Wow, it’s been almost two months since I updated the Page by Page series! I’d like to apologize to those who have been following this one. I really let it get away from me without noticing. This is the seventh installment of my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “Special Types of Attacks” on page 70, and continues to the end of page 79.

To recap:  This is not a review of the DMG. I am not attempting to evaluate its quality, nor the quality of the AD&D system. I am merely going through the book as a modern gamer, learning about the roots of RPGs, and making note when I see something surprising or interesting, or something which could be adapted for modern games.

Attacks With Two Weapons: I found this a little odd. “Characters normally using a single weapon may choose to use one in each hand (possibly discarding the option of using a shield).” The way I read that, it sounds as though characters who choose to dual wield might need to give up using their shield, but might not. Would they somehow wield two swords and a shield at the same time?

I’m not entirely sure what Gygax meant by this, but I find the imagery amusing. Perhaps he was making allowances for forearm mounted bucklers which don’t cover the wielder’s hands? Those existed, right?

Breaking Off From Melee: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Attacks of opportunity? In my first edition? Apparently it’s more likely than I thought! I realize this isn’t exactly as comprehensive as the AoO in 3.x/Pathfinder, but it functions in much the same way. For so long I’ve heard old-school players complain that attacks of opportunity are part of the needless complication of the modern game’s battle system. And yet here I find pretty much exactly that. How curious!

Monk’s Open Hand Melee: I like this idea a great deal: a monk’s unarmed damage is only really functional against human sized, human-weight opponents. It recognizes the limitations of the human body, thus preventing monks from becoming wholly supernatural beings as they are in Pathfinder. Unfortunately, the way this limitation is notated is awful. Listing a max height and weight in the first place is too much work for the GM. I much prefer the kind of size categories seen in Pathfinder. And then, on top of that, to have the max height and weight increase incrementally at each level, two inches by two inches, is just obscene in my humble opinion. What is the difference between a 6’6″ humanoid and a 6’8″ humanoid?

I do quite like that undead who cause negative effects by touching their foes will inflict that effect on a monk who punches them. Gary seems to have envisioned the monk as a very interesting, but still grounded class. Using your fists as weapons has advantages, but there’s no attempt to make a monk’s fists as effective as a sword could be in the name of balance.

Actions During Combat And Similar Time-Important Situations: There’s a lot that I dislike about this section. I can understand and enjoy a game where the GM curtails excessive strategist by having events move forward around the players. Brendan frequently does this in our weekly OD&D game, and it keeps us from getting off track. It also adds a sense that the game is happening in real time, which is fun. Here, though, Gygax seems to recommend penalizing even slight hesitations on the player’s part. As a player, I try not to waste anyone’s time. But sometimes I need a moment to decide what I want to do on my turn, and I’d prefer not to be pressured into acting immediately.

But really, that’s just a nitpick compared to this passage:

In a similar vein, some players will state that they are going to do several actions, which, if allowed, would be likely to occupy their time for many rounds. For example: “I’ll hurl oil at the monster, ignite it, drink my potion of invisibility, sneak up behind it, and then stab it in the back!” How ambitious indeed. Where is the oil? In a pouch, of course, so that will take at least 1, possibly 2 segments to locate and hurl. If the potion is in the character’s back pack, 3 or 4 segments will be taken up just finding it, and another 1 segment will be required to consume its contents. (See Drinking Potions.) Now comes the tricky part, sneaking up. Assuming that the potion has taken effect, and that our dauntless character has managed to transfer his or her weapon back to his or her hand (for certainly all the other activity required the character to at least put the weapon in the off hand), he or she is now ready to creep around the fringe of the combat and steal up behind the foe to smite it in the back. If the space is not too crowded (remember, his or her friends can’t see the invisible character either) and the monster not too far away, the time should only amount to about a round or so. Therefore, the character’s actions will fill something over two complete rounds.

As DM, simply note these actions, and begin them accordingly. Then, when the player starts to give instructions about additional activity, simply remind him or her that he or she is already engaged in the former course, and that you will tell him or her when that is finished and new instructions are in order.”

No. I’m sorry, Gary. I love you, but that’s dickish GMing. To simplify the advice being given here: sometimes players will not understand the limitations of an action. If that happens, act as though they can do what they said they want to do, then pull the rug out from under them on their next turn.

