From a Commoner to a Soldier

Monday and my shoulder's back at the wheel ... but over the weekend I worked to provide continuity to a series of posts that have only now been sorted out on the Authentic wiki.

Starting with the "commoner," this is my take on the ordinary worker in society, whose training and knowledge is minimal and mostly confined to one set of tasks: farmers, herders, sailors, the like.  My rules regarding hit points per die explains the origin of the commoner's hit points, which are essentially the same for any animal or humanoid of the same approximate weight.  As the commoner has no training whatsoever in the art of fighting, a 150 lb. farmer with 1 hit die has the same number of hit points as a 150 lb. goat, also with 1 hit die.  I find this appropos.

Because a commoner ought to be able to learn how to fight, I built a set of rules as a "sage ability" called "harden commoner."  This explains the simple procedure for how a player character (or anyone with the ability) can turn a simple commoner into a semi-effective asset in a fight, should that be the plan.  Here I'm thinking of the scene in 1960's The Magnificent Seven, in which experienced gunfighters educate the local peasants on shooting and setting traps, in order to help defend their own village.  But it's important to understand this brief training wouldn't make these peasants "soldiers" ... but it also means they cease to be untrained commoners, also.

I made up a word for such persons, calling them "comrades" ... and updated this description also to reflect the rules under harden commoner.  Those rules, the reader should notice, are quite gritty.  There's room for six measures of "comrade," depending on how much training they've received.  For example, if the players have only one week to train a group of peasants, then it's possible for some of them to learn how to hold and use a shield in combat.  With another week, those who failed the first time to use a shield may yet learn, while others could have their constitution increased 1 point, reduce their non-proficiency penalty with real weapons, and properly wear a helmet in combat.  Recruits in training do sometimes trip and fall because they have trouble with these.

Before I defend the increase in constitution (which I know I have to), I want to express first how realistic I find the procedure described.  It's time sensitive.  The changeover from commoner to comrade isn't instantaneous, nor is it black and white.  Each stage makes an individual a little less a commoner and a little more a comrade, until the process is complete.  As I say, gritty.  But also the sort of thing that lends real interest for the player's immersion in the combat.  If Tomas, say, can actually use a machete (hereditary weapon) and a shield in the fight, while none of his fellows succeeded in getting that far, it gives reason for the players to recognise that Tomas is not Sotero, and not Miguel.  They're people ... and that encourages the players to INVEST in them, even if they're non-player characters.  These elements really matter in keying the players into the game world's romanticism.

Okay, about constitution.  With respect to AD&D, and early D&D rules, the player characters ability stats were sacrosanct.  Nothing short of a wish or like powerful magic could change them, and even at that such power was not absolute.  Gygax understood, as did others, that if the players could simply all change their ability stats to 18, much of the game's verisimilitude would be lost ... and the whole point of rolling up a character made redundant.  Fixed ability stats forced players to adhere to this in game play, if nothing else, and the player's liking or not liking of it be damned.  Under extreme circumstances, stats could be lowered or raised; or they could be affected by the character's age; but most of the time, what the die said when we rolled our character, that's what we lived with.

But ... I argue that before an ordinary NPC becomes a levelled NPC, something must have taken place.  It stands to reason that if we start with an individual who is not in fit condition, is not used to physical hardship, and we train that person, something must happen to their ability stats.  We are not born with wisdom, we learn it.  I'd argue the same with intelligence, but we don't need to get into that mire now.  The stats that a levelled player character upon their entry into the campaign is supposed to be those people at the height of their physical and mental potential, following their training.  A commoner certainly isn't that.  So, yes, with two weeks hard work, I believe that they could get trim enough to increase their unhealthy constitution to a healthier one.

During my vacation, though I ate well, I lost 8 lbs. in 19 days.  By the 5th day, I could feel that a change was taking place.  By the middle of the second week, my body had unquestionably hardened, and my endurance for the effort each day had increased.  I wasn't getting tireder, I was getting stronger.  And I'm pleased to find that I'm at 238 right now.  I'd rather be at 225, but this is a really good mass for me just now.  Tamara is certainly enjoying it.

