Why Horse Around?

I have to ask myself from time to time: is there a point where the game I'm designing becomes too gritty, too much for the players to manage, too much for me to manage.  At what point should I stop adding rules, knowing that there are just so many rules that a person can keep in their head.

Of late, one of my grittier players expressed a 'concern' about the proposed horse rules.  There was a definite feel of ". . . erm, maybe this is more than what is needed . . ."

I should warn the reader; this is going to be one of those posts where I look at something from a bunch of potentially negative angles and then decide not to change because I don't want to change.  That really is the truth.  There's no point lying about it.

I admit, however, when one of my strongest players shows hesitation, that's a sign.  That is a moment for introspection.

On the recent poll that I ran, that I've just taken down, about a quarter of the participants tagged the choice, "why would anyone want this?"  I added that to the poll because it is a fair question.  Why would anyone want this, why would I want this?

A central part of the rules proposal is this:  that when the player wants to ride their horse at the enemy, or along a road, or up into the hills above the road, the usual statement that the player will make would be, "I ride my horse at the enemy."  "We ride to the next town."  "We head up into the mountains."  The last would probably make no reference to the horses in the party's possession at all.

Usually, when the party is in a town and wants to buy some horses, the players say, "We want to buy some horses."

Simple.  Direct.  The way the game has always operated.

My rules would propose the following statements for the player to make when riding:  "I gallop at the enemy."  "We trot our horses along the road."  "We amble our horses off the road and over the hill paths."

My rules would propose the following statements to be made when buying horses:  "I want a good pacer.  I want a foxer that does well off road.  I'm not a rider; I want a quiet 9-year-old that doesn't have much spirit."

When players usually ride a horse into battle, they usually say, "I ride my horse at the enemy," accepting that when they get there, they get there.  No fuss.

My rules would propose that the character plan the speed of the horse, that they choose to trot until they get to such-and-such a distance, then they dare to canter, then they kick the horse into a gallop, hoping they haven't done it too late or too early, hoping that their timing on their charge isn't off so that they're stuck three hexes in front of the enemy when the enemy gets to let loose with a volley of crossbows at perfect range.

I can see the problem.  The first time the players try it, they'll probably screw it up.  They'll probably feel overwhelmed by the rules and the finicky nature of it and get confused about the difference between a canter and a trot.  They'll judge the field wrong or miscount or find themselves at the slamming end of a cavalry charge that I mount at them without making the mistakes they'll make.  They'll lose a lot of hit points and feel that they've been screwed by rules they had no part in deciding upon, and hate the horse rules because these will stop letting horses be, well, non-entities.

Let me step back and consider a different variant.  I played a number of modern RPGs once upon a time, spy games, future games, auto games and so on, where cars were involved.  The cars raced around the track and never once in any of those games was the player asked to say when the car would be shifted out of first gear or into third.  We would just say that we make the car go faster, always describing the experience in numbers - numbers of miles/km per hour or numbers of hexes between the where we were and the corner.  We were never "in the car."  Like with most games, D&D included, all these things were decidedly meta-gamed, from God's point of view, where there was time to count the distance between the car and the wall and divide it by the distance per second, then measure the angle of the turn needed in the time left over to make the turn without hitting the wall.

This is most games.  Either the images and the squares are obvious, like chess pieces, or they're represented in such abstract terms that distance or timing means nothing at all.  I played many games where I would say to the players, "Ogg is moving towards you, he's close enough to shoot an arrow without penalties at if you want.  Derek the Fighter is closer, if he wants to run in with a weapon, he's close enough to melee.  No, Gareth is too far away for an axe throw, unless you want -5 to the die roll.  Yes, the mage can cast a magic missile easily."  And so on.  Such games are not tactical, they're not complicated with movements and angles and line-of-sight; and they are totally dependent on the DM's whim as to who can swing or shoot or cast what spell within what range at which opponent.

Which is why I moved away from them.

There is a legitimacy to those who call for less rules, or at least for a ceiling on present rules, because it does seem easier to have God's point of view and be able to see horses as very easy to manage, interchangeable vehicles that enable the players to move faster between towns and between enemy combatants.  The more that horses operate like hover-boards without rules, the less clutter there is on a battlefield and that is a good thing.

This does not keep creators from inventing hundreds of different styles of weapon or armors, mostly because these all work like a hammer to some extent and go on like a jacket.  Horses are complicated.  They're difficult to relate, because most players have never, ever been on a horse.  Or, at best, they have been on a trail ride, not maneuvering their horse but instead acting as part of a train, on an animal that is trained to train.  Most have never actually operated their own horse, have never cantered, wouldn't know what a canter was if they were actually moving at one and couldn't care less.

Asking a player to describe their actions driving a car, saying that they're pressing on the gas pedal or turning the wheel or changing gears seems way too gritty for players who'd rather just look down on the car like God or imagine the car as an abstract - and this for people who drive cars every day, who know from experience how much it matters to touch a gas pedal just so much or turn a wheel just so much.  Driving is a visceral experience and that sort of thing can't be captured - it is supposed - in an RPG.

People know cars and they don't want that.  People don't know horses; that makes it a hundred times worse.

What is the value, then, in wanting any such rules for horses?

For me, it makes the horse real.  It matters what horse a player picks to buy.  It matters because this horse potentially goes faster than that horse, in a way that will matter when the battle plays out.  It matters because the player has a level of horse skill that lets them do things with a horse that other players can't do.  It matters because the horse itself becomes a treasure, an acquisition, a cherished thing that can be taught additional skills - because we've defined skills and details for horses that can be tweaked, adjusted, played with, overcome, used as a defect or exploited as a measure of some special injury or obstacle that will matter where it comes to the players achieving the end of an adventure.  The player tried for this and the horse is tired.  The player tried to make the horse do something it wasn't trained to do and now the horse's leg is broken.  The player bred the horse, trained the horse, taught it to be a warhorse, rode the horse in a dozen battles and now the horse is dead.  All because we have rules for these things.

There are no rules for horses in most books.  And what books do have rules don't talk about the horses themselves; they talk about charging, hit points, how fast a horse can go, how much does a horse cost and so on.  Nothing whatsoever about what makes a horse a horse.

All of which makes the horse a very dull, easily ignored part of the game.  And that is what I have seen players do for thirty plus years.  Ignore their horses.  Hand them over to just anyone, because it doesn't matter; if this horse dies, we'll just plug another into its place, because all horses are the same.  No horse is special.  We wouldn't know how to make one special if we wanted to, because there are no rules for that. No one took the time.

