Why I Hate DnD

Why do I hate D&D?

Lately, I’ve been finding more and more opportunities to voice my hatred for D&D, and naturally, I’m being asked far more often why I hate it. Every time, I just dodge the question with a weak reply. Because for me, this isn’t some simple topic I can explain away in a single breath. So, I suggest you make yourself ready for a long read.

I’ve been in this hobby for 15 years. And I know, for some of you, that’s not a long time. And, as you veterans already know, some of us take this hobby very seriously. I am one of those people. If you’re new to the hobby, it’s a level of dedication that might seem completely alien. For those genuinely curious about just how serious we get, I recommend a glance at an essay I love, “I Hate Fun“. And while I come from a completely different tradition -and would likely never enjoy sharing a roleplaying table with this author- I agree with so much of what he says.

For me, role-playing games are not just some casual entertainment where I can just switch off my brain after a long day at work, ride a dragon, save and kiss a princess, or mindlessly slay some monsters. They are a canvas where meaning can be found, or where it can be painted. They are a form of art, a way of expressing myself to myself and to the rest of the world. Consequently, the feelings I have for this hobby are incredibly potent, and that is the very root of this hatred. When it comes to role-playing games, I am ambitious and passionate, which means I experience all my emotions that much more intensely.

Let’s start by clarifying one point. In role-playing games, there are as many traditions as there are tables. Of course, it’s possible to find common approaches or norms among them, and you can find plenty of articles categorizing these traditions with a bit of online searching or by following my Anatolian Archives series.

I come from a tradition that values story above all else -one where immersion is constantly maintained, “bleed”  is encouraged, and system mechanics intrude as little as possible. We call our Game Masters Bards or Storytellers, and a great session feels like co-authoring a book. Coming from that tradition, it’s clear I’m not D&D’s target audience, and it’s been years since I’ve actually played it. And yet, while I have no such intense feelings for other D&D-like systems, such as Pathfinder, my hatred for D&D itself remains. Which leads to the central question: Why do I hate D&D?

It Starts With the Corporation

If you find it pointless to hate a company, or its choices and methods for profit maximization, if you’re of the “well, it’s a company, what else would it do?” mentality then we probably won’t get along. After all, if we can’t even hate corporations and the things they do for profit, what is there left to hate? And don’t get me wrong, I’m not just saying this from a leftist perspective. From a purely liberal standpoint, I could also argue that it is the companies that must strive and compete to not be hated, and that our hatred is one of our most powerful weapons as consumers. And no, I’m not living in a fantasy world where corporations exist for the public good instead of for profit. But that doesn’t stop me from hating its profit-maximization methods. One day, when enough people share my hatred, or when the company loses its monopolistic power, it will be forced, like any other, to position itself as more user-friendly.

Yes. I hate Wizards of the Coast, the owner of the D&D brand, and its parent company, Hasbro! And I know I’m not alone in this. Ask any Magic: The Gathering fan you know, and they will likely have similar feelings. Even in our modern, ravenous capitalist world where figures like Elon Musk run rampant, Hasbro fully deserves to be described as a particularly awful company. This isn’t an article where I’ll lay out all the company’s wrongdoings; if you want to learn more, review the articles or Reddit posts written during the OGL controversy. People far more knowledgeable and passionate than I am have already exposed a great deal about this company. I will direct the focus of my personal hatred to other areas of the subject.

With Great Power Comes…

And let’s be fair: Wizards of the Coast is probably not the only evil company in the RPG world. So why do I focus all my hatred on them? Because if you judge success by sales numbers alone -which we absolutely should not- D&D is the most “successful” company in this industry. You can find varying stats on D&D’s market dominance from different sites. Roughly, a figure around 90% doesn’t shock me at all. Nearly everyone who enters this hobby starts by learning D&D. Most never learn another system in their entire lives. That gets on my nerves, but no, it’s not the reason for my hatred. The source of my hatred is not D&D’s undeniable “so-called success” or its power, but how it uses that power. Because, as a certain superhero’s famously ill-fated uncle once said, “With great power comes great responsibility.” And D&D utterly ignores that responsibility!

First, D&D is managed with cowardice. What does that mean? Let me explain. For instance, how many years has D&D been using the Forgotten Realms as its flagship setting? What other settings does D&D hold the rights to? When was the last time D&D made a significant investment in a brand-new setting? How has the Forgotten Realms evolved over all these years? For someone like me, who is as passionate about worldbuilding as I am about role-playing games, these are sad questions with even sadder answers. I’m sorry, Forgotten Realms fans, and I’m sorry to the child in me who got lost in Drizzt’s stories with such joy: the Forgotten Realms is a mediocre setting, at best, and over the years, Wizards of the Coast has only managed to make it more of a generic, kitchen-sink mess. I’m truly sorry…

This cowardice isn’t just limited to the setting; it has infected every corner of D&D, as evidenced by the fact that their so-called “One D&D” for 2024 is just a patch for 5e. And I refuse to accept this cowardice from the one company with the most secure position, in an industry where small studios go bankrupt paying their teams’ salaries while daring to be innovative and avant-garde! We were the ones who made this company’s name known, who turned it into the monopoly it is today, who bought its products even as broke students. Am I alone in thinking that Wizards of the Coast owes a debt to the community that has propped it up for years, to us? For so many players, D&D was the gateway to this hobby, even if they’ve long since moved on to other systems. And to this day, they patiently answer questions from newcomers about the game, all while biting their tongues about their true feelings for D&D.

