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Paragons and Knaves: Does Good Character Make for a Good Character?
J.K. Miles and Karington Hess
In R.A. Salvatore’s enormously popular first novel in the Legend of Drizzt saga, Homeland, Zaknafein, the father of one of the most beloved characters in contemporary fantasy literature, Drizzt Do’Urden, denounces his drow heritage. In a soliloquy he recognizes that in the chaotic evil world of the drow, he is different. He laments the tragedy that he does not share the alignment of his kin. “Zaknafein Do’Urden, I am called, yet a Drow I am not, by choice or by deed.” His moral character is not aligned with the treachery, violence, and cunning that permeates the Underdark kingdom. This same misalignment will prompt his son Drizzt to renounce his home and kin and begin his long trek to the surface world where he will become a virtuous hero.
There is plenty of room for debate in Dungeons & Dragons as to the importance alignment plays in character development. It should not be surprising, however, that as moral philosophers our contention is that alignment is more than just a way to determine one’s character class. A character’s alignment is the way that she ought to interact with the other players and the world created by the DM. In this chapter we aim to do the following:
- Clarify why alignment is an important component in character creation and development.
- Demonstrate how applying moral philosophy and introducing ethical dilemmas that allow the players to make meaningful moral choices leads to a more rewarding gaming experience.
- Highlight how one of philosophy’s most enduring and frustrating questions, “Why be good?” becomes salient whenever we are deciding what kind of character to make.
Good philosophy starts by defining its terms. But what is alignment in D&D? The short answer is that it is an element of the player’s character sheet that clarifies their worldview and moral outlook. It is also a category that can limit character class and an aura that allows spells or abilities to detect a character’s moral outlook – and if necessary “smite” that evil (or good) into oblivion. There is much more to say, of course, because wizards and philosophers rarely settle for the short and easy answer.
Let’s start by examining the concept of alignment. To be aligned is to be fit with something. We talk of factions being aligned when their purposes fit. Unlike in our world, good and evil are active forces. Characters are aligned with these moral forces. Zaknafein’s speech and Drizzt’s exile from the Underdark are compelling because their moral outlook is at odds with treachery, scheming, and chaotic evil nature of the drow. In medieval society slavery, inequality, and torture were not only tolerated but institutionalized. The player-characters may not, depending on their alignment choice, be willing to tolerate these evils. Obviously the good, altruistic characters will have a more difficult time in this society than characters who are only self-interested.
The Good, the Bad, and the Legendary
The players fill the role of protagonists in the story. It is up to the DM to create the rest of the world – anything from the town drunk to the vile arch-lich. It is also up to the DM to foster character growth because this is what drives story. Character growth is not the same as leveling up. Getting to level 20 is not nearly as interesting as the naive but zealous paladin who swears death to all orcs, but who is forced to decide whether to slay innocent orc children who will likely grow up to plague the countryside. How players react to such difficult moral choices becomes the stuff of legend. As the Book of Exalted Deeds says, “Let their choices be difficult but not deadly … Let their choices and actions matter.” If this is true, your campaign can benefit from a little moral theory.
A few well-designed ethical dilemmas can encourage your characters to make some meaningful decisions. There should be no obviously right choice and their decision should have lasting effects in the world. Aragorn would just be a great ranger and would-be ruler without the temptation of the One Ring. Where his ancestors fail, Aragorn triumphs through a series of meaningful moral choices. Without the long trek from Menzoberranzan, Drizzt would just be a dark-skinned ranger with dual wielding. What makes both of these rangers special is that they make the hard choices. It is our hope that the characters in your campaign will also become the kind of legendary heroes that your players will reminisce about ten years after the last die roll. Of course, that’s only true if DMs and players want a rich gaming session that is more than “Hack, Slash, and get the Shiny.” (After all, if that’s what you want, there’s always Warhammer!)
Taking Alignment Seriously
D&D attracts imaginative players. Your party will likely be filled with virtuous paragons, nefarious knaves, and pragmatists. The right way to think about alignment has long been a controversy in D&D. This is not surprising given that morality is controversial in the real world. In the beginning of Dungeons & Dragons (original edition), there were three alignments – law, neutrality, and chaos. Advanced Dungeons & Dragons’ alignment system added the axis of good/evil to form the canonical nine alignments. In the fourth edition the alignment system underwent its most drastic change since the addition of good and evil. Fourth edition alignment jettisoned four of the alignments and left only the following: lawful good, good, unaligned, evil, and chaotic evil. At the time of this writing, the authors have seen playtests of what is now called D&D: Next. The nine-point alignment system is back but its role has not been fully presented.
