“MISCELLANEOUS WEAPONS: Those with bonuses of +1, +2 or +3 gain a bonus of equal merit on damage scored, except as noted below” (Monsters & Treasure, 31).
Like most of us, I have read the above line maybe a hundred times. Every time, I have interpreted “of equal merit” to mean equal to the hit bonus. Reading it today, though, I see no obvious reason to believe that to be the case. “Of equal merit” might refer rather to the aforementioned “bonuses of +1, +2 or +3.” The text “noted below” does not further elucidate the issue. Meaning that the magic bonus of miscellaneous weapons (except magic bows and arrows) is applied only to damage, not to the attack roll.
Am I missing something? I’m sure I’m missing something. What are your interpretations or other clarifying text in OD&D?
Back in 1980, a reporter who asked if D&D was only a passing fad learned that “Gygax and Blume think not. D&D, they say, will last fifty years or more.” As unlikely as it was in the 1970s that this esoteric offshoot of the wargaming hobby might become a pop-culture phenomenon, it is just as unlikely that in 2021 the game would be more popular than ever. As a new generation grows up playing the game, it may be that the true impact of Dungeons & Dragons has yet to be felt.
—Jon Peterson, Game Wizards
This year we celebrate the 50th anniversary of DUNGEONS & DRAGONS. In 1974, it was a new kind of game, created at the intersection of wargames and fantasy and science-fiction literature. It came to be called a role-playing game, enjoyed by millions over these five decades.
So this year, we celebrate the game and the millions of fellow players with whom we share the common experience: fantastic adventure in make-believe worlds. We celebrate friends found and friendships made firmer. We celebrate a simple connection to a diverse array of people from all around the world. A stranger is not so strange when we both know what it’s like to explore a dank dungeon, torch in hand, avoiding traps, solving puzzles, and fighting monsters.
We also celebrate D&D’s several editions over the years as well as the hundreds—thousands—of other role-playing games that followed it. One of its strong points is that D&D is a toolbox. With it, we can have an adventure, make a string of adventures into a campaign, and create an imaginary world full of adventures. We are given license to change the rules as desired, and in so doing, perhaps, make a new game altogether. It is so malleable.
We celebrate the game’s cultural impact. From a niche 1970s game that broke out of its intended wargamer audience by the end of the first print run to a game played by thousands who hardly understood the rules and condemned by thousands more as devil worship in the ’80s, D&D in the 21st century has grown into a pop-culture phenomenon. As a teenager, when I said I played D&D, I had to follow with “It’s a game of imagination, without a board. Players take the roles of…” Today I just say I play D&D and know that most folks are familiar with it, even if some may still misunderstand the game. The curious ask, a conversation starts.
We also celebrate the use, in recent years, of D&D and other RPGs in education, psychotherapy, spiritual growth, and team-building and leadership development. Just playing an RPG for fun is good for us in countless ways. More than that though, the game’s innate means of personal growth applied, with intent, to overcome individual and collective challenges increases the game’s impact manifold.
It’s there, in applied RPGs, that in the next 50 years we may see an important impact of D&D in the world. Maybe its most important—its true impact.
DUNGEONS & DRAGONS by Gary Gygax and Dave Arneson, Lake Geneva, WI: Tactical Studies Rules, 1974. Box cover image from the Acaeum: Dungeons & Dragons Knowledge Compendium, Original D&D Set.
“Jousting in Chainmail is like playing rock-paper-scissors.”
The analogy is as oft cited as apt. In Chainmail (3rd ed., Tactical Studies Rules, 1975), opposing knights each choose, in secret, an aiming point and a defensive position. Each aiming point is then compared against the other’s defensive position on the Jousting Matrix to determine results of one “ride.”
Results range from a miss to breaking a lance to being injured or unhorsed. Based on the results, points are awarded for each ride. Unless one is unhorsed, the knight with the most points at the end of three rides is declared the winner, awarded the laurels, and gets his or her dance partner of choice at the after party.
Playing the hand game, probabilities for a win, loss, or tie are exactly equal. Your choice of three forms—rock, paper, or scissors—versus your opponent’s choice is either weaker, stronger, or equally matched.
Winning at Even Odds
Deprived of any rationale, strategies for winning rock-paper-scissors often involve being quick—watching the opponent’s hand to see what shape is forming, sneaky—waiting till the last possible instant to form your own shape, or tricky—calling out one shape just prior to forming another. These are denied us in Chainmail jousting, where we write our choice of aiming point and defensive position on a hidden sheet—outside of learning the rhythm of your opponent’s pen marks on a hard table, which is sneaky.
For more complexity, we might play rock-paper-scissors-Spock-lizard, which adds two more choices. Since each choice defeats half the remaining choices, no one is superior to another. Five choices does, though, reduce the odds of a tie to one-in-five.
The French play the game with four choices. In pierre-papier-ciseaux-puits, the rock and scissors fall into the well (puits), while the paper covers it as well as the rock. Here we have two options that outperform the others, which gets closer to jousting in Chainmail.
But Chainmail jousting is different from all those. Instead of one choice, each player in a joust has two: the attack (aiming point) and the defense (defensive position). But this only doubles the complexity, effectively playing the same game twice at one go—once as attacker, once as defender—without necessarily reducing the chance for a tie. Although we’ll see that a draw in Chainmail jousting is improbable.