Okay, so ... we have our comrade.  With time and further training, we may assume he has all the characteristics associated with a comrade.  But suppose we want to go farther?  What's the next stage up?  Well, from peasant-turned-combatant, the next stage is combatant-turned-soldier.  So I reworked the page on how to train a comrade to be a soldier.

I perceived this to be more intense, and more long-lasting.  In modern warfare, we train an ordinary person (usually one who's experience team sports, physical exercise and a better diet than our medieval counterpart) into a soldier in 6 weeks.  This involves a great deal of scientific expertise in the effort, hundreds of years of practice, the use of guns and not swords, and worldly persons who can comprehend difficult esoteric matters of conflict.  A medieval or renaissance recruit lacks much of this "prep" and therefore, I'm stretching the time to four months.  I have no evidence to tell me whether this is too much or too little, because none exists.  Which means, conveniently, that anyone with a different opinion is no more right, nor less right, than I am.

Training a soldier is also presented as a gritty procedure.  Once again, soldiers with one month of training still have more skills that a comrade (or a chance for them), while yet not being a full soldier.  This means there is a quantifiable measure for how useful it is to empty a local school of its half-trained recruits, should that be necessary.

Finally, a page for "soldier-at-arms" had to be written to reflect the training.  This did exist on the old wiki, but it's better fleshed out now.  When a player hires a soldier, they understand what they're getting; they understand where that soldier came from, and what he or she had to do to become a soldier.  All this grit gives the player a much better sense of what they can order a soldier to do, and more to the point, what soldiers won't do because they're not dungeon-fodder for the players.  They've seen things; taken part in actual wars; had comrades and friends die.  They may not be levelled, but that doesn't mean they're not going to speak up when the players make a plan, or wait to be expended.  Players aren't "officers."  If they turn on a soldier, and kill one for not obeying orders, that's murder, not justice.  And everyone present will see it that way.  Players need to learn that when they hire someone for their ability, they must also respect that ability.  Or risk consequences for their actions they never intended.

Anyway ...

The next step, and I don't cherish it, is to finally settle in and describe the process by which a soldier, or any person, is transformed from being an ordinary person without skills into a levelled person who has them, and can cast spells and perform other unimaginable feats besides.  It's going to be a long, long effort.

And I'm not starting today.

Follow Her? I Don't even Know Her.

Running an NPC is a DM's best means of fucking with a party's head, pushing a party this way or that, and indoctrinating players to believe what we want them to think.  An NPC by definition knows everything the DM knows, so unless the DM wishes it, there need be no restraint on the NPC's ability to fortell the future, solve problems, know what other NPCs know and say it all to the players in a careful, dissembling tone that suggests the NPC is as innocent as a little girl fetching a unicorn.  In fact, the most evil NPC may look just like that.

If the players are wary of this, and most of the time they are, we can count on having anything the NPC says be completely ignored or deliberately tested.  Players will do this so openly and candidly that we don't have to guess that they don't trust our NPC.  There are two ways to play this.  The first is to have the NPC tell the party everything, so that when -- ironically -- the NPC proves to be 100% accurate, the DM can smugly say, "The NPC told you so."

The other is to gently poke and prod and wind the players up by having the NPC tell the party to do everything we don't want them to do.  Done in small bits, the party will never guess that it's a case of almost pathetically juvenile reverse-psychology, so ham-handed at times that although any of our players would roll their eyes if they saw it on television, they'll walk right into the trap we set.  Honestly, some times I wonder just where it is that players come from.  Aren't these the trust lessons we learned in junior high school, when we were all still dumb enough to trust our parents?

In any case, because NPCs can be dangerous weapons in the hands of the wrong DMs, there need to be rules that master them.

The standard tactic (5th edition included) is to create a set of tables that tell you the NPC's personality, usually revolving around the NPC's alignment.  Of course, a character with a good alignment can be every bit as manipulative, insistent and threatening as a bad character (since the first thing a "good" character is always ready to do is judge everyone else's "goodness"), but this is never discussed.  The subject material almost always discusses a willingness of the NPC to help the players ... which is exactly the argument I started this post with.  NPCs help players do what what they're supposed to.

