Alignment is not a Straitjacket
Perhaps no other game mechanic of Dungeons & Dragons has been so maligned, misunderstood, and misused as alignment. Everyone has their favorite “stupid lawful good paladin” story, and many trot out that old cliché to prove that “alignment simply doesn’t work.”
It’s true that no two-letter abbreviation can sum up the complexities of a human (or elf, or half-orc) personality. But I think that those who would throw the baby out with the bathwater are missing the larger point—that alignment can and does provide a reasonable framework for comparing and contrasting motives, personalities, and world views within the confines of a fantasy roleplaying game.
But why the negative attitude, particularly from veteran players? It seems to me that most negative attitudes toward this game concept were formed by earlier editions of the game. It’s certainly true that the definition and usage of alignment has varied from edition to edition since its introduction back in 1974. I dug out my old rulebooks to check this supposition and learned that along the way, alignment has meant very different things.
In the original D&D game, page 9 of “Men & Magic” described alignment as the “stance the character will take” and allowed for only three options: Law, Neutrality, or Chaos. It further noted that certain character types were “limited” to certain alignments. For instance, halflings were limited to Law, while goblins fell only into the Chaos column. Dwarves, elves, and gnomes could choose from Law or Neutrality, while men could be any of the three alignments. Unfortunately, nowhere in these early tomes can we find any further explanation of these alignments or what purpose they might serve in the game (other than a brief mention that each one has a common language of its own known to all of that alignment).
By the time TSR published the “blue book” edition of D&D in 1977, the alignment system had gained a second axis—good and evil. A character’s code of behavior was now described with both his preference for law versus chaos as well as good versus evil. The tripartite system thus now had five points: lawful good (such as unicorns and blink dogs), chaotic good (including elves and brass dragons), lawful evil (such as spectres and gargoyles), chaotic evil (including bugbears and chimeras), and neutral (“such as,” in the words of the rulebook, “all thieves”). Here we also see some of the first rudimentary discussion of the use of alignment in a game: “Lawful characters always act according to a highly regulated code of behavior . . . . chaotic characters are quite unpredictable and can not be depended upon to do anything except the unexpected.” However, the chief goal of alignment seems to be to provide an excuse for the DM to punish a character who is behaving in a manner judged “inconsistent with his declared alignment.” The rulebook also told us that characters who use an alignment language with those of other alignments will be recognized as “hostile” and attacked—a strong disincentive to strike up a communication about your personal beliefs.
The Advanced D&D Player’s Handbook (1978) expanded the alignment system to the ninefold grid we use today. It also provided for the first time definitions of each of the alignment types, including their major precepts (freedom above all, improvement of the common weal, maximum evilness, and so on). It allowed for “variations and shades of tendencies within each alignment,” suggesting that the referee keep a graph of the drift of each character’s alignment. In my opinion, these changes represented a giant leap forward, both in playability and utility. However, the rules continued to stress the dire ramifications of a voluntary alignment change—stringent sacrifices, strong proofs, and great penance—and, I think, cemented the role of alignment (in many players’ minds) as a ‘personality straitjacket’ that a character put on at first level and struggled against for the rest of his career.
The “Basic Rules” of D&D published in 1983 (the “red box”) reverted to the Lawful-Neutral-Chaotic alignment options, and represented a step backward in both complexity and utility. These rules were closer to the original ones found in Men & Magic than those that came after, and didn’t allow for much variation within a tight system. Lawful was equated to good, Chaotic to evil, and non-Lawful characters were discouraged. Really, there’s little to look for in this treatment. One can only assume that the writers felt the concept of alignment was too critical to D&D to eliminate, and yet the system provided offered very little utility to the player or DM.