Where Chainmail differs from the hand games is in the options. Instead of three, four, or five, each player has eight options for the attack and six for the defense. This, again, only complicates the matter, though by magnitudes.
“Results can vary from both opponents missing to both being unhorsed, as a study of the Jousting Matrix will reveal” (26).
To figure any strategy out of the Jousting Matrix, our study must go further than the range of results. More careful examination shows the attack options differ in their probability of success and limit the attacker’s possible defense options. As well, the defense options have differing probabilities of success. One successful defense result, “B,” ensures a favorable end to the joust in the next ride. A frequent occurrence, a “B” also subtracts 1 point from the attackers score, making a tie unlikely, though not impossible, in even a single ride. At this point, we see that the analogy is less apt, even if it isn’t entirely inapplicable either.
At this point, we see that the analogy is less apt, even if it isn’t entirely inapplicable either.
Evaluating Options
Point System
To evaluate the strength of each attack and defense, we use a simple point system.
Result
Points
(U)nhorsed
1
(H)elm Knocked Off
½
(B)reaks Lance (without unhorsing)
−½
Miss and Glance Off results are equivalent: no effects, no points. A glancing blow only lends dramatic effect.
We give and take ½ point for Helm Knocked Off and Breaks Lance, because once either is accomplished, the next ride ends in an Unhorsing. For if a defender’s helm is knocked off or an attacker’s lance breaks, he or she must take a Steady Seat the next ride. Knowing this, the opponent aims FP. The other can only hope to achieve an unhorsing as well.
Because a Breaks Lance with Unhorsed (B/U) result penalizes the attacker only 1 point while it wins the joust, we don’t subtract any points in the evaluation system when they occur together. Similarly, the Injured result with Unhorsed (U/I) awards extra points to the attacker but does not impact our assessment. We use these results—and the combination B/U/I—to break any ties in the evaluation.
Defensive Positions
Aiming Point
Lower Helm
Lean Left
Lean Right
Steady Seat
Shield High
Shield Low
Total
Helm
+½
+1
+1½
DC
+1
−½
−½
−½
−½
CP
+1
+1
−½
+1
+1
+3½
SC
−½
+1
+½
DF
−½
+1
−½
−½
−½
FP
+1
−½
+1
+1
−½
+2
SF
+1
+1
Base
−½
+1
−½
+1
−½
+½
Total
+2
+1½
+1
−½
+3½
+½
Aiming Points
Counting up the total points for each attack reveals the optimal aiming points assuming random defensive positions.
Aiming Point
Score
CP
+3½
FP
+2
Helm
+1½
SF
+1
SC
+½
Base
+½
DC
−½
DF
−½
The tie between SC and Base might be broken in favor of Base due to the extra points for an Injury versus Shield High. We’ll see below, however, that Shield High ranks low on the defensive positions list, so the Injury is unlikely. More likely is the Breaks Lance result, which comes up three times when aiming at Base versus only once at SC.
The tie between DC and DF is broken by a lance which suffers in the later case against the Lean Right position.
“Aim pale; avoid dexter.”
This might be part of initial jousting instruction. For we see that CP is by far the best aiming point, with FP coming in second. While DC and DF are the worst.
Defensive Positions
To evaluate each defense, we apply the same point system. In defense, the lower score is better.
Defensive Position
Score
Steady Seat
−½
Shield Low
+½
Lean Right
+1
Lean Left
+1½
Lower Helm
+2
Shield High
+3½
“Steady in the seat; don’t raise the shield.”
Steady Seat is the best defensive position, with Shield Low next. Lower Helm ranks above Shield High, which is by far the worst defensive position. In the best case, your opponent Breaks Lance against Shield High, but only when aiming DC. Plus, we see above that dexter is not a favorable side for the aim. In the worst case, your opponent aims Base, and you won’t be up for much dancing at the after party.
In Play
Now that we know the best and worst attacks and defenses, we might think it’s that simple and mumble the analogy under our breath as we turn the page to the fantastic parts of the book without first tilting. But unlike rock-paper-scissors, we only experience the interaction of rules and human psychology seated opposite an opponent. In that sense, it’s more like Diplomacy—to exaggerate the point in the opposite direction. We discover its virtues in play.
Simple to Teach and Learn
The rules consist of a few lines of text and the Jousting Matrix, which, once we learn to read it, contains the essentials of play. A few minutes and a couple demonstration rides and we’re off to the lists. Best if each player has a copy of the Matrix before them.
Change It Up
Once the players understand how the game works, it isn’t long until everyone is aware of the best and worst attacks—if that wasn’t the final instruction of their tutelage. Of course, we all use two or three best attacks and defenses. But we have to change it up with middle-ranked options for both from time to time to keep the opponent guessing.
Note Attacks and Defenses
To play, each player makes a secret note of his or her aiming point and defensive position. This done, both players reveal their choices, and results are read from the table.
Know Your Opponent
I recommend keeping a record not only of your own but of your opponent’s aiming points and defensive positions as well. For a single joust of three rides, it probably doesn’t matter as there isn’t much chance for patterns to emerge. But in a jousting tournament, they do, and it’s difficult to see the patterns in memory.
