Respecting the Longbow

 



On the 26th of August, 1346, the forces of Edward III, king of England, stood in a series of columns between the villages of Crecy and Wadicourt, peering down the hills towards Fontaine, where a vast French army was massing to drive the English invaders back to the sea. 

The French army was enormous; even ignoring the improbable estimates of ancient chroniclers it is plausible the French outnumbered the English by more than two to one. And while many of the French soldiers were hastily-assembled levies of peasants, the core of their army were professionals: the armored men-at-arms that form the iconic centerpiece of modern medieval warfare. These knights were supported by thousands of professional crossbowmen from Genoa: highly trained experts who carried the iconic pavise shields in addition to their deadly mechanical weapons. 

It was, on paper, one of the finest medieval armies one could amass. It was led not only by King Philip, but his royal ally King John of Bohemia, supported by Prince Charles and a host of other notable dukes and counts. Transported into a fantasy realm, it would be an army well-suited to fighting a demon king or vampire tyrant.

But they did not face a demonic army. Instead, they faced the English, wielding something more lethal than hellfire: the English longbow. The French knights made numerous tactical errors, but nothing saw to their destruction more than the longbow. 

The Genoese crossbowmen could not compete; they were almost immediately outshot and forced to withdraw. The French men at arms charged repeatedly up the hill, each time leaving hundreds of bodies in the mud. Over and over again, they were repulsed, at extravagant cost.




King John of Bohemia was shot in the head and killed. Along with him "died 9 princes, 10 counts, a duke, an archbishop, and a bishop," according to Wikipedia. The battle was a slaughter; the English suffered few losses, while the French lost the greater bulk of their chivalry. And this was not a rare victory: nearly the same events would replay at Agincourt and repeatedly for the better part of the next two centuries. The longbow was the dominant weapon in the English arsenal and, well used, was the most weapon lethal in medieval Europe.


Now let's look at longbows in Dungeons and Dragons: 1d8, 150 foot range, Heavy. Slow with mastery.

It's not hard to see the problem. The longsword, carried in two hands, is a d10 weapon, a d8 with a shield. Both attack, presumably, once every six seconds. One has range while the other doesn't, though range rarely comes up in most D&D modules I've played or read.  

This is absurd. Not only because of some nebulous complaint about realism, though that's a valid point in this case--longbows are clearly not well portrayed here--but because as a game mechanic, longbows are boring. 

This is a problem. As written, a longbow is slightly less dangerous than a longsword; the only advantage is can fire at range, and quickly. This is not as helpful as it sounds, especially since ranges generally shrink rapidly in D&D combat. When the enemy has a longbow, you should probably just race towards them and deal with it. They present little to otherwise react to; they're just another weapon. 

Meanwhile, there is no good reason to use them as an archer!

Instead of the slow, expensive, heavy longbow you have the much lighter, cheaper shortbow, which also allows you Vex, which is objectively better in nearly all cases than Slow! And since most damage with ranged weapons comes from class abilities, a d6 and a d8 are essentially no different. (A massive EV change of 1 damage per hit, lol). If you're carrying a longbow in 5E, you're doing it for RP purposes, which I respect, but I don't think it's good game design when a longbow was such an incredible medieval weapon. 

At the moment, bows have a weak vibe. They're essentially just melee weapons, but with range, and suited almost exclusively for the Ranger class. They're comparable to cantrips; just a weak source of reliable distance damage. When you see them, they don't evoke any particular thought; they're just a generic thing to defeat using the same toolkit you use to defeat any generic threat. Boring. Lame.  


So what am I looking for? What's the vibe I'm going for?

Seeing a longbow should (like any weapon tbh) immediately provoke a weapon-specific reaction. This is a dangerous threat! It must be taken seriously! This isn't like a video game with health bars; it's a life-threatening weapon that could in a matter of seconds drive a 12-inch spike all the way through your skull. Players should look for cover, fetch their shields, fall prone! Racing towards longbows in an open field should be insane. You should get cut to pieces, like the knights at Crecy learned. Find another way! Take cover, withdraw--do anything other than barge forwards, convinced by video games you can just "tank the damage" and hit them with a sword.