Perhaps I’m misunderstanding what is being prescribed here. Maybe all Gary is saying is that the GM should be prepared to enact a player’s plans over the course of multiple rounds. If that’s the case, it’s a little bit odd, but whatever. Perhaps I don’t have a sufficient understanding of how combat works in AD&D. But this just doesn’t come off as good advice to me.

Example of Melee: For some reason, this is way more interesting to follow than any of the play examples I’ve read in modern books. Go figure.

Non-Lethal and Weaponless Combat Procedures: I like the idea that attacking players and defending players each get to roll a secret die, and then choose whether they’d like to apply it as a bonus/penalty to the “to hit” roll, or if they’d like to apply it as a bonus/penalty to the “damage” roll. That makes good sense to me as part of brawling combat. When somebody is kicking you in the balls, you can either bring your leg up to block it, or you can cup your hands over your balls and hope for the best.

Though, may I just say, this is more complicated as the grappling system in D&D 3rd edition. That system got a lot of grief, and rightfully so, for being obtuse and difficult to remember. But There are nearly two full pages about grappling here. None of this looks any easier or more enlightened than the mess which was 3rd edition grappling.

Thank goodness for Pathfinder’s combat maneuvers!

Combat Tables: Tables, tables, tables, tables, tables, tables, tables. On and on, from page seventy four through page seventy nine, filled with matrices to determine how difficult something is to hit.

I don’t like excessive matrices. They just strike me as poor design.

This is the sixth installment of my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “Combat” on page 61, and continues through “Special Types of Attacks” on page 70

Encounters, Combat, and Initiative: Here is the first place where Gygax brings up the fact that AD&D uses a 1 minute round. This has been discussed in the comments section of previous Page by Page posts, but I think it deserves a proper mention here. To his credit, Gygax writes a lengthy explanation and defense of the one minute round. He makes a few very compelling points about the importance of abstraction, and how more granular combat is inappropriate in a game which does not focus on combat. As a sabre fencer myself, I can appreciate the fact that it would be impossible to really represent swordplay in the tabletop RPG format. None the less, I view the 6 second round as a major improvement. I simply think the game becomes more engaging when the players have more granular control on what happens in combat. I wouldn’t really argue that one method is inherently better than the other, it’s a stylistic preference.

Gygax also explains exactly what hit points are meant to represent in this section. If I’d had this quote on hand in the past, I would have been able to settle a lot of silly arguments:

“Damage scored to characters or certain monsters is actually not substantially physical–a mere nick or scratch until the last handful of hit points are considered–it is a matter of wearing away the endurance, the luck, the magical protections.”

Initiative: I like the fact that Initiative is only rolled if there is no element of surprise to consider. I do not like the idea that initiative is recalculated each round. There seems to be an excessive amount of computation involved in determining the order of combat. This excess becomes even more prevalent later in this reading.

Morale: I thought I had mentioned this before, but apparently I have not: morale is a good idea. I don’t understand why developers decided to cut the morale mechanic out of the game. These days, most enemies simply fight to the death, which is not only silly, but harmful. If the monsters never run away, then players will never realize that running away is an entirely valid strategy for survival.

Encounter Reactions: I’ve never liked rolling for reactions, but that may be because I’ve never liked entirely random environments. Which isn’t to say I don’t have a healthy respect for the role of random generation in RPGs. It is not only useful, but essential. However, I prefer a kind of directed randomness. When I roll for a random monster, I’m rolling on a list of monsters for which I have already created worldviews, and reasons for being in the area. My players have repeatedly told us they appreciate this, because it means that random encounters are not meaningless encounters. Every random encounter tells them more about the world around them, and could potentially lead to adventure.

Missile Discharge: I had never considered before that a missile (such as an arrow) might be destroyed by a spell (such as a fireball). The concept is fascinating, and I’m curious to give it a try. I’m also somewhat wary of it, however. The player firing an arrow into a group of enemies is already having less of an impact than the guy casting a fireball into that same group. It seems mean to make the two mutually exclusive.

Also in this section, I gained a new appreciation for the modern rules of firing into a melee. These rules are ridiculously convoluted.

Missile Fire Cover and Concealment Adjustments: In an amusing turnaround, I think the cover and concealment mechanics are actually more simple than they are in modern games. A flat boost to AC rather than an extra d% roll to determine miss chance.