With a quick look at previous rides, you might notice that your opponent favors a particular attack. You might see also that he or she intersperses a second favorite every third ride. Thereby, you gain an advantage.
Know Thyself
Take a look at your own previous choices too. If you see a pattern in your attacks or defenses, your opponent may see it as well. Use any patterns in your opponent’s defense to choose a different aiming point, likewise for the defensive position.
The Jousting Matrix in Fiction
I used the Chainmail Jousting Matrix to add strategy to a fictional jousting scene. In The First Story of Littlelot, the hero must joust against the villain to rescue Gwenevere. If Lancelot wins, Maleagant frees the queen from his tower prison. If Maleagant wins, Lancelot becomes a prisoner too. Those familiar with the Matrix might decipher the knights’ aiming points and defensive positions in each ride. All action in less than two pages, “The Joust” is a quick read.
Range of Results
Examining the Matrix, we see the results of aiming points against defensive positions. In play, we see the myriad combinations of two aiming points and two defensive positions in a series of rides combined with a series of jousts.
May well Gygax and Perren mention the range of results as a selling point. Even in the not infrequent case of a broken lance: We are constrained to a defensive position, certain to be unhorsed in the next ride. In our final effort, should we aim pale to increase our chances to unhorse the opponent as well? Or will she expect that strategy and lean left. In that case, we aim sinister fess… But maybe she’s expecting that too?
The best strategy depends on knowing the opponent. Look for the pattern in your record.
Within a Scenario
As a stand-alone game, Chainmail jousting rejoins the hand games in the list of games you play once and never pick up again. There must be consequences to winning and losing a joust.
Simple stakes are built in to OD&D’s wilderness exploration (Vol. III, 15). If we wander too close to a castle, its lord might challenge us to a joust. Win, and the after party goes on for a month. Lose, and we continue our exploration of hostile territory sans armure.
We might build an entire scenario around a tournament, but the scenario should include high stakes on the tournament’s outcome. Since winners and losers are determined at the end, the stakes might propel the story into the next scenario—in one direction with a win, another direction with a loss.
Conclusion
So, while some may yet liken it to a simple game of blind choice and even odds, I think the analogy an exaggeration that unjustly discredits the game. For, while it is easy to learn, Chainmail jousting is complex, its outcomes diverse, and its judicious use can enhance our role-playing and wargame scenarios.
…while it is easy to learn, Chainmail jousting is complex, its outcomes diverse, and its judicious use can enhance our role-playing and wargame scenarios.
If you have any strategies for winning the game, ingenious uses for Chainmail jousting, or other comments about it, please leave a note in the comments. I’m always looking for ways to up my game.
In D&D (1974), after equating one turn to ten minutes, Gygax and Arneson state, “There are ten rounds of combat per turn” (The Underworld and Wilderness Adventures, 8). As Zach Howard writes, “This is the main reason that the combat round is typically interpreted as 1 minute long in OD&D.”
Indeed, in OD&D the length of a melee round is as clear as it is ambiguous in Chainmail’s Man-to-Man Combat section.
Furthermore, if Chainmail’s combat round is not otherwise “modified in various places” in OD&D, might we then apply the statement retroactively to Chainmail’s man-to-man melee round? In OD&D, a character gets one attack per one-minute round, so the same, a 1:1 figure in Chainmail. The question remains open.
Aside, if we need further proof that units in mass combat melee get only one throw of the dice per turn: it isn’t logical that opposing regiments could finish a melee in a single minute, while a couple of stragglers are still duking it out on the edge of the field.
Considering the clear definition of a round in OD&D, I retract the final conclusion made in “Chainmail, OD&D, and the One-Minute Combat Round,” that is, that the OD&D combat round must be less than one minute in length.
To the contrary, again if we can apply the statement in OD&D retroactively to Chainmail, Gygax and Perren do in fact intend the one-minute round for Man-to-Man Combat, and to be clear, in that one-minute round, each combatant gets one attack—a single throw of the dice.
I retain the other conclusions and observations made in the article. The conclusions, in particular, are that the length of a mass combat melee round in Chainmail is perfectly ambiguous, and that the man-to-man round is not specified.
In the case that the clear rule in OD&D is not a clarification but a modification to Chainmail, then the time scale in Man-to-Man Combat could differ from the mass combat time scale. I point again to the more articulated actions accounted for in Man-to-Man Combat—should one seek justification to change the rule and implement a shorter combat round in their OD&D game.
Thanks to James Maliszewski for bringing attention to the article and to Zach Howard for the comment.
An earlier version of this article did not allow for the possibility that the ten-rounds-per-turn rule is a modification of Chainmail to be applied in OD&D. The final paragraph has been edited accordingly. [05:03 25 July 2021 GMT]
I have long struggled with the one-minute combat round sometimes used in OD&D. Yes, it is easily ignored and many do. But I like at least to make sense of why a rule is as it is. If I don’t understand, whether I use it or ignore it, I’m bugged.
