Arrows Kill – or do they?

The bow and arrow. There are so many myths and legends and hyping around the bow and arrow that getting a good grasp on its power is difficult. Was the bow the single weapon’s technology that would make or break an army? No. Whenever I watch some blockbuster movie with ancient warfare in it and the bow shows up, I begin to groan. Inevitably the rain of arrows causes mass destruction akin to a nuclear bomb in the enemies ranks. OK, I exaggerate, never-the-less, I have seen too many movies where the bow and arrow are presented as significantly more influential in a battle than they likely ever were. 

 

Not that they never were useful or the significant factor in battles; they were on occasion. There is a reason the bow is found in nearly every pre-modern culture and were widely used by nearly every army across the ancient world. Many people are aware of the battle of Agincourt and Crecy, where the longbow was used quite effectively allowing for staggering English victories over the French. There are other even more interesting battles such as the Battle of Sphacteria that caused the Spartan army to adopt the use of the bow and the Battle of Carrhae wherein Rome suffered one of its greatest military defeats ever.

But more often than not the bow and arrow were used as harrying weapons to break up formations, stimy attacks, blunt cavalry charges and for the most part prevent a foe from developing a strong attack or defense. The sword, spear, axe, and other weapons did the most damage and were the key ingredient in every army. It seems to me that the flight of arrows depicted in “300” was likely more reflective of reality than one might otherwise see. Of course this is all dependent on the situation, but the bow is not quite how it may seem.

It is quite useful (if the point is correctly configured) for hunting, piercing light armors, and even medium armor. Against heavily armored opponents, the arrow is nearly useless, nearly. En masse flights of arrows were useful and the occasional brilliant shot could prove decisive (that was exceedingly rare). But as a general rule, the arrow could not pierce tough metal armors.

One of the reasons the crossbow was once considered a machination of the devil was the bolt fired from it could pierce heavy armors. There were even attempts to outlaw its use by the ruling elites. The crossbow had considerably greater draw strength than a bow and one could quickly train in its use. Point being, the bow is not quite the super powerful weapon its often portrayed as. 

 

All that being said, there is a reason every army had archers.

Isometrics and Patreon

I can't remember the first isometric dungeon I saw. I think it was in Ravenloft. Not sure. It could be that Ravenloft is the one I remember. In any respect, it left an impression. I recall trying to make isometric dungeons for my games, but having little artistic skill, did not understand the process so they kept falling flat. it then occurred to me the players would never see them until after the game and it would be a pointless waste of effort to make them. I chose poorly. I still love isometric dungeons. So I am giving them a whirl again. But who gets to see them?

What I decided to do was draw small dungeons for our followers in Patreon. One map would be a technical 2d map and another my effort at an isometric dungeon. I do not have a lot of time to devote to the latter, but we shall see how I progress over the years. I welcome all criticism and advise on making these.Now on to the maps and dungeons.

Steve and I were discussing what it is either of would want or need the most when running games. Without a heartbeat Steve said random dungeons or encounters. Something short and sweet he could throw into an evening's play with minimal investment of time, effort, or energy. I have been writing these one offs and short encounters for 6 months now (more or less) for our patreon account backers. I think there are forty or so now. Some of these had dungeons, others just text.

I am going to mix them up now. My goal is a dungeon one week with nothing in it. Basically it will just be a map with its current situation sans monsters and such. These are empty dungeons with the briefest descriptions of rooms. The Castle Keeper would have to supply the monsters or whatever might be inside the dungeon. In this manner the dungeon can be used for any level party. I will add an additional isometric interpretation because, well, because I am wanting to do them. These will only be available through patreon. 

Then the next week would be an encounter much like the one's I have done previously. I am changing one aspect of the encounters by not giving them a place per se. Rather it will be a description of a group of creatures or a single creature/monster and what its habitat is and how it goes about its dirty work. I will also mix demi-human, human, and humanoid NPCs into these. And on a final not, I am going to attempt to put together random encounter charts on occasion. These would be collected and constantly adjusted so everyone in the patreon would get the updates.

Session Zero

 

I prefer ‘session zero’ happen at home, through emails, in the head, or as a memory. This is simply my preference. Everyone handles session zero as per their desires and goals so it would be impossible and wrong to assert that “x” is the only proper manner in which to handle a campaign’s beginning. My preference, having gone through many a campaign (short and long), many hundreds if not thousands of characters, and nearly forty years of play, is simply to begin the game with a bang or near bang. I like to begin the game with a hand grenade thrown into the midst of the party that may or may not go off - so to speak.

