We are in the second book, Monsters & Treasure.
Special Ability functions are generally as indicated in CHAINMAIL where not contradictory to the information stated hereinafter, and it is generally true that any monster or man can see in total darkness as far as the dungeons are concerned except player characters.
I do mind when a book refers to another book, especially when that other book is not officially part of the set I've just bought, as Chainmail the booklet wasn't. Still, we live in a world where Chainmail is readily available now, so I don't need to go farther with that.
"Where not contradictory to the" would make more sense if written, "where consistent with"... while "hereinafter" would be clearer as "in what follows." Then we could read the sentence as, "...as indicated in Chainmail where consistent with what follows below."
Or even easier if the entirety of everything before the comma isn't said at all, since it doesn't actually say anything. But we're not supposed to notice. The part before the comma in fact connects not at all with the point about total darkness, except that apparently everything has this phenomenal ability except the players. This handwaves the DM problem when a player asks, "How come the monsters can see us in the dark?"
Accepting this is true, why the sleight of hand with the flourish of language like a magician blowing cards in your face before forcing on you a card that isn't chosen. We're not talking about "special ability functions," we're taking about ONE special ability and we couldn't even just make the point.
Why did they feel there'd be pushback at the simple rule,
"Monsters can see in total darkness; player characters cannot."?
Attack/defense capabilities versus normal men are simply a matter of allowing one roll as a man-type for every hit die, with any bonuses being given to only one of the attacks, i.e. a Troll would attack six times, once with a +3 added to the die roll. (Combat is detailed in Vol. III.)
On page 19 we're told that "normal men" attack at 1st-level fighters. On page 26 there's that oddly phrase "...missiles projected by normal (not above normal) men..." and page 5 and 6 make two other references to "normal men," in addition to the paragraph quoted above. But while I can guess, as most of us can, that "normal" men are non-levelled characters that fight like 1st level fighters but are NOT 1st level fighters. "Zero-level" as a term does not occur in the White Box. "Non-player" occurs on page 12 of Men & Magic, but the reader should remember that this mostly refers to hirelings and does not equate this condition to "normal" men. Later references to "non-players" relate to their loyalty and their morale, while page 27 of Monsters & Treasure discusses the limitations of non-player characters in taking up a magic sword. A non-fighter can be hired for 1 g.p. on page 23 of The Underworld & Wilderness Adventures, but exactly what is hired is not clarified.
The only reference I could find of a non-player having a level is on page 27 of the third volume, with respect to "Riders" on flying creatures. Without this one reference, I would have every reason to think that all non-players must necessarily also be "normal", keeping in mind that I don't know how many hit points that so-called "normal" fighters have.
Now, like I just noted, we know what's meant here, but try to put yourself in the headspace of someone who has only these books for reference. And try to assume that you're going to run the White Box as a choice because "other D&D versions of the game are all wrong." You're still stuck relying on those other versions of the game, because this version doesn't provide you what you need to know even about the people you're supposed to hire and fight. It's just not included in these rules. Imagine how frustrating that must have been at the time.
Your only choice would have been to physically write a letter to TSR, which must have received who knows how many such letters, asking the same questions over and over. "What does this mean? What is this thing that I can't find in the rules?" Imagine how humiliating that must have been, or should have been, for the original designers.
For example, though I searched "hit point", "hit points" and "hit dice", I could not find any direct reference that said, clearly, "a normal man rolls 1 die for hit points." I assume it, but I can't find it. For the table I quoted in the last post, the number of hit dice for men is stated merely as "all variable" along with move in inches and armour class. Yet for dwarves and elves we have 1 and 1+1 hit dice automatically. Why are there no "normal dwarves" or "normal elves"? Is this ever explained?
All this goes to show that a lot of early thinking about the game was more about filling in the gaps created by incompetent and inconsistent design, rather than any real logic. Why precisely make a distinction between just one humanoid race, men, as having a "normal" type vs. a "player" type, when we do not make that distinction for any other race? Because men are "different?" That's merely an assumption. The rules don't state that we are, or give a reason for it, or in anyway provide a rationale for human exceptionalism.