After a reader pointed out an oversight, I reconsidered the final conclusion made in this article, that is, that the OD&D combat round must be less than one minute in length. Please see “The One-Minute Combat Round Revisited.” Though the rule in OD&D—and by extrapolation in Chainmail—is clear, I still struggle with it, and the other conclusions and the observations made herein remain valid, so I leave this article as is.
I think I’ve sussed it. Forgive me if you’ve got this figured out before. I’m catching up. Much has been written about turns and rounds in Chainmail melee. Most of what I find on the internet discusses melee resolution in mass combat.1 I wasn’t able to wade through it all. Please do point me to other arguments or make your own in the comments below.
Mass Combat vs. Man-to-Man
I’m talking here about the combat round in Chainmail’s Man-to-Man Combat system, which is inherited by OD&D. On the subject of melee resolution in mass combat, the rules are, whether by design or lack of it, perfectly ambiguous. One could argue either way, citing, in many cases, the same passage from the text.
To decide, I defer to the definition of Melee Resolution (15). According to my reading, melee “rounds” occur at step 6 in the turn sequence. Each side engaged in melee throws one or more dice a single time to determine hits, casualties are removed, and post-melee morale is tested. If both sides stand the morale test, they are still engaged in melee. But, unless in the middle of a charge, we go on to the next melee on the field, where we repeat the process: dice, casualties, morale, until all melees have had a round. Then, we go back to step 1 in the turn sequence to let other figures on the field get a turn before we continue melee(s) at step 6 in the next turn.
In Chainmail, Gygax and Perren give us the one-minute turn for miniatures combat (hereafter, mass combat2). They also give us the man-to-man combat rules, to which “all the [mass combat] rules apply, except where amended below” (25). Later, in D&D (1974), Gygax and Arneson describe Fighting Capability as “a key to use in conjunction with the Chainmail fantasy rules,3 as modified in various places herein” (Men & Magic, 18).
Mass combat and man-to-man melee must take place at different time scales.
Modern interpretation of this combination of rules yields the one-minute combat round for OD&D. [See also “The One-Minute Combat Round Revisited.”] After a few more man-to-man combat rounds this morning, it occurs to me that mass combat and man-to-man melee must take place at different time scales. That is, in a one-minute turn, all units engaged in mass combat roll the dice once against opponents, while figures engaged in man-to-man melee may roll more than once, exchanging a series of blows, until the outcome is decided—in the same one-minute turn.
I outline the argument below. I hope it is more coherent than its subject matter.
Diverse Sources
Even the casual Chainmail reader is not surprised to learn that the published rules are not a cohesive system for mass combat and individual melees with magic and monsters, integrated like the systems on board an M1 Abrams main battle tank. Chainmail is a number of rules subsets, cobbled together from different sources, more akin to a field-expedient shoe repair job.4 Historian Jon Peterson finds antecedents for the three major subsets, which correspond to the major divisions in Chainmail’s contents table.5
RULES FOR MEDIEVAL MINIATURES—Rules for Medieval Wargames, Tony Bath, 1966.
MAN-TO-MAN COMBAT—Contribution to Wargamer’s Newsletter #51, Phil Barker, 1966.
FANTASY SUPPLEMENT—Rules for the New England Wargamers Association, Leonard Patt, 1970.
Note that Chainmail does not take the earlier systems whole cloth. Peterson uses words like “derivative,” “borrows,” and “prefigures” to describe the relationships. Of the subsystems, Peterson writes, “each derived from different influences in the creative commons of miniature wargaming, and although Gygax adapted and anthologized them, little effort was made to reconcile or interwork them.”6
It is this lack of reconciliation that sows confusion. That each subset comes from a different source opens the door on the possibility that the time scales differ in mass combat and man-to-man melee.
Turn Sequence and Man-to-Man
Before I go further, it must be understood that the Turn Sequence is used in the Man-to-Man system. If you’re a believer, please skip down to the next heading. If not, let me convince you.
The Turn Sequence, whether move and counter-move or simultaneous movement, stipulates steps for each turn. The sequence is, of course, given in the mass combat section. But those rules apply to the man-to-man rules “except where amended” (25), and, in this regard, they are not.
The best evidence for this is in the “first blow” section (25), which introduces the notions of “attacker” and “defender” without specifying how the designations are determined. It’s implicit—use the Turn Sequence: “1. Both opponents roll a die [for initiative].” Unless the opponent with the high roll opts for the counter-move or wants to parley, he or she is the attacker. The other, the defender.
Melee Resolution
So, if we agree that the Turn Sequence is intended to be used with Man-to-Man Combat, then, after initiative, the opponents move, take artillery and missile fire, and at step 6: “Melees are resolved.”
Here is where the confusion between the two disparate systems comes into play. In the mass combat section, Melee Resolution is described:
“After both players have rolled the number of dice allotted to them for their meleeing troops by the Combat Tables, casualties are removed, and morale for both opponents is checked” (15).
As this is not explicitly amended in the Man-to-Man section, we expect each figure to roll once on the Man-to-Man Melee Table and, if neither hits, we wait for step 6 to come around again.
Under that assumption though, the “first blow” section cited above doesn’t make sense. For it goes on to give conditions to determine who gets the first blow on the first and subsequent rounds of melee. If each side gets only one blow per one-minute round, there would be no “2nd round and thereafter” (25), because each side would roll for initiative, which determines the attacker, at the beginning of the turn.