There are hundreds and hundreds of other parts of D&D that are exactly the same.  We're not talking about the difference between complicated rules and simple rules, we're talking about no rules vs. any rules.  My only answer to that is to keep making up new rules and to hope, seriously, that the wiki can keep them all straight and organized so that when I want to look up the many odd things that players may want to do in my world, I will have at least the basis for giving them all the dimension on that thing that they could wish for.

Sometimes, yes, it means they're going to have to canter their horse rather than ride their horse.  But you know, that's going to pay off in the long term - because when they meet the girl or boy of their dreams, and it turns out that person loves horse-riding or equestrianism, our D&D player is going to come off as much less of a moron . . . in fact, it's good public relations, because he or she is going to ask, "Where did you learn all that stuff about horses?"

Describing the Obvious

I sincerely hope that when Hillary has a go at Trump come the September debates, she punches his button. Specifically, the obvious button that the losing republicans during the primary failed to hit on - because it is their button, too.

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Charging and Horse Rules

I just have to have some feedback for these recent combat, charging & horse movement rules.  I have no idea if I'm waxing in the right direction or banging my head against a wall.

Please answer the poll on the sidebar.

Just a note that I am still working on the horse pages.  I am adding links and filling out details: such as updates to the Handling II skill and additional Horse Gaits.

Horseback Riding

Following the creation of my charging rules for combatants on foot, the next logical step is to create rules for fighting from horseback. However, before I can do that, I need rules for how a horse moves and how easily it can be mastered by a rider.

This has led me back to working on my sage tables, as the mastery of horses is logically an ability that is acquired through training and expertise.  A year ago I suggested that a Cavalry field would start with mounting and maneuvering warhorses . . . just today I've created some rules (shown below) for persons with very little experience in doing that (amateurs vs. experts).  Rather than making one set of rules that apply to all horse riders, I'm working towards rules that would distinctly favor those with a lot of riding experience over those who can just manage to keep in the saddle.  This creates a wide frame for horse combats, with players able to perform an increased number of actions as their levels increase and their proficiency in horses does as well.

Like the rules I made about shipping, I hope that these rules will more firmly fix what can be done from a horse and what can't, at a level of detail that has been expressly lacking in the game - and which does not presuppose that there is a possibility that someone who is trained and able will fail to succeed, the idiot's solution to the problem that birth 3rd Edition.

I recently spoke with a local horsejumping association - one that holds national and continental tournaments - on the limitations of turning a horse as one might wish.  Here's the take: there is no limitation on how a horse can be moved or how tight a turn can be made, no matter what the speed of the horse, including at a full gallop.  A 360 degree turn at a full gallop?  It's called barrel racing.

The only limitation is the rider.  How fast can the rider think and manipulate the horse naturally in the shortest amount of time.  This is the basis upon which I am going to base my system - that once the rider has managed a certain level of skill, the horse can be made to dance on the battlefield if need be.

Very well, the main wiki article on horseback riding, up to what an amateur can do, is listed below.  The links to the sage abilities under amateur all work.  Some of the others are placeholders.

Horseback Riding

In a departure from usual table-top fantasy rules, not everyone is able to ride a horse. Horseback riding is a skill that is acquired with knowledge points gained with sage ability. It is possible to ride a horse without this knowledge - but the rider must be led by someone with experience. See Assisted Riding.

Knowledge of horseback riding allows the character to make use of a horse in a wide variety of ways, with additional skills in training and managing horses, administering to their health, breeding and recognition of breeding, employing horses in combat and a proficiency in the skill of riding, driving or vaulting. Furthermore, this ability at riding will translate to an ability to master larger and more aggressive horses as knowledge is accumulated.

Horses are divided into several forms, based on size, physical ability and training. Warhorses different from riding horses, in that they will support a rider using weapons without adverse movement. Ponies describe both young horses that have not matured and certain breeds that are naturally small as adults. Draught horses, while heavy, are bred to be docile and usually move a walk (a trot could not be long sustained, while the animal would resist a canter or a gallop).

In most cases, a particular animal can be described by its weight:

• riding horses: 800 to 1100 lbs .............. (2d4 x 50 +700)
• warhorse, light: 1000 to 1300 lbs ......... (2d4 x 50 +900)
• warhorse, medium: 1300 to 1700 lbs ... (2d6 x 40 +1220)
• warhorse, heavy: 1700 to 2000 lbs ...... (2d4 x 50 +1600)
• draught horse: 1000 to 1500 lbs .......... (2d6 x 50 +900)
• pony: 600 to 800 lbs ............................ (2d6 x 20 +560)

A horse's total movement is typically 7 action points, or AP. It should be noted that some horses will be slightly faster or somewhat slower, with bonus AP potentially measured in fractions of 1/2, 1/3 or 1/6. This offers some question as to a horse's potential to win or fail to win races, when trained; details regarding these differences is left to discussions about the breeding of horses and racing potential of horses discussed in some of the links below. For most purposes, these details need not be considered.

Amateur Knowledge

Domesticate: gives the basic training to young or feral horses, enable them to perform as ordinary working animals.
Feeding & Diet: gives judgement regarding the physical size and needs of horses.
Handling I: enables the character to direct the horse or ride at various gaits with minimal skill.
Mounted Combat I: the character possesses enough skill to fight from a warhorse with minimal skill.

Perhaps Another 10 Years

Looking around me, I'm steadily beginning to believe that the pronouncements about the death of blogging two years ago may have had merit.  That isn't to say that this blog is dead or that any blog now active is doomed to die; as the Guardian article says, blogging has ceased to be a thing among the casual creators.  Over time, the bloggers who depend upon gimmicks as excuses for content, who depend on giving reviews of long past products or fill up their blogs with pictures are finding there are other, better platforms for that sort of thing.  The writers just keep writing.

It is a little sad.  I used to count on a lot of hits from blogs, especially blogs that didn't like me, as arguments would span several websites, with a particular rant inspiring a week's complaining.  Now I get most of my hits from feeder sites - people who read but don't seek out the blog to comment, helpfully describing my ancestry, deranged sexual proclivities and suggestively predicting my inevitable downfall as soon as people realized how full of shit I was.  About three quarters of the bloggers that used to contribute here so pleasantly are gone now - lost to twitter and instagram, two other platforms that are supposedly dying.