 

So this is how I roll. The players will let me know before the game begins what type of character they would like to play. I sometimes place limitations on race, class, background, etc. but this is rare. It must be setting specific though. I then encourage everyone to come up with some background. It can be specific but I prefer it be somewhat nebulous so the background can be developed in play. I sorta want the character’s past to grow backward as well as forward at the same time. This meshes well with my philosophy that the past never really exists except in how we remember it rather than what it may have actually been. So big points are important but details are not.

To wit, a few answers to a few questions are all that I need to move an adventure forward in a meaningful direction. I base may adventures of the player’s characters goals and fears rather than off something I have designed sans their input. Some questions are; What are your character’s life goals? What are your character’s greatest fears? What does your character hate? What does you character love?

If possible or seems reasonable, I will have one or more of the characters know one another prior to the beginning of the adventure. It is not necessary that they do know one another through. What is important is that a series of events leads them all to one place at the same time. This is where it becomes a little difficult because I have to design a session zero encounter that is confined in space and time where some action occurs requiring the players to act together to overcome a challenge or even survive. 

 

The players, in session zero, are asked to describe their character’s appearance. Nothing more than appearance is necessary. Personality, life events, etc. are not what I am after. Personality comes out in play rather that descriptive preambles. Personality is expressed in appearance as well. The character’s past or pivotal moments in their life are not described, those reside in the character’s memory and only brought forward in roleplay or as necessary. This actually allows the characters to grow their characters backward fairly well and gives me (as the person running the game) fodder to work with and develop with the player over the course of sessions, week, months, and even years.

So where do the characters meet? This is always different and sometimes the most challenging part for me. I have placed the characters in a carriage, barge, caravan, that gets attacked or has a problem requiring the characters to fix. I have placed them in guard towers, frontier posts, mines, and even a besieged city. In all cases, the characters find themselves together, confined somehow in that moment and in space and are faced with a challenge within roughly twenty minutes of the game’s beginning. I have not started a game in a tavern in decades, though I might give that a try one day again – with a bar fight.

 

Over River Hanging Empty Unplayed

The dark waters of the Prut begin deep in the Thelknet Wood. They move slowly, following an ancient course south before they turn north and east and then back again to the confluence of the Spring River. The channel is deep before the spring, the water seems still and quiet with a calm born of a windless dusk hanging over it. Tales relate that in the Days before Days that Ealor would rise from the sea and court Ea-Ranae, the moon, and here upon the banks of the Prut they sat and frolicked together. Whatever the truth of that the Prut is home to fey of wonderous beauty and the elves haunt the woods here, seeking signs of the moon before the sun rode high in the sky. 

The forest grows thick, all the way to the loamy banks of deep grass that hang like curtains into the water’s edge, housing what dark secrets in tiny caves few can tell. The fish are large here, swim deep and feed upon one another as fish are want to do. Strange birds dwell in the trees and wolves lope to the water’s edge in quest of water. At times there are stairs with no landings that lead into the water or swings from branches hanging empty and unplayed or bridges that rope in the two banks, bridging two worlds. The “Prut above the Spring” is a saying in the realms of New Aenoch and it is like to magical realm that few understand, or if they do, they choose to keep their understanding to themselves. It is a lonely, quiet river, the Prut.

After the Spring it picks up speed and deepens still and the dark waters turn a shallow gray, shrowded still by forest trees and linked by hidden paths. At last, they tumble into Udunilay and broaden that mainland tempest before it enters the Opens and the Sea beyond.

From ~ The Barachian Coast, Aihrde Expansion, The Prut River Entry. Aihrde

Experience the Experience of No Experience

I am toying around with rules again. I really like this notion I have of not having to track experience. I do not like level grinding or even the semblance of level grinding. So i plan to take it off the table. Experience would be accrued differently and would not require much math. Really no math. I really can't say much more on this until i have a final draft of the work in hand, present it to play testers, and move to the next phase of development of The Dragon's Crucible.

This is another of the projects I am working on. The Inzae setting material is going to be expanded and presented in a different format, much along the lines of the World of Airdhe setting. Along with the setting there will be rules that are setting specific. The rules are being designed to capture the flavor of that setting. That said, the formatting will be seamless with Castles and Crusades so one can pick and choose which rules set to use. 

Of the big rules changes there will be new combat, advancement, and ability development/growth whatever. I need to finish this up quickly so I can get the draft into the hands of play testers to see if even the nascent ideas work. If they do not, I will likely scrap and start over or just stick with Castles and Crusades. But as those of you who know me, i really like fiddling with rule and if nothing else, Castles and Crusades is made for fiddling. I just can't help myself.

