Deconstructing Magic

Making Magic Magical

Here is the challenge: how do we make systems for magic that keep them from becoming science? In the fiction we read magic is often obscure and unknowable. Practitioners dabble around the edges, peeking into forbidden corners and looking under the arcane rocks, but overall the powers with which they work are variable and unpredictable. The more experienced weavers can cast some spells in a semi-regular manner, but the overall use of magic is still dangerous.

In our games, most of them, magic is broken into spells, predefined recipes that state explicitly how they work and what will come from their use. The fact that these are formulaic gives the game away, magic has become science. When you learn new spells, they work exactly as intended, safe and predictable.

A Mage’s Magic

As I said before, not all games work this way. One of my favorite games is Mage: The Awakening. Magic is handled in a very thematic fashion, with lots of prose and beautiful writing describing where the different elements of magic come from, how they interact with the world, and the likely uses. In the description of each branch of magic they even include a few well studied and practiced spells to give new players something to work with, called rotes. But overall, the system is freeform, allowing players and the arbiter to create new magical effects on the fly.

The mechanical balance for this is my favorite ever, as it is taken directly from the fiction rather than any structural argument for how the characters should be matched evenly to the world; paradox. The world the characters live in, our world, is fallen from the time of magic and everyone save for them is certain that magic doesn’t exist. These sleepers prevent magic from taking hold of the world again, and when they witness magic their disbelief functions as the backlash.

This is not exactly the way it works, there is a lot more to it, but I am trying to make it succinct for my point. Reality, as defined by the overwhelming majority, is not magical. So when a PC casts a spell, they risk that reality snapping back against them like a rubber band, and the farther that band is pulled, the worse the paradox.

This is one of my favorite systems despite it being very light in rules, but without those rules there is room for far more world building, which I adore. The primary issue I have is that there is only one factor to this system, which type of magic you are using. Given that Mage is a World of Darkness game, a dice-pool system, what you can accomplish with a given type of magic is determined by one statistic. This leaves very little room for anything other than a simple linear increase, even if it represents an exponential increase in power.

The Most Popular Spells

The most popular system is one I have had an eye on remaking or tinkering with or modifying for years. In 3e there was a supplemental book that introduced the idea of points rather than slots, and I ran with that as often as I could. I even had one of my old GMs allow me to use it with a sorcerer instead of the normal slots in his game, and it turned into me modifying my spells using variable amounts of points, which we both loved. It gave me a sense of control to customize my spells while it gave him the ability to make it risky, as a modification could come with dire consequences. We even turned my sorcerer into a roll-to-cast class in 3e, which was something we had not seen anywhere.

Side note: my greatest achievement with that character was following one of the higher level PCs into their temple, mostly out of curiosity, and talking with one of their priests who offered me access to unlimited power. I was playing a very pyromancy focused halfling sorcerer, and the priest took me with him to the hells in which his deity resided to show me the “hell-fire” that I could wield if I made a deal. It was Asmodeus. I said I would consider his offer if he would grant me that hell-fire, and he let me loose to go speak with Asmodeus (I know, character ending bad idea). The GM rolled box-cars (double 6’s) on the demon lords attitude, and I walked out with the symbol of Asmodeus on my chest for a pool of hell-fire spell points equal to my existing pool! Great game.

Over the years I have tinkered with the D&D system of spellcasting, trying to recapture some of that mystique and openness to interpretation, resulting in a massive list of tiered spells (something like firebolt to burning hands to fireball as part of one “spell”) and a whole shift to a Force skill like system from the Star Wars versions of 3.5e and 4e. Having all of the spells “spelled out” (giggle) just takes the magic from the magic system. I have seen this in myself and others where we don’t look to the spells with wonder and awe, we see new and differing types of swords, bows, and thieves tools. (What are thieves tools anyway, just tools, right?)

Vancian Magic

Yes, I know. This topic has been discussed to death, but I haven’t had my 2 cents yet, so here it is.