Still, I am beginning to see a day when I will end this blog.  I'm guessing about a decade from now, but perhaps sooner.  Steadily, I don't see the blog format as the one that supports what I'm doing.  I could as easily start writing all my content on Patreon now, something that would probably be a good step for me.  In turn, any content like this that I'm writing now is becoming secondary to the much better content that I'm writing on the wiki.  At best, this blog (or any feed upon which I would write) has to be a vehicle to move eyeballs to the real work that I'm doing on my world.

The numbers demonstrate it.  The wiki numbers progressively compare to the blog, particularly in that the page views are complimented by users who look at more than one page every day.  Here, a reader will typically look at one page, the most recent; a typical reader at the wiki will typically look at ten pages, moving about the content for presumably a much longer period.

Naturally, I think that people do read both; they come here, remember that there is a wiki, then go there.  As I say, this is the goal.  I'm interested in sending the message that I'm creative, versatile, embedded in the material and committed to the game's construction.  On a given day I might write something about combat, about horses, about some strange monster, about a set of rules for ship combat or whatever seems needs attention.

I expect the wiki to outlive this blog.  I expect it to outlive a lot of things; and perhaps someday, when there are ten thousand pages on the thing, it will finally accomplish what it was intended to do: to encourage people to believe that simple, practical rules CAN exist, so that they will start using those rules.

Well, we all dare to dream.

As long as I live, I will never stop writing.  In the long run, it doesn't matter much where that happens to be. As long as some it is still free, yes?

Instruction

Long time commentor and fellow wiki contributor Maxwell Joslyn has recently written two posts about training soldiers, here and here.  This has got me thinking about the instruction sage ability rules that I intended to create more than a year ago (which has since been ignored) - and that is a good thing.

Still, remember Maxwell as you read this post . . . you did ask me to read your blog.

Before we can talk about what people can learn from training or instruction, we need to talk about what instruction IS.

Let me start by saying that my university instruction was a joke [Classical History & Archaeology].  This isn't to say that I didn't learn something, or that I didn't do well (I floated between an A- and a B+ through my seven years as a professional student), but that the actual expectations I was expected to satisfy were paltry at best.  Here at the University of Calgary, fairly standard for Canada, a semester lasted four months, during which time I took five courses.  A typical semester for me during the last two years would have been, typically, two seniors level courses in Greek or Roman history, a mid-level course that was a degree requirement, a language course in Latin and a random course that I would take because it interested me: history, political science, English literature, geography or religious studies, most often.

This would mean a test a week in Latin, 5 mid-term tests, 5 final tests, three papers of 2,500-3,000 words in length and typically, for the option course, a paper of 500-1,000 words in length (even for English, which is pretty damn sad).  Oh, and I would have to fully read about six books and scan maybe another 15. This isn't much work in a time span of 120 days - though of course everyone I went to school with complained constantly about their work-load.

Fact is, we live in an age where, if we are prepared to do the work adequately, there isn't even a need to shine in order to obtain the so-called "education" that can be claimed for the rest of one's life.  And once the work is accomplished for a given part of the field, say Greece during the Peloponnesian War, I barely had to remember any of the details a year later when taking courses on the Hellenic Period or Alexander the Great. Even though I took Latin, there was no requirement to read the content in Latin or even exhibit any skill in the Latin at all in other coursework - and I didn't have to take Greek to complete my degree.  I only needed one language or the other.

It's things like this that expose the University-as-factory reality . . . and which produces, in our minds, the idea that IF an ordinary person wants to grow into a 1st level fighter some day, the only question is how long and if they survive battle.  In other words, if they put in the effort, the will automatically get the paper.

But in fact, this is really bullshit.  Whatever lies soldiers in the real world tell themselves or the public, every soldier who has done a two-year tour of duty in the real world knows about half a dozen guys in their squad who weren't worth shit, who survived through luck, who never did learn to manage themselves in a fire fight and half a dozen other inadequacies that were glossed over because they were in the unit and therefore entitled to be there.

In game terms, however, we're not designating a fighter as someone who has passed the training or who has been appropriately patted on the head and given a diploma.  We're actually evaluating whether or not they can fight.  Yes, Dennis the Lackwit can swing a sword.  Hell, I can swing a sword.  But is Dennis actually proficient?  Does he suffer the -3 proficiency penalty or not?  Does he have four proficiencies or just one?  Is Dennis, in fact, a "fighter."

At present, I do use a rule where experience does serve as a stand-in for determining whether or not Dennis is "combat-trained" or "first-level."  But that is actually a pretty crappy system.  Because we have to understand, in a world where "education" isn't about servicing an economic business model, not only is failing possible it is probable.

This is the problem with the experience system that many have developed: it rewards luck, not ability.  What is wanted is an instruction/training system that acknowledges that luck is only luck.

Is experience important?  Yes, I think it still has to be there.  The soldier that has all the training but has never actually faced combat is not the equal of one that has.  So some combat - real combat, the sort where people die, not merely sparring - has to be part of the selection process.

The other part, however, has to be a combination of the subject's potential and the instructor's acumen.  It has to acknowledge that most subjects don't have the potential and that most instructors don't have the acumen.

While my education was a joke, this is only the beginning of the laugh riot that manifested as my professors.  I did have some very hard-case instructors, who really pushed my boundaries; my Greek History instructor Waldemar Heckel and the fellow who rattled my head in Latin (who seems to have vanished from the world).  I had brilliant instructors who I spent as much time with as possible, like Barry Baldwin or Janis Svilpas, who used to buy me beer at the local Highlander Pub because I was a poor student.  But those professors were rare - and because the others were so easily gotten around or duped, or possessed such low expectations of their students, I could spend 90% of my time getting the paper for Heckel just right while sloughing off a paper for some hackneyed Geography prof in a couple of hours, sometimes the day it was due.

We have to presume that the kind of education necessary to make Dennis into a fighter, or Billy Brightboy into the William the Conjurer will not be like I've just described.  We're talking 24/7 training, hard core, learn the content and repeat, repeat, repeat, the sort of brutal expectation we demand of firefighters, doctors and professional soldiers - acknowledging that there won't be visual aids, there won't be ready books to read, there won't even be classrooms, desks or institutionalized interaction and study groups to depend upon . . . and probably not the benefit of getting up each morning and training with a squad of people just like ourselves.  It will be one-on-one instruction: uncertain, lonely, shaming, without pre-packaged goal posts like completing a course or getting past a mid-term.  The training will be soul-sucking and emotionally destructive, as no one will be permitted to grade their instructor or stage a protest because something the instructor said bears some tiny resemblance to a racist remark.

