Dungeons and Dragons: Gender, Race, and Power in the Fantasy and Storytelling Space

Abstract

Fantasy allows for the intermingling of the imagination and the physical. It creates collective spaces that can reify, reiterate, or challenge socio-economic structures and power dynamics that create inequalities in our everyday lives. Fantasy spaces create the possibility of the impossible, the unbelievable, and the extraordinary, while simultaneously being bound to the real world from which these ideas stem. The creators manufacturing characters, stories, and worlds are conditioned by the social and political context in which they exist, with their own positionality drastically changing the way that they create and interact with stories and storytelling structures, as Garcia’s 2017 work “Privilege, power, and Dungeons & Dragons: How systems shape racial and gender identities in tabletop role-playing games” details. We explore the history of race, gender, and other social forces in the Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) 5e text, a gaming system that creates a framework of races, classes, and backgrounds for character creation in a roleplaying game. We grapple with our own experiences of how the game can (re)create biases that often go overlooked, creating both feelings of (un)safety for players. In this article, by documenting our experiences playing the game, we explore the ways that Dungeons and Dragons both harmfully recreates the dynamics of the White cis heteropatriarchy, as well as offers space to challenge these same forces, bringing the tumultuous clashing of social forces into the semi-private space of gameplay.

Key Words:

• culture
• game
• geography
• interface
• race

INTRODUCTION

Fantasy is an interface, a common boundary between bodies—a point at which independent systems or diverse groups interact (Interface 2011). Fantasy and imaginative landscapes are collective spaces, in-between spaces, combining and creating the human condition by replicating socio-economic structures and power dynamics. The fantastical includes elements outside of traditional possibilities and ventures into the impossible, the make-believe, and otherworldly. However, fantasy and reality are innately bound, as those constructing fantastical worlds, characters, and storylines are intrinsically only capable of conceptualizing things from within their own positionalities and preconceived beliefs about the world (Garcia 2017). Fantasy is presented as an escape from reality, but in fact is always socially embedded in the prejudices of our own world (Balfe 2007). In this work, we explore the history of social dynamics like race, gender, and associated behavioral tropes in the Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) 5e text. We outline the ways that gameplay recreates White, cisgender, heterosexual, patriarchal social dynamics, as well as the ways that this same gaming system has allowed us to explore aspects of our personalities in a meaningful, liberatory way. Finally, we forefront the power of fantasy spaces in understanding and changing the world while creating the self within the gameplay community. This article puts reality (i.e., the ways we construct our identities and the ways our identities are constructed and perceived by the social world) into conversation with the fantastical. In doing so, we draw on our experiences with the game Dungeons and Dragons from building a character persona and plot to various quests with the party.

THE POWER OF FANTASY

Fictional spaces allow us to immerse ourselves within fantastical places and scenarios. Fantasy, from the Greek ϕαντασία meaning “making visible,” is a genre of fiction that focuses on “imaginary elements (the fantastic).” Fictional and fantastical spaces, such as Dungeons and Dragons, or other media like Lord of the Rings, make visible desires of the psyche that are impossible or hidden. These elements can encompass a wide swath of topics, from a desire to see magic, rebirth, resurrection, or even more mundane things that feel impossible to the reader, such as profound archery skills or theatrical swordplay. Fictional spaces can likewise manifest negative elements. Because these fantastical worlds stem from creators who operate in the modern, real world, internalized and often unnoticed prejudices can infiltrate the construction of this new reality (Balfe 2007). Informed by Probyn’s description of a “sense of belonging,” Walker’s “sense of place,” and theories of folklore in fantasy, this article explores the (re)creation of social dynamics and blurs the line between the (re)working of space and place in-between fantastical and reality (Lord 1960; Probyn 1996; Walker 1977).

Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) is a popular fantasy roleplaying game where players create characters of different species and abilities to adventure in worlds constructed by the Wizards of the Coast publishers and run by Dungeon Masters. This game offers a unique perspective in exploring the problematic racist, sexist, and xenophobic elements that appear to be so standard in modern society. While offering a storytelling and roleplaying method to explore new realms that would ideally exist beyond the bounds of racial and gendered violence, these elements seep into gameplay. The sneaky infiltration of harmful stereotypes reveals a dangerous behavioral pattern: we, as gameplayers and citizens in a heteropatriarchy, have become so desensitized and accustomed to these patterns of inequality, that we replicate them in a new, fictional world.

D&D offers a means of creating a fantastical persona with distinctive behaviors, this practice is also seen in everyday, individual behavior. Expectations of male versus female embodiment are choices—unconscious or conscious—to follow social mores set by society that vary by culture and race. In the narrow but predominant framework, being non-disabled, heterosexual, White, and cisgender are considered the default setting for behavior; straying from this standard alienates one from their sense of home and belonging (Browne, Nash, and Hines 2010; Johnston 2019). Gender norms are based in both performance—choices in behavior made by the individual and influenced by societal standards—and anatomy—the innate primary and secondary sex characteristics of individuals (Browne, Nash, and Hines 2010; Johnston 2019). What is often seen as a standard part of being a woman is an attraction to a man; this is a performance-based gender norm (Browne, Nash, and Hines 2010; Johnston 2019). Acting as queer characters or characters not shown to have attraction to any others can thus disrupt the standard ideas of what behaviors are normal by offering an alternative manner of behavior. This alternative model gives a sense of belonging to those who are shunned by the heteropatriarchal White society that dominates our everyday life; it gives a sense of home to players that are isolated because of this structure.

Social scholars Duncan and Lambert (2004) expand upon this sense of home and belonging as dictated by racialized self-expression standards. Just as people can feel out of place in their home, they can also feel out of place in their community, due to a multiplicity of factors such as race, gender, sexuality, or other performances of identity, challenging their sense of belonging. Elspeth Probyn’s description of the sense of “belonging” refers to the desire of individuals to form attachment to other people in their communities (Probyn 1996, 8). Probyn’s theory enriches Robin Walker’s “sense of place,” which refers not only to the physical environment, but to the relationship individuals and groups of people have with each other and this environment (Walker 1977, 17). A sense of place makes a place special; it is the “physical and metaphysical properties” held within the corporeal realm (Walker 1977, 17). The metaphysical encompasses memory and feeling; a sense of place is built by the way memories, emotions, and societal expectations interact within the physical environment. Individuals or groups interact within places, form memories and connections to these places, and link the emotion-memory to the people and place (Probyn 1996; Walker 1977). Spaces where D&D is played both create new spaces for imagination and fantasy, but also bring in the prejudices of larger society that are present in the biases of the players, and more importantly, the source material of Dungeons and Dragons.

A CRASH COURSE IN D&D

Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) is a fantasy role-playing game (RPG) designed by Gary Gyax and Dave Arneson and first published in 1974 by Tactical Studies Rules, Incorporated. D&D’s inception and publication is widely regarded as the beginning of modern-day role-playing games (D&D History 2021). Unlike “traditional” board or card games, D&D relies on storytelling and creative expression—roleplaying—from the players and Dungeon Master (DM), sometimes known as the Game Master. The DM is the player responsible for controlling the monsters, goblins, and various characters players may encounter on their imaginary adventures as well as for describing the fantasy-based environment, adjusting rules, and keeping those partaking in the game immersed in the place and space. The DM is the narrator of the story; setting the pace and presenting challenges and various encounters the players must work through all while maintaining the storyline and designated landscape (Lost Mine of Phandelver 2021). D&D departs from rules and reality-based spaces through players and their characters embarking on “imaginary adventures within a fantasy setting” (D&D History 2021). Players begin by choosing “who” they want to be during play through various sections of Races and Classes. With the fifth edition of the game, there are nine Races to choose from.

