The issue of realistic combat in games comes up regularly, and I thought I'd share some examples of what that might mean, because it's an important element of game design, which should play some part in 4E, and I don't think it means what many people seem to think it means.
One-Shot Drops: Surviving the Myth, from the FBI's Law Enforcement Bulletin, shares a number of shocking examples of handguns not taking down a perp:
The evidence seems to point to most lethal weapons really only having a fairly small chance of killing someone -- like 10% for a pistol shot, much less for a knife wound.
It's not the abstractness of hit points that makes them unrealistic; it's the predictability. Ablative hit points make it very, very hard to kill someone in one blow -- or very, very hard to not kill someone in two. Again, from a realism perspective, the problem is not that a high-level D&D fighter can survive a dozen sword cuts and spear thrusts but that he cannot die by any one attack.
Hit points tend to model injuries poorly because characters either have an "unrealistic" number of hit points and can't be killed by a single good sword stroke, or they have a "realistic" number of hit points and can't survive three or four stab wounds.
If we eliminate ablative hit points and instead give each wound a chance to end the fight, then we end up with a "realistically" random system, where one shot can mean one kill, but a dozen shots might not mean a kill.
For instance, instead of having 10 hit dice, a great warrior might have a 1-in-10 chance of falling to a spear thrust (via, say, a Damage Save). By either set of rules, the great warrior should expect to survive roughly ten spear thrusts -- he's equally tough under both sets of rules -- but the two systems play out differently.
For whatever reason, people have conflated detail and realism. I don't think it's unrealistic at all to have an abstract damage system. Plenty of serious wargames, including those used by the military, are quite abstract.
One-Shot Drops: Surviving the Myth, from the FBI's Law Enforcement Bulletin, shares a number of shocking examples of handguns not taking down a perp:
In the authors’ ongoing study of violence against law enforcement officers, they have examined several cases where officers used large-caliber hand guns with limited effect displayed by the offenders. In one case, the subject attacked the officer with a knife. The officer shot the individual four times in the chest; then, his weapon malfunctioned. The offender continued to walk toward the officer. After the officer cleared his weapon, he fired again and struck the subject in the chest. Only then did the offender drop the knife. This individual was hit five times with 230-grain, .45-caliber hollow-point ammunition and never fell to the ground. The offender later stated, “The wounds felt like bee stings.”
In another case, officers fired six .40-caliber, hollow-point rounds at a subject who pointed a gun at them. Each of the six rounds hit the individual with no visible effect. The seventh round severed his spinal cord, and the offender fell to the ground, dropping his weapon. This entire firefight was captured by several officers’ in-car video cameras.
In a final case, the subject shot the victim officer in the chest with a handgun and fled. The officer, wearing a bullet-resistant vest, returned gunfire. The officer’s partner observed the incident and also fired at the offender. Subsequent investigation determined that the individual was hit 13 times and, yet, ran several blocks to a gang member’s house. He later said, “I was so scared by all those shots; it sounded like the Fourth of July.” Again, according to the subject, his wounds “only started to hurt when I woke up in the hospital.” The officers had used 9-millimeter, department-issued ammunition.
The Dubious Quick Kill, part 1 contrasts the modern sport of fencing against its dueling roots: In another case, officers fired six .40-caliber, hollow-point rounds at a subject who pointed a gun at them. Each of the six rounds hit the individual with no visible effect. The seventh round severed his spinal cord, and the offender fell to the ground, dropping his weapon. This entire firefight was captured by several officers’ in-car video cameras.
In a final case, the subject shot the victim officer in the chest with a handgun and fled. The officer, wearing a bullet-resistant vest, returned gunfire. The officer’s partner observed the incident and also fired at the offender. Subsequent investigation determined that the individual was hit 13 times and, yet, ran several blocks to a gang member’s house. He later said, “I was so scared by all those shots; it sounded like the Fourth of July.” Again, according to the subject, his wounds “only started to hurt when I woke up in the hospital.” The officers had used 9-millimeter, department-issued ammunition.
Take for example the case of the duel fought in 1613 between the Earl of Dorset and Lord Edward Bruce. According to the Earl's account, he received a rapier-thrust in the right nipple which passed 'level through my body, and almost to my back.' Seemingly unaffected, the Earl remained engaged in the combat for some time. The duel continued with Dorset going on to lose a finger while attempting to disarm his adversary manually. Locked in close quarters, the two struggling combatants ultimately ran out of breath. According to Dorset's account, they paused briefly to recover, and while catching their wind, considered proposals to release each other's blades. Failing to reach an agreement on exactly how this might be done, the seriously wounded Dorset finally managed to free his blade from his opponent's grasp and ultimately ran Lord Bruce through with two separate thrusts. Although Dorset had received what appears to have been a grievous wound that, in those days, ought to have been mortal, he not only remained active long enough to dispatch his adversary, but without the aid of antibiotics and emergency surgery, also managed to live another thirty-nine years.
