Marcelo Dior graces us with his prose again, and it’s a good one this time! Today he talks about speeding up combat; specifically, he discusses whether or not it’s really necessary. He’s really thought this one through and backed it up with his own games, and he includes some really solid advice, too. I agree with pretty much every point he makes in this article; give it a read!

There’s a lot of house rules out there trying to speed up combat, to better integrate players at the table, to make the experience more interesting, agile, funnier, etc. But— do you need them?

The penny dropped for me when I listened to the January 30 episode of The Tome Show, «Expert DM Seminar», recorded at D&D Experience 2011. At that seminar, Chris Perkins and Greg Bilsland bounced ideas off the small audience about their house rules. A lot of nice stuff came out from there, and I  already knew some of those tricks. But, most of it… I found out I don’t need.

It has become an Internet obsession, the need for speeding up combat; texts and tweets about cutting down the time spent on Combat Encounters appear in every D&D blog and from every Twitter user who runs D&D games. It is perfectly justifiable and very important for a lot of DMs and players out there. But is it for everybody? Is it for you?

I’ve found out that, for me, it’s not. I’ve been running a regular D&D game for six people since last Summer, and combat is pretty agile and dynamic. Of course it takes longer than one hour – it’s six people after all – but I hadn’t realized that combat was dynamic enough, and for months I went on cramming all kinds of house rules, trying to cut seconds and minutes from combat.

Wanna know what happened? Combat was, on the contrary, taking longer because of all those house rules. None of them were necessary to my game, but I was so enthralled by the concept/obsession of speeding up combat that’s raging through the Internet that I convinced myself I had the same problem. It’s sorta like those medicine ads: you think you need to take them because you see them on TV every day.

This is going to sound redundant, but Combat Encounters need speeding up if they need speeding up. Each combat at your table takes two hours, but everybody’s having a ball and no one cares? So don’t change a thing. The combat takes less than 45 minutes, but you’re not having fun and your players are feeling that the combat is dragging? Go ahead and crank it up! You shouldn’t set your game by a time-limit determined by some random blog or tweet. If it incidentally fits your game, fine. If it doesn’t, just as well. My own measure is not in minutes, but in rounds: three or less, the combat was too easy; more than six, the combat’s dragging its feet and should end quickly.

I’ve realized the most time-consuming element on my table was me, the DM. My players aren’t doing anything wrong, I am – and I registered that after listening to said podcast. So I decided the only changes to speed up combats at my table would be:

• Initiative and condition markers are to be administrated by the players. There’re six of them and only one of me, and I already have a lot of stuff to take care of.
• I’m making monster defense scores visible when a PC hits its number, or close. I already state “bullseye!” or “you missed by one!” anyway, so I’m turning it into a mechanic: I’ll use the tent-style monster stat card suggested by Sly Flourish, only with the defenses covered by pieces of post-it. When someone hits it (precisely or close) I’ll ask them to lift the post-it off of that defense. It’s a compromise between letting the players know monsters defenses from the get-go or never revealing them. It’s going to give me a little bit me more work the day before, but I think it’ll save a lot of time not having to check and say if the attacks hit or not.

And here are the lessons I learned from almost three years of playing D&D which I’m turning into guide-lines from now on:

• I seldom use Minions. With my present group, 95% of them are dead at the end of the first round anyway – it just make me lose time positioning all those minis on the map. Exception: a very tough monster, like a boss’s Lieutenant, and his platoon of Minions. I love that configuration, usually putting a different mini amongst them; my players always think that guy is some Sergeant (not just a regular Minion with a different skin).
• Do not use more than four distinct monster stats; ideally, only two or three. The number of enemies must come from the quantity of each monster, not variety. More than that number of stats on hand, I get lost and spend an unnecessary amount of time sorting out my monsters, halting the combat when it comes to my turn (and the DM turn comes a lot).
• Do not have more than one monster with a great variety of attacks. I found out that most monsters won’t last enough time to use all their cool powers, so just one complex monster is sufficient. The others should have no more than one attack and – perhaps – a one-use-only power.