During the melee resolution step, each unit engaged in mass combat melee gets one throw of the dice,7 while, during the same step, figures in man-to-man melee throw dice until the outcome is decided.
Granularity
Two sides in a mass melee roll attack dice and assess damage simultaneously. High above the battlefield, where one figure represents 20 troops, we don’t see who gets the first blow and who gets the second—nor do we want to. The system simulates tens or hundreds of troops attacking and defending during one minute.
At a 1:1 figure scale, we don’t see the entire field. Hovering just overhead, we see a few individuals close up. The action is more granular. We take it as read, for example, that missile fire in mass combat considers only maximum range, whereas Man-to-Man amends missile fire to give a single archer a better chance to hit targets at short and medium ranges.
Below I enumerate some amendments to the mass combat system that imply, when fighting man-to-man, a combat round of less than one minute. There are others. These are both the most salient and the least ambiguous.
1. Rear and Flank Attacks.
“Men attacked from the rear do not return a blow on the 1st round of melee and automatically receive 2nd blow position on the 2nd round of melee. Men attacked from the left flank automatically receive 2nd blow position on the 1st round of melee” (25).
In mass combat we see attacks from the rear and flanks, but there is no second round. The action is carried to the next turn. In man-to-man, we can see the combatant turning to strike the attacker. In the case of a rear attack, he has to dodge another blow before he can reposte. If he is attacked from the flank, we see that he is right-handed.
2 Parry.
“For any weapon 1 class higher to three classes lower than the attacker the defender may parry the blow…” (25).
Above we saw in which hand he held the weapon, now we can compare its size with his opponent’s weapon. Further, at the 1:1 scale, we see the defender parry an attack. In reality, a parry happens in an instant. It’s so fast, a casual observer might not see it. Movie actors have to exaggerate the gesture to show us a parry on film.
3. Horse vs. Foot.
“When fighting men afoot, mounted men add +1 to their dice for melees and the men afoot must subtract -1… Men may be unhorsed by footmen if they specifically state this is their intent before dice are rolled” (26).
At man-to-man scale, mounted men attack with a weapon class versus an armor class, as do footmen. The difference in their disposition is accounted for by adjustments to their dice rolls. Moreover, any unhorsing is assumed in the mass melee combat tables. At 1:1, we have to state the intention and hope for success.
Conclusion
How much time does it take to turn around? How long to parry a blow or take a swing at a rider? I’m not arguing to set a number of seconds for the man-to-man combat round. My point is that the period is not stipulated and that it must be less time than the one-minute turn.
In Chainmail’s Man-to-Man Combat, a round of melee is like a round of drinks: We don’t know how much time it takes. We only hope to be upright at the end of it.
I conclude that Gygax and Perren do not intend the one-minute round for Man-to-Man Combat. Rather, the entire man-to-man melee is assumed to be resolved in the one-minute turn. The length of the man-to-man round is not specified in Chainmail nor, subsequently, in OD&D.8, 9
Notes
1 For further discussion on the topic of melee resolution in mass combat, see “Melee Rounds per Turn in Chainmail,” on the “Original D&D Discussion” forum.
2 It is rare if ever that we see the term “mass combat” in early wargames rules. When they refer to combat or melee, they speak of clashes between companies, regiments, and brigades. Individual engagements are the exception. Hence the terms “man-to-man” and “individual” melee, which are today disused.
3 I ignore the particular reference to the fantasy rules and assume Fighting Capability is interpreted within the frame of the entire ruleset.
4 It does not escape notice that, around the time Chainmail was being developed, Gygax supported a family of five as a shoe cobbler.
5 Links to Peterson’s articles about subset antecedents on his “Playing at the World” blog. Beware the rabbit hole.
7 A caveat concerning mass combat melee: Each unit gets one throw of the dice unless, as in the case of the example (15-16), a charge is not halted in the first throw of the dice and the charging unit meets an enemy unit by the end of the charge move. In that case, the charging unit and its opponent get another throw in the same turn. A similar scenario can occur when missile troops refuse combat (15).
In the case, however, where the result of post-melee morale is “melee continues,” I read “melee continues [the next turn].” This, based chiefly on the text of Melee Resolution (15, cited above).
8 Though he stipulates a 10-second combat round, Moldvay reproduces Chainmail’s man-to-man system in a more coherent manner. The significant changes in B/X (1981) are two:
The side with initiative goes through all the steps of the turn sequence before the other.
All actions—melee as well as movement, spells (artillery), and missile fire—take place within the 10-second round.
9 We don’t forget that Gygax instituted the one-minute combat round in Advanced D&D (Dungeon Master’s Guide, 1979). There, the author stated clearly his intention:
“Combat is divided into 1 minute period melee rounds, or simply rounds, in order to have reasonably manageable combat. ‘Manageable’ applies both to the actions of the combatants and to the actual refereeing of such melees. It would be no great task to devise an elaborate set of rules for highly complex individual combats with rounds of but a few seconds length. It is not in the best interests of an adventure game, however, to delve too deeply into cut and thrust, parry and riposte (61).”