The student will be at the instructor's mercy . . . and the only test that will be passed is whether or not the instructor cares to spend another day screaming the same epithets at this student who just isn't getting it.  The measure of success isn't the time we put in, it's the potential exhaustion of the instructor - and when the instructor cuts us loose, we are done.  Period.

From the instructor's perspective, it is all ability.  The boy who is 10 who comes to the instructor to learn to be a fighter doesn't start with an 17 strength.  The young girl of 11 wanting to be a thief doesn't have an 18 dexterity.  The ability stats are potentials that can be squandered without the right training.  Our Billy may someday have a 17 intelligence and a 16 dexterity, but he doesn't have those things at age 9.  Under the right instructor, those heights are possible - but a second-rate instructor is going to get Billy to maybe a 14 int and a 12 dex.  Because that's how it goes.  Look around you at the Olympics as they're passing by; all those athletes striving and rising and breaking records are the hammered clay of professional trainers without whom they'd have done well at their city intra-murals and not much better.

It isn't enough to say that we have such and such many would-be fighters and it takes one to four years to make a fighter: that's 20th century thinking, where everyone is entitled to put letters after a name because they paid for it.  NO ONE in a pre-industrial world gets to be an expert without someone to teach them - that is why we define Aristotle as the student of Plato and Plato as the student of Socrates, but we don't give a damn who Dawkins' teacher was or who taught Chomsky.  These guys had great instructors, but who the hell remembers that Harold Bloom had M.H. Abrams as a teacher?

No, I'm not going to link any of those people.

Where rules for D&D are concerned - so that I can fill that empty page under sage abilities - I want some kind of detail that explains how far a player character can take a given adopted NPC student.  Specifically, I want some mechanic that forces the player to sacrifice something . . . time, obviously, but something more would be desirable.  Sacrifice transforms a mechanic from a process into a game.  That's what we want.  We want the potential for training strangers into active allies into an uncertain, potential risk investment where the consequences have meaning.

I haven't figured out how to do that, yet . . . but I think, at least, I have defined the problem.  The solution is inevitable.

Charging

Though I have tried numerous times to create rules for charging in my campaign, I have never been satisfied with any of my attempts.  Nevertheless, I have known since beginning to describe my combat system on my wiki that I would have to come up with something, eventually . . . and I knew it wasn't going to be easy to describe, because of the potential number of unique circumstances that could come up surrounding the manner in which charges would be resolved.

I have been patiently working at this problem, using back-work on the wiki as a resource that enables me to refer to other combat aspects without having to stop and explain them. The result is the charging page I have recently added.


Honestly, I'm unsure of two things: that I have explained the content adequately and clearly and that I have taken account of the likely circumstances to come up.  No doubt, in game, something will arise that will need to be addressed at the time.  I would like to reduce the chance of that happening by thinking through the matter in advance.

As such, if I've been unclear or incomplete, I would greatly appreciate a word urging me to better explain something or amend the content below as necessary.

I'm posting the wiki's charging page here - but it should be noted that I also worked out detailed overbearing rules, which are intended to support the charging rules (since the one automatically requires the other). Therefore, I recommend that the reader wade through that page as well before commenting on the charging rules below.

In game, I actually think this would play out very simply.  The trouble is the difficulty in language, since there's no precedent I know in table-top taking account of these circumstances.

Do enjoy:

Main Article

When combatants enter melee at normal pace, the approach is made cautiously. In charging, however, it is presumed that at least one of the combatants is approaching the other while running, with the intention of using momentum to increase the chance of hitting and the total amount of damage done. Because of this, charging takes into account some characteristics associated with crashes and collisions.

There are many considerations where charging is concerned. These I have broken down into charging movement, breaking and resolving charging attacks. This page will cover details regarding charging by combatants on foot. For charging with a mount, see Charging (mounted).

Charging Movement
The act of charging presumes that the combatant will attempt to move into the hex of the intended target. Charging combatants must do this in order to receive charging bonuses. In a case where two combatants are charging simultaneously, an initiative die should be rolled, to determine who strikes first - the loser is thereafter designated as the defendant, the winner as the attacker.

Entering an enemy hex is called overbearing. See the link for details of how to resolve overbearing, which must be done before resolving the charging attack.

The best method of charging is to strike while in passing, avoiding overbearing altogether. In game terms, due to the charger's speed, it is perceived that the attacker has moved through or beyond the enemy's hex, avoiding the normal movement penalty for moving through combat hexes because actual melee has yet to be initiated:

In this example, Caitlyn is running/charging towards Abbro and Beren. She has chosen to attack Abbro, and in doing so she intends to either pass between the two men or move around Abbro's right. While either side will mean the same as regards to hit and damage done, which side she chooses to move past will determine her 'exit' hex, being either 402 or 403. In situations where there is sufficient movement to reach the destination hex indicated above, this is called a slashing charge (see charging combat, below).

While running, it will be well to remember that Caitlyn's expenditure of action points (AP) throughout this movement is very important. Caitlyn will need 1½ AP to move into the three hexes 203, 302 and either 402 or 403 (remembering that the -1 AP penalty for moving through a combat hex is ignored when charging). She will need 2 AP more to actually attack, meaning that before initiating this charge, she will need 3½ AP if she wants to reach a safe destination hex. Since maximum movement for most combatants in chain mail or heavier armor is 3 AP, the sort of maneuver described above will tend to be limited to combatants that are lightly armored or who have the ability to expend only 1 AP when attacking (such as higher level fighters or monks).

The more common form of charge occurs when the combatant lacks sufficient AP to reach the hex beyond their intended target, or when hexes behind the target are occupied (see below).

Consider the following example with that above:

Whereas formerly the hexes 402 and 403 were empty, now there are combatants in each. While this does not mean that Caitlyn cannot attack Abbro as before, it does mean that she will end her movement in Deirdre's hex, following the path shown (she could end in Edward's hex also if she intended). Unless she had sufficient ability to make multiple attacks, to perhaps slash at Abbro and then overbear (or perhaps grapple) Deirdra, Caitlyn would find herself at the end of her movement trapped in an opponent's hex (potentially between Abbro, Deirdra and Beren, with no free hexes around, unless Abbro was successfully stunned or killed).

To provide rules for this situation, it is judged that unless the attack against the first opponent (in this case, Abbro) succeeds in stunning or killing, the charging combatant cannot continue into a hex occupied by another defender, regardless of their remaining AP. In effect, unless the attack on Abbro succeeds, Caitlyn must stop in hex 203.

