The Goal of D&D and Its Structural Problem
Without getting into the debate about what exactly the goal of D&D is, certainly one of the central purposes of its characters is to become more powerful, that is, to rise from level one, where they are basically beginners, all the way to becoming legendary heroes. Gygax himself (if I'm not mistaken) has stated that this was the goal of the game: to transform starting characters into heroes like Conan or Elric.
The problem is structural. In game terms, the route from level one to level twenty always moves in the same direction. You only gain XP, you only gain levels, you never lose them. It is a one-way street.
The older designers did not entirely ignore this problem. Hence the mechanic of undead creatures that drain levels, creating an effect similar to the snakes in the original game. The Dungeon Master's Guide also included situations that could temporarily reduce your levels, such as exhaustion after a grueling march, or situations of permanent loss such as aging, which can only be reversed with very powerful spells.
Of course, XP is not the only measure of a character's power. With experience, a character gains abilities and hit points, and some abilities can be lost temporarily (often for no more than a day). HP can also be lost, and in older D&D this could have more lasting consequences (perhaps weeks rather than days) than in modern versions. Finally, one can lose money (whether because raising the dead comes at some cost, or through theft, etc.).
It must be acknowledged that some RPGs, such as Call of Cthulhu, famous for its downward spiral into madness, and other horror RPGs in general (Unknown Armies, certain versions of Kult, etc.), exhibit quite clear and lasting negative effects in their systems.
In any case, aside from the issue of undead creatures draining levels, there are not many truly permanent losses in D&D. The only real loss available is the death of the character, which even then can easily be circumvented by a resurrection spell. In most versions of D&D, there is no universal mechanism for lasting negative consequences: the loss of an attribute, the amputation of a limb, a permanent scar (except as an optional rule in the DMG to save a PC reduced to zero HP, an option I find quite appealing). There are no significant setbacks, save death itself. Using the original metaphor: it would be as if every snake on the board led back to the first square.
There are other tools in the game that attempt to work around this limitation, such as creatures that destroy equipment (even magical weapons), that petrify characters, or that impose curses and other lasting effects. But these are isolated/specific solutions, not structural ones.
Another problem is that D&D players, accustomed to constant and uninterrupted advancement, tend to dislike losing special items, levels, or anything they have already incorporated as part of their character. They may even come to see this kind of loss as a form of cheating.
In modern D&D, there is debate over whether characters can even die at all, so the line of advancement becomes, in the end, a conveyor belt with no way back: you can only move forward.
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| Source: Wikipedia. |
The Parallel with Video Games
It is worth noting that older video games, also divided into "levels" (or stages), followed a logic quite similar to that of Snakes and Ladders. Reaching the end of a stage meant advancing to the next, but dying at any point sent you back to the beginning of that stage, not to the beginning of the entire game, and never (or almost never) to a previous stage. Alongside this, there was a system of permanent loss: a limited number of "lives" which, once exhausted, forced you back to the very beginning of the game (that is, "level one").
Some more modern and less linear games that generate enthusiasm among RPG players (such as Dark Souls, Bloodborne, and Darkest Dungeon) play with this question of real loss in more sophisticated ways. Death in Dark Souls does not send you back to level zero, but it frequently causes the loss of all accumulated XP. In the case of Darkest Dungeon, where you control groups of characters, the death of a hero is a permanent loss for the team, something no spell can undo.
Why This Matters
Even for those who prefer a narrative in which characters never die and always advance, that advancement would be more interesting if it were not purely linear, that is, a little more like Snakes and Ladders. In other words: on the road to heroism, you always lose something.
High-level characters would carry, in their character sheets and their stories, a series of losses, obstacles, and scars. This enriches both narrative and simulation, whatever the goal of the players at the table may be.
In more narrative games influenced by story games, setbacks make the narrative more interesting (and there are books and RPGs at least partially built around this concept of gain and loss, such as Hamlet's Hit Points, Fate, etc.). In games that aim to reproduce cinema, literature, or the hero's journey, an advancement without setbacks makes little sense either.
In games focused on challenge, obstacles become more complex and dangerous when there are real chances of loss. Likewise, in games that seek simulation or immersion, such dangers make the game more believable and realistic.
In short: from any angle, questioning (and perhaps overcoming) the unidirectionality that governs character advancement in D&D may be an experience not only valid, but necessary for the evolution of the hobby.
(Solutions? Probably the subject of a future post!)
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