Vancian magic is cool. The concept is really interesting and thematic, but I think where D&D misses the mark is fully explaining it to the audience. Vancian magic is predicated on the idea that in the old world, before the fall that led to the current medieval world, there was a utopian society that had spent eons working out all of these different ways to manipulate magic. Powerful magic-users had spent generations developing all of these recipes that any mage could use to perform these fantastic arts that bend reality to their will. Once a user memorizes this formula, they finish it in the moment they need it, and the spell is gone from their mind.

As much as it builds a certain theme, despite that theme being absent from the gaming books we know, it leaves magic in a very scientific place. At one point there were books and rules for players to create their own spells, but there was never any room for new spells. The vast catalog of spells present throughout the editions, especially 3e and 3.5e, left very little space for any creative players to come up with something that felt necessary and relevant. I tried for years to come up with something new for my own world and the best I had was a Scribe spell, where the caster could hold their hand over a paper or parchment and will the ink to write their words onto the page en masse, saving them massive amounts of time writing scrolls, memoirs, or missives.

When it comes to the playing mechanics, players simply pick from the list and apply them as needed. Not so bad, until the major theme of the game is revealed, combat. The biggest problem I have had with magic in D&D for all of these years is the idea that mages are better at war than fighters. It doesn’t matter what kind of solution is attempted, the spellcasters are always going to do better at the jobs everyone else is supposed to excel at. Need to get through a door? Why use lockpicks when I can melt it, teleport past it, or command it to open. Need to slay a dragon? Why use dragon-slaying arrows when I can disintegrate it. Need to get the king to hand over his kingdom? Why try to persuade him when I can inhabit his mind.

Magic in D&D presents solutions to the problems that everyone else is supposed to fix, and it is easier and cheaper, since most people ignore components, than those people engaging those problems. The primary challenge of D&D is this: keep the spellcaster alive long enough for them to cast the right spell.

The Modern Classical Weaving

Dungeon Crawl Classics (DCC) is a D&D game with a very old-school bent, both in themes and physical design, that tries to take this system and add some of that variability. Where Mage added openness by describing what each type of magic could do and provide a handful of rote examples, DCC runs in the opposite direction, describing any spell even further. DCC has spell descriptions that cover whole pages, with variations in effect based upon the outcome of the spellcasting roll the player makes.

To me, this seemed to be a better answer, until I grappled with the amount of text and reading and reference that would be necessary to pull off a single spell in any given situation. I love the idea of a spell working in a different way depending on the die result, but oh man does it become unwieldy very quickly. I could not imagine ever handing a player that book and saying “when you cast a spell make sure to have this open and be reading the paragraphs of information after you roll a die.” I did type paragraphs, plural, and I absolutely meant it.

Casting Like a Knave

A game that I have yet to run but definitely am interested in, is Knave. Knave is one of the standout works that is taking a hands-off, rules-light approach to old school dungeon crawling goodness. Just to be clear, a game all about dungeon crawling is not my style, but it is still goodness, as much of this hobby is exactly about that.

Ben Milton’s approach to the issue of codified spells is as simple as it can be: each spell has a name and a sentence or two of description. The rest is, intentionally so, up to interpretation by the GM and the players. This opens the door wide, I would say taking it off the hinges, for players and GMs to create their own spells, quickly and efficiently, to make their magic systems at least somewhat variable and mysterious again. Knave 2e even has a list of 100 spells included, which only takes up less than 4 pages of space. Beautiful.

Arcana as a Class

When I started working on this issue, I realized the class distinction was possibly the biggest piece. A fighter is supposed to be the frontline, the best in class at taking a hit and dealing one out. Then, the spellcaster comes into the mix and takes that spot away from them.

One of the approaches I have been trying to tease out is the fighter being the best, no matter what tool they are using. If a fighter chooses a sword, they will be the best at using that sword in battle. If they choose magic, they will be the best at battle magic, and so on. This would require a complete restructuring of the class system we know and love, from top to bottom. The fighter would have access to battle magic, and excel in it should they choose it, and that would leave the wizard, where exactly? Exactly! A wizard, even though they could choose battle magic, would not be as good, because they are not a fighter.