Here’s my lesson, dear reader: you should only speed up the combat, or change any characteristic of your game, if it needs to be changed. If there’s a problem with, say, the way feats are handled on your game, change it. If not, leave it alone and be happy.

In spite of everything I wrote here, you should listen to the seminar I mentioned at the beginning. You might find some good, interesting tips worth being tried out.

Guest contributor Marcelo Dior returns to us, giving us his take on a contest of martial skill, the axe-throwing contest.

Let’s say there are two Rangers in the group, equally skilled with the battleaxe, or you’re the Ranger and that thickheaded Dwarf Fighter keeps bragging about he being the best axe thrower of the realm. I present you, dear reader, a Skill Challenge that could be used between two PCs or against one or more NPCs. It’s a competition, the…

Axe Throwing Derby

Setup: a target (usually circular, but it could be a straw doll mounted on a rack) is put 10 yards from each of the competitors, who have 30 seconds to throw their axes. Considering 10 seconds for each Skill Check, the contenders may roll up to three different Skills before actually throwing their axes, otherwise they won’t be awarded any points. Only the battleaxe or the greataxe is permitted.

All the Skill checks have a DC 15, and they might be:

• Acrobatics: The contender concentrates on the weight and balance of his axe while adjusting his stance so the throw comes out more precise. Success: +2 bonus to the throw. Critical failure: -5 penalty to the throw.
• Athletics: Cannot be used on the last (third) throw. The competitor flexes his or her muscles to lend potency to the throw. Success: +2 to the throw. Critical failure: -5 to the throw.
• Bluff: Must be made prior to the throw of another contender. The competitor makes sudden and odd movements, feints, and jokes in an effort to make an adversary lose focus. Success: one contender near the you takes a -1 to his or her action (throw or Skill Check).
• Endurance: Cannot be used on the first throw. You try to catch your breath for the next throw, ignoring the weariness of the previous throw. Success: +1 on a Skill Check made before the next throw.
• Healing: You summon your inner energy and your knowledge of anatomy to warm your muscles correctly and recover from the weariness of the competition. Success: +1 on the Endurance check, above.
• Perception: You gauge the distance to the target, wind speed and direction, and the play of lights and shadows cast over the field to precisely calculate your throw. Success: +2 to the throw. Critical failure: -5 to the throw.

(I decided the roll of 1 on Skill Check should have consequences, something alien to 4e, to make things a little bit more interesting, reflecting in game terms a gross miscalculation on the use of Acrobatics, Athletics, and Perception.)

Competition details:

After all contenders have made their Skill Checks, any and all of the bonuses and penalties they earned are added to a Melee Basic Attack roll against 12 (that’s right, Melee Basic, not Ranged. This is a precision test, not an attack to kill a monster). The one who beats it by the greater margin earns points equal to the number of contenders. The second best net hit earns points equal to the number of contenders -1, and so forth. Failing in beating the DC of 12 earns you no points for that round. In the case of a tie, both competitors earn the same number of points.

After the first throw, the weapons are returned and the targets are repositioned at 25 yards. The same 30 seconds (three Skill Checks) are available and now the DC for the Melee Basic Attack is 15. The points are tallied and we move to the third and final round of the competition, with targets at 50 yards and DC 18. In the case of a draw at this point, the last round is done again with the contenders that have tied, as many times as necessary to untie the score.

Usually, in this kind of contest, magical axes or other items — such as magical bracelets or belts — aren’t allowed, and the organizers (if there is one) will have means of detecting magic over or on the competitors.

Variations:

Obviously, this competition may be about other kinds of weapons. It could be a dispute of archery (with Ranged Basic Attacks instead of Melee), knife-throwing or even the obvious handaxes. An especially peculiar organizer could allow the mix of battle- and greataxes and handaxes amongst the contenders (in which case the check is made with the Ranged Basic Attack for the contender using the handaxe). That would lead to possible and interesting protests by the other competitors or heated discussions at the tavern after the competition about the validity of such an obviously lop-sided contest.