The 2nd Edition of the AD&D Player’s Handbook (1989) devoted more space to alignment than any previous version of the game, using the better part of four pages to discuss the two axes (law vs. chaos and good vs. evil), the nine familiar alignment combinations (lawful good, etc.), non-aligned creatures, playing your character’s alignment, and changing alignment. It examined various alignment’s reactions to the same situation, allowing players to see alignments in action (a real breakthrough in teaching comprehension of the alignments’ similarities and differences). The game still discouraged alignment changes (specifically by suggesting experience point penalties), and further strengthened the idea that the “choice” of an alignment should somehow restrict the character’s growth and change in personality over time by stating that “he should stay with that alignment for the course of his character’s career.” The section tried to end on a positive note, indicating that “finding the right course of action within the character’s alignment is part of the fun and challenge of role-playing,” though one is left wondering how loss of XP, slowed advancement, and other negative reinforcements from the DM should be seen as “fun.” If First Edition AD&D can be said to have introduced the ‘straitjacket’ concept, Second Edition undoubtedly tightened the straps.
The current version of the D&D Player’s Handbook (2000) devotes roughly two and a half pages to the topic of alignment in the easy-to-overlook Chapter 6: Description. In organization and presentation, the treatment seems to draw from a variety of older sources. Like the “blue book” rules, it includes a grid of sample alignments, but allows for greater variation by noting that while some creatures, such as unicorns, demons, and paladins, are “always” of the listed alignments, most others simply have “inherent” or “cultural” tendencies toward a particular alignment. It goes on to define the concepts of good, evil, law, and chaos within the framework of the game, and provides brief descriptions of the nine alignments (much like the earlier editions of the Player’s Handbook had done). Like some earlier versions of the game, it discourages evil characters, noting that such alignments “are for monsters and villains.”
Third Edition D&D takes a novel (for D&D) and unequivocal stance by stating in no uncertain terms that alignment is a very real part of the world depicted by the game. “Good and evil are not philosophical concepts . . . . they are the forces that define the cosmos.” More than ever before, many game mechanics—particularly the effects of certain spells and magic items—depend on a character’s alignment: her “general moral and personal attitudes.” The game also recognizes that “few people are completely consistent,” allowing that “each alignment represents a broad range of personality types or personal philosophies.”
The most dramatic change in Third Edition is the treatment of alignment changes. While Chapter 6 takes a soft approach to the topic (“If your character acts in a way more appropriate to another alignment, the DM may decide that your character’s alignment has changed to match her actions.”), it is in Chapter 3: Classes that we find the clearest treatment of the subject. While the concept of alignment limitations for specific classes remains present—monks must be lawful, barbarians and bards can’t be lawful, and so forth—many earlier hard-and-fast restrictions are softened. Rangers, for instance, may now be of any alignment, while druids can select from any of five neutrally oriented alignment combinations. In each case, the game sets out clear and concise ramifications for any shift to an inappropriate alignment (which generally involve the loss of certain class-based special abilities). No more vague threats or commandments to the DM to “punish” such characters—instead, the player is allowed to make an informed decision when role-playing her character.
I think that the treatment of alignment in the Third Edition Player’s Handbook provides a powerful tool for DMs and players to describe character personalities with an effective “shorthand” notation. Alignment allows a player to sum up her character’s basic outlook on life (and general allegiance to a set of moral and ethical philosophies) while allowing for individual variation beyond that abbreviation. No two lawful good characters will respond to a given situation in the same way, just as no two sorcerers, dwarves, or Democrats necessarily think exactly alike.
If your DM thinks that your character’s alignment sets up restrictions on her behavior and actions, point him to Chapter 6 for a refresher: it may be that he’s relying on attitudes formed by older versions of the game. Similarly, if your players bridle at choosing an alignment, worried that they won’t be able to keep to it, remind them that no one alignment can ever hope to describe the infinite variety of the human personality, and that their choice simply helps to place them in relation to the other characters and creatures of the world.
No one should ever feel that the choice of an alignment is a straitjacket that limits their creativity in roleplaying. Indeed, your choice should be part and parcel of the process of creating an interesting and fun character. Pick a personality that you think you’ll enjoy playing, but don’t be worried if that personality shifts over time—that’s just part of being an interesting character.