Arguably, the distinction between "normal men" and "player men" arises because humans were conceived in two separate design contexts — Chainmail’s mass-combat units on one hand, and individual characters on the other — and instead of reconciling those contexts, the authors jammed them into the same rule set and expected us to harmonise them. Elves and dwarves never got a "normal" category because Chainmail only imagined them as discrete, combat-encounter entities; they didn't imagine the lived-in world where demi-humans exist in unexceptional roles. But then they got slapped into the role-playing version without consideration for what that might mean with respect to those rules the authors cut and pasted from Chainmail unchained. And honest, this amateurishness is everywhere.
Look at this next on page 5:
MONSTER DESCRIPTIONS:
MEN: There are several categories of men:
BANDITS: Although Bandits are normal men, they will have leaders who are supernormal fighters, magical types or clerical types. For every 30 bandits there will be one 4th-level Fighting-Man; for every 50 bandits there will be in addition one 5th- or óth-level fighter (die 1-3 = 5th level, die 4-6 = 6th level); for every 100 bandits there will be in addition one 8th- or 9th-level fighter (die 1-3 = 8th, die 4-6 = 9th). If there are over 200 bandits there will be 50% chance for a Magic-User (die 1-4 = 10th level, die 5-6 = 11th level) and a 25% chance for a Cleric of the 8th level. If there are exactly 300 bandits there will absolutely be a Magic-User, and the chance for a Cleric goes up to 50%. There is also a chance that there will be magical accouterments with the super-normal types:
*if edged weapon indicated by roll go to Wand/Staff table and roll again, but if result not usable by Cleric there is no item in this category.
This doesn't use "above normal", as the aforementioned page 26 of Men & Magic, but rather, "supernormal," thus introducing a third state of being... though of course we just mean "levelled," a word that also does not appear anywhere in the White Box (I searched the American "leveled," just to be clear). We are told exactly nothing about them as a group, with regards to their motivations or reason for being, so we may assume they exist as cardboard cutouts for killing.
But here's what bothers me, and it was carried forward right into the AD&D Monster Manual in 1977, so I assume Gygax and crew didn't care. "Bandit" is not a creature type. It's not even a "type of men." It's a behaviour, a habit, and rationally, elves, dwarves, gnomes, orcs, goblins and even trolls can be "bandits." Arguably, any creature not of "good" alignment could be, since bandits on page 6 (see below) are defined as either "neutral" or "chaotic." There's no logical reason that a vampire couldn't be a "bandit." So why exactly is there a setting rule that identifies only humans are willing to rob other creatures of their wealth? Are we the only ones who care? Or who know how?
If there are 29 bandits, are there no levels here? Is a 1st, 2nd or 3rd level allowed to join the bandits, or are they sent packing when they apply? "No, we'll allow 'normal humans' but you 1st levels, you're not good enough!" And what happens, if an extra 4th level shows up but there are only 46 of us? Is that not permitted? If I pile enough bandits together, does an 8th or 9th level just automatically show up? Or is it that if an 8th level becomes a bandit, poof, bandits start arriving from every direction until there are a hundred of them? Which is it, because now that my fighter is 8th level and I've decided to be a bandit, I want my owed hundred. If 40 get slaughtered in a fight, to the requisite number appear from the nearest village to make up the difference?
Plus, if there's 199 bandits, there's zero-chance one of them will be a mage, right? Well hell, let's get another bandit in here. And why only mages of 10th or 11th level? Does the guild not permit 9th level mages to hang around bandits? These are important questions I feel need answers.
Let's leave off the magic treasure for the levels... I've no problem with it, except that in any session I've ever run, a 9th level character is definitely going to have 1-3 magic weapons, magic armour, at least two potions of some kind, almost certainly 1-2 miscellaneous items and whatnot, because if you run long enough to gain the treasure needed to pile together hundreds of thousands of experience, this accumulation is guaranteed, not just because you get your share of that treasure, but because members of the party die and their stuff falls to you. But this isn't about the White Box, so I'll pinch off this point, except to add that when TSR starts to release modules, they completely ignore this distribution concept.
Example of Bandits: Assume 183 bandits are encountered. There will be the following super-normal types with them:
six Fighting-Men of 4th levelthree Fighting-Men of 5th or 6th levelone Fighting-Man of the 8th or 9th level (the leader)
Using percentile dice a score of 20% or less would indicate that the 4th-level fighters had magical Armor, Shield, and/or Sword (check for each fighter by category); a roll of 25% or 30% (or less) would indicate the same for the 5th- or 6th-level fighters; and a score of 40% or 50% (or less) would indicate the same for the 8th- or 9th-level fighter.