5th edition hardly addresses the player's responsibility or respect for the NPC at all.  Certainly, we don't expect the players to respect them.  And yet, as a DM for 40+ years, if there is one thing I can count on, it's players getting attached to NPCs that they like.  If an NPC is good to them, backs them up, acts bravely, makes sacrifices ... then I've always found that players were ready to make sacrifices for them.

In my mind, I began to separate the difference between a "retainer" -- an NPC who appears because a player has reached Name Level -- and a "follower," being someone who wants to join the party because they like the party.  Of course, this depends on the party being likeable.  I challenge anyone to find any word in the 5e DMG that suggests the party be "likeable" with NPCs.  I couldn't find it.

I wrote these rules on followers today, this being the first time I put these rules into words.  The rest of the page can be read here.

Villains Eat Breakfast

When I think of a "villain" to insert into a game, I do not think of someone villainous.  That is to say, I don't create a melodramatic, pantomime Disneyfied stock character with a single motivation.  Monsters suit that stereotype, because the monsters themselves are built in such a way that nuance is not part of their design.  A lich is somewhat focused.  Beholders, too, are rarely Renaissance-like in their outlook.  But intelligent, humanoid villains, the sort who had a mother (at least long enough to birth them), should not be wooden of personality.  Especially because they don't have to be.

It is supposed that to make a really good villain, or a really evil one if you prefer, it is necessary to fill them up with the worst possible qualities.  Villains are ruthless, cold, sadistic, narcissistic and whatever else we can cram into this empty-souled shell.  But I don't think of villains this way.  Villains eat breakfast, and like their eggs done in a particular way.  Villains can enjoy a good joke.  Villains get tired, and feel the need to sleep comfortably, in a comfortable bed.  It's all very tropey to have villains eat the worst-tasting gruel imaginable, never laugh and prefer sleeping on a wooden plank at night, preferably made of gnarled wood, but really.  A villain is not a monster.

Villains are people who do not think they are villains.  They're quite capable of seeing their choices as reasonable, even beneficial to others.  They've witnessed how the world works and they have a clear insight as to how to make that world better.  Obviously, the villain should be in charge.  Look who is in charge now, and how badly all this is going.

Villains can be generous.  They can make friends.  They can show loyalty to their followers.  They can make a deal and keep it ~ even if it does mean, sometimes, that it is unfortunately necessary to execute a deal-breaker.  I'm saying that, for the most part, a villain can play just like an ordinary person, who happens to believe they're right and everyone else is wrong.

This works so much better in game, because it is so much harder to kill an apparently generous, charismatic, evenly-tempermented person.  It is easy to kill a psychopath who is screaming maniacally.  But if you're not sure the person even is a villain; and you're not sure he or she isn't redeemable, then the response isn't quite so clear.  If the party blunders into a lair, only to discover it's very little like the lair they discovered, because first they must walk past soup kitchens for the poor, a temple where a priest of the character's religion takes a moment to greet them, only to find that the villain is in the process of having the docks of a nearby seaside town rebuilt after a terrible storm, it is a little harder to pull out swords and scream, "Die! Die! Die!"  Even if the players have seen evidence of some unbelievably awful thing going on just five miles away.  The connection, you see, isn't as certain.

Which should give the villain just long enough to release the killer land sharks.

Food for Powder, Food for Worms

The abusive behaviour of most players towards hirelings is well known in the community, with most DMs noting ruefully that while player characters may survive a dungeon, NPC men-at-arms and hirelings usually don't.  This is part due to the weakness of non-levelled characters lacking in hit points, but it's also because players tend to consider hirelings and followers as material to be spent rather than a resource to be preserved.

There are a number of reasons for this, beginning with the poor fighting quality and usefulness of men-at-arms, who are barely able to fight one-on-one with a lowly orc, what with penalties to hit and low hit points.  Both DMs and players running men-at-arms also set them up to die, having them rush directly into combat, traps, ambushes and what not, so that they are more like budgies in a coal mine than combatants.  Practically no effort is made to give a man-at-arms as much personality as the local grocer has, so that these persons are easily expendable in that they are faceless, replaceable fodder.  As such, many players don't see the point ~ men-at-arms are going to provide much benefit and they're just a pain to maintain or keep track of.