(Honestly I can think of nothing more boring. When you start bringing MOBA/video game stuff into TTRPGs, I want to fight you. How dare you? "Tanking?" Are you unwell? King Philip was shot in the jaw! )

So what should be done?

1. Longbows should do much, much more damage.

Longbows should be terrifying. They were essentially as lethal as a firearm, able to pierce through most armor and firing faster than early gunpowder weapons. A direct hit was nearly always fatal because they fired with incredible force; draw weights of at least 80 pounds! These are not normal weapons; they should make players react as if seeing very light artillery--because that's what they are! 


2. Longbows should be hard to use.

These were highly-specialized weapons that required years of training. The reason they were replaced by firearms was not that early firearms were better weapons, but that they were easier to learn. A peasant could in a few days learn to use a firearm effectively; similar training for an archer required years. 

Similarly, these were fragile weapons that didn't travel well and wore down with use. They have great power, and great cost. 


3. They should be easier to counter.  

Cover is too weak in D&D, and shields are mostly pointless, granting a tiny generic AC bonus. Going prone and crawling puts attacks at disadvantage, though even that is probably too small a defense. I'm not sure how to implement it in D&D as is; the game just isn't designed for that kind of tactics. But there should be ways of getting around these weapons that are effective, such that "run towards it and hit it with a sword" will always seem like the reckless (though possible!) decision that it is.


4. Arrows should matter. 

Ammunition should be tracked. This is immutable for the style of gameplay I'm going for: you bring supplies with you when you venture into the world! You make calculations, you protect your baggage train, you use the tools available. So yes, you need to track those arrows. (This is a way of countering archery, incidentally! Burn, steal, or simply drain their ammunition!)

Incidentally, this allows for more gameplay, not less! Resources, like any constraint, give your story texture. They force you to make considerations, to have losses, to consider actions! Otherwise you're going to be in mindless videogame automatic mode: see enemy, shoot enemy. Everything should have *some* kind of cost! 


5. Stop making archery abilities

This is a personal taste thing, but every archery ability is stupid, video-game stuff. Fire 3 arrows at once! Fire 5 arrows at once! Fire an arrow at every enemy in a 10-foot square! Go full General Radahn and fill 1/3 of the map with glowing arrows! Look, I just don't like this. I don't want a simulation but I also don't want to feel like we're in an anime. Archery abilities, if you have them, should be very specific and easy to justify: shooting when someone starts casting a spell or something, I guess? Specializing in knocking weapons out of people's hands? Stuff like that. But nothing that starts to defy physics please, or to carry out would need to look like some kind of AI video of a guy shooting 15 arrows a second. 


Where does this all lead?

I'm not sure any of this is possible in D&D as is, which is why I'm writing my own game system to try and put this into practice!


Hey, if you read all this, thank you! I really would love to know what you think! 


Limit your players

 

I love Call of Cthulhu. I'll gush about it some other time; for now it's enough to begin with the fact that it is my favorite game system I've ever played and I've played more than anyone I know IRL. (Granted, online I am basically an infant. I don't know how you people are able to play so many games; I don't even know how you're able to find them.)

There are many reasons to love Call of Cthulhu, and few of them really make sense to me. The typical setting of the 1920s is fun but hardly a cultural juggernaut; I don't know anyone who's particularly interested in the 20s other than in the context of the occasional Halloween party themed around Gatsby. The combat system isn't particularly good; it's fine but it's mostly just a way to die, especially as combat only rarely advances the investigators towards success. 

But perhaps the most confusing element of the game's fun is that it's generally pretty formulaic. 


