Encumbrance is considered a pillar of old-school play, creating
a natural limiter on what can be brought into – and out of – the dungeon. It
creates a puzzle, wherein players agonize over what should be carried and what
must be dropped, and opens the game to unique solutions such as hiring people
or using beasts of burden. It makes magical items which subvert encumbrance into
coveted treasures.
It’s also a huge pain and a taxing mental load. Especially
in most editions of D&D, wherein you either need to add up large,
abstracted coin weight or small, fractional pounds. This is the kind of ruleset
for which people end up making spreadsheets. By the time you’re opening Excel
to run a subsystem for a tabletop game, I’d argue you’ve left the Realm of Game
and entered the Duchy of Simulator. This caused many tables to abstract
encumbrance or ignore it altogether. As a result, the idea of tracking any of the
character’s gear faded from modern D&D by 4th Edition. Notably ahead of its
time, 2nd Edition made encumbrance optional.
If you want more detail on the history of encumbrance rules
in D&D, check out these posts from Simulacrum: Exploring OSR Design and Welcome to the Deathtrap.
The OSR does its OSR thing when it comes to encumbrance: the
mechanical approaches include points, slots, and grids, while unique sub-mechanics
abound. Of these, I find slot-based encumbrance to be the most simple and
adaptable for my modification of 2e, so I’ll follow the crowd here. As I noted
in my post on Strength, that was the plan all along: the number of available
slots can be the Strength score itself.
Now I have to execute it, which means establishing slot
allotment, item slot values, and encumbrance penalties. For this first part,
I’ll tackle the first two.