“Race” here refers to the nine different magical species defined in the game—Dragonborn, Dwarf, Elf, Gnome, Half-Elf, Halfing, Half-Orc, Human, and Tiefling. This definition varies from the popular acceptance of race we commonly understand as an “important organizing principle of individual identity and collective consciousness” (Omi 2001, 243) that often appears on questionnaires or censuses in the form of “White,” “Black,” and “Other” (Rodriguez and Cordero‐Guzman 1992). Multiple races can appear within one D&D Race, such as elves who appear White, Black, Indigenous American, and more. In addition to choosing a Race, players also choose at least one Class—which acts as the characters’ job or vocation—out of twelve offerings ranging from magic wielders to brute-forced fighters: Barbarian, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Fighter, Monk, Paladin, Ranger, Rogue, Sorcerer, Warlock, and Wizard. From these two basic categories, the player creates a character with a distinct personality and motivation for the campaign.

Following the creation of the characters, the party then begins interacting with one another, the imaginative setting, and the settings’ inhabitants ranging from allies to foes. D&D offers guidebooks that not only list the various races, classes, and other aspects like backgrounds and motivations for character creation, but storylines for the DM to implement that include maps, descriptions of a fantasy land, and descriptions of basic characters to be played by the DM with which players can interact. Together, the group of players solve problems, engage in battle, gather treasure, and take on various tasks from unsuspecting characters introduced by the DM (D&D History 2021). Encounters often last various hours and involve the players not only taking turns to complete various tasks, but also includes roleplaying through fantasy-based storytelling, accents, and in some cases, dressing up in costumes. While the settings and game maps are structured through D&D guidelines to help determine the consequences and direction of the player’s actions, the core of D&D is roleplaying and storytelling within the world of imagination (Basics of Play Learn About the Game 2021). It is driven by the theater of the mind, as players can take on roles and characteristics they admire, find intriguing, or wish to explore further. The character taken on by the player during the game is one of their own makings: a combination of “game statistics, roleplaying hooks, and imagination” (Basics of Play Learn About the Game 2021). Beyond choosing from a class and race, the player invents the personality, backstory, appearance, and affinities of their character which then represents them throughout the game. D&D moves beyond physical structure or pre-written gaming narrative to create a semi-personalized fantasy space for those partaking in the lengthy game-play journey. D&D offers many books that give outlines for various adventures, but all adventure campaigns rely on the basic Player’s Hand Book (PHB; Player’s Hand Book 2014). The PHB is the gameplay guide which holds all the information of Races and Classes. It includes instructions on creating a character and raising them to a new level as play continues. As characters level up, they gain access to more specific traits from their Class, or job, as they gain more experience in this job. Most importantly, the PHB includes lore that is attached to each Race and Class; the species and job a player picks are thus already linked to a storyline infused with real-world bias.

DUNGEONS & DRAGONS AND THE MAGIC CIRCLE OF COMMUNITY

Sites where D&D is played can create community, home, and a sense of belonging for those who are isolated from the larger society, due to their nonconformity with hetero-patriarchal standards. It can create an almost magical safe space that Antero Garcia refers to as a “magic circle” (2017). This new home or community is the power of D&D; it not only offers a model for a different world where racialized or gendered expectations of behavior do not persist but brings together people who need this model to find community, solidarity, and comfort with others that are needed to survive. This is also why the racist and sexist tropes of D&D are so harmful; in an effort to bring people together in a new home outside of their potentially shunning domestic home and exploitative capitalist public realm, the very mechanism that allows for this connection also brings in racism and sexism without the knowledge or consent of the players, bringing the harmful landscapes of the exterior into the interior.

D&D is one of the first and most well-known role-playing fantasy games in the world (Gault 2020). The game’s storylines and character-building system are infused with racist stereotypes that affect power, physical ability, and mental capabilities. As we discuss our experiences in our own D&D campaign, we seek not to create an outline for equitable play nor to speak for players of color who are actively affected by this game, but merely to document the roots of this tension and the ways in which it harmfully manifests, even in a small group dominated by White players.