Second, D&D seems uninterested in advancing the hobby. I already mentioned its failure to explore new settings. But what small initiatives does D&D even support? Or what has it done to help role-playing games grow as an academic field? How many scholarly articles or theses on role-playing games have D&D’s backing? Were the ones striving to publish an academic journal from Hasbro, or from small, alternative groups? What kind of research do they conduct to gather statistics on this field, and which of these findings do they share openly? We continue with more sad questions and their even sadder answers.

Third, beyond its complete unwillingness to offer support, what about the very obstacles D&D imposes on the way of this hobby’s development? I mentioned that these issues were covered in detail during the OGL controversy. Who was it that tried to change its license to suppress creativity as much as possible and crush new creators before they could even get started, only to back down after the community’s incredibly fierce backlash? Which company today jealously guards the trademarks for words like “DM,” preventing the community from using them? Why are creators who pour tons of effort into their work and try to earn an income -without violating any licenses- forced to use phrases like “compatible with the World’s Most Popular Role-Playing Game” instead of simply saying “compatible with D&D”?

The Sickness Within the System

Let’s stop counting and zoom in, getting closer to D&D itself. Not just as a corporation, but as a system, D&D actively trips up people who are sincerely trying to create something meaningful. It murders creativity. It views our dreams through the most reductionist lens imaginable: with all its might, through all its mechanics, and even with the content it promotes. How? Let’s drill down even further, to a specific topic. For instance, what is D&D even doing with its classes? Why are Monks such blatant orientalist kung-fu caricatures? Is the reason Rangers still have a “favored enemy” feature because rangers are supposed to be racist? When was the last time D&D came up with a genuinely innovative class concept? In fact, why do classes even still exist today?

The answers all point to one place: Because D&D is built on clichés. Because D&D believes it must remain mediocre to maximize its player base. Because D&D believes you are only capable of appreciating mediocrity. And in the end, you’re exposed to this mediocrity so much that you start to believe it’s normal. The way D&D does this with all its mechanics could be a whole other post on its own. It infects your entire role-playing experience. It’s a subtle conditioning: the assumptions it builds into your thinking, the narrative shortcuts it normalizes, the very definition it ingrains in you of what a role-playing game is supposed to be… The themes it shuns, or the ones it elevates, its profound discomfort with anything that isn’t escapist fun, and its state of not only accepting but boasting about being “escapist.” I urge you to also read Ron Edwards’ post “Brain Damage“, which explains this topic far better than I ever could, without once uttering D&D’s name.

Finally, I want to zoom in on one of the examples that personally disturbs me the most, to offer one last glimpse through my eyes at what D&D does to this hobby and its community.

Magic!

It was fantasy literature that pulled me into this hobby. I read, and I was transformed. I wanted to create stories like those, to be a part of them. I was one of those kids obsessed with magic and wizardry, inspired by Raistlin, Merlin, Gandalf, Rand al’Thor, Ged, Elminster, and Pug. Because they possessed a power I had searched for in the real world but could never find: the power to alter reality, to actually change things.

Today, as a child who, deep down, still wants to change the world, I hate D&D with every cell of my being. Because it takes away our power to actually change things, and replaces it with a pre-approved menu of spells. Now we know a total of ten spells, and we can cast them six times a day. We end up hoarding them, just in case we run into a tight spot before our next long rest, and so we spend every round repeating a cantrip like Fire Bolt, which doesn’t use a slot. The Game Master asks what we’re doing this turn. We cast Fire Bolt. Again, and again. I hate D&D.

I love you almost as much as I hate D&D.

Of course, you can counter many of the examples I’ve given with responses like, “well, you could actually do it this way,” or “at our table, we solve it like this.” Of course! You are the esteemed people with whom I share this hobby. “I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve.” But I know you are trying, that you are making an effort. I sympathize with you. What I hate is D&D itself, and what it does, or fails to do. In spite of all your sincere efforts.

Likewise, the examples I’ve given could be multiplied for other D&D mechanics. Perhaps we’ll continue to talk about some of them over time. I could tell you, for instance, about D&D’s obsession with “balance” and the terrible results it leads to. Or how the class and feat system actively prevents you from doing anything creative during the game; how even the simplest actions we often see in novels -like tripping someone or throwing dust in their eyes- are rarely used because they are mechanically discouraged through heavy disadvantages, making them not worth attempting unless you’re a character who has specialized in it.

To all my friends in this hobby, especially those who come from different gaming cultures: I know you’ve been nodding in agreement with some parts and getting ready to write a furious counter-argument in the comments for others. I love you almost as much as I hate D&D.

Until my next post, farewell,

and

DON’T SETTLE FOR MEDIOCRITY!

-Translated from the Turkish original by the author-