The role of alignment in character creation throughout, however, has always been ambiguous and left up to players and the DM to consider how much alignment matters to their role-playing. Some DMs go so far as to remove alignment from their campaign entirely. As long-time players and DMs, we understand that some parts of the gaming have to be left fluid. Gary Gygax, the All-Father of RPGs, once remarked that what must never be told to DMs is that they don’t really need the rules. However, we think that the role of alignment in role-playing, like the contributions of Gygax himself, has never been given its due. After all, the second edition puts alignment choice at the end of the character creation process. In 3.5 Player’s Handbook, alignment is not covered until chapter 6 – after feats but before equipment.
As philosophers, we hope you will consider supplementing your game library with a little Aristotle, Kant, and Hume when designing your encounters. As fellow gamers we think alignment should be an important part of character and campaign development. Alignment may not be as constricting as the Iron Bands of Bilarro, but should be taken into account when a character faces a meaningful choice. It should not be an afterthought. Without the moral constraints, paladins are just self-righteous clerics with a better attack bonus and some nifty supernatural abilities.
With that in mind, let’s look at the two major components in alignment (good/evil and law/chaos) and subject them to a little ethical analysis.
What we mean by “good,” and by extension “evil,” is a perennial question in philosophy. It may be the debate in moral philosophy. In the D&D source books there isn’t a lot of debate. Good characters are distinguished by their concern for the wellbeing of others. Neutral characters show only self-concern, while evil characters tend to harm others or place others in harm’s way for personal gain. Lawful characters tend to follow the rules given to them by society. Neutral characters follow the rules only when it is advantageous to them or they fear being caught. Chaotic characters actively seek to disrupt the rules placed on them by society, whether to promote social change or incite anarchy.
The Book of Vile Darkness suggests that if you take morality in this manner, “What is good?” is answered by using a spell or supernatural ability that detects a person’s alignment, or whoever is affected by holy smite. Because good and evil are tangible forces, some creatures are intrinsically good and others evil. Demons and chromatic dragons are evil. Celestials and metallic dragons are good. Simple enough, but not very philosophical.
Can good people do evil things for good reasons and still remain good? What if we wanted our concept of good and evil to be more than merely forces? The Book of Vile Darkness suggests an interesting variant in which good and evil stem from the considered habits and practices of the character. The Book of Exalted Deeds expands upon this, “Being Good requires a certain temperament, the presence of virtues that spur a character, not just avoid evil or its appearance, but actively promote good.” In other words, whether a paladin is good or evil is judged by his repeated actions. Doing virtuous actions creates virtuous character. Doing evil actions creates vicious character.
This is not something the Wizards of the Coast pulled out of a bag of holding. It was the reigning ethical theory for roughly 2,500 years. Virtue theory found it greatest proponents in Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. Aristotle codified his moral theory in what we now call virtue ethics. One becomes virtuous not by taking a character class but by making choices that develop into habits that in turn form moral character. It seems to us that this variant provides a moral framework that is great for role-playing. Therefore, we will use this virtue-based variant as the “Tavern” from which we will launch our campaign into the philosophical Underdark.
For virtue ethicists, the moral question is not primarily “What is the right thing to do?” but “What kind of person do I want to be?” The second edition Player’s Handbook says, “The character cannot wake up one morning and say, ‘I think I’ll become lawful good today.’ (Well, he can say it, but it won’t have any effect.)”1
So now that we have mapped out the territory a bit, let’s focus on the ethical dilemmas that alignment is supposed to help us resolve. We’ll discover that no matter how deep our understanding of alignment it isn’t going to be the divination spell we need to make those character-defining choices.
Paladins and Trolleys
If ethical choices make a good campaign memorable, how then can moral theory help us make ethical choices? The stock and trade of moral theory is the thought experiment called the “Trolley Problem,” first proposed by contemporary philosopher Philippa Foot, but made famous by Judith Jarvis Thomson. The Trolley Problem is a thought experiment designed to test our intuitions about what makes an action wrong. In its basic form the thought experiment asks us to imagine a trolley going down a set of tracks. Up ahead is a fork in the tracks. Stranded on the tracks is a busload of people, and without a track switch they will surely be killed. However, on the other track there is one innocent individual. Most people agree with the moral principle that, all things being equal, saving a busload of people is the right action to take even if it results in the loss of an innocent life. However, suppose saving the busload wasn’t just a matter of flipping a switch but rather pushing someone in front of the train (assuming you couldn’t sacrifice yourself). The outcome is exactly the same. Lots of people live and one person dies, but somehow it doesn’t seem right to actively kill someone to save a busload of people.