While both authors have played D&D for months, I (Reagan) have played in multiple campaigns, with multiple groups of people, while I (Bethany) have only played in one campaign, with Reagan. It was this shared campaign, begun in October 2021, that sparked an interest in writing this article. Our group originally consisted of five party members, with Reagan’s father DMing, and sessions held in Reagan’s home. The demographics of the group were two White cisgender women (amongst whom is Bethany), one White non-binary person (Reagan), one East Asian non-binary person, and two White cisgender men. When we began this campaign, it was Reagan’s first year in their PhD program, and Bethany’s last year in her Master’s program at UTK. We organized this campaign with three of the groups being other graduate students at UTK, soon to graduate, and another of Reagan’s childhood friends, soon to begin medical school. We played biweekly from October 2021 until August 2022. The campaign began as a way to ensure regular facetime with all of the group, as we knew we were running out of weeks where we would all be in the same city, all working in similar fields. We began this campaign to commemorate our friendship, to be one last epic swan song to the window of time in which our starlit souls were in the same corner of the cosmos.

Prior to this campaign, I (Bethany) had never engaged in the joys and rigors of character creation or gameplay. I had never explored the Races, Classes, or various mechanical elements that made up who I would functionally be throughout the duration of gameplay. To choose an identity, skills, background, and affinities at first felt silly; it felt as though who I chose to be and what characteristics I chose to personify would make little difference in how I interacted with the story and landscape that hosted it. Ironically, however, I gravitated toward the fantastical features that I did not have. As a petite cisgender female, I often feel vulnerable in settings where physical strength may be necessary. Additionally, four years ago I suffered a climbing accident which left me with chronic pain and physical limitations. In the D&D space, however, I can be without these limitations; my character does not have to worry about the possibility of assault, attack, or pain; she is well equipped, physically, to not only protect herself but to protect the group from harm. My character thus became myself, or rather who I wish myself to be. I created my combat-worthy gnome, a tiny powerhouse who is unafraid to tackle an enemy thrice her size. I was the offense, the first to fight in our group; I did not have to abide by social graces but could punch the problem quite literally in the face.

Similarly, I (Reagan) created a character who was valued for his humor, rather than his intelligence. As someone in academia, I often worry that, should I have a moment of weakness and say or do something perceived as stupid, that my social group will not value me. Acting as a character who has very little academic ability, but who is funny—a trait I always strive for but fall short of—allowed me to occupy a role in this social group that I never thought I would be allowed to. Some of our fondest memories come from our first combat, where we strayed upon a pack of rabid bats. I (Bethany) was able to leap into the air and pummel the flying pests from the sky! I was able to land on our tall Barbarian’s shoulders, and stay there for the duration of battle, aiding him in combat and becoming fast friends with the real-life player. I (Reagan) tried out a new spell for this combat, creating a giant, sticky web that I intended to capture multiple bats but only captured two of our other party members. I spent most of the battle trying to free my friends from my own spell. My failed spell caused so much laughter, and Bethany’s acrobatic bat-kicking inspired awe and applause. This early encounter set up a healthy dynamic for the group: we were not afraid to fail at spells, rescue, or help each other. We were rewarded with laughter and applause for occupying new roles in our social group through our characters. Essentially, we were able to recreate ourselves and our relationships to each other through the game.

While we began creating positive memories of who we were and who we wished we could be from day one, we also had discussion on the real-world social ramifications of the game. Although we were a majority White group, there was no way we could ignore the ways that race was represented in the game. While most of us were studying cultural geography and thus had a background in social studies on race, all party members discussed these issues. It did not feel like a case of overly sensitive academics making a mountain out of a mole hill. Rather, it felt like impassioned players attempting to address and retcon harmful issues in the player text to make the experience as pleasant for the three newcomers in the group as possible.