These issues evaporate in a grittier system, as players begin to understand that hirelings are highly needed in support roles, to carry gear, to hold the light sources, to drag the wounded out of combat and to serve as a last-ditch reserve when the combat goes sour.  Rather than sending in the fodder first, the support team of men-at-arms holds the rear while the main body takes the front blow.  To make this work, however, there have to be things for a man-at-arms to do.  If there are no encumberance rules, no wounds to bind, no attention paid to light sources in game and no chance of the party ever losing a combat, then they're right ~ a man-at-arms is useless.

Therefore, it's not surprising that the "reward" of retainers at a given level is often looked at by players as a hindrance rather than a boon.  They may be useful at some point, but probably not on the next adventure, where probably half of those or more that we brought along would be dead.  Better to record their number and leave them safe at home, where they can push around our peasants and make sure the taxes are paid.  And this is what my players have almost always done once my characters obtained retainers, for years and years.

My perspective is different now.  It wouldn't be enough any more to simply reach name level and expect 160 retainers to "show up."  A character would have to be a resident, would have to prove themselves deserving of local recognition, would have to receive some sort of recognition from the higher lords as well, for why should they part with some of their lands for the sake of interlopers?  I can see the players ingratiating themselves to a prince or a duke, but that would have to be role-played in a manner that impressed the upper noble.  The players could dive into the deep wilderness, trying to find themselves a piece of tillable land that no one else had thought to clear and plant on, but again, there'd have to be a reason why strangers would show up and seek to serve.  Providing land for them is a start.  If one were in America or the African colonies, a boatload of slaves or deportees might provide the basis of a retinue, if they were freed or otherwise granted status that won them over.  Whatever the method, the "adventure" would include demonstrating that the players deserved the retinue that turned up, by the way they played, by the choices they made as characters and by the arrangements they made with other NPCs, but below and above them.

Moreover, none of that needs to wait until name level, not in my game.  As far as I'm concerned, a 1st level party can strike out for some part borderland, arrange to purchase or "claim" land, build a farm, gain followers, build small scale fortifications, clear the land, wipe out some vermin or worse residents, adventure a little for a stake, build relationships with the local magistrate, then the baron, bey or rajah of the region, perform some services, gain more followers, pick up some henchmen, increase the number of their hirelings, gain permission to posses a heraldic sign through some deed, work their way up through levels and have the whole infrastructure perfectly in place so that, upon hitting 9th level, royalty or what similar force that exists would finally get wind of the situation and send out 150 soldiers or like supporters on cue.

And no, I don't see this as limited to some classes.  Why shouldn't a Bard establish a college, or a druid a gathering of forestals?  Why shouldn't a mage or illusionist establish a thaumaturgical school, with a set number of fresh new students being enrolled, who then become an important alumni?  Why shouldn't a paladin gain a pack of crusaders?  Why these classes, but not all the classes?

Obviously, I don't think that every class should get a raft of soldiers.  The cleric should get less soldiers and more zealots and believers, but probably this was a bit creepy for the 1979 company.  I'm not limited by such prejudices.  I can cheerfully allow an "evil" cleric player character to gain eighty or so deranged, murderous thuggees ready to konk women unconscious and burn them alive in monthly festivals ... because I just don't care.  This was done in reality, once; no reason it shouldn't be done in a player's imagination.

It would really be something to concoct 80 meaningful personalities for these retainers ... and I'm not talking about some silly list where "pious" or "slothful" count as a personality description.  I mean names, habits, persons you'd like to have with you in a given circumstance ... and 80 random collections of six stats that YOU, as player, would have full access to, so that you could choose the one with three 17s and a 16 to join you on your raids, while assigning the fellow with no stat greater than 10 to manage the gong pit.  You'd have full control; these are your retainers.  I think watching you manage them, get to know them, figure out how to delegate them into tasks and expand your personal control over a small fief (made of a number of hides, which could expand into a hundred), sounds like great fun as a DM.  And meanwhile, the ranger is managing a different crew, the paladin another, the mage another and the thief still another.  Crazy, wild, engaging stuff.

It doesn't sound like work.  It sounds like perhaps the best campaign I ever had.

It's nice to have friends.  Try to bring most of these back alive, hm?

