Hacking 2e: Dual-Class and Multi-Class

Before the monolithic ‘multiclassing’ of later editions, there was AD&D’s demihuman-only Multi-Class and human-only Dual-Class (or, as it was called in 1e, “The Character With Two Classes”). As they work completely differently, each provides a very different type of hybrid character, though the end result of both is exactly what you’d expect from any system that tries to mash two distinct archetypes into one uberclass abomination. Many players who started in the modern era look back upon these rules with a type of incredulous wonder.

Much of the reason for its quirkiness comes from AD&D’s variable XP requirements for each class, which meant that you couldn’t merely ‘take’ another class upon level up; you had to invest into each class individually, which created challenges when it came to the math. For what they had to work with, the solutions that Gygax devised (and Zeb cleaned up) are clever; even with the jank, they get the job done.

Before we get into the unique design of the two systems, and devise solutions for their problems, let’s look at how multiclassing has been handled elsewhere and if those examples can be of use.

Hacking 2e: The Bard Kit

Motley? A feather in his cap? 
A hurdy-gurdy!? This guy has it all.

At the final leg of our journey through the classes, we come to the bard. Another magazine hack, this class has transformed over time from a fighter/thief/druid hybrid into its current incarnation as a healing spellcaster who is culturally viewed as the medieval fantasy equivalent of Pepé Le Pew. Apart from such memes, the Bard has retained a common identity as a jack-of-all-trades. For a more thorough breakdown of the history of this class, I’ll direct you one last time to Stoddard.

While all the classes aside from the core four are considered optional in 2e, apparently the Bard is considered extra-optional, as that declaration is the first sentence in their description. This is the strangest class this side of the Druid; like that class, its Celtic origins were smoothed out to represent something unique to D&D: a magical smooth-talker who carries a lute into battle. It’s a far cry from most archetypes in low or high fantasy, so the PHB makes sure the DM has the tools to keep this capering skald out of the party.

For the most part, the Bard is presented as a support class. The book notes that they’re a “jack-of-all-trades but master of none”, and the rules support that with a delayed wizard spell progression, some musical powers to buff or protect the party, the ability to influence reaction rolls through performance, a few of the less exciting thief skills, and a level-based lore check. Due to level-based spell effects and the Rogue mega-class’s fast XP track, there are instances where the Bard can outshine the Wizard, so this isn’t entirely just a thief with better armor and some music features. Still, in every other way the class feels lackluster, especially compared to its successors.

Let’s crack open this class and remake it.

Hacking 2e: The Rogue

The boots really pull the 
whole outfit together.

The Rogue, or Thief, comes to us from the same wellspring that brought us the Ranger and the Illusionist: nerds not paid by TSR. For a more detailed overview, Stoddard is back on the menu, and Peterson provides a bit more about “The Thief Addition.” It’s a very weird addition. The Fighter interacts with the combat system, the Wizard interacts with the magic system, and the Cleric taps into both. The Rogue, by contrast, is built around a skill system which comes packaged with the class itself.

For some, these skills were the death knell of D&D, as they codified abilities that would be walled off from other classes. Suddenly, the release of Greyhawk removed the ability to be a sneak and a cutpurse from Fighters across the land, who were doing just fine before this thank you very much. This line of thinking reaches back into the primordial.

The iconic title of “Rogue” was introduced as the 1st-level title for the Thief in 1e, but gets top billing in 2e as the name of the mega-class which contained the Thief and Bard. 3e would make the wise decision to adopt it as the actual class name, which it has remained ever after. While thieving is certainly on the menu for this class, they’re capable of so much more, as seen by their many varied kits during 2e’s run, and their eventual evolution into the deadly striker and jack-of-all-trades we know today. As such, this hack will adopt this name over the title of Thief.

Let’s dig into this ne’er-do-well and see what makes the class tick.

Hacking 2e: The Mythos Cleric Kits, the Druid, and More

There's something vaguely 
Soviet about this Druid.

The Priests of Specific Mythoi is one of the best innovations of 2nd Edition, at least according to the various online discussions surrounding this class-design toolset. These rules allow you to make any type of Cleric you want, with unique requirements, restrictions, and powers which match the deity they serve. This means that the Priest mega-class is the only one which provides full rules and examples on how to design bespoke subclasses, making good on Zeb’s promise that 2e’s class structure could do so.