Grenade-Like Missiles: I find it a little terrifying that Gygax thought such complex rules were necessary. I’ve always handled grenade-like missiles using a very simple system. They have a range increment of 10ft and use a ranged touch attack. Standard damage is dealt to anyone hit by them, and splash damage is dealt to anyone in an adjacent space. If you miss, roll 1d6 (for hexes) or 1d8 (for squares) to determine which direction the object landed in, and roll 1d4 to determine the total number of spaces away from the intended target it landed.

Spell Casting During Melee: I love this idea. I’ve written in the past (twice, actually) about ways to nerf the wizard without losing any of its flavor, and the rules presented here seem like a great method for partially accomplishing that goal. An AD&D a spellcaster cannot crouch or lie prone while casting any spell that includes somatic components, and loses their dexterity bonus to their AC while casting such a spell. If they are attacked or jostled while casting a spell, that spell fails and is expended for the day. No concentration check, no nothing. There’s nothing wrong with wizards wielding powers vastly beyond the abilities of a fighter or rogue, so long as the fighter and rogue are still needed to keep the caster alive while they cast.

It’s also sounds like most AD&D spells have much longer casting times than Pathfinder spells do. Not only would implementing that as a house rule improve game balance, but it would lend spells a sense of gravitas.

Turning Undead: There are some really interesting concepts here. First, I love the idea that a cleric can only continue to turn undead until he fails once. You might say that if a cleric fails to turn undead, it’s because his faith faltered for a moment. And upon seeing the undead continue undaunted by his god’s power, the cleric’s faith in that power is broken until they have a chance to rest and pray. I also like that more powerful undead ‘shield’ less powerful undead from being turned. If a cleric encounters a vampire and five zombies, they must turn the vampire in order to attempt turning the zombies.

Counter-Affecting: I very much would like to see a good and an evil cleric fighting for control of a group of undead. That sounds awesome.

Closing to Striking Range: Perhaps I’m failing to understand something. I haven’t read the AD&D player’s handbook, so I lack a basis which many of these sections assume I have. However, it sounds like you cannot close to striking range, and strike, in the same turn. Why ever not? That just seems silly.

Weapon Speed Factor/Other Weapon Factor Determinants: The more I read about the AD&D combat round, the more it seems like a jumbled mess to me. Again, perhaps this is because I lack information found in the PHB. But figuring out who gets what actions in each round, and then determining which actions occur simultaneously with other actions, is enough to make my eyes glaze over. That doesn’t happen very often! I love reading about mechanics. But halfway through Gygax’s example about a fighter using a sword and a magic user casting a fireball, I realized I simply did not care.

At this point my view is that AD&D combat is filled with interesting ideas which could be useful in a modern game, but that modern combat is still an overall improvement. That may change once I have an opportunity to actually see these rules in action.

Pursuit and Evasion of Pursuit: This is a good, simple breakdown of pursuit rules. I wouldn’t call it great, but it actually answers a lot of questions I’ve had (and heard) about how to run a chase scene well. I’m convinced it can be done better, but I don’t have any real ideas on how that could be accomplished.

I do really like how the GM is not supposed to provide fleeing characters with enough information to create a map. So the cost of running away from a monster is being lost in a dungeon.

Number of Opponents Per Figure: I find it highly amusing that AD&D is noted for functioning without a battlemat, but still needs to utilize squares and hexes to determine how many monsters can attack a single character at a given time.

This is the fifth installment of my continuing series on the 1979 Dungeon Master’s Guide, written by Gary Gygax. This post begins with the section “Travel in the Known Planes of Existence” on page 57, and continues through “Listening At Doors” on page 60.

Travel In The Known Planes of Existence As I’ve mentioned in the recent past, I’ve always been fascinated by planar adventures. There’s something about the idea of traveling not only to other worlds, but to places where even basic physical realities are different. It gets my adventurous spirit going. But no matter how fundamentally different they are, I always picture the various planes of existence as still fitting within the game’s setting. And while Gygax makes allowances for that as well, much of this section is about using planar travel as an excuse to visit completely different game systems. As in sending D&D characters to his “Boot Hill” wild west game. I was aware that he, as a GM, did that sort of thing. But I find it a little odd to see it right here in the DMG. I honestly can’t imagine doing things that way. If my players and I wanted to play a different game, I think we’d just put our D&D characters aside and play a different game.

I once read a post from Trollsmyth which might explain that, though I can’t find it for the life of me. It was about a cultural shift in the tabletop gaming community. According to him, in the old days players tended to stick with a single game for the long term, while now-a-days players often switch between campaigns and game systems at a rapid pace. That might explain why Gary thought it was important for GMs to know they could send their players to other game systems, whereas I (as a whippersnapper) view the concept as silly.