Breaking
When charging, individuals facing a dense mass of enemies are in danger of pulling up before the impact in fear and failing to break upon the enemy's ranks; conversely, when a defender is faced with a mass of attackers, there is a similar chance of 'breaking,' or faltering from a strong position and scattering. In each case, the combatants on either side will make themselves more vulnerable than they would ordinarily be. Because of this, charging is dangerous. While a successful charge can be devastating, those who engage in this form of attack must be aware of the risks.

A roll to see if combatants break is made only if the attacker or defender is in a situation where the enemy faced numbers six or more, in a formation where the hexes occupied are adjacent to one another. In the example below, the six combatants on the left are in 'formation'; those on the right are not. A combatant attacking the group on the left would need to roll against breaking charge; attacking the group on the right would not require such a roll.

A roll against breaking charge is dependent upon two factors, depending on the role that a combatant has:

• Leaders, including player characters, must count upon their own bravery when charging an enemy. Therefore, they must make a wisdom check to succeed. This check is modified by a +1 bonus for each level that the leader possesses.
• for all other combatants, success in charging is dependent upon the individual's morale, which must be checked against. There is no level modifier for morale checks.

Character henchmen, who do not possess morale totals, should be considered leaders for breaking morale purposes.

When an individual breaks, the effect differs for attacker and defender.

• Attackers will stop in the hex immediately in front of their intended target and freeze, losing all further AP for the remainder of that move. At the same time, they will also suffer a loss of 2 armor class, in addition to the ineffectiveness of their shield (if they possess one). Therefore, an attacker with chain mail and shield would lose 3 AC, or the equivalent of giving the defender a +3 to hit the following round.
• Defenders will automatically fall back one hex when an attacker enters their hex, exactly as if overborne without the need of the attacker to spend AP in order to overbear; at the same time, the defender will also suffer a loss of 2 armor class and the ineffectiveness of their shield.

If both attacker and defender breaks, then initiative should be determined and further attacks resolved according to normal melee.

Resolving Charging Attacks
In addition to bonuses accrued through the enemy's loss of armor class due to breaking charge adjustments, an attack made while charging is done with +2 to hit. Slashing charges, described above, have the added advantage of adding 2 additional damage to successful hits, making this attack particularly effective when sufficient movement is available.

These bonuses are added whenever the attacker is able to make an attack during the same move in which they have charged an opponent. Remember that overbearing is considered an attack, so that when done during a charge it receives this bonus as well. Note, the attack bonus does NOT carry forward to the next round of the charger's move. Once the initial impact has been resolved, further combat will reflect normal hand-to-hand melee.

It can be seen from these rules how a charge can be devastating to an armed force, particularly in mass combat (skirmishes, such as parties usually experience, will not ordinarily include the potential for either side to break before a charge). A attacker using a slashing charge, moving past the edge of a formation that has simultaneously broken, will be +4/+5 to hit (depending on the enemy's use of a shield) and +2 damage, along with whatever other strength or magical weapon bonuses they possess. The bonus to hit can be even greater, if the enemy has been knocked back by the charge so that there are multiple defenders in one hex.

This is intentional, meant to reflect historical accounts of where this sort of thing has occurred.


See Attacking

Pummeling

Take note in my combat system, there is no such thing as "pummeling damage." All damage described on this page refers to normal combat damage, applying to any attack that reduces a combatant's hit points.

Pummeling describes attacking with the fist, an action that can be performed in lieu of a weapon or as a secondary weapon. Unlike a normal weapon attack, pummeling costs only 1 action point from a combatant's movement. Note that this cost is not reduced when a combatant receives more than one weapon attack per round.

The amount of damage caused by pummeling is equal to 1d4 minus 3, or -2 to 0 hit points (with all damage less than zero equalling zero). When pummeling, the combatant's strength bonus is added, so that a character with a strength bonus of +3 would cause 1-4 damage when pummeling.

When using a gauntletted fist, damage from pummeling is increased by +1.

Unlike damage done with other weapons, when rolling a 20 critical the total damage from pummeling is 2d4 -3, before adjustment (normal weapon adjustments cause the damage to be adjusted before doubling or tripling damage). A second natural 20 would alter the damage done with pummeling to 3d4 -3, with a d4 added to each additional natural 20 rolled.

When an attack with pummeling results in a fumble, the combatant should roll 2d6; a result of 'snake-eyes' will mean that the combatant will lose the use of that limb and will suffer an injury causing 1d4 points of injury.


See Attacking

Keeping Count

Hah.  I must be the only fellow on the internet that can slag off Batman without stirring up a hornet's nest.  I feel blessed.

I am thinking a great deal about writing of late, being somewhat obsessed.  I want to keep the blog going, want to put out something that says I'm not dead but alive (particularly where it seems every D&D blog is on the edge of dying) and to offer reassurance that I'm holding up my end of the social contact where it comes to finishing my book.

Towards that end, it is hard to write of anything BUT writing; but of course, this is a D&D blog and people come here expecting to read something about D&D.

It has been nearly 37 years for me; of playing, of designing, of coming up with ideas and adventures, of making my own world and tweaking a thousand and one rules.  Sometimes I can lean back and just contemplate the enormity of it.  As Macbeth talks of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, I can just as easily talk about yesterday and yesterday and yesterday.

Yet I don't, much.  Long time readers of the blog will note that I don't tell a lot of war stories.  For the hell of it, however, I thought I might talk about the people I've played with.

My first D&D group, where I was a player, consisted of Shane, Kevin, Mike and Calvin.  We played the white box set.  I don't remember much about Mike; Kevin had been a friend of mine since grade one and Shane the DM was obsessed with doors.  Of the four, the one I liked best was Calvin; he had a great sense of humour, was enormously friendly and easy to like.  We were friends for ten years before he got out of university and headed off for Vancouver.

I fell in with a group of much older folks, where Bill ran a version of Empire of the Petal Throne.  I remember that Steve was also in that group, and three others whose names are lost to eternity.  Bill was married with two children, and about ten years older.  He had known Gygax personally in Chicago during his university years (I knew Bill in 1980).  I played with that group about six months before it broke up, mostly because of Bill's spiraling family life.  I would meet Bill again many years later, at a parent-teacher conference, where it turned out he was my daughter's teacher.

I got together a group of my own from school as I started to DM myself: Jim, Jerry, Asif, John and Scott.  That was grade 10.  We all ran worlds of our own, different kinds of worlds, taking turns running each weekend, sometimes playing both Friday and Saturday.  As DMs dropped out, after a year, John and I were the only ones still running.  Then a lot of infighting broke out and the group split apart.  As far as I know, I was the only one still playing D&D by the end of high school.