Look how much book space is provided to simply repeat the rule already as written, expecting that after all the things not explained in this set of books, we're more than ready to explain this at length, just to make sure the reader understands. This suggests someone was really, really proud of this model, that they felt it really explained everything that a combat-designing DM would need in throwing bandits at the party.
Except that if my party is a high enough level to take on these bandits, they're not really a challenge. Back when I first started playing D&D, when I was a new DM and of course not very bright and playing the rules as written (as most not very-bright DMs do), this was one that I remember employing to the letter with a party. Along with the rule at the top of page 5, where a levelled person (though, since we were playing AD&D, this applied only to fighters) got one attack per level against "normal" combatants, or as we called them, zero-levels. At that time, I also played without a combat map, so I'd just say how many attackers were in front of the characters as they formed a ring around the spellcasters. Basically, at most I would write x's and o's like a football coach to show where everyone was.
When it was the players turn to attack, they just slaughtered the zero-levels like cutting wheat. 3 fighter-types of 6th level, plus a cleric and a mage would attack 20 times a round, with strength, magic weapons and THAC0 (obviously not called that then) assuring that at least three quarters of the 20 lined up targets were slaughtered. After five rounds of that, you make jokes about the ring of bodies lying like a wall between the party and the enemy, describing the enemy climbing to the top of the wall and leaping at the party, only to be slaughtered in their turn. Then the mage and the party's magic wastes the 10 levelled characters with ready scrolls and potions, and win at a flippin' walk. 'Til we're all sitting around, like the fourth time we've done this slaughter fest, pointing out, "This really is pretty dumb; it's nothing like what would really happen. They'd just dog-pile us and we'd all die."
The game is designed to presuppose that hundreds of combatants are merely ready to obediently present their necks for sequential execution, round after round, the encounter has stopped being anything but a ritualized numbers exercise. A handful of fighters getting twenty attacks per round is an absurdity, benefitting the party but NOT the bandits; they're still stuck fighting us one at a time... and without the magic support of an ordinary party of adventurers, one 9th level is NOT impressive. In reality, a party that size, regardless of their fighting ability, would smash a formation of five combatants in seconds. They'd feather us full of arrows and bolts before even coming close. And they'd tell us to put down our weapons or die, and we would, because there's no way to combat that number without the sort of magic that comes at 5th or 6th level. Even with a fireball, in a world that knows a fireball exists, the enemy isn't going to clump together so you can get 20 of them at a blow. They're just not.
But the designers didn't care about reality, or depicting it... only rationalising their rule set as they built it. And absent a better ruleset, the hoi polloi simply accepted things as written, as we did as teenagers, even though we knew while doing it how ridiculous it all was. And of course there were those of us who didn't want to change those rules, because they liked slaughtering a hundred bandits. It felt like Conan to those people... and it still feels like Conan to people now. But if you read Conan, you'll find that he only fights a hundred when he's moving, when the enemy doesn't know where he is, when it's dark, or he's in a jungle, and there are so many bodies around they can't reach him. And Conan isn't being markes on a page with x's and o's, he's dancing through words, not a game battle system. Howard uses pacing, metaphor, rhythm, and imagery to make the impossible feel plausible. A battle scene in fiction is constructed through narrative technique, not tactical mathematics.
After a few times of doing it as a DM, it wasn't fun; not because I felt anything for the bandits, but because it became silly bookkeeping, keeping track of the dead as they fell. And the players, when they got their fill, just rolled their eyes at it. So there wasn't any point. Which is what makes "bandits" a lousy encounter. It's ridiculously overpowered when the players are below a certain line, and ridiculously boring once the players cross that line. There's no real mid-point, or not one wide enough to be useful. So you just don't bother throwing bandits against the players, EVER... unless you rethink what bandits are, or why they'd approach the party. And then the number and how many levels they have doesn't matter.
They have to become people, first, not notes on a ledger. Once they're desperate, opportunistic, frightened, cautioned, disorganised, negotiating or interested in ransom, not killing, its a different kind of play. But in the White Box set, we're still setting up for a Chainmail wargame. And it's boring.
There's more on bandits, on page 6, but I'll leave off for now.
