In our last installment, we discussed how old school (A)D&D combat needs to be paradoxically both abstract and concrete depending on the situation, with armor class (AC) and hit points (HP) as the prime examples of abstraction, and called shots or critical hits as examples of more concrete rulings that are sometimes necessary.
In this installment, we are going to talk about how these concepts apply to player character (PC) parties, especially at the tender, Basic levels of about 1-3. Another paradox of PCs in (A)D&D combat (to me) is this:
While the PCs act as individuals, they must fight as a unit to survive.
This might be evident to those who have served in the military, first responders, or have played in team sports. Heck! Even veteran raiders in massively-multiplayer online (MMO) RPGs know this: you never go full Leeroy Jenkins.
This was likely evident to the wargamers that were the creators and early players of the game as well. Starting characters are very fragile, would-be heroes and generals, (but not yet,) and have to be protected, much like the king in Chess.
Therefore, old school (A)D&D parties tended to be big, with either many players (i.e. more than 3-5,) and/or a number of non-player character (NPC) hirelings or henchmen to boost their numbers, sort of like a modern-day platoon.
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| A possible account of Grandpa Grog’s first, total party kill (TPK.) |
They didn’t just play characters like Conan, Robin Hood, and Gandalf. They were Robin Hood AND his Merry Men, Conan AND his Barachan Pirates/Zuagirs/Kozaki/Aquilonian Knights, Gandalf AND his…err…hobbits.
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| They work for food and fit into TSA-approved carry-on luggage. What’s not to love? |
But what does it mean to fight as a unit in old-school (A)D&D? Well, dungeons tend to be cramped spaces, with approximately 10 foot-wide corridors as the standard (but not always) between rooms. That means the party typically fights very close together. This is one of the reasons marching order is important in the game. It is not just to determine where each character is during exploration (a topic we will cover later,) but also their main mode of fighting.
Despite (A)D&D being medieval-ish in theme, we should look further back in time to the ancients for our cramped, formation-fighting model: the Greek (and later Roman) phalanx.
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| Fighting naked, with sharp objects dangerously close to one's pee-pee place, is not recommended. |
I mentioned before that I’m not a mathematician. It should come as no surprise that I’m not a historian, either. In fact, the things I'm an expert about can probably be counted in one hand, even one that has suffered the potentially dangerous effects of playing with fireworks as a child. I just like to read interesting sh*t, especially if I can apply it to my gaming (I’m sure I’m not alone in this.) We’re dipping our toes into some military history here "for entertainment purposes only," so the history buffs or influencers among you can just chill.
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One such piece of interesting sh*t is the book De Re Militari (aka The Military Institution of the Romans) by Publius Flavius Vegetius Renatus. (I suspect that if you repeat his name three times, a ghostly, Roman patrician in a toga will appear behind your reflection in the bathroom mirror.) This book detailed the training, organization, strategies, and tactics of the Roman military. (Note: I thought this was available on Project Gutenberg, but I can’t seem to find it, so you’ll have to procure a copy on your own. Ye must have barnacles in yer head if ye thinks I’ll hang fer piracy, arr.)
Fun Fact: this book was used by medieval and Renaissance armies well into the 16th century and beyond, so it’s still applicable to our fantastic medieval campaigns. However, the text should be taken with a grain of salt, since it was written during the late (read: declining) Roman Empire and it may have had a bit of MRGA (Make Rome Great Again) propaganda. But regardless of one’s personal, political stance on the good ol’ S.P.Q.R., what is of interest to us here is Vegetius’ descriptions of how Roman armies fought. We’re not going to get deep into the weeds, but here are a few, summarized points that could apply to dungeon-fighting parties:
- Roman soldiers fought in tight formation, rather than as a “raw and untrained horde” (which kinda sounds like orcs.)
- Each soldier had armor, a shield, and a thrusting weapon, rather than hacking or slashing all over the place, unnecessarily exposing themselves to harm.
- Each soldier also carried hurled weapons, either the javelins called pila, or five, “loaded javelins,” which I believe is referring to the lead-weighted darts called plumbatae. I find it hilarious that some great victories have been won by the ancient equivalent of lawn darts.
The idea here is that you don’t want every character in your party to do whatever they want in combat like the aforementioned “untrained horde” of Leeroy Jenkinses. Instead, they should fight together in disciplined ranks, with a strong, layered outer defense and offense; something like a mutant war-beast that is a cross between a turtle with a shell made of shields (testudo) and a porcupine with spears for quills. If you were looking to start a retro, heavy metal tribute band, these could inspire your band name. No need to thank me.
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| We’re playing at the local dive this Thursday. Come check us out and buy a CD, because we’d like to eat sometime this week. |
Need a better visual example? Check out this sequence from the HBO series, Rome below. Note how the centurion in charge (the character of Vorenus) signals with a whistle at about the 00:35 mark, so that soldiers from the rear ranks can relieve wounded, exhausted, or fallen soldiers in the front ranks. This could be a lifesaver for characters that have lost too many hit points (esp. at one hit die!) Unfortunately, one soldier (the character of Pulo) then demonstrates the Leeroy Jenkins strategy at about the 2:30 mark, but it still serves as a good example of what not to do.
