Good morning! Sorry, it's been a while...last week was busy, as was the weekend, though we did have a chance to get back to our
on-going exploration of Dragon Wrack. Unfortunately for the kids, the session didn't end well.
It started well enough: they found the hoard of great the red dragon, Usumgallu, and looted the hell out of it for about an hour (for the adventure module, I created a procedure for searching dragon hoards, given that players generally want to pick out the best bits of these piles; it's in the appendix). Time was of the essence as the approaching Red Wing of the dragon army was close to arriving...had they exited the temple-fortress via the tunnel to the dragon pits outside the city, they would have found themselves quickly barbecued.
However, they instead decided to go back up to he temple proper and find a different exit, blundering into the Black Wing's color guard standing watch over their army's battle standard. While four elite orcs aren't a match for an eight-strong band of seasoned adventurers, the horns and sounds of combat brought another 40 orcs who completely surprised the party and quickly grappled them...all except the assassin, Salamander, whose 17 dexterity allowed him to react, and whose boots of speed allowed him to escape capture.
Total treasure found: 296,147 g.p. plus a huge assortment of unidentified magic items. However, more than half of that was in a bag of holding that was captured by the orcs. Salamander absconded with the party's other bag of holding (it is his, after all). Diego plans on attempting a rescue of the prisoners (that will be our next session). but he's not terribly thrilled at the prospect.
I wanted to write a bit about running D&D combat, especially AD&D combat. I get a lot of questions on the subject (usually via private email), and have thrown in my two cents on various blogs and forums elsewhere. Combat is not, in my opinion, a very difficult thing to do, but one needs to approach it from the right perspective; the correct mindset, I find, is incredibly helpful.
First off, remember D&D is a game. Hold that firmly in mind. I will elaborate on this in a second, but it's important enough to mention first.
Second, one has to understand that D&D's roots are literary, not cinematic. It is to be expected (these days) that a lot of people coming to the game form many of their assumptions of fantasy adventure from films and television shows (both live-action and animated) that they have watched. However, it is not useful to think of D&D combat in terms of what one sees on the screen. Cinematic combat, like all things in a cinematic story, is supposed to exist for one (or both) of two reasons: to develop a character or further the plot.
[of course, some filmmakers will also do combat simply for entertainment (fan service/expectation, etc.) which is why some combat scenes might be called "gratuitous," but let's not digress too much]
Because cinema is a visual medium, combat needs to be visually interesting, and over the years elaborate choreography has been developed to appeal to an audience that (presumably) has watched countless "fight scenes" over the years and need different, more elaborate or intense, forms of stimulation to maintain the viewers' engagement. Scenes play out with fancy maneuvers, camera zooms on individual 'moves' and actions, each swing of the blade being emphasized, each punch or kick being given attention, slow motion being employed to show the specific tripping or headbutting or individual wound that causes a specific form of pain and suffering.
It is akin to the comic book form of story telling, where each individual panel is a moment of frozen time, to be lingered over by the reader's eye.
Generally speaking, combat in literature is nothing like this. Whether you're talking Tolkien or Howard or any of the other fantasy/pulp influences on D&D, the literary medium is not a place you will find blow-by-blow combat scenes...certainly not on the scale one finds in TV and film.
"About turn!" [Gandalf] shouted. "Draw your sword Thorin!"
There was nothing else to be done, and the goblins did not like it. They came scurrying around the corner in full cry, and found Goblin-cleaver, and Foe-hammer shining cold and bright right in their astonished eyes. The ones in front dropped their torches and gave one yell before they were killed. The ones behind yelled still more, and leaped back knocking over those running after them. "Biter and Beater!" they shrieked, and soon they were all in confusion, and most of them were hurling back the way they had come.
The Hobbit, Chapter 4 (Tolkien)
He beat the creature off with his hands -- it was trying to poison him, as small spiders do to flies -- until he remembered his sword and drew it out. Then the spider jumped back, and he had time to cut his legs loose. After then it was his turn to attack. The spider was evidently not used to things that carried such stings at their sides, or it would have hurried away quicker. Bilbo came at it before it could disappear and stuck it with his sword right in the eyes. Then it went mad and leaped and danced and flung out its legs in horrible jerks, until he killed it with another stroke....
The Hobbit, Chapter 8 (Tolkien)
Jehungir did not try again. That was his last arrow. He drew his scimitar and advanced, confident in his spired helmet and close-meshed mail. Conan met him half-way in a blinding whirl of swords. The curved blades ground together, sprang apart, circled in glittering arcs that blurred the sight which tried to follow them. Octavia, watching, did not see the stroke, but she heard its chopping impact, and saw Jehungir fall, blood spurting from his side where the Cimmerian's steel had sundered his mail and bitten to his spine.
