Bows VS. Muskets

(above art by Slug Signorino)



I'm a The Straight Dope fan going on over 20 years, since the column regularly appeared in local free press newspapers in LA. Now that the mysterious Cecil has long since had a website, I pop in from time to time to read up on the brilliant answers to often stupid questions.

But this one interested me greatly, seeing as I have seen a lot of online forums approaching the subject of firearms in D&D lately (usually dominated by brainiacs who tell you that your campaign would be ruined by such extravagances). For sure an interesting subject for all gamers, since many do have primative firearms show up from time to time, including me.

The smartest researcher/shut-in in all creation gives you the low down below.




Dear Cecil:
I watched a rerun of The Patriot over the weekend and was once again reminded of how absurd the "volley trading" European style of warfare was (at least to me). From what I understand, even the best-trained troops of the era could squeeze off only three or four inaccurate shots a minute. Given that the opposing armies were standing within 100 yards of each other and wore no protective armor, why didn't they use archers? I'd think even a novice archer could fire off 10 to 15 arrows for every one gunshot from the enemy. Am I oversimplifying this?
— Ted C., Richmond, Virginia

Cecil replies:

This question teeters on that fine line, familiar to us here at the Straight Dope, between intriguing and ludicrous. Before anyone rushes to judgment, be aware that at least one other person had the same brainstorm as Ted. His name? Ben Franklin. So you might want to hear this one out.

In February 1776, concerned about a shortage of gunpowder, Franklin proposed in a letter to General Charles Lee that the colonists arm themselves with bows and arrows, calling them "good weapons, not wisely laid aside." The idea didn't fly, obviously. Let's look at Franklin's reasoning to get a handle on why.

1. "[An archer] can discharge four arrows in the time of charging and discharging one bullet." True. A skilled English archer could loose 15 shots a minute, with ten the minimum acceptable rate. A newly-recruited musketeer, in contrast, would be lucky to get off two shots per minute, while the best a veteran could manage was five. The key phrase here, as we’ll see below, is “skilled English archer.”

2. "His object is not taken from his view by the smoke of his own side." Also true — prior to innovations of the 19th century, visibility was a major issue for armies exchanging gunfire.

3. "A flight of arrows, seen coming upon them, terrifies and disturbs the enemies' attention to their business." This falls into the true-but-so-what category. A storm of incoming arrows let fly by massed archers was undoubtedly terrifying. On the other hand, the din of musketry and cannon fire, the sight of a line of men cut down like weeds and strewn maimed on the ground … that was also pretty distracting. Guns may not have been too accurate in the late 18th century, but they delivered plenty of shock and awe.

4. "An arrow striking in any part of a man puts him hors de combat till it is extracted." Maybe so, but close-range musket wounds reportedly were much more devastating than arrow wounds.

5. "Bows and arrows are more easily provided everywhere than muskets and ammunition." Here's where Franklin starts to go astray, although it's easy to see why he might think this. At the time he wrote, the colonies had few gunsmiths and little gunpowder. In the war's early days George Washington estimated there was only enough powder for his troops to fire nine shots each. Meanwhile, Native Americans seemed to have no difficulty making bows and arrows, so how tough could it be? Answer: tougher than you'd think.

6. "[A] man may shoot as truly with a bow as with a common musket." Here's Franklin's fatal error. He was thinking of the longbow, which had been used to deadly effect during the Hundred Years' War at the battles of Crecy (1346), Poitiers (1356), and Agincourt (1415). The longbow was an English specialty — armies on the continent used the crossbow, which generally had less range and was much slower to reload. An archer with a crossbow didn't stand a chance against one with a longbow.

Not surprisingly, crossbows were soon replaced by guns.

The longbow might have lasted longer, except for one thing: using it effectively required extraordinary strength and skill. The bow, made of tough yew wood, had a draw weight of 80 to well over 100 pounds, something only the strongest modern archers can manage. Training took years — English law long mandated that boys take archery practice starting as early as age seven.

Fearsome as it was, the longbow didn't automatically trump the musket the way it had the crossbow. English armies in the 16th century were sometimes defeated despite their longbows, and by the time of the Spanish Armada the weapon had largely been eclipsed. Other ancient arms still had their uses — the knight's sword evolved into the cavalryman's saber and the infantryman's bayonet, handy in close combat. Not so the longbow. Once the English concluded it wasn't worth their while to train large numbers of archers, the bow's usefulness in large-scale combat ceased.