If our own intention is to the contrary—that is, to delve, however deep, “into cut and thrust, parry and riposte,” which is the stuff of fantasy adventure combat since the 1980s, then the argument for “rounds of but a few seconds length” is persuasive.
Solon Theros Challenges Minke Meine and Annemie Tacx. “Two against one, c’mon…”
Preparing to use them at the table, I compiled the three Flying Tables into a PDF. Each table—by the Bluebook, for Basic and Lower Dungeons, and for Caves and Caverns—fits on its own 5½″ × 8½″ page.
For hard copy, print two pages per sheet on both sides. Then fold the page with the desired tables on the outside. A footer contains links to the Contents and to each Flying Table for quick on-screen navigation. I also made a smaller version at 2¼″ × 4″ for the small screen.
“Brief instructions below the ENCOUNTER KEY EXAMPLE in Set One: Basic Dungeons gives ‘Approximately 25%’ as the monster probability… While the instructions in Set Three: Lower Dungeons are the same, those in Set Two differ in one respect: In Caves and Caverns, we encounter a monster in half the rooms.”—from “Flying Dungeon Stocking Table by the Bluebook”
While sussing the Flying Table, I mentioned my surprise at the discovery that there are more monsters in caves than in dungeons. We know from the Map God’s description that the Deep Halls were “constructed and adapted from existing caverns following their dreams channeled from Amon-Gorloth itself.”
I am, therefore, determined to make the distinction between the Halls’ built dungeons and its existing caves. Below are two tables, one to match instructions from Sets One and Three and another for Set Two.
Holmes gives 33% as the chance a room contains a monster (40). The difference from the Bluebook is made up by reducing the chance for an “interesting variation” to only 3% in caves and increasing the number of empty rooms from 22% to 30% in dungeons. In both cases, the proportion of monsters with versus without treasures is the same, as is the chance for traps, which remains 20%.
The Bluebook recommends the Dungeon Geomorphs, boxed with early printings of Holmes Basic, to DMs saying they “contain many suggestions and will prove very useful.”
ENCOUNTER KEY EXAMPLE
“5. False door which fires an arrow directly out when it is opened. The arrow is magical (+1), and if it fails to hit it will be usable. After the first magic arrow, it will fire only non-magic ones which will break whether or not they hit.”
Dungeon Geomorphs Set One: Basic Dungeon (TSR Hobbies, 1976). A precedent for the reuse or not of normal and magical arrows.
While the Monster & Treasure Assortment gives us the particulars of the dungeon’s inhabitants and their wealth, it and Holmes Basic provide only guidelines on when to roll for them. To stock as we explore The Deep Halls, we need an easy method to determine room contents.
I am fond of Moldvay’s tables for stocking room contents and treasure. Outside of “special monsters to be used,” I depend on those two tables to determine what’s behind the door and what’s hidden under the loose floor stone. They provide quick answers to the immediate questions, while allowing leeway for creativity to intercede.
For The Deep Halls, though, we’re using Holmes Basic. Nothing stops us from using the B/X tables except a curiosity to play the game as we might have done in the late 70s. So, perusing the Bluebook, I put together the text about stocking a dungeon and compiled a single d100 table.
No B/X!
Keeping with the Holmes spirit, in this article I try to avoid any assumptions based on Moldvay’s tables and, indeed, any B/X-isms whatsoever. If you spot one, call me out. Punishment is to be thrown into the Pit behind the Great Stone Skull.
Flying Dungeon Stocking Table
All table entries—“double” and “single” treasures, the various traps, for examples—are derived from Holmes Basic plus supplements Monster & Treasure Assortments and Dungeon Geomorphs. I discuss below, at some length, how I arrived at the entries and their percentages.
You can use the table to generate general random room contents, either while stocking the dungeon before a session or on the fly. Using it in the later case, I call it “flying.”
d100
Result
1-5
Monsters, double treasures (special)
6-10
Monsters, double treasures (selected)
11-18
Monsters, single treasure (selected)
19-26
Monsters, single treasure (random)
27-33
Monsters, no treasure
34-38
Treasure (hidden, trapped; room appears empty)
39
Trap: transports to deeper level
40-43
Trap: scything melee weapon
44-45
Trap: falling block
46-49
Trap: spring-loaded missile
50-54
Trap: trapdoor in floor, pit “relatively shallow”
55-57
Trap: trapdoor in floor, pit 10’ deep
58
Trap: trapdoor in floor, pit 20’ deep
59-78
Interesting variation
79-100
Appears to be empty…
Sources
Bluebook editor Dr. J. Eric Holmes affords us the bulk of his guidance on stocking dungeons in a half dozen paragraphs on pages 22 and 40. In addition, he recommends guidelines in the Monster & Treasure Assortments. He also mentions the Dungeon Geomorphs. We don’t need geomorphs for The Deep Halls, but some guidance therein helps to resolve a dilemma, which we’ll get to shortly.
Reading Map
Though I refrain from minute detail, this article far exceeds the comfortable reading length of the average reader, old school or otherwise. To guide you, the remainder of the article is divided into the following sections:
In the MONSTERS section of the Bluebook, the editor warns:
“Determination of exactly how much treasure any monster has can be a difficult matter.”
