Critical Hits and Misses

This is the 15th in a continuing series of articles, which reedits house rules for Holmes Basic D&D from 40-year-old game club newsletters. Mentions of house rules are in bold text and followed by a [bracketed category designator].

For rules category descriptions and more about the newsletters, see “About the Reedition of Phenster’s.” For an index of articles, see Coming Up in “Pandemonium Society House Rules.”

Phenster’s Pandemonium Society House Rules is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, incidents, and newsletters are either products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is pure coincidence.

Beowulf the Bully charged the last bugbear. He rolled a natural 1 with his two-handed sword, so he missed. Hazard said he stumbled in the charge. He would miss his next attack while he recovered his balance, and the bugbear got to attack him from the flank. The bugbear rolled a 20! That's double-max damage!! The Bully fell dead on the floor with a mace in his face.[1]

—Phenster, from “At the Gates of Pandemonium,” Paradigm Lost #4 (December 1982)

Natural Hits and Misses [E]

A natural 20 always hits; a natural 1 always misses.

Following D&D editions in chronological order, I don’t find this rule in its full form (including both hits and misses) until Molday’s Basic D&D (1981): “…a roll of 20 will always hit, and a roll of 1 will always miss” (B25). We can’t have crits and fumbles without it, so we assume the house rule.

Critical Hits

Critical Hits: Double-Max Damage [P]

On a natural 20, an attack roll automatically hits and does double maximum damage.

Apart from twice maximum damage being a lot, the beauty of this option is that the big moment when the dice comes up 20 is the BIG moment. It happens in an instant. There is no second guessing: “Yeah, well, we’ll see if you confirm…” And no doubling a low damage roll. Because rolled damage, even doubled, is often a let down.

Phenster does not mention whether a Strength or magic bonus is included in the doubling. I would say not: assuming the natural 20 represents an optimal blow, the attacker’s strength is not suddenly doubled, nor does a magic weapon’s power surge.

Critical Hits: Max damage [E]

On a natural 20, an attack roll automatically hits, inflicting maximum damage.

For those who balk at double-max, simple maximum damage also has the benefit of immediacy, while being less likely to end an adventuring career.

Critical Misses

When you roll a 1 for your attack blow, we usually say you drop your weapon and have to draw another one, but it depends on who's the DM. It gets a little boring if it happens more than a couple times in one game. But Hazard has a flair for making stuff up on the spot. Like, you stumble, or your flail gets stuck in the other guy's shield, or something more dramatic. We almost always miss our next turn.

I've tried it before when I'm the DM, but it takes me too long to make something up. So I made a list of all the things Hazard ever did. It turned out that the list wasn't long. It's the details Hazard adds that make the flair. I keep the list handy, and if somebody rolls a 1, I just have to pick something from the list and add some flair.

- Drops weapon
- Weapon stuck
- Breaks weapon
- Over swing (off balance)
- Stumble (off balance, 1 step in random direction)
- Expose flank
- Impaired (penalty on attack OR armor class for 1 round)

—Phenster, from “Combat Complications,” L’avant garde #49 (September 1982)

Critical Miss: Lose Next Action [E]

On a natural 1, an attack roll automatically misses, and the attacker loses the next attack or the next round of action.

I include “next attack” for the case of combatants wielding a lighter weapon and fighters with multiple attacks per round (see Multiple Attacks per Round [E] and “Combat Complications” forthcoming).

Using Phenster’s list, the DM may add details as necessity demands and one’s capability for flair permits.

Critical Miss Immunity [E]

An attacker, who needs a 10 or less on the attack matrix (level/hit dice vs AC), is immune to a critical miss.

My own addition, this rule lowers the chance that a high-level character looks like a bumbling idiot. It takes into account only the attacker’s level versus the defender’s AC. I don’t include bonuses and penalties in the criteria, because often, when the attack roll is high or low, we don’t take the time to add up all bonuses and penalties. By including them in the calculation for critical miss immunity, it forces us to make that calculation, which slows the pace.

Note on Critical Hits and Misses

Statisticians and game designers criticize critical hits and misses for a variety of good reasons. Here I outline the major arguments briefly. The web is mired with more thorough discussion on the topic.2

The base rule is that a 20 always hits and a 1 always misses. Adding additional penalties and bonuses introduces more randomness—therefore more chaos—into combat.