By Franklin's day it's doubtful anyone in the colonies knew how to make a longbow or could have used it. The Native American version hadn't proven especially effective in combat, and Franklin's evident belief that it could be made otherwise probably had his correspondent rolling his eyes. Guns had the advantage of simplicity: a kid could pick one up and kill somebody with it, a fact that remains apparent to this day.

— Cecil Adams

The Cliched End Game

There are a lot of things that quickly evolved out of my 1st edtion AD&D. Old school concepts such as henchmen and hirelings, endless dungeon crawls, and strictness about character creation are things that got old long before the 80’s where over. I didn’t really mean for my style to take the high fantasy road, but that was where I went. That later editions of D&D did much the same was a coincidence (my non-attendance of cons or other game groups kept me out of the loop more or less of what was going on in later edition core books).

It’s weird I guess, but the end game of classic D&D, that of clearing a hex in the forest, killing it’s monsters, and building a keep (per the DM guide fretting over the cost of every brick and every mook with a shovel) so a village would build around it and you could collect taxes didn’t seem to appeal to my players by around the mid-80’s. Sure, MU’s need to have somewhere to research at later levels, and clerics (maybe) need to set-up a place of worship, but for the most part, it did not tend to go the classic way of becoming some kind of lord over barony.

Maybe it stems from my DMing style and game setting, or perhaps I’ve just had exceptional players, but characters in my games just seemed too cool and colorful for basic stronghold building when they got to higher levels (or “name” level). Things they often chose to do instead were to use their hard-fought wealth to perhaps buy/build a tavern. Some might buy horses and land and start a ranch to raise ponies. Maybe a garden house in the nice part of town with a view from a hill. MU’s in the big city didn’t need to go live in some cobwebby tower to research. There was the Wizard’s Guild where all the proper areas and equipment were available to members. And for clerics, well, the big city already had huge temples to the major god, with high level clerics already in charge. So if a cleric character didn’t want to go to some bumblefuck bumpkin part of the kingdom to start a new temple, they would usually settle in as a respected cleric/troubleshooter for the main temple of their god in the city.

All the manpower that comes at high level, to fighters and clerics and whatever as in the books at name level, were often turned down by the players. Hey, they would only have to house and feed them. If they don't advance as characters with a passle of henchmen and hirelings along for the ride, they don't get into that "gang mentality" where more is merrier. Most of my players don’t seem to find that appealing. Micromanagement. It ain’t always fun. And if you’ve ever read King Conan, you know that heavy is the head that wears the crown, especially if that head lead a life of action, derring-do, and a new wench every night. There was a great Twilight Zone where the guy thought he died and went to heaven because he was getting everything that he ever wanted handed to him on a silver platter. Turns out that was actually hell, bub.

So I don’t really look to the end game by the book, and my players tend not to as well. To them, settling down with a keep and managing a garrison maybe sounds too final to them. I think they would rather tend bar at their tavern telling tall tales of their adventures, or sit on the porch of their hilltop garden house with the ocean view, sipping wine and waiting for that next big adventure to come along. To most characters in my games, it seems like the end of the adventure life might as well be the end of their fun.

My Weakness is Strong - Monks

It seems to be the opinion of many that the Monk as a D&D character class being based on old kung-fu movies is a no-brainer. I don’t think these folks have put much thought into it. For one thing, how many of these old chop socky guys can speak to animals at an early level? Sure, there is the HTH damage (pitifully low at 1-3 points damage for a 1st level monk). Not being able to use swords or some other higher damage weapons, they have to settle for 1D6 staves and spears. Sure, they slowly do more damage in both HTH and weapons as they go up in level, but this is shamefully slow progression. The monk isn’t even doing broadsword damage until the mid-levels. No Dex or strength bonuses seem like a screwjob to be sure. Yeah, it’s hard to imagine a monk who isn’t high level being a kung fu badass per a thousand horrible Asian karate movies. Perhaps if they wander into a tavern full of unarmed, zero level NPC’s. But how often does that happen in D&D?

I played a Monk character for the first time in 25 years recently. Big Ben from the regular group is doing his own side thing with some of the other regulars, and it’s a low level evils campaign. I know from my own experience that evil campaigns are weird (worthy of a post themselves, maybe this week). They usually don’t have long legs, and eventually fall apart under their own hubris. My Monk came in on the second session, and it seems a miracle that the other sarcastic, murderous characters didn’t kill my guy just for showing up (why do people running evil characters always choose to portray them as confrontational, hand-rubbing stereotypes?).

Really, there isn’t much fun to be had running a 1st level monk. They seem like a watered-downed thief class that can run fast. The majority of the other characters could do, and take, more damage than my guy could. So the Monk was sort of relegated to being a humble, helpful coolie, toting fallen characters to safety. This is likely his role for at least a couple more levels, should the campaign go on that long.