“Ok, Weregrog, but my party isn’t made up if a bunch of Roman legionaries! What is this supposed to look like for an (A)D&D party, with medieval fantastic knights, elves, dwarves, wizards, and clerics?” Don’t worry, Little Johnny (can I call you Little Johnny?) I will show you.
Now, I know most old-schoolers don’t care for the artist Terry Dykstra, who illustrated a few of the 1990s’ D&D products (the “Challenger Series”) that I began with, but he’s just as psychologically imprinted in my D&D head-canon as Erol Otus is to an old grog’s. He had a pretty good depiction of dungeon-fighting in the Rules Cyclopedia, so the old grogs are just going to have to suck it up this time.
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| We can meet in the middle on Elmore, Easley, and Caldwell. |
Note the composition of the party. You have two fighters with swords and shields in the front, a fighter behind them with a polearm, and an archer looking for an opportunity shot, while remaining under the protection of the first rank. The pedantic, would-be YouTube medieval weapons “expert” in me would say he should have a crossbow, or at least a short bow instead of a long bow in a dungeon, but we can chalk that one up to artistic license and move on. My point is made, and I’ve likely angered both the old grognards AND the YouTube weapons experts in doing so. These are the lengths I will go to for my readers.
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| Here lies The Weregrognard, who bravely perished on OSR Hill fighting the combined forces of The Dungeon Delver, Shadiversity, and others. |
Before we get into specific party formations and fighting tactics, I want to discuss two rules which I believe complement fighting as a unit: group initiative and a phased combat sequence. (Note: surprise will be covered in a separate post.)
Group Initiative
Most older editions of (A)D&D used group or party initiative, but individual initiative soon became an optional rule, which then became the modern-day standard. This is a shame, because it encourages the members of a party to split up and perform their actions individually during combat in what is literally a random order, without care for synchronicity between fellow players. If you’ve experienced a number of near, or full TPK’s (regardless of edition,) this is probably the underlying cause.
My personal suggestion is to use group initiative. This way, the party can act as a team, preferably with a carefully-thought strategy beforehand, but even if the proverbial battle plan doesn’t survive the first swing of a sword, this allows them to coordinate effectively in the heat of battle.
Phased Combat Sequence
The other factor that I believe helps with group fighting is a combat sequence composed of phases, like in many wargames. Essentially, each phase in the sequence suggest an initiative order for different types of maneuvers or attacks. This is the example from the Moldvay Basic Set:
Movement comes first, followed by missile (or hurled) weapon attacks, which are then followed by spells (these can be thought of as kind of artillery that needs more set-up in the form of magic words and gestures.) The phases then culminate in the ringing clash of melee, with some options like polearms or set spears (against a charge) attacking first regardless of initiative.
Of course, this is all dependent on how your play group and GM does things, but using group initiative, with the option of phased combat, helps the party feel and act more like a team. Even with individual initiative (*sigh*) players could still coordinate to fight as a group, using delaying actions to act in concert. Do this, and soon enough the party will come to function much like crack, special operators.
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| Clear! Ramirez, check for traps and treasure. Grognar, Brodo, you’re on door spike and watch duty. Go! |
Suggested Party Formations
Here are some suggested marching order strategies, as demonstrated by Mr. Murder Hobo and his unwashed, inebriated pals. Again, these are dependent on how the GM does things, but could still provide a framework for your party’s fighting strategy. Most of these can, and should be mixed, matched, or adapted for specific situations. Feel free to share your own, tried and true strategies in the comments.
These are demonstrated in grids with one square/inch equaling three and one-third (3.33) feet, rather than a new school, ones-size-fits-all abstraction like the five-foot square. This is in accordance with Gygax's description of marching order in the Advanced game, where a party can march three abreast down the standard, 10-foot-wide corridor. Some adjustments may be necessary in play for different-sized corridors and rooms. Even if the GM uses “theater of the mind” combat, these formations can be demonstrated with miniatures, tokens, or a drawing in the style of one of those confusing, football play diagrams.
While Original and B/X versions of the game don’t typically deal with weapon space and reach like in the Advanced game, I am going to go by the following assumptions and standards, which I hope the dear reader finds reasonable. (You'll find that as an old school GM, you'll have to make many decisions and rulings like this as you solidify your campaign's "reality"):
- Type A Weapons – These are thrusting weapons that do not require significant space between fellow combatants: daggers, short swords, spears, and thrusting polearms, like pikes or speta.
- Type B Weapons – These are one-handed slashing or bludgeoning weapons that require some space between combatants to swing around (about 3 feet or so): clubs, hand-axes, long (normal) swords, maces, and war-hammers. A benevolent GM can consider a long (normal) sword that can cut and thrust to be a Type A weapon if used to thrust only, though a less benevolent one (like yours truly) could impose a small penalty to hit due to the lack of a full range of maneuvers with the weapon.
