“I rolled a bard. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
It doesn’t matter how many different iterations of Dungeons & Dragons I’ve played, I have always, effectively without fail, avoided Bard’s like the plague.
No matter the situation, I have never been able to convince myself that they are my type of class, which is mildly ironic since I play multiple instruments in real life. More often than not, I tend to stick to Rogues, Rangers or a dedicated spellcaster of some kind.
My issue with Bard’s is the way in which they are supposed to wear many hats. They can engage in combat, but not as well as Fighters or Barbarians, they can sneak around and bluff, but not as well as Thieves or Rangers and they can cast a few spells, but not nearly as well as Mages or Sorcerers.
Their defining feature has been that of their bardic songs, which allow them to impart buffs on allies and weaknesses upon enemies. However, the effects of those songs are often inferior to the spells cast by Clerics and Druids.
Yet, I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that I was missing something. Bard are, after all, frequently ranked as one of the best classes in the entire game.
So, during my most recent playthrough of Icewind Dale 2, which plays within the much-beloved Third Edition ruleset, I made it a point to make sure a Bard was a member of my six character party. And, after playing through the game for the better part of a week, I came to a revelation:
My opinion is unchanged.
The lack of any true purpose of expertise present in the class never truly disappeared. They were strong, but it was never in a way that made them stand out. Never was there a situation that they succeeded in that made me say “Okay, I get it”.
The flexibility was nice, but never so much so that I didn’t think the role could’ve just as easily been filled by another class. The premise of the Jack-of-All-Trades is certainly nothing new in the world of role-playing games, but I think the average Dungeons & Dragons game is often ill-suited for one.
I think a large part of my own dislike for the Bard is that, in an average-sized D&D game of five-to-six people, you don’t often need a character with that sort of measured flexibility. You’ve got more than enough characters to fill every possible role, from tanking and defense to spellcraft and damage.
Ironically, I believe they would function quite well in a smaller setting; say, if a campaign was being played with only two or three players. In that situation, the way that the Bard could change its tune depending on the situation would likely be much more valuable.
I understand why people enjoy playing Bard’s. It’s a very attractive quality of a class to be able to do a little bit of everything; it can help to keep the experience fresh and exciting, granting the player a number of different ways to tackle whatever the dungeon master throws at them. Not to mention, considering their knack for performance and social interaction, they might be the single most expressive class in the entire roster.
Let me be clear: the Bard is not a weak class. They can provide a lot of value, even if that value is spread out, in and outside of combat, in a way that paints it in a different light than its contemporaries.
For my money’s worth, however, I prefer to see the time and effort put into developing a character, seeing them level up over hours of playing, manifest in a much more tangible way. I want to see the massive damage from the Thief’s sneak attack or gain the ability to cast spells like meteor storm. Those things, to me, are like a reward for your dedication in skilling a single class.
So, though I may be able to masquerade as one better than most in the real world, I’ve been well-and-truly convinced that the Bard just isn’t for me.
But, I do think everyone should give them a try, at least once. I imagine that they might appeal to some more than they believe they would at first glance. They might just be the welcome change of pace you didn’t know you needed.