In the modern versions of class based systems of fantasy medieval superhero monster slaying depth spelunking adventure, a wizard would be someone coming out of their tower to continue their studies on the road and lend their vast knowledge to companions, rather than beating them all at their own focus. The wizard would have magic, and excel at it, but only in the avenues of complexity, history, esoteric lore, and reality bending spells, but none that are outwardly combative.

A sage who spends most of their time in study and experimentation would not have the experience of the hardened battle caster that a fighter would be, trained in a military fashion as a support for mundane troops during large scale warfare.

Magic as a Tool

This concept would disconnect magic from its own class, opening it up as more of a tool, as it has been subtly ideated, for many years. We see this influence in many of the non-wizard classes and subclasses, many of them depending on magic, but in smaller and more defined ways. Paladins are essentially clerics mixed with fighters, rangers are druids and fighters, rogues but with spells, warlocks are something new and interesting (why I love them), and monks are fighters but with magical powers, maybe some spells.

But magic has to be more than that. When a fighter picks up a sword, that sword is reliable and predictable. A bow requires the bow and the arrow to put harm down range, losing one or the other leaves the fighter in a pickle. So when a fighter chooses to use a spell, which requires neither bow nor arrow, there needs to be an offset, they need to engage in a trade-off.

The trade-off is important in game design. When you are presenting players with a myriad of options on how to design their character, they need to know why their choices matter, otherwise those choices are meaningless, and meaningless choices should not be presented. Another issue I have had is why fighters don’t have firebolt, because it is cheaper and more reliable than ranged weapons. If the spell needs a focus, it only requires a wand, whereas normal ranged attacks need both a bow and an arrow. Any fighter worth their salt would choose a wand, and an economy based on surviving in a monster filled world would provide ample supplies of firebolt wands for cheap purchase.

Magic as a Danger

This trade-off, in my opinion, should be danger. When someone chooses to tap into a well of power from a bygone era that is unpredictable and unfathomable, they should be taking their life into their own hands, as well as the lives of those around them. A sword is not a gamble, a spell should be. At the same time, that spell should have the possibility of being more than a sword, or a bow and arrow. This potential is what makes the trade-off considerable, maybe even worthwhile. A firebolt can potentially require only the concentration or focus of the battlemage, so it should be more than a bow and arrow, and come with more risk to those who use it.

Where does this leave wizards, the people that spend their time not in military camps learning how to explode their enemies with shouts and gestures? Well, they spend their time studying, experimenting, and learning about magic. Battlemages only seek what they need to become proficient with the magic and spells that aid them in battle, and wizards are trying to unravel the mysteries of that magic. Wizards should stand apart in that they are safer with magic.

If magic is dangerous, than those who study it intimately should be more aware of those dangers and how to mitigate them. This could be born out in the complexity of the spells, with battle magic being simple and low risk, while wizard spells are more complex, take more time to cast, but have farther reaching consequences and dangers, mitigated by the expertise of the wizard. Yes a wizard could use battle magic, and be much safer from its potential backlash, but their focus allows them to cast more complex spells that have refined effects. Battle magic is a machete, wizard magic is a scalpel.

Shifting magic and the classes in this way would make wizards more focused on mitigating magical danger, understanding new formulae, working with artifacts and relics, and deciphering ancient knowledge regarding the arcane. Battle mages would simply know some spells and be able to use them fairly reliably.

Divine Magic

For most of this article I have yet to mention the magic of the divine, most commonly known through clerics, paladins, and to some, druids. In the olden days druids were seen as divine casters as well, with the delineation of magic being arcane and divine, with magic-users being the arcane. Arcane was scholarly while divine was belief and altruism.

When it comes to the difference, it seems rather arbitrary, especially when the original principles of GMs being able to take away clerics spells based on their actions fell out of practice in the modern hobby space. GMs were intended to be acting as the deity of the cleric, watching their moves and intentions to ensure they kept in line, and when they stepped out of line, they would lose their spells. The modern gamers do not like this.