- Type C Weapons – These are big, two-handed weapons that require lots of room to swing around, specifically more than 3 feet in both the front arc and flanks: battle-axes, two-handed swords, and slashing, or bludgeoning polearms, like halberds, pole-axes, or bec de corbin (war-hammer-on-a-stick.)
Most weapons only have enough reach to attack from the first rank only. Spears have enough reach to attack from the first or second ranks. Type A polearms can reach over and/or between combatants in the first and second ranks to attack from the third rank, but are useless once an opponent closes in.
Now that we are done with these preliminaries, here are the formations:
Squishy-in-the-Middle
This first example is not so much a formation strategy as a general, best-practice. Low hit die types like magic-users, and thieves, or severely wounded characters (20% HP or less) should never, ever fight in the front ranks. If the battle is at that point, the party should have likely retreated several rounds ago. The magic-user especially is the party’s nuclear, ace-in-the hole. Don’t waste their chance to shine for the party’s benefit by submitting them to the horror of the front ranks!
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| Squishy-in-the-Middle |
The Turtle-Porcupine (with launching quills)
I would consider this the standard model for most old school parties. You want the characters with the best AC (armor AND shield,) as well as the highest HP (if possible) in a tight formation in the front rank, armed with a hurling weapon ready, such as a spear, javelin, or even throwing axe for a deadly, first strike. This was the tactic of the Dark Ages' Franks back when these proto-Frenchmen could chew the enemy like baguettes and sh*t them out like fromage. Each fighter in front rank should also have a Type A side arm ready to draw for when the enemy closes in.
At least one character in the second rank is armed with spear, armor, and shield, so they can attack from that rank, or relieve a character in the front rank if necessary. At least one character in the third rank is armed with a thrusting (Type A) polearm to attack from there. If using Original, or B/X rules, this could be one of the party’s thieves, which can use any weapon, but doesn’t typically have the AC or HP for front rank fighting.
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| The Turtle-Porcupine |
As shown, the party should also have enough numbers to duplicate this model at the rear of the party, in case of attacks from that direction. If the third rank happens to be the central rank, then those characters with polearms may turn to attack, depending on which end the greatest threat is.
The Fellowship
This is applicable to diverse parties with multiple dwarves or halflings. Following the Turtle-Porcupine model above, place the dwarves or halfling (fighters) with high AC (again, armor and shield) in the front rank. These characters also have hurled weapons for that first missile volley, which halflings get a +1 bonus to. Behind them are fighters or clerics (elf or human) that can use missile weapons or spells (but not magic-users! They’re squishy!) The characters in the second rank should also have spears, if possible, for any enemies that survive and close in to melee.
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| The Fellowship |
The Gnashing Murder-Hole (aka Vagina Dentata)
A few players may balk at using an average, 1d6 damage side arm (assuming variable damage,) trying to hold on to the extra two points of damage of a long (normal) sword like a security blanket. That’s fine. In this case, leave the center of the first rank open to make room for those hacks, slashes, and bludgeons. The center character in the second rank can then employ a missile weapon or even hurled, flaming oil, to punish enemies while remaining under the protection of the first rank.
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| The Gnashing Murder-Hole |
The Barbarian Horde
Similarly, some players just love big, two-handed weapons. I don’t recommend these at Basic levels, but what can you do? If some players just want to live their best, barbarian lives, then they could form their party like so.
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| The Barbarian Horde |
Grognar gets to swing his manhood compensation all around while the other characters can attack with missile weapons first, then polearms from the safety of the second rank. If and when the berserking barbarian has fallen (and the player has learned their lesson, like I had to in a previous campaign,) the rest of the party can step over their beefy corpse and continue to fight in tight formation as Mars and Jupiter intended.
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| R.I.P. my nameless, barbarian fighter. A skeleton’s spear took you from us too soon. You are gone, but not forgotten. |
The Vampire Hunters
This is a specialized formation for dealing with the undead, especially the energy-draining kind which you really don’t want to get too close to (or at all!)
Following the model of the Turtle-Porcupine, place the cleric in the center of the first rank, with armor, shield, and holy symbol to turn away the unholy minions of Orcus. The rest of the front rank can then pelt the fleeing terror(s) with hurled or missile weapons (holy water, flaming oil, or silver work great here.) The cleric has enough AC to handle any that resist the turning attempt and close in, while the other fighters can engage them in melee.
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| The Vampire Hunters |
Conclusion
A hard-learned lesson in getting back into old school play was that characters, especially, fragile low-level ones, need to fight as a combined, small force to survive. Old school (A)D&D parties need to have more than 3-5 characters. This is where hirelings and henchmen come in. Players should learn to fight as a team in formation (marching order) with a phalanx model like the Greeks and Romans. They should employ the best AC and HP as an outer defense, hurled weapons for a first attack, then switch to layers of thrusting weapons like spears and polearms for melee. This allows for fresh fighters to relieve the wounded and killed, and protects specialists like thieves and magic-users. Group initiative and phased combat helps players and GMs get into this formation-fighting concept.
Next time, we'll explore some individual combat strategies for characters. See you soon!
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