Statisticians warn players that critical hits and misses work against their characters in a number of ways:

  • If we suppose that player characters should have a chance—whether high or low—to win a given fight, then any additional chaos in the system means it’s more difficult to gauge the chance of success.
  • Because there are often more individual monsters than PCs, the latter are more likely to receive critical hits than to deliver them.
  • As fighters advance in level, they get more attacks per round. More attack rolls means a higher-level fighter has more chances to fumble than a lower-level fighter. This works against the game’s basic tenet that characters become more competent as they gain experience.

Game designers agree with the statisticians on the points above. They also balk at additional dice rolls and table lookups. All that takes time, not to mention the dramatic tension is more often broken than held taught.

Most of the statisticians and game designers who make these arguments are adults. In my youth, my friends and I gave little thought to such complicated concerns. The chance to have a dramatic impact on combat far outweighed the chance of bad stuff happening to a beloved player character—if only in our risk-ignorant adolescent minds.


1 To assuage Beowulf’s fans: Phenster tells us later that the party had him raised at the the fortress chapel. Afterward, “Friar Tombs healed his face, but the wound left scars.”

2 In the old school, generally, we talk about critical hits and misses, or casually: crits and fumbles. In later editions, when we start rolling skill checks on a d20, the terms become critical success and critical failure. Adjust search keywords accordingly.

Blue Flame, Tiny Stars—December Release

I got the second print proof last week. The color looks a lot better, outside and in. It’s a story of two friends, RGB and CMYK. One looks nice on screen, the other on paper. Perfect foils, they take turns being hero and villain.

I mentioned the too-tight margins in the first proof and thought to up the size to 5½″ × 8½″. On further reflection though, I like the smaller size for this short book. I keep the 5″ × 8″ trim size through judicious margin adjustment.

This last change made and files submitted, the book is now in process at DriveThruRPG. Blue Flame, Tiny Stars will be ready for you—barring any further complications—by mid-December.

Thank you all for your patience and for your enthusiasm. I’m looking forward to getting this book into your hands.

Book cover, Blue Flame, Tiny Stars

“I recommend this book not just to fans of ‘Holmes Basic’ but to anyone who enjoys playing Dungeons & Dragons. The author’s clear prose captures the excitement of those early, half-remembered adventures when everything about the game was new and awe-inspiring.”
—Zach Howard, author of The Ruined Tower of Zenopus and archivist at Zenopus Archives

“Stephen’s essays take me right back to those heady days. You will recognise many of the moments in this book, from figuring out weird dice, employing outside-the-box tactics, inventing new spells and monsters and magic items, drawing sprawling maps—but, most of all, you’ll remember the freshness of a completely new kind of play.”
—Michael Thomas, author of BLUEHOLME

Three Paradigms: Evolution of Ability Score Adjustments and the Prime Requisite Bonus in Old-School D&D

Because the 1981 Basic and Expert were the first D&D rulebooks I read and understood thoroughly, I see earlier editions through B/X-colored reading glasses. For examples, when in the 2000s I got my hands on the original 1974 DUNGEONS & DRAGONS rules, I understood that elves were fighter/magic-users, a magic sword +1 grants a bonus to attack and damage rolls, and ability score adjustments reduce one score to raise another.

The first thing we learn from reading the original D&D rules booklets is that one does not just read the original D&D rules booklets. It’s like casually reading a foreign language. To do so is to comprehend nothing. The OD&D rules must be studied, deciphered, and interpreted.

After struggling with the text, I figured out that, in OD&D, elves are not the fighter/magic-users I was accustomed to1, a sword +1 grants its bonus to the attack roll only2, and—most surprising—ability score adjustments do not, in fact, adjust ability scores.

Within the last example is a paradigm that shifts throughout D&D’s old-school editions.

Complimentary Paradigm

The first instance showing how to adjust the prime requisite makes the point. From the Strength entry under Determination of Abilities:

“Clerics can use strength on a 3 for 1 basis in their prime requisite area (wisdom), for purposes of gaining experience only” (Men & Magic, 10, emphasis mine).

According to the last phrase, the ability scores are not raised or lowered. We must think of the adjusted prime requisite score as a separate entry on the character sheet. If the cleric’s Strength, as rolled, is 14 and Wisdom 12, the player can use 3 points of Strength to raise Wisdom by 1. The adjusted prime requisite score is then 13. The Strength and Wisdom scores remain 14 and 12. The 3 points of Strength are used but not expended; the prime requisite is “increased” but not the Wisdom score.

To explain what’s happening in the game world, we can say that the above-average Strength compliments Wisdom and, therefore, the cleric advances faster, earning a bonus to earned experience points.

Similarly, a fighter can use 2 points of Intelligence or 3 points of Wisdom to raise the prime requisite (Strength) by 1 point. A clever fighter, like the strong cleric, advances more quickly.