Verisimilitude

To appear real. I think maybe, over the years, the appearance of real has shifted. I don't mean this in a grand scheme of things rather within the genre of role playing game. What seemed real in the sixties, seventies, eighties, and on has been altered. By and large, fantasy fiction (in its multifarious forms) has grown significantly. Tolkein's stories have rooted themselves via Peter Jackson's fantastical vision, the Harry Potter series has rooted the idea of magic as an everyday affair, and JRR Martin's series seamlessly meshes magic within a pseudo-medieval setting. Set against this are shows such as Vikings that are grounded in the real world. The latter is a world without magic and wizards and monsters. 

Verisimilitude is a very important aspect of role playing games. The game, as played, has to seem real, believable, manageable.... predictable. If anyone has ever played in a game where nothing seems to make sense, you know how frustrating that can be. It is difficult to make decisions unless one has some semblance of predictable outcomes. Otherwise the decisions become meaningless and random. Most people prefer some level of predictability in their games. 

Even more, there has to be an understanding of the world and the manners in which it works. That has to be lensed through our everyday experiences. We have to drink water, eat food, sleep, buy materials, and we have cultures, economies, governments etc. Forests, trees, mountains, lakes, and a natural environment are a must. With that comes histories, geographies, and mythologies. The world one adventures in has to appear real. It is from that point that players and the person running the game can leap forward into the fantastical introducing monsters, celestial beings, magic, and other races of beings.

And this is where it gets interesting. 

So it seems to me that the 'real' has shifted. What, in my youth, was considered fantastical and difficult to fathom, is now codified as normal. Magic and its various applications is more or less common knowledge or within the realms of the real now. I suppose being raised on movies, books, and television shows where magic is common, zombies flourish like spring flowers, gods walk among us, and monsters creep and hide around every corner shifts the idea of what might be real, if ever so slightly. It is almost the case that without the fantastical the world one plays in does not feel real or at least, monsters and magic are the  starting point for creating the real. 

It is as if the nature of the first question has changed. Previously it would have been, 'how does magic fit into this world?' to 'how does the real fit into this world of magic?' 

So the book that really brought this home to me and from which I draw much inspiration is "100 Years of Solitude." Check it out. 

 

From Old Mexico to Heaven's Dust and Back Again Pt 3

Be sure to read part 1 Off to Fort Davis and Texas and 2, Dry Sands, Industry and Old Mexico, below.

As stark and beautiful as the Guadalupe Mountains were, time began to press, so loading up we headed north to the Observatory. We stopped for a chat with some bored park rangers, bought some snacks and then continued on. Up 18 and through the deeper mountains our path led, heading first to Alpine and then Fort Davis. We passed massive ranches, huge spreads of thousands of acres but saw only a smattering of cows. Small herds of a dozen or more. It was strange country for cattle, coming from Arkansas which is lush and green this time of year, and a few acres offers enough forage for herds of cattle larger than any we saw. But the fences slide along the highway, following its every twist and turn and ranches clearly marked with symbols and words, offered no answer to the mystery.

As I marveled at the ranches and wondered how they cut a living from the dry earth, we began passing small homesteads. Dozens, scores of tiny homes nestled in the desert mountains. Some were sheds with extended roofs, others small barn like houses, but all were homes. Each sat on an acre or more with little else to offer for shade or shelter. This kept my mind occupied as I pondered how they lived this far from water. It seemed too dry for ground water, and no tree or brush lines marked the path of river or stream. Upon closer inspection I realized they had large holding tanks, huge plastic affairs, attached to piping from their gutters and metal roofs, catching rain water. These cisterns made it possible to live here in the desert, made it easier – if one allows oneself such a word in this part of the world. But still I wondered why out here? Why so far from anywhere?

But we all know the answer to that.

That mystery, that was no real mystery, lay unresolved in my mind as we lumbered into Alpine and continued up to Fort Davis. The road, 118 now, pushed on up into the Davis Mountains until it unlocked in the small, sleepy town of Fort Davis, nested at the feet of a high bluff of daunted cliffs. We arrived about 3 or 4 in the afternoon and settled in the Limpia Hotel, an old building that housed out of towners since the 1920s. It was very cool, with an old-world taste. Two stories, ancient floors and a creaking stair case covered in thin carpet. A friendly staff  checked us in and we tumbled into the room, somewhat road sore.