Please don't panic. I know about Horror on the Orient Express and I know about Masks. I know there are probably thousands of surprising, interesting investigations, written by hundreds of talented writers who should in a better world be producing movies. I know that a well-written investigation played by clever and creative players can go in a dizzying number of directions and be full of memorable characters, near-deaths, actual-deaths. 

But I've read a lot of people talking about the game, played it a lot, read dozens of investigations, and I'm pretty confident for *average* Cthulhu players, an investigation boils down to:

1. Learn the premise.

2. Hit the library, archives, widow's house, etc

3. Visit a weird location

4. (optional) Use new leads to do a little supplementary research/acquisition; go mad. 

5. Do a ritual, stop a ritual, or find a Thing. One of you will probably die, a sacrifice the keeper is willing to make. 

At its core Cthulhu is usually a haunted location simulator with a puzzle. Where D&D has dungeons with combat, Cthulhu has Locations with a Puzzle, and if you solve the puzzle wrong, or slowly, or without the right information, a big leathery mosquito from a distant galaxy sucks your juices out. 


This is not a complaint. It's a great formula! Cthulhu is, I stress, my favorite game to play. But there is definitely a stock formula that most new players will fall into. The problem is then: how do you get your players to play it differently, if you ever want to?

This is where I return to my Thing, if I can be said to have one: take away options. Limit your players. 


This is my least OSR-friendly advice, and it obviously doesn't apply to that world. A sandbox adventure in that style, a hexcrawl or whatever; a simulation--these games probably thrive on giving a decent amount of freedom. But there are still plenty of games that are more or less adventure stories that follow a prewritten plot. Cthulhu is generally one of these! Each investigation might evolve differently, but the overall flow of events is predetermined (Until the investigators do something to derail it, which in my experience is pretty much guaranteed!). And for this style of story, I think freedom is a bit of a curse. 

Imagine it like this: a good story needs a consistent tone and it needs a consistent voice. If you're telling, for example, a gothic horror story, you need to have characters and plot events that fit that vibe. Your main character can (should!) be a trembling young girl; your villain can be a lecherous castle owner, a jealous and wealthy lady, a jilted lover--but probably not a slick Fortune 500 CEO. Similarly, if you're trying to run a serious investigation in a smoky 1920s Chicago waterfront, you want player characters that fit that vibe: detectives, gin runners, lounge singers, a beat cop. If a player wanted to be Red Sonja it would kill the vibe. 

So don't let them be Red Sonja. 


Don't dare think I'm going to say you need to just forbid characters. What, are you dumb? This is group activity! It's not your story, it's everyone's. The keeper tells it, so you have the most vital say, but you're not  some kind of boss. 

Instead, work them into the process. These are your friends, right? Tell them beforehand what the tone of the game is and how the characters should *feel.* Tell them how they definitely shouldn't feel! If they insist on bringing a Kenku to a pulp murder investigation, explain why that doesn't work. Show them Spider Noir, if you must. 

In my favorite Call of Cthulhu game, I explained the investigators were all kidnapped teenage girls. They generated characters like normal but didn't start with any assets; they were already in the dungeon of a cult. They had pretty limited options for character generation. They all had more or less the same backgrounds, and the same limited EDU score. On paper they were a poorly-balanced party with a lot of overlapping strengths and nearly all the same weaknesses. 

And it was one of the best, most coherent parties I've ever had. 

The game was a huge hit. We actually finished it and it remains one of my most consistently-fun investigations. Friends still joke about it. I lowkey wanna make it into a novel.  And while we have fun with more orthodox Cthulhu games, none quite capture that particular narrative for intensity. I give credit to the fact the characters were made with limits, and those limits, while they removed player freedom, forced them to really invest in the character they made and think of them from the start as part of the game world. They meshed with the vibe! Normally, you make the character separately and stitch them in; you try to merge them with the vibe, but they're always just a little alien. They weren't born in the game, they were born in the infinite white space of the player's mind.