If we need to be convinced, the magic-user’s case cinches it. A magic-user may use Wisdom—but not Strength—to augment earned experience. A wise magic-user may employ intellect more effectively, while Strength is of no use in the exercise of the arcane arts.

Language in the first supplement hints that players at the time were also confused about the adjustments. In Greyhawk, under the Strength entry, where the co-creator allows fighters with above-average Strength a bonus to attack and damage rolls, Gygax stipulates:

“This strength must be raw, i.e. not altered by intelligence scores” (7).

Here, we sense that Gygax knew players were ignoring “for purposes of gaining experience only” and adjusting the actual scores.

To add further confusion, Gygax goes on to allow thieves to raise the raw score.3

“[Thieves] may use 2 points of intelligence and 1 point of wisdom to increase their raw dexterity score…” (8).

Note he does not say the raw Intelligence and Wisdom scores are lowered.

The language elided above: “…so long as they do not thereby bring the intelligence and wisdom scores below average” is the same as the note given in Men & Magic (footnote, 11), where the raw scores are not changed.

As Greyhawk maintains the limited benefits of Dexterity, affecting only “the ability of characters to act/react and fire missiles” (8), thieves apply high intelligence and wisdom, not only to their experience point bonus, but also to initiative and careful aim. (As of 1976, only fighters can take advantage of high Dexterity to improve their armor class.)

Practice Paradigm

In Basic D&D (1977), editor Eric Holmes shifts from the complimentary to a practice paradigm. The editor explains in clear language:

“It is possible to raise a character’s scores in a prime requisite by lowering the scores of some of the other abilities. This recognizes that one can practice and learn feats of fighting, intelligence, etc., but must take a penalty in another area by so doing” (6).

In the practice paradigm, a magic-user can sacrifice Strength for Intelligence. Again, the lack of this option in OD&D is a tell for the complimentary paradigm.

Moldvay, with similar language, brings the practice paradigm forward into B/X, only simplifying the exchange rate, always two for one.

Complimentary vs. Practice

Apart from it just makes better sense, I prefer OD&D’s complimentary paradigm over the practice paradigm for two reasons:

  1. The practice paradigm, though it raises the prime requisite scores, tends to draw the two other abilities down toward 9. The 3d6 method already produces scores heavy toward the average.
  2. While the practice paradigm results in a net loss, the complimentary paradigm requires no sacrifice on the player’s part. No tough decision: “Do I lower strength to get one more point of wisdom…?” Therefore, character creation goes faster.

Subsumed Paradigm

Meanwhile, in the Advanced D&D Player’s Handbook (1978), Gygax omits adjustments to prime requisite scores all together. He proposes instead more generous methods to generate ability scores. The rolled scores, we infer, represent the character’s natural talent as well as any improvements and sacrifices made during one’s formative years. Furthermore, only an exceptional score (above 15) in one’s “principal attribute”—the term Gygax favors—grants a bonus to earned experience.

Brian Rogers on Mastodon points out that, according to his calculations, the chance to get an XP bonus at AD&D’s higher threshold and 4d6-drop-lowest is about the same as other old-school editions’ 13 threshold with 3d6. [13:10 02 February 2023 GMT]

But Gygax does something else in 1st Edition. He introduces ability adjustments based on race. Each player character race, except humans, receives a bonus and a penalty to two or three ability scores. For example, an elf benefits from an extra point of Dexterity, while suffering the loss of one point from Constitution. The exchange is always one for one.

Still, the adjustments represent the innate characteristics of the race. They are born in, not acquired later. Scores generated during character creation—no matter the method—represent the character’s abilities at the beginning of his or her career.

Though 3E grants ability score increases at higher levels and gives no XP bonus for high scores, and 4E grants ability score bonuses based on race without penalties, the subsumed paradigm is followed in later editions of the world’s most fascinating role-playing game.


Further Reading


1 Instead of playing the familiar elf, who is at once fighter and magic-user, the OD&D player decides, before each adventure begins, which class abilities the elf will employ for the adventure (Men & Magic, 8). If we assume the game simulates a fantastic world, this makes no sense. The decision point only makes sense when we remind ourselves that D&D is a game after all.

2 See heading “Swords, Damage Bonuses” in Monsters & Treasure, 30.

3 I base the interpretation solely on the fact that Gygax employed “raw” score a few paragraphs before. I assume he would not be so sloppy with terms as to misuse this one on the next page. Or would he…? Here we might rather say, “Gygax seems to allow thieves to raise the raw score.”