Handing over control of their characters to the GM is, understandably, not popular. When people think of the typical party, they always think that a cleric is necessary, given that no one else can really heal when the pack is knee deep in kobolds. As with the wizard though, and how they deal with magic, we have to consider the divine casters and how they are related to magic and what it means for the game.

Divine casters gain their spells through their adherence to the principles of their deity. In this fantasy world, the gods are real and having faith in them and offering devotion can come with a reward, a direct reciprocal power, magic. In the fiction we read, we have seen instances of the uniquely faithful being rewarded with immeasurable power in the form of the “chosen one,” which often leads to a floundering or corrupt institution of faith crumbling before a true believer with the full weight of their god behind them.

One of the distinctions made was whether a cleric was following a good or evil deity, which determined if they got healing or harming spells, and if they could banish or control undead. Over time this has been watered down to where the cleric is just another form of spellcaster, with little happening between them, their deity, and any institutions revolving around their deity. The cleric simply has a holy symbol instead of a wand or a staff.

Danger in Divinity

In order to introduce danger into divine magic, there has to be another shift, one that may not be comfortable for players (which could be easily resolved at the table by all those involved). There needs to be an established trade-off for the powers that come to the divine spellcasters. Keeping in the theme of their class, this should be directly related to their deity or faith, how well they are representing their interests, and whether or not they are forwarding their goals.

To the surprise of everyone that is a regular reader, I have not yet brought Shadowdark into the discussion. Shadowdark addresses some of the issues I have in interesting ways. Spellcasters roll to cast their spells, and failure leads to losing their spell. For arcane casters, if they roll a 1, they suffer some magical malady that may hinder them permanently, but many can be remedied once they return to civilization. For divine casters, rolling a 1 means they have to atone, performing some penance in order to regain the use of that spell.

When I was initially reading Shadowdark, the idea was closer to what I wanted, and seemed like it would be great fun at the table. In the gritty hex- and dungeon-crawling nature of that game, everyone is a fighter with some other abilities, and if their spells fail they can resort to brute force to survive ling enough to regain their magic, hopefully. But in practice, my players and I had a different experience. A player losing their spells made them feel useless. I get why this mechanic was introduced, magic is fickle, difficult to understand, and mysterious. But I would say this execution was more in line with the concept that adventurers are normal people trying to survive their horrible greed in a deadly reality.

Getting back to the divine topic, having the character perform some penance in order to regain the favor of their deity and the powers that comes with makes a lot more sense. A cleric is supposed to be representing a power outside of themselves, that lends them that power to enact their will and further their goals. It takes the focus of the character away from them as an individual, and ties them to the entities of the fiction, to the factions and the larger scope of the world as a whole. This is different from most other characters, namely the arcane spellcasters, who answer only to themselves when it comes to what they can and cannot do, or better yet, should and should not do.

This distinction, like that of the origin and purpose of Vancian magic, is once again lost in the modern iterations of these games. I think the history of the game, and the distance of it from the original influences, is only helping to make this problem worse. In its inception, the people that were playing these games were likely exposed to the influences, and so coming to this game they better understood the purpose of these systems. In the modern day, some 50 years and a generation or two beyond, those influences have been lost as the media and tastes have changed. What didn’t change though, were the games, the executions of those influences.

Magical Solutions

There have been several iterations over the years, a few I mentioned above. The unfortunate part of this whole investigation is that I have only ever been able to test one of these options, the spell points, with my own character in another person’s game.

Solution 1: Spell Points

Changing the system of using slots was a first step, an attempt to bring more versatility to the system by allowing the player to vary the amount of power they are attempting to channel. If a 1^st-level spell cost 5 points, they could attempt to empower it with more points, or spend less with a reduced effect.

Having a pool like Hit Points also allowed for the magic-user to “overcast,” an option where HP translates 1-to-1 in times of dire need, so the mage could drain their own health in order to continue casting spells. This is one of those trade-offs, a dangerous choice to continue using a powerful implement. But, it only ever comes up when the caster has already spent all of their spell points, so it’s more of a last ditch effort than a risky standard practice.