He goes on to explain that too little treasure “dampens enthusiasm,” and the PCs don’t live long enough to gain a level. Too much treasure “turns the game into a give away show.”1 The players don’t learn how to play well, and the lack of challenge reduces interest in play.
A note about the notes: As standard practice, I include the context in each footnote, so the reader may comfortably follow the narrative and read the notes afterward, using—if necessary—the superscript numbers for reference.
“Single” and “Double,” “Special” and “Selected”
Under the heading SAMPLE FLOOR PLAN, PART OF FIRST LEVEL, Holmes advises:
“Place a few special items first, then randomly assign treasure and monsters to the other rooms using the selection provided in the game or appropriate tables.” (40)
Turning to the Monster & Treasure Assortments (hereafter M&T), we see reiterated the suggestion to “prepare several special monsters—along with whatever treasure each such monster guards.” M&T continues:
“Thereafter, … move to the list of randomly generated monsters and select which should be in proximity to the specially placed monsters.”
After this selection, random determination from the enclosed tables is the method advised.
Note that each of the three Monster & Treasure Assortment Sets contain identical instructions for stocking dungeons. But we’ll see below a difference between sets in the Dungeon Geomorphs instructions.
In reference to treasures, M&T urges “that the DM selectively place as many treasures as possible, doubling up in some cases.”
The point of the Flying Table is to make a random determination, and frankly, the listed treasures are not terribly exciting. I avoid having to chose between 300 gold pieces and 500 electrum by rolling for it. Maybe I’ll get a Manual of Puissant Skill of Arms.
However, I retain the notions of “special” and “selected” in the flying table—not “as many as possible” though. I group the treasures with like monsters. And—you start to know me—I keep the idea of “doubling up” treasures.
Treasures, Hidden, Trapped
Whether accompanied by a monster or not, treasures should be hidden and trapped. They are often in some container. This is where M&T shines. Three tables, TREASURE IS CONTAINED IN, GUARDED BY, and HIDDEN BY/IN, improve a treasure’s allure.
Exploring a room, we find a large stone jar. Runes are carved around its neck. It is filled with incense. As we approach we can smell it. Further inspection shows it to be only a thin layer of incense, beneath which we discover a cache of gold coins before the runes explode.
How Often Monsters?
“A roll of 1 or 2 [on a d6] indicates some monster is there.” (Holmes, 40)
Here, in the probability of monsters appearing, we arrive at our dilemma. Where Holmes gives 33% (1 or 2 out of 6, above), M&T states: “a dungeon level should have monsters in only 20% or so of the available rooms and chambers.”
I lean toward 33%, because it’s in OD&D, not to mention B/X. But I want to justify it somehow. I found the justification in the Dungeon Geomorphs.
Brief instructions below the ENCOUNTER KEY EXAMPLE in Set One: Basic Dungeons gives “Approximately 25%” as the monster probability.
Adding a different percentage seems only to aggravate the problem. But, while the instructions in Set Three: Lower Dungeons are the same, those in Set Two differ in one respect: In Caves and Caverns, we encounter a monster in half the rooms.
Implied Setting: More Monsters in Caves
A greater monster probability in natural subterranean environments is news to me. It changes, if only slightly, how I imagine D&D’s implied setting.
The average between the differing probabilities, 25 and 50, is 37.5%, which I’ll take as close enough to 33% and align with Holmes.2
So, we are settled on a 33% monster probability. Now, we discuss some details about monsters and treasures before going on to address, briefly, traps, “interesting variations,” and empty rooms.
“Where Amon-Gorloth sleeps and dreams”
Author-cartographer Dyson Logos tells us the dreaming priests adapted The Deep Halls from existing caverns. Built-out dungeon rooms as well as caves, natural and rough-hewn, are depicted on the map.
To adhere strictly to the differing Dungeon Geomorphs instructions, I’m working out two modified tables, one for each environment: 25% monster probability in dungeon levels and 50% in caves and caverns.
“Twisted and nightmarish,” indeed.
Monsters, No Treasures
M&T adds, “about 20% of the monsters should have no treasure whatsoever.” The rationale for broke monsters, according to the supplement, is that players will not know if treasure is present or not. Whereas, if every monster had treasure, they would search until they found it.
By my reading of Holmes, other than jellies, slimes, and puddings, which are placed randomly in halls between rooms, all monsters have treasure. As he is mute on the wealth wandering monsters might carry, we assume none.3
Treasures, No Monsters
While M&T makes a good case for monsters without treasures, the converse is not mentioned. Nowhere in the cited sources do I find explicit instructions to include treasures where there are no monsters.
The only evidence for this necessary phenomenon, not rare in other editions, is general references to “treasure,” not indicating whether a monster is present.
Why Treasures Without Monsters?
A dungeon without a few treasures not guarded by monsters is a dungeon little explored. In such a world, neophyte adventurers are taught the simple maxim: “No monster, no treasure.”
If the room is empty, which “many” are (Holmes, 40), adventurers move to open the opposite door. Why search a room where, at best, you might find a trap? At worst, you’ll find a trap, and while searching, a monster will wander through the door.