Design instructions are provided, but they’re not exactly watertight. For every alteration one can make to the base class, the rules give no indication on how to balance each change. There is only the constant note at the end of most sections stating that the “DM has final say”, and a last section explaining that the strengthening of any abilities must be balanced via the weakening of other features. The example given is the Druid, who is handed a large number of granted powers, and so is weakened with a limited spell selection and limited armor. While this gives you a rough idea of how to manage the thing, it’s ultimately based on vibes; the creation of a specialized Cleric is a cooperative exercise in just-figuring-it-out between the player and the DM.

Hacking 2e: The Cleric

This guy is really stretching the 
definition of the word "bludgeoning".

The Cleric is the third member of the holy trinity, created back when Arneson’s gaming group realized that having Van Helsing in the party would be a smart idea. For some interesting first-hand accounts of the Cleric’s origins, see Havard’s Blackmoor Blog. The class is described in OD&D as being a mix of the Fighting Man and Magic User, gaining “some of the advantages from both.” It is, in its own way, the first multi-class. This remained the Cleric’s ethos right through to 2e; in the 21st century, the class would slowly tip toward spellcasting as its dominant function.

2e’s Cleric is another subtype which explains its own parent mega-class. It’s portrayed as the ‘standard’ version, which is accompanied by rules to twist and mold that basic version into a more detailed “Priests of Specific Mythoi”, of which the Druid is provided as the prime example. (Discussion of those mythoi rules, and the Druid, are for later.) Suffice to say, the 2e Cleric class is the template from which all other 2e Clerics are to be built.

I have a few adjustments I would like to bring to the Cleric, as hinted in prior entries. In this post, I’ll take a critical look at the spellcasting features, attempting to mold them into something that makes sense for a divine proxy. I’ll also seek to bring the Turn Undead ability into a roll-under mechanic. Along the way, I’ll look at some holdover rules from an earlier age.

Let’s dig in.

One Year Later

I’m going to take a moment away from hacking at the classes to mark the milestone of this blog’s one-year anniversary. (I also need an excuse for a break; the Specialist Wizard was a monster, and the Cleric is shaping up to be worse.)

I really didn’t know what to expect from this thing when I started it. I had just finished the 2e Primer, and I really didn’t want to stop writing. Cracking into the system was pure fun; I thought a blog would be a great way to keep that ball rolling. So, I made an account, gave the blog the stupidest name I could think of, threw the Primer in the first post, and made a commitment to myself: one post every Thursday for as long as it remained fun.

80,000+ words later, it has remained fun.

Hacking 2e: The Specialist Wizard Kits

His chain-diamond is merely to 
distract you from his tufted shoes.

The Illusionist debuted in the same rush of mid-70s fan-made hacks that would eventually constitute the majority of AD&D’s core classes. For more on the paleolithic Illusionist, see Jon Peterson. The Specialist Wizard is a natural evolution of that original class; Illusionists begot the organization of magic into ‘schools’, which in turn suggested practitioners of those schools.

Instead of listing each school’s specialist, 2e provides the rules needed to build your own, along with an example Illusionist. This was the smartest way to handle this, as none of these specialists have any defining features that the others don’t, aside from the chosen school and some requirements. I’d prefer to make each specialist its own kit; as will be seen, I go for a hybrid approach.

Hacking 2e: The Wizard

How much time do you think 
he spends on that beard?

In each group of classes, the primary class reflects its “mega-class”. Fighters are Warriors without the bells, Clerics are Priests with Turn Undead, etc. No more is this true than the Mage, which brings nothing to the table that the group didn’t already provide: it’s a Wizard given another new title (yes, the Magic-User got renamed twice), in order to differentiate it from a more focused spellcaster. (It’s also one of my primary motivations for doing away with the group system; if there is no practical difference between your main class and its container group, why keep the group?) So, even though they’re known as a Mage in 2e, I’ll constantly refer to them as a Wizard.

Normally at this point, I’d direct you to an overly in-depth History of the Class article set for more information on the changes that this class has gone through over 50+ years. Alas, he didn’t write one for the Wizard, so you’re on your own.

The challenge with this entry is that the Wizard class is not much more than its spells, and I haven’t reached the point where I’m ready to manufacture a hacked magic system. Let’s see if I can get through this without accidentally creating one.

Hacking 2e: The Ranger Kit

The Ranger is the only class not provided 
with bad art, so you get the Dúnedain.

