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Imagination and Creation: The Morality of Fiction in Dungeons & Dragons

Robert A. Delfino and Jerome C. Hillock

What could be more creative than playing a game of Dungeons & Dragons? This first among all tabletop role-playing games employs our imagination in the enjoyment of its fictional worlds. Even better, players actively take on the role of characters in these worlds and collaborate with the Dungeon Master (DM) in shaping the storyline of the game. This adds dimensions to playing D&D that our experiences of playing other tabletop games lack.

It’s these very features of the game that give it some interesting moral features as well. Both the DM and the players have to make important choices when sitting down at the table. By helping to give life to a fictional world, a DM takes a stand on who the good guys and bad guys are. Heck, entire species of creatures are deemed evil, like orcs or goblins. Similarly, those who play characters have to make important choices about what their characters do. When a player decides that his character is a worthless wretch – in D&D terms, the character would be of some or other evil alignment – he’ll have his character commit all sorts of heinous acts within the fictional world of the game that he would never think of doing outside it. (Let’s hope!)

This raises an important philosophical question. Can there be anything morally problematic with the fictional worlds we create or the imaginary characters we play in them? Brandon Cooke argues that there is “absolutely nothing wrong with role-playing a thoroughly evil villain.”¹ Others are less sanguine, criticizing the fictional worlds common to so much of D&D. For example, William Schnoebelen argues that the fictional world of magic and dark forces that we typically find in D&D is inherently dangerous and, therefore, the game should never be played.² As we shall argue later on, we think this view is dead wrong. But in order to cast a light spell on the matter, we first need to grab one of those dusty tomes in our wizard’s library and discuss some metaphysics, a branch of philosophy that deals with some of the deepest features of the world. So grab some rations, supplies, and whatever else you need, and let’s delve in.

The Traditionalists (aka the “Lawful Good”)

Plato (c.429–c.347 bce), in the ancient world, Thomas Aquinas (1225–74), in the medieval world, and J.R.R. Tolkien (1892–1973), in the contemporary world, all count as traditionalists in what will be our use of the term. What unites them is that they all hold that everything in universe has a purpose. In metaphysics this is known as a teleological view. It comes from the ancient Greek word telos, meaning purpose or end. The end of a thing is the purpose for which it was made. For example, the end of a shield is to protect you in battle against attacks. A shield that is weak and breaks often when hit by a mace or a sword is a bad shield. According to the teleological view, a thing is good only to the extent that it fulfills the end for which it was made.

The teleological view raises some interesting philosophical questions. If everything has a purpose, what is the purpose of human beings? And what is the ultimate source responsible for purpose in the universe? The traditionalists agree, more or less, in their answers to these questions. Concerning the source of the teleology, they all say it is some kind of Divine Intellect that transcends the physical world. And this intellect, in D&D terms, is Lawful Good. For Plato, it seems to be the Demiurgos (Divine Craftsman), though some scholars disagree. For Aquinas and Tolkien, both Christians, the source of the teleology is God. And spending existence in some kind of afterlife with the Divine is their answer to the second question concerning the purpose, or ultimate destiny, of human beings. For only such a life, according to the traditionalists, could completely satisfy our unlimited desires for knowledge and happiness.

By holding that human nature finds its purpose and fulfillment in the Divine, which is eternal and transcendent, the traditionalists provide us with a clear way of measuring whether something in our earthly life is good or evil. To the extent that something harms our nature or hinders us from obtaining our ultimate purpose, it is evil. And to the extent that something perfects our nature or helps us to obtain our ultimate purpose, it is good. Naturally, this understanding applies to art and to D&D, since it is a kind of art. A D&D game that helps us to become better persons, and thereby helps us to obtain our ultimate goal, is a good game. But it is possible that a D&D game might, in some circumstances, make us worse persons and thereby hinder our ability to obtain our ultimate goal, which would make that particular game bad for us.

Let’s examine the traditionalists’ arguments why D&D is good for us first, and then we’ll discuss the cases where it could be bad for us.

D&D Rules!