Brutal? Consider this anecdote: However, consider the duel between Lagarde and Bazanez. After the later received a rapier blow which bounced off his head, Bazanez is said to have received an unspecified number of thrusts which, according to the account, "entered" the body. Despite having lost a good deal of blood, he nevertheless managed to wrestle Lagarde to the ground, whereupon he proceeded to inflict some fourteen stab wounds with his dagger to an area extending from his opponent's neck to his navel. Lagarde meanwhile, entertained himself by biting off a portion of Bazanez's chin and, using the pommel of his weapon, ended the affair by fracturing Bazanez's skull. History concludes, saying that neither combatant managed to inflict any "serious" injury, and that both recovered from the ordeal.
Sometimes real life beats Hollywood: While the previous tale seems amazing enough, hardly anyone can tell a story more incredible than that witnessed by R. Deerhurst. Two duelists, identified only as "His Grace, the Duke of B" and "Lord B", after an exchange of exceptionally cordial letters of challenge met in the early morning to conduct their affair with pistols and swords. The combat began with a pistol ball inflicting a slight wound to the Duke's thumb. A second firing was exchanged in which Lord B was then wounded slightly. Each then immediately drew his sword and rushed upon the other with reckless ferocity. After an exchange of only one or two thrusts, the two became locked corps à corps. Struggling to free themselves by "repeated wrenches," they finally separated enough to allow the Duke to deliver a thrust which entered the inside of Lord B 's sword arm and exited the outside of the arm at the elbow. Incredible as it may seem, his Lordship was still able to manage his sword and eventually drove home a thrust just above Duke B 's right nipple. Transfixed on his Lordship's blade, the Duke nevertheless continued, attempting repeatedly to direct a thrust at his Lordship's throat. With his weapon fixed in His Grace's chest, Lord B now had no means of defense other than his free arm and hand. Attempting to grasp the hostile blade, he lost two fingers and mutilated the remainder. Finally, the mortally wounded Duke penetrated the bloody parries of Lord B's hand with a thrust just below Lord B 's heart.
In the Hollywood swashbucklers this scene might well have have ended at this point, if not long before, but real life often seems to have a more incredible, and certainly in this case, more romantic outcome. Locked together at close quarters and unable to withdraw their weapons from each other's bodies for another thrust, the two stood embracing each other in a death grip. At this point the seconds, attempting to intercede, begged the pair to stop. Neither combatant would agree, however, and there they both remained, each transfixed upon the blade of the other until, due to extensive blood loss, his Lordship finally collapsed. In doing so, he withdrew his sword from the Duke's body and, staggering briefly, fell upon his weapon, breaking the blade in two. A moment later, the "victorious" Duke deliberately snapped his own blade and, with a sigh, fell dead upon the corpse of his adversary.
From a realism perspective, the problem is not that a high-level D&D fighter can survive a dozen sword cuts and spear thrusts but that he cannot die by any one attack. Conversely, the problem is not that a low-level wizard or commoner can die from a single sword cut or spear thrust, but that he cannot survive three or four.In the Hollywood swashbucklers this scene might well have have ended at this point, if not long before, but real life often seems to have a more incredible, and certainly in this case, more romantic outcome. Locked together at close quarters and unable to withdraw their weapons from each other's bodies for another thrust, the two stood embracing each other in a death grip. At this point the seconds, attempting to intercede, begged the pair to stop. Neither combatant would agree, however, and there they both remained, each transfixed upon the blade of the other until, due to extensive blood loss, his Lordship finally collapsed. In doing so, he withdrew his sword from the Duke's body and, staggering briefly, fell upon his weapon, breaking the blade in two. A moment later, the "victorious" Duke deliberately snapped his own blade and, with a sigh, fell dead upon the corpse of his adversary.
The evidence seems to point to most lethal weapons really only having a fairly small chance of killing someone -- like 10% for a pistol shot, much less for a knife wound.
It's not the abstractness of hit points that makes them unrealistic; it's the predictability. Ablative hit points make it very, very hard to kill someone in one blow -- or very, very hard to not kill someone in two. Again, from a realism perspective, the problem is not that a high-level D&D fighter can survive a dozen sword cuts and spear thrusts but that he cannot die by any one attack.
Hit points tend to model injuries poorly because characters either have an "unrealistic" number of hit points and can't be killed by a single good sword stroke, or they have a "realistic" number of hit points and can't survive three or four stab wounds.
If we eliminate ablative hit points and instead give each wound a chance to end the fight, then we end up with a "realistically" random system, where one shot can mean one kill, but a dozen shots might not mean a kill.
For instance, instead of having 10 hit dice, a great warrior might have a 1-in-10 chance of falling to a spear thrust (via, say, a Damage Save). By either set of rules, the great warrior should expect to survive roughly ten spear thrusts -- he's equally tough under both sets of rules -- but the two systems play out differently.
For whatever reason, people have conflated detail and realism. I don't think it's unrealistic at all to have an abstract damage system. Plenty of serious wargames, including those used by the military, are quite abstract.
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