I got a new group through grade eleven.  A different Mike, who would prove one of the best players I ever knew (not playing any more), a different Jim, the same Calvin, Lori and her older sister Jodie.  The sisters stopped playing around the time that Brent showed up, bringing his girlfriend Coral, and then I met my girlfriend Roberta and the game just kept going after high school.

I worked office jobs for three years before going to university, by which time I'd picked up Craig and his brother, yet another Mike (that's three), Steve, his sister Vicki, Steve's girlfriend Lori (a different Lori), my ex-girlfriend Nicole and her boyfriend Tom, P.J., my wife Michelle, Dennis and his girlfriend Jody and of course still Brent, the second Mike and Calvin.  For anyone counting, that's 14 total players, the most I've ever run regularly.  I am sorry to say they usually all showed up.  We didn't get much done but damn, those were wild times.

Through university the group got cut down to the two Mikes, Craig, Brent and Michelle; the others wound up quitting the game, finding work or school in another city or falling prey to drugs.  That seems to happen a lot to would-be players.  This group kept playing all the way through university; Craig and the third Mike got replaced for a time by Tom and his brother Darcy, then by '94/'95 the whole group just went tits up.  My wife got very sick with multiple sclerosis and I was left juggling her and my daughter, so I didn't play D&D seriously for 8 years.  Michelle passed on and I crashed for a time.  Now and then, I kept working on D&D . . . but the only games I played were short, usually with strangers and not particularly engaging.

So in 2003 my 15-year-old daughter began pressuring me to play D&D.  She'd played with friends and went on doing so, but I began running scattered games with her and my second wife Tamara - and that grew into a new group as my daughter progressed through high school (around 2004/05).  I began playing with her, her boyfriend Kevin (a different Kevin, obviously, whom my daughter is marrying this upcoming November), Amanda, and a fellow named Tucci.  We were later joined by Garrett and Desjardin, played a little with a fourth Mike and an Andrew, and then the lesbians Melissa and Katrina joined in about the time Amanda left.  For the record, calling M & K "the lesbians" is a tradition that began for them in high school long before I met them and remains until the present day.  I gave an address at their wedding about two years ago; I hugged them both yesterday.

That group has settled into my daughter, Kevin, Tamara, the lesbians, Houston and finally Kelly, who started playing a little more than a year ago.

At the same time, about five years ago, Tamara and I began playing with Jan and Jessica; and that group has since been joined by Eric, who only got to play about four games before I suspended my sessions so I could concentrate on my book.  This is a completely different campaign I'm running in the same world.

So, a lot of people.  And a lot of women, as well as men.  I won't try to add them up because the number wouldn't reflect everyone I've ever played with.  I'm only including regular players.

It has been quite a collection of souls.  Do you suppose there's room in the afterlife for all these people to get together and play?

Wooden Curbs

My interest in writing this post began with seeing this video, launched Friday.  My feelings upon seeing the film Batman vs. Superman was that the film was fair but not outstanding; fair but certainly not terrible.  After a few years I'd probably watch it again - which is, for me, the only measure of a film's value.  How long will it take before I will ever watch this film again?

I'm ready to watch a good film a second time within 90 days.  I'll watch a very, very good film every 90 days, if I get the opportunity (keeping in mind that "watching" usually means having it on in the background while I work on D&D).

If the answer is "Never," it is a bad film.

Like everyone else in the world, naturally, I'm subject to the carping and whining of people who feel the need to spend hundreds of hours going over a "bad film" frame by frame with obsessive compulsiveness to truly, really, absolutely prove what a bad film it is.  I am quite different; when I see a bad film, I'm unhappy that I've lost the hundred or so minutes of my life watching the thing; I don't want to spend a thousand more minutes proving my distaste to others.

Much of the distaste, we all know, hinges on the film's "respect" for the original source material.  This is why the Batman origin story is here at the front of this post - because it shows something that the fanboys will never understand.

The original material doesn't deserve respect.  It is bad writing - what was called, in the day, mawkish and schmaltz.  A weepy, tearful boy makes a promise to "Spend the rest of my life warring on all criminals."

We all know that children make this sort of promise all the time; and then they learn what life is really like as they grow older.  They realize their simplistic, slushy expectations will fall mercy to the petty miseries of responsibility, needs, limitations and rules, all of which constrain us from living out the fantasies of little children.  Most quality writing in the world revolves around the decisions we make every day about how much of ourselves we're willing to sacrifice in order to achieve our aims, or how much we're not willing to sacrifice in the face of misery and potential destruction.

A story about a boy who is able to make such a promise that Batman made, who is given enough money by the writer to do it, to then become exactly what he promised with no real constraints, because he is able to become as strong, able, intelligent and morally spotless as the writer wants him to be, is what we call a wooden character.

A good story cannot be made out of the Batman myth unless the myth is subverted, compromised, changed and literally fed to the dogs.  We have been watching four decades of Batman movies trying to do this.  Some of these efforts have seemed believable at the moment of their creation . . . but only to young men who haven't yet come face to face with their own mortality.  When the 18-year-old who saw Batman Begins in 2005 watches it again at 38 in 2025, it will be very, very hard to see it as anything but maudlin, self-aggrandizing shit.   Exactly the way that 38-year-olds today can't help seeing 1989's Batman.

So it is with wooden characterizations.  There's nowhere to go, except to throw the entire baby out with the bathwater and try to write something that has nothing whatsoever to do with the original - in which case, the character can be given some depth and a proper basis for conflict, one that an actual human being can reflect upon and use as wisdom to make decisions.

This is what good writing accomplishes.  The reader hears a story about a character in a specific situation and watches the character move towards an inevitable conclusion.  The reader comes to understand, through the character's choices, where the mistakes were made and where the risks were necessary.  The reader comes away with the understanding that, in a similar situation, they might make the same mistakes; they might suffer the same consequences; they might be forced to take the same risks.  In each case, the reader is left with knowledge that may serve them well when the time comes.

Batman - and the host of characters that fanboys zealously protect - offers none of this.  Such works offer something completely different: a fanciful fascination with what they would do if they were Batman.  Whatever the argument, whatever the supposition, this game is never, ever tempered with the hard, cold reality in which a real Batman would have to live - a reality in which uncertainty is a thing, where mistakes kill innocents and where one man stumbles and falls, his throat cut by the hands of his enemies who do not hesitate to rid the world of his failures.