Retinue vs. Followers

I'm sure most of my readers will remember that old D&D included the concept of reaching "name level," where the players were supposed to settle down, build castles and such, and gain "retainers."  What some like to call the End Game ... though I don't see how this ends anything having to do with play.  The only thing that seems odd about it is that Gygax and others proposed it ~ since nothing they did or wrote as far as real game material seems to have taken that into account.

Perhaps I'm wrong.  Can anyone recall a module written for 10+ level characters that begins, "An emissary approaches the party while they're hanging out in their castle," or, "After you've assigned persons to look after your lands and fortifications, you set out for the adventure."  Anyone?

I couldn't find the comment where someone lately asked me about retainers.  I thought I'd begin with discussing what retainers are and how they differ from followers, hirelings and henchmen.  I another post, I'll talk about how one gets them.  Please don't expect me to follow the guidelines established in early D&D.

The word relates to "retinue," which is an old French word meaning a group of followers or a state of service.  The concept is that the followers are taken into feudal service, and thus "kept" or "retained" through the granting of lands on condition of services.  It isn't that the character suddenly gets a mess of instant obedient followers ~ it is, rather, a contract.  You provide the land, they provide the service ... not as serfs, but as men-at-arms or as knights.  The number of "hides" that they're given (see the previous post depends on their status and the landholder's generosity.  It's not really clear in wikipedia, but every five hides could be expected to provide a soldier in times of war.  Nothing about feudalism ever worked out that sure, but it's a guideline.

The retinue did not consist of only soldiers, as the old DMG suggests, but also of servants, artisans, professionals, estate officials, treasurers, stewards, lawyers and generally all that was needed by the normal operation of society.  And, as the lord grew in status, so did the retinue; so that a sort of "bastard feudalism" developed, in which middle ranking figures under a king or major noble would compete for money, offices or influence.  This is how the French court of the 17th century grows organically out of the more rural France of the 12th and 13th centuries.  The collective name for these retainers was "affinity," which also happens to be a word that began in c. 1300 as "relation by marriage."  In a sense, the retinue were "kin," or part of the "neighbourhood," words that have developed other meanings over time.  For this post, we'll go on using the word retinue and retainer, but try to keep affinity in mind.

Prestigious items such as the Dunstable Swan Jewel above
were given to highly important persons within the lord's
retinue.  Jewels such as the above are rare.  I find it likely
that many were melted down in times of crisis.

To identify the relationship between the lord and the retinue, often livery badges were bestowed upon the various retainers; these were heraldic badges or devices that granted status and some legal protection for the wearer, while advertising the power of the lord.  The appearance of hundreds of such badges, given out for a variety of reasons, would quickly establish the lord's importance in an area, while at the same time producing opportunities for rivalry with other retainers wearing another lord's badges.  We need only think of Liverpool and Manchester football to gain a clear idea.

Many of the symbols we recognize began this way; the Lancaster or York roses, the Prince of Whales's (er, Wales's) emblem, the boar, the lion, the Maltese cross, etc., all started as this sort of "advertising," or team making, among nobles and other like authoritarians.

Obviously, this would mean that many persons outside the retinue, would always be seeking to be a part of it, if they had no affinity of their own.  This meant that outside the retinue were an amorphous group of general supporters and contacts, most of them completely unknown to the lord, but known to the various members of the retinue.  Thus, even a minor lord could potentially affect hundreds, even thousands of persons, simply by their existence at the heart of his or her retinue.  This made political maneuverings and the raising of an huge army a realistic possibility, as the War of the Roses proved, as Henry the VII was able and again as Cromwell demonstrated.  In D&D, we tend to think that to raise an army, we need to scatter out agents and interview people.  In fact, the more likely truth is that there would be large numbers predisposed to our cause; we would need only to canvas our own connections, gain the support of other nobles and let them canvas their connections, and thus through specific persons already in our employ, we would dredge up the very people we needed from both our lands and from those wanting to be part of our lands.  Thus, every war begins with a promise of land ~ which we will naturally take from the losers, when we win.

All this makes the retainer far, far more valuable than the follower ~ though, it must be said the retainer has less reason to be directly loyal.  Ultimately, the retainer serves the office, not the individual.  A lord is sure to be surrounded by trusted, reliable followers and henchmen, the "inner circle," while sorting out the trusted members of the retinue from those not quite so trusted.  In general, the retinue is expected to fall in line because the lord has the retinue's general welfare at heart; if the lord fights to preserve the lord's lands, he or she also fights to preserve the retinue's lands.  So all join together in the common cause.

