Weapon Synergy: An Alternative to "Exotic" Weapons in Your Pathfinder Game

I've touched on a lot of different aspects of Pathfinder over the years. From spells, to skills, to character builds, to blow-by-blow playthroughs on campaigns, it seems like there's always something new to talk about. This week I wanted to focus on something that's always bothered me because it's both a limiting factor on mechanics, but also because it's one of those times where the mechanical limitation juts up so high that I can't cover it over with story reasons to make it blend into the background.

So today we're going to talk about "exotic" weapons, why I don't think they work, and some ways to adjust this for your game.

One man's exotic is another man's common.

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Let's Talk About "Exotic"

Folks who've been watching the development and changes in RPGs for the last little while have no doubt noticed there have been attempts to stop the use of "race" to differentiate between creatures, and to try use words like "species" instead. I'm doing this myself in my Species of Sundara series (the elf book is out for Pathfinder Classic and DND 5E for those who haven't checked it out yet). However, a lot of designers are digging deeper, and trying to find ways to change both the mechanics as well as the language we use to be more inclusive, and to leave behind older terms and ideas that have baggage attached to them.

I'd argue that "exotic" weapons are worth looking at for this reason.

Some weapons are more "exotic" than others.

There's a long list of exotic weapons in Pathfinder, and it covers everything from firearms, to sleeve launchers, to whips. However, as you look through the list, certain commonalities in general weapon type start cropping up. Weapons in this category tend to be associated with a certain species, or associated with a certain culture. And while one can argue that weapons that aren't widespread, or which require specialized training to use should be restricted, the problem comes with the use of the word exotic, and with how it may or may not apply to the story you're telling, and the background a character has.

Because at the end of the day, a lot of the weapons we see in these charts are very similar to one another in practice and use. The techniques for using a bastard sword aren't all that different from the ones involving a katana, a tetsubo and a greatclub are close enough that they probably couldn't legally get married, and the difference between a rope gauntlet, a cestus, and a standard gauntlet are so small as to be nearly laughable. The separation between them seems to be pretty arbitrary, and all it does is frustrate players, or force them to find workarounds to get the proficiencies they want, often at the expense of necessary resources.

So how do we make this more amenable without just throwing the baby out with the bath water?

Weapon Synergy

If you played Dungeons and Dragons back in the days of 3.5, chances are you remember the idea of skill synergy. Basically it said that, because you have been trained so well in skill X, and skill X is similar to skill Y, you will receive a bonus to represent this transfer of ability and knowledge. It was an idea that got left behind, but I think it could be reused to what I'm calling Weapon Synergy.

This feels unusual... but not all that unusual.

The idea behind this mechanic is that if a character is proficient in a particular weapon (or even armor) that is similar to a rarer or more unusual weapon, then that skill and ability transfers over. So if you're already proficient with the short sword, for example, then you would also be proficient with the wakizashi, gladius, and any other weapons of a similar style and type where the techniques and training would transfer relatively easily. The scimitar transfers over to the cutlass, the saber, etc. for the purposes of mechanics. If you are already proficient with both the sickle and the longsword, then a temple sword may take some getting used to, but not that much. If you're already familiar with punch daggers, then an ax gauntlet or a scissore isn't really that much different.

You could, if you wanted to, limit this feature so that players can only claim a certain amount of synergies at a time. Perhaps they only get 1 per so many points of Base Attack Bonus (every odd number seems fair), with additional bonuses from those who receive the Weapon Training background. Maybe they take a -1 instead of a -4 when using the synergistic weapon rather than the type they trained with. Those are just suggestions off the top of my head, but generally speaking, I don't see being able to use a wider variety of gear to be that much of a problem for the average game.

Whether you choose to limit it, or have it apply across the board, this idea can save you a lot of frustration when it comes to letting your players really untie the limitations placed on what they can and can't fight with. Because while some weapons have fun abilities or unique bonuses, none of them are so game breaking that allowing them to be used without spending a precious feat slot first will break the game.

I say this on behalf of everyone who's wasted a much-needed slot so they can one-hand a bastard sword.

"Uncommon" Instead of "Exotic"

The other thing I'd suggest is to use the category of "uncommon" weapons instead of "exotic". Because as I pointed out above, if you look at a lot of the exotic weapon choices (aside from things like the whip, the net, etc.) you basically have a weapon list that centers humans from a Western(ish) European setting as the default normal. And if a weapon or fighting style falls too far outside of that baseline, it trips and falls into the "exotic" category.

And the question that never seems to get asked is, "Exotic to whom, exactly?"

While I advocate using uncommon weapons as a designation, I would also suggest that this category should fluctuate based on where a game takes place, and where a character is actually from. Because if you have a character who was raised and trained in a particular culture, or by a particular species, then that would actually flip-flop what they consider to be normal and exotic. A noble warrior from an Eastern-inspired nation may never have seen the equivalent of the Dane ax with its 1d12 damage, but the katana would be the weapon he was trained to fight with, and to carry as his sidearm. Someone raised by orcs, or elves, or gnomes, might find the weapons and fighting styles of their adopted family and community came more naturally to them. And so on, and so forth.