A Batman movie - or a Superman movie - can never be anything but okay.  "Okay" is an enormous achievement, given the hole in which such a movie starts.  I hope that Zak Synder ends his fascination with making Superman interesting and returns to experimenting with his own, original characters.

Training Redux

A year ago, August 6, I posted a scene from an earlier draft of my book The Fifth Man, that I continue to work upon, describing a training scene.  The response was scattered and, naturally, I felt that it needed attention and work.  I've been working on it, over and over . . . and believe me, it is no easy scene.  Perhaps I am not there yet.

Still, I am feeling an urge to post something.  Beginning in February, many people rushed forward to give me more than $4,000 in donations, through my jumpstarter, through patreon, through the purchase of my books . . . and I want to reassure those people that the book is under construction.  I've given about four or five expected deadlines through 2016 and I don't want to give one now; I don't seem to be able to make any of them.  The book will be done when it is done; but yes, I am working on it.

In the meantime, I offer this rewrite.  As before, the character Herzog has agreed to teach his associate (no spoilers), Ruchel, the use of weapons.  The new scene is very different.  I think it is unquestionably better.  It comes after much research and consideration, not to mention rewriting.  Some nuance will be lost, as it is out of context, but I don't think that matters.

It is very hard to write any sort of training scene, as we are inundated with them.  We are all horribly jaded.  When this scene starts, Ruchel has asked to be trained in the use of weapons.  Herzog has not told her that he intends to do so.  [Please forgive any technical errors; I'm abandoning this passage today with much weariness; I'll fix the technical problems later].


Chapter 20


I stamped my feet when I came in the door of the house. Unsurprisingly, there was food cooking. Our gear was unpacked, the walls and floor neatly fixed, my sword in its scabbard hung on the wall. My father’s sword was not there. Strangely, I had expected to see it still in our baggage, but it was no longer in our hands. Ruchel had seen to it that the sword was his again.

I hung my bow next to the sword. Ruchel looked at me and smiled. She did not ask where I had gone. We sat down together and ate pleasantly but quietly, remarking only on a few things that she had observed about the house, that I had observed about the surrounding lands.

When my meal was done I set down my bowl. Ruchel was finished already, cheerfully basking in the soft fire with her chin raised, like a cat pleased with itself. “Turn towards me,” I said, turning myself towards her, cross-legged. She matched my position, so that we were knee-to-knee.

I held out my two hands towards her. “Give me your hand.” She placed hers between mine. “To begin learning weapons, there are two things you must first understand before they can be mastered.”

Holding her hand, I felt her heart leap in her throat, saw the evidence in her expression. “Yes,” she said, knowing nothing about what I was about to say.

“To hold the weapon, your hand must be strong. To persevere against your opponent, your body must be strong. We make the latter strong with our breathing. Close your eyes and breathe, feeling the air as it enters your body and leaves it.”

The echo of my father’s words whispered as I spoke to Ruchel. “Breathe as deep as you can and hold it,” I said. I watched and was pleased to see that she did not breathe with the shoulders. I saw as well that she used both her nose and her mouth to breathe in, though that was an easy matter to correct. “I want you to be aware of what part of your body is filling with air; I can see from the way your body expands that you are breathing into the lower part of your chest. Do you feel that?”

She nodded.

“As you hold your breath, you will already feel light-headed. This is because you have not taken in all the air that your body is able. Now breathe out.”

Ruchel did.

“I do feel light-headed,” she admitted.

“We can suspend that feeling through practice. Now I want you to take a series of deep breaths, about ten, very rapidly. Go ahead.”

I watched as she went through the exercise, unable to keep myself from automatically breathing in time with her. When she was done, I asked, “How do you feel?”

“I suppose . . . a little queasy.”

“Yes. And that is a problem in a fight. In a fight, you will be breathing very heavily and for a long time. If you breathe then as you do now, it will become difficult to maintain your balance. You will grow wobbly. Your vision and your thoughts will become muddled. Within a minute or two, you’ll be staggering around. Your opponent won’t need to engage with you – he will force you to engage with him and, when you’ve become weak and unsteady, he will destroy you. To avoid this, you must learn to breathe properly.”

“I understand,” she said, her eyes fixed upon me with fascination.

“My father taught me this,” I said.

“I know.”

I began to teach her how to breathe. I explained that she should take a deep breath into her chest, through her nose, with her mouth tightly closed. “Now,” I said; “As you let the breath out of your body, force your shoulders down and stretch your neck – upward, not forward. Watch, and do as I do.” Together, we repeated this a dozen times, as I patiently walked her through the process again and again.

“You must force the air down, into your body,” I said. “No, not the belly – completely through the body, to the groin.” To show her, I rose up on my knees and lifted up my shirt. “Put your hands around my middle, above my hips. Feel.” I drew in air, demonstrating to her as my father had once to me, the way the air filled my torso. “If it helps, imagine that you are forcing air into your body all the way to your feet, right through to the ground.” Telling her this, I squatted down again, opposite her.

“I think I understand,” she said.

“You will. It takes time. Training is difficult and exhausting; it is repetitive, endlessly repetitive, until it feels that your body will twist apart with the doing of it. This exercise, which we will begin again, must be done hundreds of times a day, until breathing with the stomach becomes natural. That may seem impossible now –”

“I have trained like that before,” Ruchel said excitedly. “Once, when I was only seven –”

“Quiet,” I said, cutting her off. I wanted very much to hear what had happened when she was seven, but I needed her to focus herself on what was happening more immediately. “Close your eyes. Breathe in, as I’ve explained. Together, with me.”

Within a few minutes, I comprehended her effort. I knew from experience that she was in excellent physical shape; I did not doubt that within a short time she would be able to sit and breathe patiently for an hour each day, over and over. I had not sat and meditated in such fashion in more than a month; the last time had been somewhere in the mountains above Herch, before Ruchel and I had met. At the time, I had not even thought of it as meditation, but merely time spent listening to the forest. I could not say how much time had passed – much of the afternoon, I was sure. It was not something I mentioned to Ruchel; she did not need my experience as she started upon the path of acquiring her own.

“Good,” I said, as I felt her breath weakening past the point where it would do her good. “We will work on that, perhaps later today. I want you to become conscious of something else now.”

I pressed her hand between mine.

Her eyes shone brightly. “Thank you for this, Herzog.”

“Do not thank me; you don’t know what you’re in for.”

“You were able to do all this, yes?” she taunted.

“Not easily.”