Outdoor Movement I am both surprised and disappointed that nothing here is really news to me. I guess it might be because I’ve already devoted a lot of time to reading, thinking, and even writing about this subject. I’m still not satisfied with how it works in my games, though, so I was hoping this would be one of those passages filled with Gygaxian genius. Oh well.

Infravision & Ultravision It’s pretty cool to have a detailed explanation of how Infravision works, though it seems like basic 60′ Infravision wouldn’t be all that useful. I mean, it’s a nice trick to have up your sleeve, but it wouldn’t let you function normally in the dark the way I would normally imagine. You’d be tripping over things on the floor constantly. 90′ Infravision is much closer to what one would normally think of, and I like that it is used to explain creatures with glowing red eyes. (The eyes are emitting infared radiation, and seeing via the radiation’s reflection).

Ultravision’s explanation is a little less detailed and clear. I wonder if the Player’s Handbook gives more detail on when this would be useful.

Invisibility This section, I think, stands well in contrast to many modern discussions about game-changing spells. Spells such as Fly and Invisibility which produce a lot of argument because they allow players to completely bypass obstacles. My position on these problems has always been that a GM should understand the spell’s limitations, and design better obstacles. Some others prefer to see these spells reduced in power, or removed from the game.

Gygax’s solution is to write six paragraphs and a table into the DMG which outline all the ways in which invisibility can fail in its intended purpose. Maybe the monster can smell you, or hear you, or maybe two players will run into one another while attempting to maneuver invisibly. It’s really quite clever.

Mirrors …What?

“It is important for DMs to remember that in order to be reflective, a mirror must have a light source.” -Gygax, DMG, Page 60. Apropos of nothing.

Why does this section exist? That’s all it says. Right between “Invisibility” and “Detection of Evil And/Or Good,” Gygax decided to include a little section about how mirrors work. I suppose I can see how this would be useful to remember, but it seems really random.

Detection of Evil And/Or Good I love how many of the sections in this book are obviously written from Gygax personal experience with players who try to take advantage of the rules. This is an example of that, where he points out that “Detect Evil” can’t be use to find traps or poisons. I don’t think there’s any point in my GMing career when I would have allowed a player to do that, but obviously some players have tried.

Listening at Doors I’m kind of surprised to learn that Gary Gygax included a listen check in his game. The way the entire OSR community hates perception checks, it’s kinda surprising to see the equivalent of one in this, the holy grail of the OSR. Now I realize nobody views Gary Gygax as infallible; he just got a lot of things right. I just never expected to see something like a listen check in this book.

And to be fair, he only includes it for when active listening attempts are made, which makes good sense I think. Thought his percentages are preposterously low. If there’s a dozen orcs in the next room, and an elf presses his ear to a wooden door, then I’d say there’s a 100% chance that elf is going to hear something. Gygax gives the elf a measly 15% chance.

Hearing Noise This is absolutely brilliant, so I’m going to include it in its entirety:

“When a die roll indicates a noise has been heard, tell the player whose character was listening that he or she heard a clink, footstep, murmuring voices, slithering, laughter, or whatever is appropriate. (Of course, some of these noises will be magical, e.g., audible glamer spells, not anything which will be encountered at all!) Be imprecise and give only vague hints; never say, “You hear ogres,” but “You hear rumbling, voice-like sounds.” Failure to hear any noise can be due to the fact that nothing which will make noise is beyond the portal, or it might be due to a bad (for the listener) die roll. Always roll the die, even if you know nothing can be heard. Always appear disintersted regardless of the situation.” -Gygax, DMG, Pg 60

Remember a week ago when I posted a long whiny list of things I want in a tabletop RPG? The above passage is exactly what I meant when I wrote:

“I want a game which explains not just the rules of the system, but the spirit which those rules support. One which explains why rules exist, and how certain mechanics improve play. I want a game which helps Game Masters make the leap from learning rules, to running a campaign.”

Why is this kind of thing so hard for modern RPGs to do?

Favorite Quotes from this Section

“”Now I’ll sneak up on the monster invisibly!” How often has this cry rung forth from eager players in your campaign? How often have you cursed because of it? Never fear, there are many answers to the problem of invisibility…” -Gygax, DMG, Pg 59