This requires a lot more work on your part as a GM, and it means you need to communicate more with your players. You could even, if you wanted, have them trade proficiencies based on their unique backgrounds so they are customizing their history instead of using their backstory to just get free proficiencies that others at the table don't. But with so much of our games wrapped up in violence and the threat of violence, what our PCs bring to the battlefield matters. And there are so many fun, unique character concepts that people have just left behind because it took too many resources to make the more "exotic" choices work in their games.

Lastly, while we're on the subject of "exotic" weapon builds, my Tips For Building a Whip-Wielding Swashbuckler just got itself a facelift. If you want to see some of the gymnastics you have to go through to really crank up some unusual weapon choices, this guide makes a pretty good case for it in my opinion.

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That One Time A Cheating Player Got His Comeuppance Via A Cyclops

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Now then, where was I? Oh yes!

We all know those players. The people who make convenient math errors a little too often, who ignore the negatives their characters are suffering one too many times for it to be chance, and who snatch their natural 20's up off the table before the DM can get a really clear look at what was on the die. We're pretty sure they're cheating, but we're not sure if we're ready to stick our necks out and accuse them in front of the whole table like the world's geekiest courtroom drama.

Their own actions will eventually deliver the karmic crotch-kick we so desire. Or at least that's how it happened to a guy named Rob.

Short-sighted doesn't begin to cover it.

Those of you who've read the other entries in Table Talk will recognize Rob as the fellow who ran the Star Wars game that resulted in my getting an out-of-game job offer from a Sith Lord. Well he was a invited along with myself and several others by a DM named John who was going to put together a grueling game that would challenge our abilities, our courage, and our luck.

Needless to say, we were in.

The Most Pointless Cheat In The World

There were roughly 6 players in this group, which is heading toward the big side of a party. There was a paladin, a sorcerer, a rogue, a cleric, a fighter, and a monk. Because John is a foolish but interesting DM he told us to roll 4d6 and drop the lowest, and to re-roll 1s and 2s for our stats. He also had a caveat that said if you rolled all 6's then you got to keep the 24 for your stat.

Take a wild guess who got the 24.

Instead of rolling his dice carefully where the DM could see it, Rob's rolled a mysterious 24 when the rest of the table was engaged in a discussion over other rules. Because none of us had seen him alter the dice post-roll, though Rob's defensive facial expression and body posture said that was likely what had happened, John told him to take the 24. It was just easier than dealing with the argument that would ensue.

Here's where things get dumb. The paladin, sorcerer, rogue, and cleric all had understandably high charisma scores. After all, each of them has skills or class features that depend on that stat. My fighter, a black knight who'd cut ties with his noble family in Cheliax, also had a charisma of 16. Morvius Henderthrane was going to be recruited by the Eagle Knights, and I needed a high charisma for his prestige class. Upon comparison it's remarked that we are, "a very pretty party," with a 15 sitting as the lowest charisma score among these five characters.

Rob hears this and immediately decides to switch the 24 from his strength to his charisma. Why does a half-orc monk need a 24 charisma? Your guess is as good as mine dear reader, but I have a sneaking suspicion it was because he wanted to "win" what was never a competition in the first place as to who had the most striking presence.

The Comeuppance

The game starts with all of us at level five adventuring together. We're put ashore on the south side of an island and told that there is a hag leading an army of nightmare creatures in a cave up the coast. If we want to end the threat we need to take her unawares. We smash our way through a fight with some giant crabs, and start climbing the cliffs. Showing both strategy and variety, John throws some harpies at us. Once the harpies have distracted us, a cyclops crashes in from the woods, large-sized greatax raised and ready to swing.

Everybody chill. I got this.

Arrows and daggers are flying, and the party is getting slammed by the assailants. Morvius is even pushed off a small cliff. Non-plussed and seething he storms back up the rise, and splits the last remaining harpy from crotch to crown with a critical from his bastard sword. At almost the same time the sorcerer, the only other Chelaxian in the party, casts blindness on the cyclops. The DM rolls low, and the giant's single eye withers and drops out of its socket, leaving the potent foe significantly reduced.

Morvius being lawful and a knight calls for the cyclops's surrender. The giant agrees. It is at this time that the monk, who has done nothing useful to contribute to the fight up to this point, rushes up to the cyclops with the intention of striking a death blow on the helpless, surrendered creature. The cyclops hears the monk coming, and uses an ability that those who hadn't read the Pathfinder Bestiary in-depth to see how it was different from the Monster Manual didn't know about; the ability for a cyclops to declare any die roll a natural 20 due to a brief glimpse into the future once per day.

The result? The creature brings down its ax, and the DM rolls to confirm the critical. He confirms with a natural 20, and rolls enough damage to smash the orc down to -20 hit points.

He Chose Poorly

The entire table was silent for about five seconds. The silence filled up with the sounds of barely-suppressed laughter as the DM showed Rob the description of the ability, and Rob spluttered to try and find some way to save his dishonorable and mostly-useless monk. There is no way to save him, and so we're reduced down to a mostly-functional party size.

If only he'd put that 24 in Constitution...

Despite the player pouting and huffing about his well-deserved and totally-legal character death, the rest of the table used it to further the plot. Morvius and the sorcerer threatened the giant badly enough that it nearly killed itself running for its life down the mountain, and Morvius demanded that they stop and bury their fallen comrade. Only once the dirt had been thrown on it did he insist they continue, and give the half-orc an escort on his way to Pharasma's judgment.

He had plenty of company... enough so that we gained 2 levels in a single fight. But that's another story for another day...

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