Seems applicable to more than just games. Or rather, to more than games in the tabletop space and including games in the arenas of parenting, policing, economics, etc. Design rules toward good behavior rather than punitive towards bad. Anyway, nit to derail the conversation.
Did this approach influence how you handled cleric weapon proficiency as well? The old prohibition against clerics using bladed weapons always struck me as a bit eccentric, and it seems arbitrarily derived from the example of one person — Adhemar Le Puy, the papal legate who joined the First Crusade and wielded a mace instead of a sword. I liked how you handled that more subtly, using weapon proficiency to influence what weapon a cleric would likely use.
I like the idea of looking for ways to say "yes" in your design. When a game system says "no", it's worth it to look at the design and try to figure out why it's saying no. Saying yes can be the path to a much more player-centric design.
Seems applicable to more than just games. Or rather, to more than games in the tabletop space and including games in the arenas of parenting, policing, economics, etc. Design rules toward good behavior rather than punitive towards bad. Anyway, nit to derail the conversation.
Did this approach influence how you handled cleric weapon proficiency as well? The old prohibition against clerics using bladed weapons always struck me as a bit eccentric, and it seems arbitrarily derived from the example of one person — Adhemar Le Puy, the papal legate who joined the First Crusade and wielded a mace instead of a sword. I liked how you handled that more subtly, using weapon proficiency to influence what weapon a cleric would likely use.
I like the idea of looking for ways to say "yes" in your design. When a game system says "no", it's worth it to look at the design and try to figure out why it's saying no. Saying yes can be the path to a much more player-centric design.
Do you know why many people didn't want to play clerics?