Much that Plato says about the nature and purpose of art can be used to defend D&D. For Plato, the purpose of art is to educate – to lead the highest part of the soul to love and rejoice in the existence of what is most good.³ As such, good art has a beneficial impact on a person’s moral character and helps a person to seek the higher things. For this reason, Plato would certainly approve of a D&D game where the players learn important truths about the soul, for example, or about moral virtues, such as justice. Indeed, Plato himself used myths in his own philosophical writings to help awaken the human mind to important truths.⁴

It is true that Plato banned poetry from his utopian republic, because it can spread falsehoods about reality.⁵ However, we don’t think such an argument could ever be applied to D&D. Except, perhaps, in some rare cases, those who play D&D are quite aware that the world of D&D is a fictional world and therefore there is little danger in the game spreading falsehoods about the real world. In this we agree with Cooke, who has argued: “None of the game materials assert that any of the truths of the game world are true in the actual world. So if, somehow, someone did manage to acquire false beliefs about the real world from the game, the epistemic fault lies with that person, not the game.”⁶

We think that Plato’s student, Aristotle (384–322 bce), has a better view of poetry, and by extension fantasy role-playing. Aristotle argued that poetry was more philosophical than history for two reasons.⁷ First, it can be about things that have not happened in history. In that sense it is very creative, allowing us to explore in the labyrinth of our mind all sorts of philosophically interesting scenarios. Second, poetry can be used to express important universal themes and truths, such as the importance of courage and sacrifice. Imagining how we would act in these scenarios and reflecting on these themes can help us to grow intellectually and morally as persons. Similarly, the storyline of a good D&D game can help us to think creatively and philosophically, enhancing our intellectual and moral lives.

Turning to the philosophy of the great medieval cleric Aquinas, we find an even stronger justification for playing D&D. For Aquinas, the human creation of art, when done properly, is an imitation of God’s creative activity and is, therefore, good. Indeed, as Armand Maurer has commented, Aquinas held that God specifically intended for humans to be co-creators with him:

Having supplied mankind with intelligence, God left nature in his keeping, to guard it, cultivate it, make it fruitful and fill it with his offspring. The art of man was meant to serve nature . . . to continue its creative activity. Man, by his art, was intended to be a co-creator with God, continuing nature’s creative activity in the world.⁸

Of course, as alluded to above, Aquinas argues that art should be used in a morally responsible way. Had he played D&D, Aquinas never would have played a chaotic evil character. And we’re pretty sure if Aquinas were a DM, his campaigns would have been about the triumph of good over evil. But let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that some people will play D&D in a morally objectionable way. Would that be enough, for Aquinas, to justify banning the game? We think not. Aquinas addressed a very similar question about art when he said “But in the case of an art the products of which may be employed by man either for a good or for an evil use, such as swords, arrows, and the like, the practice of such an art is not sinful.”⁹

Concerning the role of the imagination in the creation of art, Aquinas only speaks briefly. However, this theme was taken up and developed more fully by Tolkien. Aquinas and Tolkien agree that humans are in the image of God because of their ability to know and make free choices. But Tolkien, more than Aquinas, develops the idea that our desire to create imaginary worlds is another way in which we reflect the image of God. Tolkien uses the word “sub-creation” to distinguish the human creation of imaginary worlds from God’s creative activity.

For Tolkien, the sub-creation of imaginary worlds is a natural activity for human beings. More than this, it is a human right as it was intended by God that we should participate, in our own way, in God’s creative activity. As Tolkien explains: “Fantasy remains a human right: we make in our measure and in our derivative mode, because we are made: and not only made, but made in the image and likeness of a Maker.”¹⁰ Although, obviously, Tolkien did not discuss D&D, we think his arguments above can be used to defend the playing of D&D, as long as the game is used in a morally responsible manner. It’s not difficult for us to imagine Tolkien acting as a DM to his sons, taking them on grand adventures designed to teach them the importance of love and justice.

By now it should be clear that we find, among the traditionalists, strong arguments that support the playing of D&D provided it is done properly. And the irony for Christian critics of D&D, such as Schnoebelen, is that the philosophical and theological arguments of Christian traditionalists, such as Aquinas and Tolkien, provide some of the strongest arguments in favor of D&D role-playing. However, to be fair, these same arguments can be used to argue that a particular D&D game, under certain circumstances, can be bad. Let’s examine some of those cases.