Limits and rules can be suffocating, but they also give context to make decisions. Walls can be a prison. But walls also give structure. Don't be afraid to put them up. Let there be doors and windows, make the walls pretty and think them through. But you should probably have them, or you'll end up with the same sorts of parties, their feet always floating just an inch above your world. 

Just Asking Questions

I have a tendency to start fights. I really don't know why; I have some strong opinions, but most people do, too, and I think I'm much more mild than most. I hate arguing; I always concede to people; I'm pretty damn nice. I really try! I don't think I've ever, EVER picked a fight! 

And yet, I do somehow seem to start them. Usually I don't really even know why. 


I saw a post online. Someone wrote a single sentence: 

Lore that is not actionable is excessive.

I paused, unsure if I agreed. It had been reposted by someone I liked enormously! It was agreed to by others! But something was gnawing at me. It's probably the same impulse that causes all the other fight: I wanted to know more and I wasn't sure I agreed. 

The minutiae aren't important, really. It started a wide-ranging discussion and I think other people started their own threads and soon I saw some of the people who had initially agreed with the post I was questioning make their own defenses. None of them answered in my thread; probably assuming it was hostile territory. And, after a few hours, people stopped talking and that was that. 

****

Perhaps "fight" isn't the right word. Nobody got too upset or anything; I don't think any feelings were hurt. It wasn't really a fight at all. But there did seem to be "sides." I had people telling me to ignore the advice of anyone who says such; I had people start talking about the virtue of worldbuilding vs GMing. But I really didn't intend for their to be sides; I didn't even think I disagreed so much as I just didn't know if I agreed. 

And yet it felt like an argument had sprung up. I've been chewing on it since, and I'm worried that maybe that's the only way it could have gone. I asked a question, people answered; an answer is always going to take a side, in some sense. Maybe I didn't intend to take a side by asking a question--so what? In asking a question, you are calling for an answer. And in doing so, yeah, people might argue. Asking questions appears neutral; but in practice, the nebula in which you're hiding must draw in answers, and all that those bring with them.

So now I'm wondering if I'm a bit of a hypocrite. "Don't fight!" I saw, tossing chum into the waters. "I'm an innocent!" I declare, watching smarter, more experienced people than I tear at each other while I nod and take notes. 

I've done this all my life. I like asking questions. Nearly all the time it's easy and uncontroversial. Ask a teacher about homework. Ask my dad about taxes. Ask my mom about black oxalis. 

But sometimes, and I sort of wonder if part of me knows, it's not to easy. Ask a group of veteran gamers about whether they need lore? And then act like you just wanted some lofty, philosophical answer? On the internet? What, are you dumb? 

****

Actually most of the answers were helpful. I really did take a lot from reading what people had to say. Most everyone who commented praised lore and agreed that in general you should have a well-written world. But the truth is, I wasn't sure I agreed with them either; when everyone starts to take one side on something where I know there IS a valid alternative I start to wonder what we're missing. 

So I went looking. 


Turns out I actually liked the article it came from. It answered my questions, which were sincere: What is actionable (things the players can in any way interact with) and what is excessive (things the GM finds fun to write but is simply not going to come up in play and should be left out of the actual game session; nobody wants to listen to your encyclopedia article.) 

Had I actually looked I could probably have found this article and found my answers. Instead, though, I posted a question and waited for people to give me answers. I learned a lot about lore, and people's playstyles, and how people define lore, or struggle to; I learned a lot.

But now I'm also learning a little about myself, maybe. Why do I ask questions when I could actively seek the answer? I know how to search the internet. I can read. I can click around or even just ask "Does anyone know where this is from?"

But instead I asked for reactions, didn't I? What was I expecting? 

I probably learned more this way. But I do fear I caused a lot of other people to have to get kinda worked up over something trivial. Is that messed up of me? 

Against Magic Systems, Volume I

  I don't really like magic systems. In fact, I'll go further: I don't like the idea of even calling magic a "system."...