The Devil In Iron (Howard)
Shifting his reddened scimitar to his left hand, he drew the great half-blade of the Yuetshi. Khosatral Khel was towering above him, his arms lifted like mauls, but as the blade caught the sheen of the sun, the giant gave back suddenly.
But Conan's blood was up. He rushed in, slashing with the crescent blade. And it did not splinter. Under its edge the dusky metal of Khosatral's body gave way like common flesh beneath a cleaver. From the deep gash flowed a strange ichor, and Khosatral cried out like the dirging of a great bell. His terrible arms flailed down, but Conan, quicker than the archers who had died beneath those awful flails, avoided their strokes and struck again and yet again. Khosatral reeled and tottered; his cries were awful to hear, as if metal were given a tongue of pain, as if iron shrieked and bellowed under torment.
Then wheeling away he staggered into the forest; he reeled in his gait, crashed through bushes and caromed off trees. Yet though Conan followed him with the speed of hot passion, the walls and towers of Dagon loomed through the trees before the man came within dagger-reach of the giant.
Then Khosatral turned again, flailing the air with desperate blows, but Conan, fired to berserk fury, was not to be denied. As a panther strikes down a bull moose at bay, so he plunged under the bludgeoning arms and drove the crescent blade to the hilt under the spot where a human's heart would be.
Khosatral reeled and fell.
The Devil Iron (Howard)
Five Picts were dancing about them with fantastic leaps and bounds, waving bloody axes; one of them brandished the woman's red-smeared gown.
At the sight a red haze swam before Balthus. Lifting his bow he lined the prancing figure, black against the fire, and loosed. The slayer leaped convulsively and fell dead with the arrow through his heart. Then the two men and the dog were upon the startled survivors. Conan was animated merely by his fighting spirit and an old, old racial hate, but Balthus was afire with wrath.
He met the first Pict to oppose him with a ferocious swipe that split the painted skull, and sprang over his falling body to grapple with the others. But Conan had already killed one of the two he had chosen, and the leap of the Aquilonian was a second late. The warrior was down with the long sword through him even as Balthus' ax was lifted. Turning toward the remaining Pict, Balthus saw Slasher rise from his victim, his great jaws dripping blood.
Balthus said nothing as he looked down at the pitiful forms in the road beside the burning wain.
Beyond the Black River, Chapter 6 (Howard)
I could go on, of course, citing other examples. I'm currently reading E.C. Tubb's Dumarest saga, a series of science fiction books that seem to have been a major influence on Marc Miller's Traveller game (I am considering starting a classic Traveller campaign and want some inspiration). Reading these old SciFi pulps from the 60s and 70s, one finds plenty of action (Dumarest is a pretty beefy action hero) is less "dripping blood" than in Howard's Conan stuff, but it's still pretty good adventure fiction. It is also well devoid of blow-by-blow tactical exchanges. The specific details of fights are glossed over, unimportant: "they attacked." "he struggled." "the enemy fell, dead." Etc. And then the book goes back to the story, the adventure, at hand.
D&D comes from a literary tradition. It is not D&D's fault that people don't read like they used to; it's not D&D's fault that people discover fantasy through a movie or cartoon instead of a book. But it is OUR fault, if we make the mistake of wanting combat in D&D to be as elaborate and cinematic as we see in an episode of Game of Thrones, and feel disappointed by what the game offers.
Again, back to my first point: D&D is a game. It is NOT a game of combat...it is a game of fantasy adventure. Combat is an important aspect of fantasy adventure: you see this in the literary medium which spawned D&D. Thus, one needs specific rules for running combat. However, combat in and of itself is not the be-all, end-all of the genre. It is just one aspect, and requires only as much importance as what it gets.
Thus, we have D&D (or, for my purposes, AD&D) combat. We have attack rolls and damage rolls and hit points. We have initiative. We have surprise. We have lists of armor and weapons, and we have rules for minor tactical maneuvers: charging, attacking people that flee, auto-hits on characters that have been paralyzed by magic effects, etc. It is not an elaborate game of strike, parry, dodge, roll with punch, strike for weak spots, etc...it is an abstract system for resolving fights quickly and simply. Because that's what it emulates. You want that other stuff, go play Palladium (Kevin Siembieda was a comic book guy FIRST, and it shows in his system). You want realism with regard to death and dismemberment, go play 1st edition Stormbringer (which wonderfully emulates the non-heroic literature of Moorcock's fiction). That's not what D&D is.
Heroic. Fantasy. Adventure. Game.
Characters fight until they're dead, they flee, they surrender, or they're victorious. That's it. And then...back to the adventure. Back to what's going on. In a game of "resource management," hit points are the characters' most important resource...because when they're done, you're done.
Mm. Of course my players had plenty of hit points remaining when they were captured. I suppose hit points and brains are the players' most important resources, followed closely by luck. Guess I should have said "hit points are the characters' most important measurable resource." Yeah, that makes more sense.
All right...that's enough for now.