From its humble beginnings of “what if Strider was a playable class” to the current generation’s dual-wielding, magic-slinging beastmaster, the Ranger has been through some changes over time. If you wish to dive into those changes, Stoddard is still your resource. 2e’s Ranger is the middle of this great shift, introducing new (and now iconic) powers while retaining old ideas. In Dragon #121, Zeb warned that the class would “mutate.” He wasn’t kidding.

Let’s dig into each feature and see what can be broken.

Hacking 2e: The Paladin Kit – Part 2

In Part 1, I retained the alignment focus of the Paladin, along with the Saving Throw bonus and disease immunity. I converted Detect Evil into a spell grant, and buffed Lay on Hands to cover both hp regen and disease curing while also improving over time. This time, I’ll look at the kit’s auras, its Cleric-adjacent features, the war horse, and some detail on the Paladin’s asceticism.

Hacking 2e: The Paladin Kit – Part 1

Nice greaves.

Described by 2e as the “noble and heroic warrior, the symbol of all that is right and true in the world,” the game has high expectations for the Paladin. They are a pillar of goodness and law based solely on roleplay and vibes, requiring adherence to a Lawful Good code in order to retain their powers, lest they fall to a shameful state of specializationless fighterdom. For the history, I will continue to direct you to Stoddard’s History of the Classes: The Paladin Class.

This is the first attempt to rebuild the non-core classes as kits. In this case: a Fighter kit. That means a removal of Weapon Specialization and the addition of the myriad features that come part and parcel with the Paladin.

And boy, what a collection of features. Try as I might, I could not eat the whole meal, so I’ve got another split entry.

Hacking 2e: The Fighter

That's right, I'll be using the revised 
PHB artwork for this series. Despair!

The Fighter (né Fighting-Man) has been here since Chainmail, and has survived every edition. If there was a default character class in D&D, this is it. Due to its simplicity of design and straightforward mechanics, it is commonly derided as too simple and, ultimately, boring. Most editions would take a stab at trying to make the Fighter more interesting, and 2e was no exception, though its solution was to copy Unearthed Arcana and just make the class hit better and harder and more often. If your goal is to keep the Fighter as the easy-to-run martial choice, this gets the job done.

However, this is not a history lesson. If you want an absurd amount of detail about the Fighter’s travel through the editions (and beyond), you can’t do better than Brandes Stoddard’s fourteen part history of the class.

While you’re at it, I always recommend Matt Colville’s The History of D&D, One Fighter at a Time. It’s a good mix of general history and Fighter-specific detail. He made it as far as 3rd Edition.

Let’s dissect the Fighter, see what works, and what might need some adjustment.

Hacking 2e: Class

Class is the beating heart of D&D. You could ditch almost everything from the game – many editions have, in one form or another – but as long as you have distinct classes which differentiate themselves through unique powers and abilities, you still have the essence. Without them, you’re playing something else.

Admittedly, this is why I’ve spent the better part of a year finding anything else to write about: it’s a big slice of work, and an important one for the purposes of this hack, so I’ve put off making a mess of it. However, playtesting is fast approaching, so it’s time to crack this open.

Alignment Across the Editions

Stepping away from the hack for a moment, I’ve been thinking about alignment.

Alignment was there from the start. As such, it has been an ever-present feature of the varied editions, right up there with Ability Scores and Classes. There is a 50+ year argument regarding the place and functionality of this quantified moral compass. These arguments can get weirdly ontological.

To get a better grasp of this most contentious of systems, let’s break down how alignment has been used in D&D and how it has changed throughout the editions.

Hacking 2e: Skills and the Nonweapon Proficiency System – Part 7 (Coda)

Surprise. The write-up on alignment is taking a bit longer than I anticipated, life is being life, and I really like the idea of having 7 parts (a la Rod) over just 6. So, consider this a coda to the preceding series.

The rules laid out in the prior post detail a division of use: passive and active. Active is boilerplate and unsurprising; if a skill would come into play, and the task has a chance of failure for one so trained, then an Ability check occurs without penalty or restriction. Passive is seemingly simpler, in that it gives the character auto-success features, but I think it’s the more interesting function of these skills. Whereas active use may be more exciting and even dramatic, the passive use guarantees a more open and reactive world, while cementing a given character’s identity.

Let me explain through two other games.