The DM, then, loses a valuable information-delivery platform. All those clues—for example, to the origin of the dungeon, the story of its builder, and how to defeat him or her—go unsought and undiscovered.
In spite of the omission, I add to the table a 5% chance for treasures without monsters.
How many Manuals of Puissant Skill of Arms?
If you get a duplicate result of a magic item, M&T gives you license to replace it with a like item, e.g. a potion for a potion. You can roll for it on the appropriate table. For more excitement, you can roll on the Magic Items table (Holmes, 36), or roll first to see if it’s a map (Maps and Magic Categories, 34), as I do. Careful though, rolling on the Magic Items table opens up the possibility to get a more powerful item than M&T intended. Wear your “Monty Haul” badge with pride.
Traps
This is adorable. Holmes on traps:
“Falling into a relatively shallow pit would do damage only on a roll of 5 or 6 (1-6 hit points at most) but will delay the party while they get the trapped character out.”
Apart from explaining damage for more profound pits and admonishing us against “the ‘Zap! You’re dead!’ variety,” Holmes has no further advice on traps.
Dungeon Geomorphs provides the proportion: “For every five [rooms and large spaces] there should be approximately one trap” or 20%.
Geomorphs goes on to give us the idea to transport explorers to lower levels:
“Slanting passages, teleportation areas, slides, and the like should be added sparingly thereafter—one or two such items per level is a fair guideline.”
By way of a series of thought experiments using the geomorphs and mathematical calculations to take into account the implied number of encounter areas per level, I derived 1% as the “sparing” chance for transportation to deeper levels.
The 39 Steps
It was through mysterious coincidence that the entry for transportation to deeper levels falls at 39 on the table.
Maybe the shadowy organization of Hitchcock’s 1935 film is not involved. It cannot be that within the 39% entry is hidden a coded message, planted by an insidious enemy, giving the time and place for a clandestine rendezvous, as in John Buchan’s 1915 novel. Yet, it may be that both are true, for “The 39 Steps” delivers explorers to deeper levels…
In a Set Three example, Dungeon Geomorphs gives us poison spikes at the bottom of a pit trap. It doesn’t describe damage, but one would assume a minimum d6 from a spike (there are six in the pit) in addition to falling damage, plus at least one save vs. Poison—“Zap! You’re Dead!” Let’s save dripping, sharp objects on pit bottoms for a Lower Dungeons campaign.
For more variety in things that go “Zap!” I add spring-loaded missiles and scything melee weapons, which usually guard treasures in M&T.
“Interesting Variations”
Also present, Holmes notes, are “hidden rooms, movable walls, teleportation devices, illusion rooms, dead ends, etc.,” which he calls “interesting variations” (40). Let’s assume the percentage is equal to that of traps.
This is where the creative DM exercises his or her genius: A lever controls an elevator room. Water from a clear pool, when imbibed, increases an ability score. Crystal spheres hang in the air; when one is broken, treasure or a monster falls out. Walking through an archway, the adventurer is teleported to a dragon’s lair—under the monster’s foot! The rest of us tell stories about them, and these interesting variations become legends.
I generally lack this genius. I depend on the legends to dress up my dungeons with such variations. Thankfully, an old school gamer collected many of the best ones into a book of random tables.
The Dungeon Alphabet
Although it was published three decades after Holmes, I have to recommend The Dungeon Alphabet: An A-to-Z Reference for Classic Dungeon Design by Michael Curtis for devising interesting variations. When it doesn’t add something wild and cool, it adds flavor to the dungeon and its culture.
It has controlling levers, teleportation devices, magic pools, mysterious events, and lots more. Use an entry straight from the book or peruse and be inspired to invent your own.
The earliest publication is 2009, but be sure to get the “Expanded Fourth Printing” of 2018—it has a few additional interesting variations.
The remaining 22% on the table goes to empty rooms, keeping in mind that rooms containing treasures without monsters (5%, above) also appear empty… until we turn up some nice treasures!
Notes
1 “…turns the game into a give away show.” I have to think Holmes here alludes directly to Let’s Make a Deal, the television game show originally hosted by Monty Hall, from which the derogatory “Monty Haul” is derived.
2 For more monsters and more treasures on a single table, align with the 37.5% average of the Dungeon Geomorphs instructions by adjusting the table, adding 4% or 5% to the chance to encounter monsters (for a total of 37% or 38% monster probability). To do so, add 1 to the range for each Monsters entry with treasure (for 37%) and 1 to the Treasures only entry (for 38%). Adjust the table down the line, keeping the same chance for Traps and Interesting variations, and remove 4% or 5%, as appropriate, from the chance for an empty room.
3 Because they carry no treasure, wandering monsters only drain the party’s resources. This heightens the tension during exploration. Aware that the passing of time brings danger without reward, clever adventurers don’t doddle.
If the Monster & Treasure Assortments had got more play…
—“What’s your Hack-9?” —“What’s that?” —“You know, your attack level—what do you need to Hit Armor Class 9?”
“AL = level of attack by monster as expressed by the monster’s base number to score a hit on an unarmored opponent (armor class 9)”—Monster & Treasure Assortments (TSR Hobbies, 1977)
