Artisanal Craft Dice Part 5: Grading the Dice

This is what I'm going to do: I have a lot of dice, and I want to talk about them. Whenever you see this logo, it means I'm going to be all chatty and catty about the dice I have (or dice that I ended up with). If you like the reviews, that's awesome, and you should probably tell me. If you want me to review something specific, drop me a line at Finnswake at Gee-Mail Dot Com. If you send me dice to review, I will totally do that. Just make sure you want me to review them. I will thank you for free dice, and if I don't like them, I will say so. In print. But I will also explain why, using the system below. That will make my reviews useful to people who regularly read them, because I have a cut and dry criteria to judge dice with, or I'll explain why it gets a pass.

I know, I know. I think about stuff waaaay too much sometimes.

Over the years, having gone from one extreme to the other on this whole thing, and having been involved at every level of dice manufacturing save actually pouring plastic into the molds, I’ve got a clear and concise system for rating all of these newfangled dice and dice-shaped objects that vie constantly for my attention and my dollars. I’m at a point of saturation that I really don’t have any need for any more dice in my life…unless, you know, they’re really cool, or something. And here’s how I grade them to determine if they end up in my seemingly-endless pile.

1. Clarity
As I’ve gotten older, this has become more and more important; I need to see what the dice roll is. As a game master, I need to glance down, see the number clearly, and then look up and keep the action moving. If I have to stop, look down, pick up the dice, hold it up to the light, squint, and then say, “The goblin hits you,” then that’s bullshit. Contrast between the dice face and the pips is the most important thing.

These are Chessex Granite Speckled Dice. These look less  like dice and more like the test they give you at the eye doctor to see if you are color blind. One of my least favorite Speckled dice sets. I always try to give new players opaque colored dice. Simple. Easy to read. Not confusing. Also, inexpensive. Let them get exotic and interesting with their own money.

2. Heft

There is nothing worse than rolling a pair of d6s made of high-impact plastic and watching them go skittering across the table and bouncing straight into the filthiest corner of the kitchen. Light, airy, super-bounce-plastic dice suck. Heavy, cumbersome dice suck, too, but they don’t bounce as far; they are just annoying to everyone else playing. Dice with the proper amount of heft feel good in your hand; they have weight and substance to them without damaging your table every time you cast a spell.

On the other hand...as cool as these big-ass, heavy and impressive  36mm dice are, they are only good for one thing: murdering a wild hog. I've got a 34mm Speckled Ninja d20. Know what I use it for? Nothing. Not even a paper weight. It's literally a trophy. 

3. Color

Style isn’t everything, but in gaming, I embrace the associative property of thematic accessories and their unquestionable ability to make the game better. Fireball throwing wizards need Red, Yellow, and Orange dice. Great colors and color schemes can save mediocre manufacturing materials if done correctly. And anything customized for gaming is better than borrowed objects. My biggest complaint about Koplow dice was that they looked like the dice you had in math class—because that’s exactly what they were. Chessex dice never looked like teaching aids, like these Chessex Sea Speckled Dice. A fantastic color that both  looks like what it is and also "reads" like aqua, which is not a color found in Urea.

4. Theme

And related to color, theme is pretty important, too. A good theme can save mediocre dice, just like colors can, but your theme has to be consistent—to wit, if you call your dice “Inferno” dice and they are black and dark grey with red pips, well, that’s a failure. “Ember” is more what you have, versus an Inferno, which ought to be made of yellow and orange with red pips. “Marbled” dice had better look like marble. “Glow Dice” need to glow. It’s common sense, really, but some folks have gotten it wrong before. This is Koplow's Olympic polyhedral set. These plastic dice resemble gold, silver, and bronze. Not bad, Koplow!

5. Value

This is the Texas Ebony Wood polyhedral dice set from Artisan Dice. These ten dice, made of wood, retail for $165. I'll be brief: Are you FUCKING kidding me?!

Those fancy-schmancy dice may look amazing, but if they cost more than the game itself, what’s the bloody point? I have a threshold for what I’m willing to pay for a set of dice, and it’s well below about 75% of the Artisanal Craft Dice market.

When I was selling opaque dice, they were $3.50 retail. Speckled dice were $5.50. Now opaque dice are around four bucks or so, and Speckled dice are more, too, and the price varies widely, depending on who you are shopping with. Given that in D&D, you now need 2d20, 4d6, 3d8, 5d4, a d12 and percentile dice just to get going, you need a minimum of two and half standard sets (7 dice), depending on what you pick up and where you buy it.

Personally, I don't think your buy-in for dice as a new player should be more than $20 retail. That’s a respectable outlay for the second most important component in the game. But if those dice are so expensive that you can’t buy more than one set, or maybe even only one die, then that’s not helpful or practical. 

In future columns, I’ll be reviewing some Artisanal Craft Dice and grading them on a scale of 1 to 5, based on the above criteria. Each category is pass/fail, meaning it either works or it doesn’t. I’ll explain as I go.

And if you're really into this subject, you can always visit Dice Collector for an incredibly complete and clear listing of all of the dice from all of the major players and a lot of the minor players in the dice making and selling racket.

Next: A Baseline Review