Figure 2.1 shows an example of an upper-level encounter that incorporates a moral dilemma like the Trolley Problem. In the midst of a quest that will save hundreds of lives, our party, composed of three non-evil characters, has been ambushed and subdued. After many hours they awaken in a daze. They are weaponless, robbed of any magical items, and trapped in individually sealed coffins. Once they break free they find that they are in a dimly lit room. As their eyes adjust to the darkness they discover that they are in an enormous underground mausoleum with a large marble tomb effigy as the most prominent fixture in the room. Closer inspection reveals many more coffins are haphazardly scattered throughout the forbidding chamber. Opening any of the coffins requires a DC 15 strength check and reveals a slumbering vampire. Attempting to open the marble sepulcher requires a DC 25 strength check and reveals a beautiful female vampire who immediately awakens. Opening any of the coffins or the marble sepulcher will cause all the vampires to awaken in 1D8 rounds. The last to awaken is the master vampire, who emerges slowly and gracefully from her marble tomb if it was not disturbed previously.
The rest of the vampires begin to eye the party with a ravenous hunger, but do not attack. The master vampire slowly approaches the party and attempts to enthrall by using her dominate ability (as the spell dominate person (Su) (12th-level caster) will save DC 18 or become enthralled). She offers the players who resist her domination a choice: swear fealty to her or die. She beckons one of her spawn to bring forth a prisoner. The vampire reveals a hidden alcove that contains a cage of live human prisoners and returns with an important NPC that the PCs genuinely care about. The vampire hands one of the party members an ornate mithril dagger. She informs the players that if they wish to escape with their lives they must be willing to spill the blood of others. If they do not wish to harm this NPC, she offers an alternative. The players must find and lure at least ten villagers, vagabonds, or wandering minstrels to the vampire’s lair for her spawn to consume. They must complete this task by dawn or the lives of the party and the NPC will be forfeit. To further complicate things, the vampire reveals that she has information that is critical to the players’ quest. She is not lying. (She actually does have such useful information and will give it to the characters when they have either killed the innocent or brought victims back to the lair.) The master vampire is no stranger to deception and will send a few of her “children” to observe their progress. If there is any hint of deception they will attack.
Alignment doesn’t solve this problem, because alignment only tells us what’s permissible, not what is obligatory. Good characters should not kill innocent NPCs, but what other choice do they have? They could heroically sacrifice their lives, taking as many vampires as they can before they die. Of course if they do that, their previous task will be left unfinished and hundreds will suffer the consequences.
Is it consistent with good alignment to sacrifice one innocent to save hundreds? The Book of Exalted Deeds says such trade-offs are inconsistent with good alignment. Philosophy, however, has been considering these dilemmas since long before the D&D box set ever hit store shelves.
For instance, utilitarians would say the right thing to do is what would produce the greatest amount of pleasure and the least amount of suffering for everyone. The moral choice is simply a matter of addition and subtraction. Let’s say the lawful neutral mage, an illusionist, is a consummate utilitarian. A quick calculation says the loss of one life is regrettable but necessary to save hundreds. And besides, she points out to the paladin, there’s always the atonement spell. Now suppose the paladin is a deontologist. For deontologists, lives simply can’t be weighed like so much loot. To do so would be to treat someone as merely a means to some outcome no matter how good. If our paladin had read his Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), he would believe he cannot lie. Lying to the vampire uses her as merely a means to an end and fails to respect her as a rational agent.
You can imagine the moral debate. But we’re not done. Suppose the neutral good cleric of Pelor chimes in that they are both mistaken. Virtue ethics isn’t about calculations or an absolute universal law against anything. Rather, it’s about character. He thinks lying in order to escape isn’t corrupting because it’s not something any of the party does on a regular basis. He may suggest that if the Paladin can’t lie, it doesn’t mean the character with the highest bluff skill can’t make a false promise until they can fight this battle on better terms. In other words, alignment gives us constraints; virtue ethics gives us choices.
