Refluffing the Dragonborn

This was originally going to be part of the campaign setting project, but I decided to give it its own post.

In my home campaign, I’ve never used the out-of-the-box, fourth-edition Dragonborn. Not that there’s anything wrong with them, I just think there’s a lot of other cool stuff you can do with the concept.

To start with, in my home campaign Dragonborn have completely absorbed the half-dragon concept. It was something I liked about 3.5, and I knew Dragonborn were the closest port-over we were going to get, so I ran with it.

In my campaigns, Dragonborn aren’t a distinct “race” the way that, say, Orcs and Eladrin are. They’re the result of Dragons’ well-documented habit of interbreeding (magically) with humanoid creatures. As such, characters with Dragonborn stats vary wildly in appearance. For one thing, they tend to more closely mirror the appearance and coloration of their draconic ancestor, as opposed to the universal reds, browns, and golds of the standard Dragonborn.

Also, Dragonborn don’t have to be precisely one-half Dragon. On the other hand, many people (often sorcerers) have dragon ancestry but aren’t considered Dragonborn. The guideline I give my players is that Dragonborn are draconic enough that people can tell at a glance (plus, you know, they have Dragonborn racial stats as opposed to another race’s). Essentially, Dragonborn exist on a spectrum from just-barely-humanoid to just-barely-draconic. On one end, you can have a creature that looks like a miniature, mostly-bipedal dragon, pushing the upper limit of the medium size and towering over their party members. On the other, you can have someone who looks almost human (or elf, or whatever) but for some little sign—golden, slitted eyes or a small patch of scales on the face, something to that effect (basically you can look however you want as long as you understand that people will be able to look at you and know you’re packing a breath weapon).

Obligatory Alignment Post

Warning: contains excessive links to TVtropes. Click blue text at your peril.

Obligatory Alignment Batman

Gods help me, today I’m going to talk about alignment. I have seen so much fighting about this, in person in my gaming group and online. I’m hesitant to even talk about it here because it’s a little like bringing up politics at family parties—probably regrettable. Still, I think I should lay out the way I handle alignment in my own games because it informs how I’m thinking about the world-building posts and will probably come up at some point anyway.

I like the idea of the nine alignments. It makes for a compelling shorthand for defining characters, and it’s an interesting way of looking at conflicts besides the basic good-versus-evil. Plus, a lot of the people I’ve played with enjoy using the standard alignments. So I don’t want to just chuck it out.

The problem is, I don’t like playing in a universe with an objective, predefined Good and Evil. Not just because that’s not how good and evil really work, but because it makes for less interesting stories.

First off, there’s the Always Chaotic Evil problem. I always bristle when D&D fans insist that certain “races”—human-like creatures with free will and intelligence—are “always” or (worse yet) “inherently” evil. I get that sometimes it’s fun to play D&D as a morally uncomplicated slaughterfest. Sometimes you just want to slay a bunch of monsters without worrying about whether or not they deserve to be slain or not, and I can understand that. I do, however, object to the assumption that all creatures of a certain type are Evil being baked into the core game.

Obviously, individual DMs can houserule whatever they want. You can say all Orcs are Evil just as easily as I can say  all Elves are Evil. Neither of those houserules should show up in the Monster Manual. Yes it’s fantasy and yes it’s just a game, but a game that simulates slaughtering sentient beings because they look different isn’t a game I want to play. It definitely isn’t a game I want to show my friends (the whole idea of D&D “race” makes some of them uncomfortable, but that’s probably another post).

The thing is, standard un-houseruled D&D can accommodate the morally-uncomplicated hack-and-slash style without having to resort to the Always Chaotic Evil trope, either by changing the monster or changing the scale. There are plenty of standard monsters that can be unambiguously slaughtered. Unintelligent undead and constructs work great. You can also use outsiders, because even if you accidentally “kill” the one Good demon in the world, they’ll just pop back to their home plane.

And if the players really want to kill some orcs, the DM can always come up with a reason that doesn’t involve any hard thinking, but also doesn’t fall back on fantasy racism: these orcs have been raiding caravans and killing travelers, we tried to reason with them but they just won’t listen, there’s nothing to do but kill them or drive them off. Done. It’s as easy as that. I don’t have to argue over whether all orcs are “inherently” anything, you can still have your hack-and-slash fun.

The bigger issue for me, though, is that set alignments make a less interesting story. Specifically, they make for less interesting villains. With very, very few exceptions, the best villains don’t know they’re evil.

Like I said, there are exceptions. But generally, the fifth or sixth time Lord Evilodon shows up to wreck some stuff just because he’s evil, it gets sort of boring. There isn’t really a story anymore. Just a guy you’re supposed to kill before he kills you.

Great villains have to be great characters, and every great character is the hero of their own story. In a world with objective, knowable alignments, the Knight Templar never happens because every conscientious warrior of Good makes sure to get a periodic Detect Evil to make sure they haven’t gone too far (never Corrupt Corporate Executive is just trying to make a living—if some hero burst into their office with a You’re Definitely Evil light flashing, they’d probably take a step back. It doesn't mean every villain has to be tragic and misunderstood, and there's nothing wrong with Lord Evilodon if that's the game you want to play. But complexity and ambiguity can be fun too, except that alignment gets in the way of that.

How 3.5 does subtle, nuanced moral ambiguity.

mind that some pre-4e classes just straight-up lose their powers if they cross a line).

4th Edition, at least, didn't have the Detect Evil problem, although there were relics of the old alignment system in place. While it was clear that Clerics and Paladins kept their powers if they strayed from their god, Invokers were just supposed to have the same alignment as their patron. What happened if an Invoker went wrong? Could they fall? Or were Invokers' free will just limited by their god? (That would actually be a fun character to play with).

But, again, I don’t want to just chuck out alignment entirely. So here’s what I do: the Nine Alignments exist, as a concept, within my game world. People refer to themselves as “Lawful Neutral” and such. People can debate in-universe about whether the Nine Alignments refer to any sort objectively-known, metaphysical force in the universe, but on this subject nothing is known for certain. But I tell players to put whatever they want down for their alignment, or ignore the blank entirely. I’ve had players make PCs with “real” alignments, I’ve had players who don’t give a damn, and I’ve had players create their own way of expressing their character’s alignment (for instance, I had a player whose alignment was “Pirate”).

It hasn’t caused any fights so far. Players who want the standard alignments can have them, players who don’t don’t, and there’s no pesky “objective alignment” getting in the way of our stories.

Has alignment caused problems in your games? How have you handled it?