Lost in the Labyrinth?

We believe the vast majority of D&D games are morally acceptable. However, there are two kinds of potential problems that can arise which merit our attention.

The first potential problem is escapism, which comes in two varieties. The first variety we think is very rare. It would be the case of the person who over time blurs the distinction between the fictional world they play in and the real world they live in. Clearly, such delusional behavior would only be possible where there is already a serious underlying psychological problem or pre-condition. Thus the fault, in this case, lies within the person and not the game. We believe this is so rare as not to warrant further comment.

The second variety of escapism is more common and much less severe, but still problematic. It occurs when a person, understanding that the fictional world of the D&D game is not real, still prefers to spend large amounts of time playing in or working on the game and thereby neglects the duties and responsibilities they have in the real world. This is probably more common with fantasy videogames, which we (and we are sure many others!) have sometimes played to excess. How many of you have neglected school work (or other work) to continue playing a videogame? It can also happen with D&D. Still, again, the fault here lies with the person, who is irresponsible, and not with the game.

The second potential problem involves the game’s potential effect on our moral character in real life. The traditionalists generally understand moral character as a set of dispositions we have, which incline us to behave in certain ways in life. Following Aristotle, good dispositions, such as courage and justice, are called virtues. Bad dispositions, such as cowardice and injustice, are called vices. According to Aristotle, virtues and vices are obtained through habitual action – that is, we obtain them when we do the same kind of action over and over.¹¹ So, for example, the more you tell the truth in life the more you feel inclined to tell the truth. Eventually, you acquire a stable disposition to tell the truth, and at that point you possess the virtue of honesty.

But consider the following. What if, during a long campaign, you play a thoroughly evil villain who lies very frequently in the game? Is it not possible that over time you might find yourself becoming more comfortable with telling lies in the real world? Or suppose, during a long campaign, you play an assassin who routinely murders in grotesque ways. Is it not possible that this might desensitize you to violence, to some degree, in real life? We think that a player should be responsible enough to stop playing an evil character if there is recognition that his or her moral character in the real world is being affected. But, of course, we also think it is possible for very mature and responsible players to play evil characters, within certain limits, with no ill effects.

Things can also go wrong if the DM acts irresponsibly. Indeed, as the creator of the storyline in the fictional world, the DM bears great responsibility as to what the moral climate of the game will be. The DM can choose to reward virtue and punish vice, or to do the opposite. Things can go too far if, for example, the DM encourages a character to act in increasingly sadistic ways, or if a DM lavishly rewards a character, say, for raping his victims prior to killing them. As some psychologists have argued, too much moral inversion (treating what is normally considered evil as good) in a game can have bad effects on the mind.¹² Although the science is not settled on this issue, at the very least, these potential problems highlight the importance of the moral dimension of fiction in D&D, the need for players and the DM to be responsible, and the need for parents to oversee the game from time to time when the participants are young. We certainly wouldn’t want our sons reveling in their roles as evil fighters, who rape, murder, and pillage, in a year-long campaign.

At least, that is what the traditionalists would argue. As we mentioned earlier, there is another philosophical school of thought on these matters called the postmodernists. Let’s explore what they have to say.

The Postmodernists (aka “Chaotic” and beyond Good and Evil …)

“Postmodernists” refers loosely to a group of philosophers and thinkers who question, if not outright reject, the core tenets of the traditionalists. Chief among them, for our purposes, is the Dark Wizard himself, the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900). Nietzsche rejects both the teleology of the traditionalists and the Divinity behind it. Traditionalists put limits on the use of imagination and creativity; they must not harm our nature or hinder our purpose. By contrast, Nietzsche thinks there should be no limits on human imagination or the human will. In this he is the polar opposite of the traditionalists, as Richard Kearney explains:

[For Nietzsche, the] creative imagination is indeed foundationless, a free-floating nothingness, pure will and desire. But therein lies its virtue. Therein reposes the incontrovertible challenge of modern man to exist without alibi or reprieve, without any recourse to higher values. Imagination, for Nietzsche, is the demand to ‘live dangerously’ … Only when the last lingering belief in a transcendent deity disappears can creative imagination come into its own. Then at last man is free to invent the project of the super-man (Uebermensch): the great individual who dares to make his arbitrary existence into a work of art. The productive imagination thereby assumes its existential vocation as a will to power in a meaningless world. This unmitigated voluntarism takes, in Nietzsche, the form of a “transvaluation of values” which dismantles the traditional notions of truth and morality.¹³

What dark magic is this? In declaring the collapse of traditional notions of truth and morality, Nietzsche seems to be embracing anti-realism, the view that traditional philosophical notions of good and evil, truth and falsehood, are nothing more than the constructions of human beings. Indeed, Nietzsche himself says as much in The Will to Power: “‘Truth’ is therefore not something there, that might be found or discovered – but something that must be created … . It is a word for the ‘will to power.’”¹⁴

But if moral truths are merely arbitrary creations of human beings, then we have no objective basis on which to judge them. It becomes difficult to see how we could criticize any behavior in the real world, let alone behavior in a fictional world. In fact, Nietzsche appears to be blurring the traditional distinction between fictional worlds and the real world. Dark magic, indeed!

A New Quest

So which side is correct – the traditionalists or the postmodernists? Let’s review what we have argued up till this point. If the traditionalists have the correct metaphysics about the real world, then it follows that D&D is good, but that care must be taken to make sure the game does not become morally objectionable. However, if the postmodernists have the correct understanding of things then “anything goes” when playing a character in the fictional world of D&D, or when a DM designs an imaginary world. Although we argued for these conclusions, we did not spend time giving arguments as to which metaphysical understanding of the real world is the correct one. That would require much more space than we have available to us here.

To resolve that issue requires you, the reader, to take up a new quest – the quest of philosophy. The goal of philosophy is to find the correct answers to these kinds of metaphysical questions, and, of course, other important questions. Philosophy is not something someone else can do for you; it should not be accepted on faith. You have to investigate the topic, gather the evidence, and weigh the arguments. In the process you will grow in experience and wisdom – just as in D&D acquiring experience points and leveling up is something only you can do for yourself. So, we encourage you to take up this new quest. Of course, the choice whether to begin this adventure is yours alone.

Acknowledgments

We would like to thank William Irwin, Christopher Robichaud, Tony Spanakos, William Byrne, and David Kaspar, for their helpful comments and suggestions on this paper.

Notes

1. Brandon Cooke, “It’s Okay to Be Evil in Your Head,” in Dungeons and Dragons and Philosophy: Raiding the Temple of Wisdom (Chicago: Open Court, 2012), p. 76.

2. William Schnoebelen, “Should a Christian Play Dungeons & Dragons?” Available at http://www.chick.com/articles/frpg.asp. Accessed March 24, 2014.

3. Plato, Republic, Book VII, 532, and Symposium, 210–212.

4. Consider, as just two examples, the myth of Er in Book X of Republic, 614–621, and the myth of the chariot in Phaedrus, 246–254.

5. Plato, Republic, Book X, 607–608. Plato does seem to allow some poetry in his ideal society, for example, poetry that praises good men and the gods.

6. Cooke, “It’s Okay to Be Evil in Your Head,” p. 77.

7. Aristotle, Poetics, ch. 9.

8. Armand A. Maurer, About Beauty: A Thomistic Interpretation (Houston: Center for Thomistic Studies, 1983), p. 84.

9. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, II-II, 169, a. 2, reply to objection 4.

10. J.R.R. Tolkien, “On Fairy-Stories,” in Verlyn Flieger and Douglas A. Anderson, eds., Tolkien On Fairy-Stories (London: HarperCollins, 2008), pp. 65–66.

11. Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Book II, ch. 1.

12. Leonard Sax, Why Gender Matters: What Parents and Teachers Need to Know about the Emerging Science of Sex Differences (New York: Harmony, 2006), p. 71.

13. Richard Kearney, The Wake of Imagination: Toward a Postmodern Culture (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1988), p. 211.

14. Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, trans. Walter Kaufmann and R.J. Hollingdale (New York: Vintage Books, 1968), para. 552 (p. 298).