All of this debate might prompt a player to say “By all the nine hells, why would I want to play a character with a good alignment?” In other words, in D&D doesn’t the vampire encounter above prove “Good guys finish dead” or “broken-hearted” or both? This too, it’s not surprising, is a question that a little philosophical reflection can make … more complicated.
The Ring of Gyges and the Arch-Lich
For men are good in but one way, but bad in many. Excellence then is a state concerned with choice … being determined by reason.
—Aristotle
’Tis not contrary to reason to prefer the destruction of the whole world to the scratching of my finger.
—David Hume
Why would a player want to be a good-aligned character? This is a variation of a much older question in philosophy: Why be good at all? It was first asked by a character in Plato’s Republic. Playing devil’s advocate, the character Glaucon thinks that if there was a way that we could escape punishment, it wouldn’t be irrational to be evil. He tells a tale of a magic ring that would make the wearer invisible. If the ring gave ultimate power without any consequences no one would choose to be virtuous. The rest of the Republic is designed show why being good is the rational thing to do. Ultimately Plato says it makes sense to be good because a good person is one who balances their reason, passion, and appetites. Only those who cultivating virtue are truly at peace.
Aristotle (384–322 bce) goes further, arguing that it isn’t rational to be like the lawful good but neither is it rational to just be evil. The way of virtue is a middle ground between extremes. If goodness required too much sacrifice at the expense of one’s own life, that kind of good is irrational, but so is a life totally devoted to being self-consumed. Essentially Aristotle makes the argument that everyone ought to strive to realize their full potential. For all humans (and elves, orcs, etc.) that potential is to be rational creatures. And rational creatures pursue virtue in a balanced way.
If Aristotle were to look over your shoulder when you were deciding alignment, he wouldn’t necessarily advise choosing lawful good since it might entail too much sacrifice. He would not, however advocate resorting to evil alignments since playing at vice is irrational.
Some might argue that Aristotle wouldn’t object to playing an evil character. The closest Aristotle comes to discussing role-playing is in his Poetics, where he considers whether or not it is good to identify with a villainous character in a Greek tragedy. This identification can lead to a kind of catharsis where we are purged of our own evil desires. So could role-playing an evil character have the same effect? It is unlikely because the only way that we can be purged is if the villains we identify with arouse in us both pity and fear.
Suppose your epic-level character has the choice to become an arch-lich. Should you agree to trade your goodness for ultimate power? As most us know, arch-liches are some of the most powerful villains in the D&D multiverse. They can hold their own with archons and demon lords. They have no fear of death since if they are destroyed they re-spawn in 1D10 days unless someone destroys their hidden phylactery. While drow are born into treachery and vampires may have been turned against their will, liches choose to forsake goodness for power.
Aristotle would question the rationality of playing a lich. Acting out that kind of evil and vice with little consideration for arousing pity and fear is not going enhance the player’s own moral character.
But suppose we introduce another philosopher, David Hume (1711–76), who totally disagrees with Aristotle that it’s irrational to be evil. Hume thinks being good or evil has nothing to do with being rational or irrational. Hume says, a knave can be both perfectly sensible and wholly evil like an arch-lich. However, Hume would probably agree with Aristotle that you shouldn’t play an arch-lich.
For Hume, morality is about sentiment, not reason. This is not a “gut feeling” as much as it is a kind of moral skill. Human beings are hard-wired to approve of certain virtues and to disapprove of certain vices. Moral evaluation is more like a skill check. One can put ranks in the skill by cultivating and examining the feelings of approval and disapproval that we experience when we see people engage in actions that can be considered moral or immoral. Just as someone who has a good appraise check can determine the value of a magical item accurately, a paragon of virtue can determine what the right thing to do is in difficult situations. This moral sense is tied to sympathy. A disinterested appreciation for human beings causes us to care for their wellbeing. Being so much more powerful than the average humanoid would dull the sense of sympathy, because an arch-lich has no fear of death, no concern for others, and no peers. Even though, there is nothing irrational about arch-lichdom, there is still something deeply immoral about it. In fact, both Aristotle and Hume might well agree that if the player across the table from you wanted to play an arch-lich for an extended campaign, that choice speaks volumes about their moral character and might make you think twice about gaming with them.
Having now trekked through the philosophical underdark, we emerge into the warm light of day a bit dazzled but with an appreciation of alignment as both an important tool for gaming and moral reflection. Having subjected alignment to a little philosophical scrutiny, we hope that you have seen how alignment can enhance your gaming experience, and we hope that you can now bring some philosophy to the table the next time you fill out your character sheet.