Races in D&D are often associated, or coded, with race. These Races are also associated with different cultural practices, with moral judgement passed on them in the Player’s Hand Book. Dungeons and Dragons draws inspiration from JRR Tolkien’s depictions of various races, which have gone on to inspire mirroring images in many fantasy genres (Baker 2017). Tolkien’s depictions of various Races have been under scrutiny for many decades, with arguments evolving in academic circles about the degree of racism implicit in his works (Isaacs and Zimbardo 1976; Rearick 2004). Most critically, Tolkien’s Elves, often viewed as the height of wisdom and learning, are described using terms that evoke Whiteness (Abate and Weldy 2012). Villainous races, most notably Orcs, are described with terms like “dark,” and “swarthy,” clearly linking moral goodness with Whiteness and villainy with non-Whiteness (Abate and Weldy 2012). While not creating these racialized categories of morality itself, the D&D system simply incorporates and expands upon it. Certain Races, such as the Half-Orcs and Drow that we will later analyze, are described as both dark-skinned and evil, with the PHB ascribing both of these Races as inherently “evil,” on their alignment chart—a system that combines spectrums that range from lawful to chaotic, and good to evil, in order to help guide roleplay decisions. Even before character creation and the interpretation of rules, it is clear from the PHB that these two races are both coded similarly to real-life people of color, and deemed evil by the text.

On character creation day, I (Reagan) had vouched for rewriting these most problematic sections of the different races’ backstories. I wanted to play a Drow for their mysteriousness. According to the PHB, Drow are a Race of elves that have dark purple and blue-toned skin; they dwell underground. While other Races such as Dwarves and Halflings can look like any race that the character wishes, certain Races are assigned a race. There are no light-skinned Drow. It is problematic that the darkest-skinned race of elves are assigned the evil backstory; while Elves of all colors exist, each skin color is associated with a specific history; assigning the Drow the darkest skin tone is a bit tone-deaf. There are three main types of elf: High Elves, Wood Elves, and Dark Elves (Drow). High Elves include sun elves with bronze skin and copper, blond, or black hair, as well as moon elves with alabaster skin and hair that ranges from black and blue to blond, brown, and red. The PHB describes all High Elves as having “a keen mind and a mastery of at least the basics of magic (23).” Wood Elves include wild elves and green elves, which reside in different geographical areas, but all share a similar appearance of copper skin with traces of green, and brown or black hair. They are described as having keen intuition and fleet feet, as well as a distrust for outsiders. Neither the Wood Elves nor the High Elves are described in overtly negative terms, and while they can be interpreted as non-White, perhaps as Indigenous American, even their skin tones are described as positive, shiny similes.

Conversely, Drow are depicted quite negatively. According to the PHB, Drow were shunned by other races of Elves after they followed the spider goddess Lolth “down the path of evil” rather than other deities and turned to enslave other races (24). They are called Dark Elves as well as Drow, likely evoking the meaning of dark that is a synonym for evil, but nevertheless using a term that describes non-White skin tones. The Drow are described as having “skin that resembles charcoal or obsidian,” without question the darkest skin tones of all the described Races (PHB 24). Further, Drow are the only Race we encountered that were defined as explicitly matriarchal. The Drow were banished for following “the path of evil,” by enslaving other races and bringing them to the Underdark, their underground realm. This portrayal may have been an attempt to flip existing power dynamics, to make those with dark skin the enslaver rather than the enslaved. If we hold a generous view, we can suppose that Wizards of the Coast attempted some botched retroactive social justice by making one Race coded as a dark-skinned, perhaps African race, the dominant enslaver rather than the enslaved. However, even if we give this interpretation, we are still baffled that slavery was included at all. Including an enslavement backstory for a society of color does not challenge racism, but rather reaffirms the racist view of slavery as an integral part of societies of color. If slavery did not play an integral part in either the written campaign or the invented backstory of any character, I felt that we could abandon it. Our party chose to follow this route for the campaign.