By mid-levels and up, Monks can dole out some decent damage, and start to get some decent skills (if you call talking to animals and being resistant to ESP great skills. I don’t). But it’s a long road to have to run a humble character as more or less an MU who can’t cast spells. “I’m a seeker of ancient knowledge…and, uh…a day laborer.” Sheesh.


Edit: I just read at Wikipedia that the D&D monk is based directly from the martial arts in The Destroyer series of novels (of Remo Williams fame). "Sinanju" in The Destroyer was a martial art of ancient assassins, and gives superhuman abilites, such as the ability to rip steel doors down, or destroy automobiles in a single blow, and superhuman falling and jumping abilities. That for sure seems to jibe with higher level monks.

TPK in The Night Below

At least that is what I thought it was going to be. I know, false advertising. But in the previous game two weeks ago, the party went straight from the brutal fight in the Kuo Toan Priest Kings palace in The City of The Glass Pool, and depleted in hit point and vital spells went next door to the very Glass Pool itself, within the huge-domed Temple of The Sea Mother, to try and finish the job.

Not only did it turn out that the newly claimed Crown of Derro Domination would not contact Derro from a distance (the nearest ones were across the city), but on the way into the temple dome a stone giant had thrown a boulder, crushing NPC Dia into the negatives. Still, with all that against them ending last game, Andy’s bard Vaidno took up the sword Finslayer from Dia and led the charge into what was more or less the final fight of the campaign. That last game they had defeated the high priest and some others, but it left a couple of characters under Hold Person. They started this game severly down in manpower. Three strong fighters, including the badly wounded Dia, where unavailable for this combat. I confided to Terry a few days ago on the way to the Pub Session, running the held Helena, that she should not be too shocked if she lost this character and could do nothing about it. It was the decision of Andy and the others to take on the temple straight after another huge fight. I thought it would be the death of them.

So much happened in this fight. So much high level stuff. There was not just a couple of giant lobsters In the pool, but a large water elemental as well. And within a few short rounds the entirety of the Kou Toan army would be busting in. The big challenge was the statue of Blipdoolpoolp that the party came to blow up with the dwarvish bomb (their last). The statue was basically an avatar of the Sea Mother, and it was next to invulnerable to almost everything but weapons +2 or better. It also got a deadly bite if both claws hit you (for 2d8 each); if you were held in both claws and the head bite got a natural 19 or 20 on the hit roll, the victims head is taken clean off, and the body thrown into the pool for the giant lobsters to tear apart. Krysantha the drow druid turned into a bird an bravely flew the bomb over to the statue, but attacks from both the water elemental and the now animated statue made it hard to light a bomb fuse. Krys got grabbed up in those arms, and I made the bite roll in the open, telling them that a 19 or higher was the end of the character. I don’t think I have ever seen a roll watched with more baited breath in my life than Dan watching that dice I got a 15 and it hit, but no head off.

Unfortunately, I would get no more chances at the cool head bite. My rolls for the monster, which are usually notoriously good, were not so great. I think I only hit a 20 crit twice at most, and that was for lobsters and normal Kuo Toa. Man, I coulda used that 20 with the statue, or at least a water elemental attack.

At one point Lumarin the high elf MU broke out his magic gong, and summoned the Asian Gong Warrior, who held off some of the tougher Kuo Toa captains for awhile before succumbing to the hoard that was rushing in. Lumarin also had an Invisible Stalker holding back the hoard from another entrance, so plenty of good magical stuff going on. Vaidno used his gem found long ago in a dwarven forge to summon the fire elemental that had promised to help if ever released from the gem, but the water elemental quickly left the pool to extinguish the fire elemental, and hit some of the characters with some pounding wave actions.

By the time Krysantha fell down at zero hit points, the statue was already badly tore up, and when Vaidno’s final blows from his flashing blades (including Finslayer) broke the statue to bits, the kuo toan mobs fell to madness and the battle was over. Not one damn character death in this fight. Wow. I was so sure this would be at least a near TPK. Perhaps surviving characters taken down to the Sunless Sea as slaves for the Aboleth.

We ended with characters headed back to the tower in the Derro Town they previously claimed from the Mind Flayers. So it’s looking like next time will be the campaign epilogue game. They still have to deal with the slaves they saved, but there are still political groups around, including both the formerly dominated Derro, the Renegade Derro the characters dealt with, Avatara and the other drow who took over the Derro tavern (and their gang of Quaggoths), and a few other random bits. Unless the party heads back into the City of the Glass Pool to try and do some looting (although the city is insane right now, it doesn’t mean they won’t have to fight their way around the city; Kuo Toans are notoriously more dangerous insane than sane), it should be a nice and fun game to run. The campaign finale after more than two years. Wow.