Today we have a guest post from a new contributor, Marcelo Dior. Marcelo comes to us from Brazil; he writes on his own blog, and also speaks on some podcasts.

I’ve been adapting the adventures from the book Well of Worlds (Planescape) for 4e for a couple of months now. Last Sunday, I ran my 4e version of the fourth adventure of that book, Blood Storm. In it, the players are visiting some unimportant Prime Material town, when they are first approached by a Pit Fiend in disguise, then by a Marilith (also in disguise), each hiring them for such an absurd amount of money that some PCs might cry.

I’m cutting the description very short here, because it’s not important right now (someday I’ll publish all my suggestions for adapting Well of Worlds to 4e). The important thing is that they should accept both contracts, not realizing they’ll conflict. The Baatezu (devils) and the Tana’ri (demons) have agreed to meet at a ruined, old church just outside town. The church itself has been consecrated (or desecrated) to the devils and the graveyard, to the demons. They’re both interested in that town and the townsfolks’ souls, but neither side wants the Blood War to spill over to that plane of existence (yet) so they decided to meet and “talk” it over. But, being fiends, each party tries to have and edge at the “talks” come midnight.

By that point in the campaign, the PCs should be somewhat famous around Sigil, being level 9 (out of 20 in AD&D) and all. So the fiends detected or recognized them when they arrived in town, and each side tries to hire the PCs. The adventure is designed in such a way that the two contracts don’t seem to overlap, and eventually the PCs arrive at the old church and graveyard, realizing that they’ve, quite literally, made made a pact with the devil. And the demon.

Preparing the adventure, I realized that the possibility of the players choosing any of the sides on the battle at the climax were infinitesimally small, for half of the party is composed of good or neutrally aligned Divine characters (I’m using the old alignment system — it’s Planescape after all) so I decided to change the way the scene would unfold. Instead of having eight monsters controlled by me (four demons and four devils) that would alternate between attacking the PCs or the other fiendish group (Baatezu and Tana’ri would never join forces against anyone, let alone a bunch of mortal adventurers), I decided that if the scene unfolded as I expected, i.e. the PCs stepping back and deciding to wait and see who’d come out of the fray alive and then finishing them off, I’d give the players the control of the monsters!

Oh, I’m so bright, aren’t I? I had six players in front of me, and six monsters (the Marilith and the Pit Fiend would take their battle to the skies as they’re way too powerful to be let loose over the battlefield). I adjusted all the monsters to be of the same level (8, in this case) and gave the Tana’ri to the players at my left-hand side, and the Baatezu to the players at my right-hand side. Everyone would have so much fun playing the monsters and I’d wash my hands of deciding which side would be left standing to fight the PCs, and how damaged they’d be.

If only.

The players… didn’t enjoyed the experience. First of all, they wanted to play their characters, whose level had just increased at the end of the last adventure, and not some random monsters they’ve never seen before. Second of all, the monsters aren’t designed to be controlled in that fashion, because they usually have only one or two attacks, and way too many hit points. I was careful not only to level all the monsters but also to choose critters that had recharging powers, but that wasn’t enough. By the end of the third round, my players were vocally wishing the fight ended soon, so they could put their own PC minis on the table and start hacking at the remaining fiends.

When the session ended, I asked for feedback (as I usually do, asking what they liked the best and what they didn’t like very much). They loved the scenario (being unknowingly hired by both sides as the tip of the scale) and enjoyed the battlefield very much (I’m careful to always put interactive and dangerous terrain) but the experience playing the bad guys wasn’t so good. But they appreciated the idea, and suggested to me, given the opportunity to do it again, I should choose or make monsters that: 1. were more like PCs, with lots of attack options (Elites, maybe?); and 2. Cut away a lot of the hit points, so the quarrel wouldn’t take more than three rounds (if so much).

That’s the lesson I give you, reader. Sometimes brilliant ideas in theory are pretty stupid ones in practice. But players are always in search for original and innovative ideas their that DM is willing to throw at them.

Have a nice game!