We decided that the backstory of Drow being driven underground for selling others into slavery was likely written to cause discomfort between this Race and others, so after dropping this lore we instead created discomfort from my Drow character having different cultural norms. Rather than playing into xenophobic tropes by other characters showing discomfort because this character stems from a matriarchal society with a different religion, they instead are discomforted by their insistence of offering goodberries-a magical item outlined in the PHB- to every creature they encounter and reluctance to murder any captured foes.

CONCLUSIONS AND REFLECTIONS

Was this the correct choice, to rewrite the canon within the confines of our own party, regardless of the source material? It allowed our party to continue the plotline unhindered by guilt about incorporating harmful material here. However, did this merely ignore harmful canon without addressing it, allowing it to remain in the D&D canon, and the money spent purchasing all the material necessary to begin a campaign to fund a source that reiterates such racist tropes? We merely chose to ignore parts of the Drow description in the PHB, thus cherry-picking what material from the PHB we wished to use. Choosing what provided material is most suitable to the needs of the party is likely the intent of the sourcebooks, as the most basic PHB alone is over 300 pages. Including all elements of lore provided in the D&D books is largely impossible. However, money is still spent on each book, regardless of what pieces of material are used. The Player’s Hand Book retails at $49.95, with each supplemental book that explains various locations, adventure structures, monsters, and more, priced at the same point. With each adventuring party needing at least one Player’s Hand Book, Dungeon Master Guide, and a choice of adventuring book such as the Lost Mine of Phandelver, about $150 is paid to Wizards of the Coast. Whether the party engages with the racist material in the books, these elements are inseparable from the books necessary to begin a campaign. Thus, even the most well-intentioned of DM and players pay for a game system infused with racism. It is hard to deny this. Should we abandon D&D altogether, as merely a mechanism of purveying harmful stereotypes within a package of fantasy? Perhaps not. While our party arguably badly dealt with the issues of racist character design in this campaign, this is not to say that there were no benefits to this creative endeavor.

Is this potentiality for self-recognition, and self-expression, too shadowed by racist stereotypes to be of any use? Can this game system be augmented by players, or are we reliant on a company that has gained money and fame from a game containing these aforementioned stereotypes to rectify its canon? Our D&D group cannot say. While we enjoyed our campaign and enjoyed the self-exploration that creating and embodying these characters gave, the sticky coating of prejudice transferred to us from dipping into this bag of character creation has not yet washed off. Can the formula be changed, or should D&D be destined for discontinuation?.

In Dungeons and Dragons, we cannot erase the problematic elements of the stories; they describe both the identity of who created this gaming system as well as the identities of everyone who accepted this framework and played it. We cannot forget that in recent years, hate crimes against people of color and queer people have risen dramatically, by over 40% (Moreau 2020). We cannot deny the power dynamics that marginalize these groups are present in the game system that recreates racist and heteropatriarchal systems, denying a safe space for community building most needed by these alienated identities. However, we need not keep these elements. As Alfred Lord says in the Singer of Tales, forgetting is just as much an active and deliberate part of storytelling as memorization (1960). Whether this story, this identity, is communicated through D&D in particular, is not for we White scholars to say, but rather a collective choice that all demographics of gamers must work together to create. By actively working to rewrite and remove racist, sexist, transphobic, and xenophobic elements from gameplay, we create our own identity as inclusive storytellers.

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Reagan Yessler

REAGAN YESSLER is a PhD candidate in the Department of Geography and Sustainability at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville, TN 37764, USA. E-mail: [email protected]. They study performance spaces and gender, with a focus on cosplay (costume play). Their work concerns the intersections of queer identity, gendered performance, and race, as well as the confounding dynamics a politically conservative environment places upon these identities.

Bethany Craig

BETHANY CRAIG is a PhD student in the Department of Geography at the University of Kentucky, Lexington, KY 40506, USA. E-mail: [email protected]. Her work examines bodily markings, scars, bruises, scratches, bumps, and so on, as sites of cartography, commemorations, and alternative modes of flourishing within a feminist geopolitical framework.