Tegel Manor Dynasty

Tegel Manor is one of those love it or hate it old school items. Even by Judges Guild standards, it was an especially wacky and crazy funhouse dungeon. It’s so chock full of wild shit (a huge undead, demon, and monster population in a relatively small area), it has the almost random feel of something written up on a weekend of heavy marijuana usage. I mean, just the butler in one of the front main rooms is described as a “Balrog Ghost.” That seems so random. And do demons like Balrogs even have ghosts when they die? Don’t they just go crying back to hell when you kill them?

I guess I can’t throw stones. I added even more weird crap to the mix as a very young teen with this. I had Green Warhoon Martians with radium rifles in one of the big rooms off the main ballroom, and pretty sure I had some kind of robot created by a mad scientist roaming around as well. As I got a bit older, I stopped trying to use it as a dungeon to be explored, and used it here and there over the years mostly as a mission based location. Characters arriving to find an item lost in the Wizard Tower or something, and only moving into a small area of the Manor and then leaving.

In these OD&D games I’ve been doing here and there since last year, I’ve thought about Tegel a bit more. I think all those old Dark Shadows episodes I’ve been watching on Netflix have affected me.

I thought of using the super-haunted house for these sessions, but the problem was my OD&D games are set around 200 years prior to the current time period of my 1st edition game setting. So rather than expect that the manor has been around in maximum haunting form for several hundred years, I thought that it might be interesting to check out the manor and the surrounding area before it was taken fully over by evil and the Tegel family (yes, I do not use the name “Rump”) more or less died out. A sort of Tegel supernatural soap opera like Dark Shadows.

I decided that the evil curse on the house/land began very early on in its existence. That even the first few generations knew something was wrong, and minor haunting went down. The house grew in size from additions, and the family carried on, despite certain cries, screams, moans, and whimpers from older parts of the mansion at night. And the people of Tegel Village carried on as well, generation after generation being used to weirdo happenings.

So I took four family members from portraits that were together in the list: Lady Rubianna, Riven, Rotcher, and Ruang. I don’t believe the 1-100 portraits are in fact linear and meant to be taken as having been in order of family members as they came along, but I thought it would be easier to take some who where next to each other in the list. I kind of also went with the description in that entry to some degree, thus “Rotcher the Radiant” is a handsome, charismatic, and fun loving person while alive. Here’s the family members in question and what I did with them for the current, living lords of Tegel.

Lady Rubianna: Mother of Riven, Grandmother to Rotcher and Ruang. Fled the mansion as a young lady 20 year ago, to have her child Riven in the big city of Tanmoor.
Lord Riven: when he reached adulthood, took his mother back with him to Tegel to reclaim the birthright. Brought loyal Tanmoor butler “Slappington” as well. Married a local girl soon after returning, and had two boys, Rotcher and Ruang

Rotcher and Ruang: Riven’s children with his wife Rhian (who has no Tegel Manor portrait). Rotcher is happy and handsome, Ruang is dark and brooding, taking delight in the suffering of things. Rotcher is a hit with the other local teens, and on Friday nights Riven lets a chaperone (in this case Terry’s elvish fighter/MU “Rose”) take them on an outing to the Tegel Tavern.

There are portions of the mansion that are now very haunted, and dangerous for strangers to wander into it. Even for Tegel family members; Lady Rubianna one day wandered into the East Wing, and was possessed by the vampire portrait of an ancestor when she stopped to admire it. Since then she has laired in a nearby sea cave, and has been gathering undead to pester the land.

So with Terry’s Rose character in place working for Lord Riven as a bodyguard to the teens, the rest of the party are a group of adventurers passing through on their way to the big city. This particular one-shot (more or less) is supposed to be telling a story to a degree, so a bit of a railroad job compared to my dungeon sessions for OD&D. So I just thought that a couple of decent role-play situations, combined with some breezy location based fights, would fill up the session and give me some good “phone it in” ease of DM’ing in a semi-public setting. Nothing too complicated for me, or ponderous for the players.