Kathy took a nap and Wilson and I took an hour to wander about. We hit old Fort Davis, a fort built in the post-Civil War days that housed troopers of the Ninth US Cavalry, the famed Buffalo Soldiers. These soldiers joined in the latest round of wars with the Apache nations, a people that included the very famous Geronimo of the Bedonkohe band (though his fight was further west in Arizona, New Mexico, and Old Mexico). Originally founded in the 1850s, abandoned and then reoccupied and adorned with new barrack, mess hall, officers’ quarters and houses for the locals who worked the post. Those remain today, a standing testament to a time long past that an ever-growing minority of people even cast a wayward thought toward.

We wrapped this up with gigantic ice cream cones at a little ice cream shop inside an old train caboose. As we ate, we drove around and soaked in the architecture of the town and mused on all the history. For some reason, I cannot say why, I felt I was at the end of the world. That if we crossed through town and over the mountains to the west that there, upon the summit, would be the end of all things and just a Void laid out before me. It was comforting, that feeling of the finite.

After resting some and eating dinner we packed up and headed for the midnight viewing and star watching at the McDonald Observatory, the target of our journey. We had booked a spot on the 36-inch telescope and were anxious to get up and see the heavens. The clouds threatened us for quite a while and gave us some worry, but by the time the shuttle driver showed up and took us up the mountain the skies opened and all the heavens hung above us.

They rank that observatory and hill as one of the greatest dark sky areas in the country and it shows. You can see beyond forever up there. A blanket of sparkling dots of light, smudges of star systems and galaxies and whatever else crowds the night sky. The viewing in the telescope was wilding, we saw a galaxy, or was it two, some nebula and other objects that threw their light at us so long ago. It occurred to my turgid mind that even if we could go there, to one of these distant stars, it may well be to find it snuffed out, for knowledge of it came to us so long ago. For the briefest moment I toyed with the distances between points of light in our own galaxy and trouble in traveling to them, but what doubts I had about ’47 faded in a series of mental gymnastics that would no doubt meet the half lidded, approving nods of my primeval ancestors that first mused on the stars in the wilds of Hardar and the Tugen Hills.

Note: apparently dark sky is becoming harder and harder to attain as cities and people leave their lights on all the time. Give the heavens a break and turn the porch light out.

Bad news hit us during the viewing as the telescope went offline and cut the star gazing with bionic eyes a little short. No matter, we gathered outside the dome and watched the stars and the night sky for an hour or more. The astronomer answered our questions and pointed out constellations that I only just barely began to make out. The expanse was comforting. Its limitless so great that the mind wrestles it into a manageable size. We could see the dark smudges of the Milky Way, like a painter whose sleeve brushed across the canvas. It was wild and a sight I had never seen before.

After a while, about 1 A.M. or so, we made our way down the mountain and everyone scattered to home but the three of us. The astronomer that dropped us off warned us of a bear in the area and we promised to keep an eye out. Kathy hikes in Montana every year and the knocked over trash cans were a clear sign to her that we were not alone.  No matter, we pulled Wilson’s telescope out and set it up in the very dark night and began casting out at celestial objects. We were not there long however, and he had just set up his camera to take pictures of some cluster, when we heard a ruckus up at the completely dark visitor center. A metal can bouncing on brick or concrete. No wind to speak of and not a human in a quarter mile. The bear no doubt. Not desiring to contest the evening’s tranquility with a young or old black bear, we loaded up in the truck and bugged out.

We set up again later, in Fort Davis, about 2 or so and watched for a bit, but fatigue was settling in. We’d been up since 7 in the morning and crossed wild deserts, lonely mountains, meandering rivers and all the weird human that lies between. We at last packed it in and headed back to the hotel and cast weary heads on small pillows and rushed off to sleep.

The return trip was quick and uneventful. We tracked up through the Davis Mountains, through small, quiet rancher towns, broad desert valleys, on and out to the northern plains and the oil industry that I am now convinced is run by some AI located in some far of nebulous web portal. There we picked up 20 east bound and raced for home. Kathy had it in her mind to stay somewhere along the way, and return on Monday. But Wilson and I voted her down so off we raced, determined to complete the 12 hour drive in one sitting, which we did, crossing the border into Arkansas in a huff or rain. She called me “Barn Spoiled”, a name I proudly wear, for as much as I have enjoy these meanderings (and there are more to come, up next is MUFON symposium in July), I love my comfortable home where my reading chair and tv couch invite propped up feet and Dr. Pepper, properly chilled.