Solution 2: Force Skills

One of my favorite campaigns I have ever mastered for was Star Wars d20. This game was released back in the day by WoTC using the 3e base model, and later I switched to the equivalent of 4e. I have made the argument before that I think 4e was a better system for Star Wars, and I loved using it at the table. I have my gripes, but I think overall it was a good match.

So, in my free time, I pored through all of the supplemental books that I had to try and figure out a way to translate the D&D magic system into a new type of spell-skill system, based on the Force skills. In Star Wars, the Force skills worked like other skills; the user had to be trained in them, and certain feats or class options unlocked more uses of each skill, turning each of them into a skill tree, the likes of which we usually see in video games these days.

The unfortunate part was that they never presented them in a skill tree, so it could be difficult to navigate the whole system and figure out what all of your possible options were. I can see where this would be a design choice, leaving the force knowledge scattered to give it the feeling of an esoteric power, but it would have been helpful all the same.

Basically, the skills were the different schools of magic: abjuration, conjuration, divination, enchantment, evocation, illusion, necromancy, and transmutation. Magic-users would choose their skills to be trained in, and take feats or class options to unlock more powerful abilities. Spells were also changed, similar to the DCC version of spells (long before I ever knew DCC existed), where different effects were spread out among the standard array of Difficulty Classes (DCs).

A low DC fire spell, using the Evocation skill, would get your a firebolt, whereas a high DC would get your a fireball. I had the different spells laid out for lightning bolts, cones of cold, phantasms, teleporation, and a whole host. Classifying and sorting all of the different existing spells into their new spell groupings was a hefty challenge, and I only ever made it through the planning stage and into a few completed spells.

But this was no different than the solution presented by DCC. Magic was still scientific, and I was only going further into defining the effects and presenting a more detailed box, but it was still a box. You could look at the label and know exactly what you were getting each time.

The Intended Solution

I want the player to assess the current situation and come up with an effect. I want them to describe that effect to the arbiter, and then the arbiter tells them what characteristics are relevant, and then the player rolls to see what happens. If the mage is trying to create a wall of fire in the heart of a volcano, I want there to be a risk of rolling too well and creating a spell that they cannot control. If they roll poorly they may end up burning themselves after having drawn waves of pyromantic energy towards themselves.

The player character should be adapting their magic to the moment, drawing lightning down from a thunderstorm or unleashing bolts through the rain, using the conductivity of water to heighten the distance and power against their enemies. Disappearing into the darkness should be relatively easy for shadowmancers, cloaking themselves in the already present night.

The But…

But, there needs to be rules, guidance, some sort of rails that the arbiter and the player can lean on to make their creations quickly and the arbitration of those creations equally quickly. With Mage, the storyteller needs to have a solid grasp on what is possible and what is not to quickly adjudicate if and when paradox arrives during the casting of a spell. This is easier because the setting is the modern day, as we know it. If the setting was a medieval fantasy world, judging backlash would be nearly impossible because of the nature of that alien environment. I think that lends to the simplistic dice pool system where a mages power with any type of magic is determined by a point total between 1 and 5.

So what I want is the freeform nature and creativity offered by a system like Mage, but the structure and guidance offered by systems like DCC and D&D, with the danger of Shadowdark, and minimal rules for reference. To me this looks like a skill system. Skill systems in modern games offer a baseline capability for the player that can be easily extrapolated and expanded upon by both the player and the arbiter. The Athletics skill is vague so that all players can understand how it would apply, and the numerical value attached offers the arbiter quick and easy interpretation.

End of Part 1

I got to the ninth page on my libre office doc and started hearing my stomach grumble and thought, “well, looks like this is going to be my first series.” Well, I hope to see you next week as we dive into the systems and fiction that are influencing my journey, and how I hope to wrap all of this up with a new system for finding mysterious magic in a fantasy world.