So after camping near some gypsies, and getting their fortunes read (including some semi-vogue warnings of what might be in store in Tegel), the party came up on the village proper. They passed the large monestary that is to the north on the Tegel area map, but alas there was no monk character so didn’t feel compelled to get them to go there. They decended upon the town hollow, and found zombies prowling the town square in the rain. Nice combat (wherin one character almost died, but I decided to go for -10 and die rather than the -5 I had been using for OD&D), and got the party involved in Rose and the Tegel kids who were at the tavern on their Friday outing. So a bit of tavern role-playing, with the happy go lucky teens of Tegel hanging out with Rotcher and Ruang, and the older townsfolk brooding in their beers over strangers and walking dead being afoot.

Lord Riven came with some guards from his manor eventually (the characters learned that the local constabulary were cowardly Keystone Cops who rarely showed up when there was monster trouble) to investigate the zombie fuss, and offered the PC’s a job. In the less-haunted part of Tegel Manor, Riven had butler Slappington serve drinks, while he and his wife skittishly told of the mother possessed, and the need to stop her haunting the area for the sake of the Tegel kids if not the village folk. The party agreed, and went to spend the night at a two-story several room guest house nearby.

The PC’s took up residence in some of the rooms and the lounge, falling asleep to the occasional howl or spooky laughter from the haunted parts of Tegel Manor across the way. The vampiric Lady Rubianna came to Rose in the master bedroom, and offered her info on some of her own family secrets (Rose came to Tegel because her uncle had mysteriously died in service to Riven and the family) if she convinced the party to leave Tegel. She fled the guest house before summoning a hoard of rats to attack all in the house. That was a fun little scramble, with PC’s fighting rat packs as a thief character ran around behind the scenes using secret passages in the walls.

The next morning it was off to the sea cliff, where before the stairs down to the waves they had to pass a local mausoleum. A small hoard of skeletons, led by a couple of wights, came pouring out of the mausoleum to combat the party. The cleric of St. Cuthbert tried a bit of turning here and there, but the battle was ultimately won through cold steel and elbow grease. Fun fight.

Then down into the caves, to first face Rubianna’s Wraith, then on to the lady herself. It was a fairly quick battle, as the cleric used hold person and the save was failed. I know, I would probably not let a hold person work on a full vampire, but Lady Rubianna was still alive and human, just possessed by the vampire spirit. After a bit of treasure looting, the group dragged Lady Rubianna out to the daylight, where the ancestor spirit retreated back to its portrait, and Lady Rubianna was cleansed of evil and returned to her family. Happy little ending to a nice little session.

I’ve really loved this idea of a Dark Shadows inspired Tegel Manor prequel setting, and I’m for sure going to do more with it. Plenty of opportunities for chilling adventures as the current tenants of Tegel Manor try to hold off the encroaching evil; even though we all know how it will eventually turn out in the long run. So more Tegel Manor family fun in the future I hope, with at least some of the same great players.

The No-Maybe-Yes Method

The guy who first ran D&D for me as a kid pretty much made it all up as he went along. No books, just a couple of dice and some miniatures. You rolled and he said if you hit or not. Maybe another die roll for damage. What was left was pretty much his getting his ya-ya’s out by killing my characters in whatever sick ways he could make up at the time.

So at some point I got rules books and started DM’ing. In those earliest days I winged it as far as reactions and random NPC things relating to character actions. Just like my first DM, I made some things up ( but was a much more player friendly DM).

I think in the earliest days I just rolled a D6 and let 1-3 be “no” and 4-6 be “yes.”

But some guys I knew in the early 80’s turned me on to their two dice “No-Maybe-Yes Method” of making an on-the-spot determination of some random factor.

Roll the two D6, and add them up. Let 2-5 be various levels of “no,” let 6-8 be various levels of “maybe,” and let 9-12 be “yes.”

It’s really mostly for if you need to make a quick determination that is a no through yes, with some maybe’s in-between

So you merely pose a question to the dice then roll them. Suppose you need to know if the farmer has a daughter because the bard in the party is feelin’ romantic. Just ask the dice “does he have any daughters?” No means no. Get a 2-5 and it’s “no.” Get a 7 and “maybe” means you should roll again in this case, and if you get a “no” this time he has no daughter, but if you get a “yes” he has a daughter/daughters but lies and says “no” (he knows all about those big city bards). Roll a 10 in the first place, then he has one. An 11 or 12 could mean two or more daughters.

You can use the method for a quick result anywhere, just pose your question. “Maybe” is always fun because that is when you get to stretch your wing-it muscles a bit. Is there treasure in that cubby hole? A “maybe” could mean yeah, there is some, but there is also a poisonous brown recluse spider hanging out in there as well.

You can modify the roll any way you like, depending on the situation. Does the farmer’s daughter find the bard attractive? If he has a high charisma, add a plus to the roll.

Do you have a No-Maybe-Yes method of your own?