effective items in the game. Here are six reasons why that’s true:
Any collection of old and new magic items would have to find ways to make its contents appealing, even when compared to the uber-efficient Big Six. But first, we’d have to collect several hundred items.
About the AuthorAndy Collins works as an RPG developer for Wizards of the Coast R&D. His recent credits include the Magic Item Compendium, Complete Mage, and Complete Scoundrel. He also answers questions every weekday as the official Sage of D&D. | ||||
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