The complexity of this is doubtlessly beyond the tenacity of DMs and Players who are only interested in adventuring ... but I find the concept utterly fascinating, myself.  And I positively adore the idea of building a system of land ownership and management of such persons in a way that would empower me to influence the actions of a very large kingdom, such as Sweden or Poland, even if I am not the king and have no interest in deposing the king.

I am far more excited by this sort of thing than I am by disarming another trap.

Preliminary to Instruction/Training Rules

This is food for thought.  A lot of the links here won't work for a few days, but I want to get a response on the base information.  The problem has always been to fold ordinary persons into the levelled class system without having to ignore the powers and hit points of that system.  After a lot of thought, I've been feeling of late that I can put this together at last.

Commoner

Representing the bulk of human inhabitants within a civilized region, often possessing a single sage ability of some type, such as farming, fishing or herding. Many other humanoids will also have commoners among their number, but among demi-humans and more primitive humanoids it is far less common to have persons with so little skill in armed combat.

As non-levelled persons, commoners have only as many hit points as their body mass provides, typically 1d8 for males and 1d6 for females. Commoners will die if damage reduces them below -3 hit points.

As combatants they are very poor. They have a morale ranging between 9 and 12, which they must succeed at before they will find the will to enter a combat. Otherwise they will flee, cower or surrender, depending on the circumstance.

Commoners are only able to fight with tools that they use every day, and suffer a -1 penalty to hit even with those. These usually function as a club causing 1-4 damage. With any other weapon they will suffer a -6 penalty to hit. They usually cannot afford armor and are far too clumsy to fight in it anyway. If over 21 years of age, roll 2d6 + 1d4 to determine their ability stats, if these are needed. Younger commoners may yet have better potential, and 3d6 can be rolled for their stats.

A great many hirelings will be commoners, and may find that because of their association with a player party that they will have to fight for their lives. A commoner can gain experience, but in calculating the shared experience bonus, they count as only ⅛th share.

If a commoner is able to accumulate as much as 200 x.p. (which they may gather through accident, injury or combat), they will become hardened; thereafter they are known as comrades.

Anyone with the minimum necessary ability stats, the financial means, a tutor and sufficient time ~ usually a minimum of 5 years ~ may become a character class. This is rare for an adult, as usually only children, between 10 and 13 years of age, are chosen by sponsors.

A player character that has studied instruction may tutor any commoner, if they so wish.

Comrade

These non-levelled characters are tougher and more worldly than commoners. They have more control over their bodies when under stress and always have a standard morale. Often they will possess a mundane sage ability like a commoner, while having a secondary skill they’ve learned, such as foraging, make art, prospecting, sailing or woodcutting. Most in these professions will be comrades rather than simple commoners.

As non-levelled persons, comrades gain a +1 bonus to their hit points above those that their body mass provides, so that males will typically have 2-9 h.p. while females will have 2-7 h.p. Comrades will die if damage reduces them below -3 hit points.

As combatants they are helpful. They do not need to make a morale check before entering combat. They have a 21 THAC0, and are proficient in either a club or a quarterstaff. They suffer a -5 penalty to hit with any other weapon than the one they know. They are able to fight in a helmet and padded armor, but cannot usefully manage a shield. Roll 3d6 to determine their ability stats, if these are needed.

Hirelings that are artisans or heavy laborers will almost always be comrades. Comrades start with zero x.p. and can gain experience, but in calculating the shared experience bonus, they count as only ⅕th share.

If a comrade accumulates 400 x.p. (through accident, injury or combat), they are considered experienced enough for training to be a footman or other man-at-arms. They cannot further advance as combatants, or in other character classes, without this training.

Anyone with the minimum necessary ability stats, the financial means, a tutor and sufficient time ~ usually a minimum of 5 years ~ may become a character class. This is rare for an adult, as usually only children, between 10 and 13 years of age, are chosen by sponsors.

A player character that has studied instruction may tutor any comrade, if they so wish.