“I shall be able, too. You’ll see.”

I felt my chest swell with pride, but I said, “Quiet. Students do not talk. They listen.”

Ruchel blushed – a sight that caught me completely by surprise. With a small voice she said, “I will listen.”

“Then do it and be silent.” I pressed her hand between mine. “Flatten your hand but keep it relaxed. I am going to explain how to strengthen your hand, to make it stronger.” I felt her hand reflexively tighten and I opened my hands at once, telling her, “No. Look down.”

She did, embarrassed, the strain in her hand disappearing.

“I must teach you to correctly strengthen your hands. If we balance the tension within your bones and sinew correctly, we can make your hand a weapon. You must strain each muscle in the right way to make your hand like iron. Put both your hands around my hand.”

Without hesitation, she did as I told her. I purposefully relaxed my hand, telling her to press my skin between her fingers. Her hands were much smaller than mine but they were strong, a worker’s hands. Still, Ruchel’s eyes grew wide as I changed the tension in my hands to what I would before the beginning of a fight.

“It is like a rock!” she explained. “How are you able to do that?”

“It is a question of training. I can teach you.”

“How long did it take to learn?”

“Years. My father began teaching me when I was only nine. My hands were much smaller then; they’ve grown larger as I’ve gotten older and as the muscles have strengthened. Now, put your hand between mine again.” I held her gently. “Hold your palm flat, in line with your forearm. Like this.” I showed her. “That’s it. Press your fingers together but do not curl your fingers. Feel the tension. Now, relax again.”

She did.

“I show you this to explain this is not the tension we want. I do not want you to press your fingers together. I want you, instead, to pull on your thumb – that is, try to pull your thumb on itself, from within. Imagine it drawing back into the wrist. As you do, bend your knuckle – no, not as much as that. Yes, that’s it.”

Ruchel struggled to obtain the exact position of her hand that I wanted. I remembered how my own hands would ache when I began these exercises. I imagined that she, used to working constantly, would fare better than me. “Do not merely bend the thumb,” I said. Her hand began to quiver and I knew from feel that the tension she was feeling was correct. “That’s it. Exactly. Now, listen carefully. I want you to try to breathe as I’ve shown you; hold the tension in your hand. Yes, in through your nose. Good, good. Now, don’t relax your hand; that’s it; now this time, when you release the air –”

Exhaustively, she blew her breath out of her lungs and let loose the strain on her hand, pulling it out of my grip. She took several deep breaths. “Wheeew,” she breathed. “That’s much harder than I’d guess.”

“I was going to say, remember to stretch your neck when you breathe out. Are you ready to start again.”

She nodded, ready to take up the task again. I was proud of her. “This time, do not try too hard,” I told her. “This will not come in one day or even one month. The important thing is to understand the exercise. Without hurrying, find the right place with your thumb again.”

For many minutes thereafter, we went through the exercise of shaping the tension in her hand and matching this to her breathing . . . I directed her through the mastery of each finger in turn, urging her to retract each, to stiffen them correctly and to demonstrate how the muscles she needed to hold a weapon properly were – in her – almost wholly untempered and unused. We went through the process with each hand, until I finally told her to stop, to let her wrists rest loosely on top of each knee.

“This is how it begins,” I said.

“I’m tired,” she said with wonder. This was the first time I had ever heard Ruchel express fatigue.

“In a moment, we will spend time breathing again – and then we’ll be done for the day. We can begin again tomorrow, and each day afterwards.”

Without warning, she threw herself at me and embraced me tightly to her. “Thank you!” she cried. Her body was warm and fresh and filled me with longing. I held her for several long moments, feeling her forehead in the crook of my neck, her chest pressed against mine . . . but somehow . . . with courage . . . with regret . . . I disentangled myself from her arms, putting her back on the floor. There were tears in her eyes.

“I – I . . .” I answered clumsily. “You’re welcome.” I looked away, fighting back my own tears. “Let’s – let’s begin again.”

She nodded rapidly, lips tightly together before opening them to say, “Yes, teacher.”

“Good. Give me your right hand.”

At this point, the real-time narrative is replaced by a description of the next week, in which she trains before he progresses her to the use of a weapon.  I'm working on these scenes, still.

If you read this post and you'd like to help me with writing my book, please donate $5 or some such consideration through my blog or become a Patreon supporter, giving me some small stipend a month that you won't notice affecting your bank account.

Meeting the Self

Long day.  4,000+ words in the bank and I feel like I'm moving forward again.

I want to ask a general question of the readership as regards progress.  It's a question I've been asking myself off and on since yesterday.  It goes like this.

Imagine that, for whatever reason, the person that was you 30 years ago could be brought forward in time just long enough for you to show him a one-day tour of your life.  If you're too young for this to work, feel free to shorten the time; if 30 years seems too recent, lengthen it.  Try to imagine a 'you' that was conscious of his or her world but who existed before any of the stuff you have, or the things you've done, came about.

How would that go?

I'm living in some tough circumstances right now - but considering the circumstances the 22-year-old me lived in, and his general communistic approach to life [art before all], I'm fairly sure he'd get over the shock that I was still treading water within the first few hours.  I know what he would have appreciated.

I would have done for him what I do for everyone: show him the world.  Show him the blog, show him the wiki, show him the books . . . but before I could do any of that, I'd have to wrestle him away from the internet.  Those would be a good five or six hours of me showing him what was happening, what the world had become, the shocks, the surprises, the changes that he couldn't predict.  We'd laugh over most of it; we'd get into a fight here and there about realism versus wants, like any tired old man explaining life to an angry young man . . . but I've been him once and I know how I'd calm him.  I'd lie.  I've only got one day.  I don't have time to explain fully how I've come to think as I do now.

We'd stop and have dinner.  I didn't know how to cook when I was 22 so I'd pull all the stops out for him, let him enjoy some of that.  We'd talk politics after that for an hour . . . and then I'd bring around the subject to the book I'm writing now and we'd talk about that, in depth.  He'd want to talk about the book he's writing . . . but that would just lead to me explaining reasons why his book didn't work.  Mostly, because he has a lot of reading to do.

Some might wonder why we wouldn't go anywhere.  Truth is, we'd go everywhere - far more places on the internet than we could see riding around this very middle class, very dull city I live in.  The bars look the same, though some old ones have closed.  The music isn't all that different. The streets haven't changed.  The mountains west of the city are the same mountains.  He's seen those things.  All the interesting stuff is right here on this computer.  In fact, the computer itself would set him on fire.

How would you manage it?